At last, then, he had found the object of such keen desire and such lasting regret! Soon he was to know her! He was to see his daughter—his daughter, whose image he had so vainly tried to conjure up. No doubt it was now open to him to take up the position of husband and father! The title for which he had longed was now, probably, within his reach.
And yet the remembrance of Mme. de Roselis would place itself in the midst of the picture, and the comparison was not to the advantage of the Unknown Lady. Indeed, could any woman match Elinor in his eyes?
On the following day, punctual to the appointment, he arrived at the hour named, and the first person who met his eyes was the Negro who was so closely associated with his recollections.
The black conducted him through several richly furnished apartments to a door which he threw open, announcing M. de Préval.
Léon went forward, and found himself in a boudoir that instantly recalled to his mind one that three long years had not effaced from his memory. The illusion was completed by the sight of a woman in the same attitude as before, wearing the same dress and seated on a sofa. A child was sitting on her lap.
As Léon approached, she turned around.
"What do I see?" he cried. "Elinor! Is such happiness possible? Ah! if this be some cruel game, stop, I beg you, or I die before your eyes."
At the same moment the little Léonie ran to throw herself in his arms, and showing him a half ring that was hanging round her neck, she said in her sweet, childish way:
"Friend Léon, will you mend my ring for me?"
He glanced at it, made an exclamation, and then, overcome with surprise and happiness, he was forced to drop into a chair, murmuring feebly: