“And all this immense property that has been accumulating since Mr St. Hubert’s death, this rascally Englishman is to have?”
“No, his children are to have it—Theresa St. Hubert’s children. It has made the Englishman sufficiently miserable thus far—the sight of I mean, without the power to use it. Not but that he has had some good of it too.”
“But to think of these poor children growing up without Christian instruction! Did Mr St. Hubert make no condition as to their education—their religion? I cannot imagine how you and Pauline Precoe can reconcile it to your sense of duty, to your conscience, that it should be as it is with them. With Pauline Precoe’s help, I should have made it quite otherwise.”
Mr St. Cyr laughed in a way which was not pleasant to hear.
“You have not forgotten Pauline Precoe, it seems,” said he.
“I must see her,” said Jerome. “It may not be too late yet. These children must be saved.”
“It is too late to think of availing yourself of Pauline Precoe’s help in your good work, however. She is now in Mrs Vane’s house, but she shall not be there long. I have no influence with Mr Vane—he hates me like poison; but I think he may be made to see that it will not be for his interest that Madame Ascot should stay much longer in his family.”
“Why? What has she done, poor Pauline? You did not use to hate her so.”
“I never respected her. She was never worthy of respect. She was and is an utterly unscrupulous person. I say to you what I mean to say to her soon—she is a dishonest person. I might even say worse than that.”
“She has not been under right direction,” said his brother.