“And your sister—has she had a letter since?”
“None—except the note brought by yourself from Olympe.”
“That could not be the letter referred to here. There was no copy of a will?”
“I never heard of such a thing. This is the first intimation I have had, that Monsieur Dardonville had made a will; and the postscript both surprises and perplexes me. Madame Dardonville speaks of conditions—of Olympe being bound by some wish of her father! What conditions? What wish? Monsieur, for heaven’s sake, explain to me if you can?”
“I can!”
Story 2, Chapter XI.
The Cheque.
De Hauteroche stood before me in an appealing attitude, and with wild impatience in his looks. I felt that I was going to give him supreme happiness—to fill his cup of bliss to the very brim. I had long ere this fathomed the secret of his heart, and I knew that he loved Olympe with a passionate ardour that he could scarcely conceal. His last visit to Saint Louis had settled that point, and though it was doubtful whether the young girl was, at the time, sufficiently forward to have felt the passion of love, I had discovered some traces of a certain tender regard she had exhibited towards him I had no doubt that she would love him—almost at sight: for to say nothing of the direction which had been given to her thoughts—both parents carefully guiding her affections in the one particular channel—there were other circumstances that would favour this result. Luis De Hauteroche was by far the handsomest gentleman she had ever seen—handsome as well as highly accomplished—and I knew that no pains had been spared to impress Olympe with this idea. He was almost certain to be beloved by her.