“Charles’s train gets in at one. Your brother-in-law ought to be here now.”
A little later, in fact, Charles rang the bell.
“What news, my dear father?” he asked as he came in. “Germaine cried this morning when she said good-bye to me, and the three children imitated her. Your telegram last night caused us so much sorrow. Poor Hubert!”
“I was waiting for you, Charles. Your place is by my side. Margaret will talk to you about things while she gets your lunch. Let me be by myself a few minutes. Be ready at five minutes to two.”
“I’ll be ready. And oh, I must warn you that I’ve made my arrangements for restoring half of Germaine’s dot to you. Later you shall have it all.”
The young lawyer made this announcement with rather an ill grace, being a man little accustomed to benevolence, and trying to disguise it. He, too, had been overborne by sympathy for the common cause; but as his mind followed his heart protestingly, he did not like to advertise his defeat.
“I won’t accept it, my dear Charles,” replied Mr. Roquevillard. He was more moved by this cooperation than the opposition that he had been prepared to combat, and he added:
“Embrace me, Charles.”
Thus family ties were stronger than ever in misfortune.
The advocate shut himself up for a quarter of an hour to gather up the threads of his arguments. The review he had made for Margaret, under the influence of high nervous excitement, had served as an outlet for the anger and shame that had been accumulating in him all morning as he listened to the infamous accusations made against his son. Now his nerves relaxed, and the pounding of his heart grew calm, like the sea when the wind falls. When the moment came for going back to the court-house Margaret saw that his face was less stormy, and that his glance had again the serenity which his visit last evening to La Vigie had given him.