“Oh! It is—I fear—”
“Tear not to tell me.”
“That you will not be able—”
“Declare it, Aurore.”
“To become my master—to—to buy me!”
Here the poor girl hung her head, as if ashamed to speak of such conditions. I saw the hot tears springing from her eyes.
“And why do you fear.” I inquired.
“Others have tried. Large sums they offered—larger even than that you have named, and they could not. They failed in their intentions, and oh! how grateful was I to Mademoiselle! That was my only protection. She would not part with me. How glad was I then! but now—now how different!—the very opposite!”
“But I shall give more—my whole fortune. Surely that will suffice. The offers you speak of were infamous proposals, like that of Monsieur Gayarre. Mademoiselle knew it; she was too good to accept them.”
“That is true, but she will equally refuse yours. I fear it, alas! alas!”