"A cousin? I shall like her very much if she is nice."
"The cousin I mean is a gentleman."
"But where is he to come from?" cried Charlotte, laughing. Has he dropped from the moon? The only relations I have the world are Uncle and Aunt Mercer. How can you pretend to find me a cousin?"
"Do you remember telling me of your grandmother's only sister—Susan
Meynell?"
"Yes," said Charlotte, with a sudden blush; "I remember."
"That Miss Meynell married a gentleman of Normandy, and left one only child, a son. His name is Gustave Lenoble, and he is standing by your side. He is heir-at-law to a very large fortune, which it was once supposed you could claim. Are you sorry, Lotta, to find a kinsman and lose a fortune?—and are you contented to begin the world with no hope except in your husband's patience and courage?"
"And genius!" cried Charlotte, with enthusiasm.
The sweet, blinding glamour of love shone upon this young scribbler, and she believed that he was indeed worthy to take rank among the greatest of that grand brotherhood of which he was so humble a member. She looked up at him with the prettiest confidence; her clinging hand clasped his with love and trust immeasurable. He felt and knew that love like this was a treasure beside which the Reverend John Haygarth's hoarded thousands must needs seem but sorry dross.
After this there was much explanation and congratulation. Gustave Lenoble was delighted to claim so fair a kinswoman.
"Thou art like my eldest, my cousin," he said; "Diana saw the likeness at the Sacré Coeur when she beheld my daughter; and I too saw my eldest's look in thine eyes when I first met thee. Remember, it was convened between us that Côtenoir should be a home for thee and for Hawkehurst before I knew what link bound thee to the house of Lenoble. Now thou and thy husband will be of our family."