In both their souls was a paradise.
From time to time, Mrs. Mathers assumed a thoughtful expression.
"I cannot help thinking of my father," she said, as the carriage-wheels rattled over the road near "Les Gravées."
"Let not this mar your happiness," he answered joyfully, "perhaps he will relent when he sees that it is of no use grumbling."
Adèle smiled, for, in spite of everything, she would be happy. "I am joyful," she said, "but as for his pardoning me, well—you do not know him as well as I do."
The next day while Mr. and Mrs. Mathers were enjoying a snug little tête-à-tête, the postman brought them a letter. It was from Mr. Rougeant.
"I told you he would be glad to renew his acquaintance," said Frank, as soon as he saw the signature.
"What's this?" he said. "A cheque, Adèle; a cheque for one hundred pounds! It's our wedding present, I suppose; let me read the letter:"
"To my Daughter,—I have heard that you have been married. You think that I will bend. You are mistaken. Moreover, as I warned you before you took that rash step that I would take care you would not inherit a single penny of mine; I send you this cheque. It is the last money which you will ever receive from me.