The mighty rush of feeling broke its bands at last—she sank upon a chair, shaken by her sobs, and her heart, quaking at its own great hunger, opened to take in its joy, and all was forgotten save her tumultuous vision of bliss.
But monsieur, the chevalier, had no relish to witness any scene of which he was not the hero; so, after five minutes of decorous silence, he swaggered to her side, with hands thrown up in deprecatory fervor.
"Ma foi! Mademoiselle Marguerite!" he exclaimed, "accept the consolation of your devoted admirer! Command me, your slave!"
"Leave me," murmured Margaret, gently. "Ask a servant to show you—somewhere—the picture-gallery—I will summon you."
Monsieur Calembours protested that her tender heart did his eloquence high honor, and slid, with many obeisances, to the door, leaving the overwrought girl free at last to suffer the burden of her joy, and to throw herself in an attitude of devotion, and to weep such tears as form the specks of celestial blue in the drab cloud of life.
When in half an hour the French gentleman was conveyed back to Miss Walsingham, he found her calm, serene, and happy-eyed, ready to consult with intelligence and spirit equal to his own upon the course she meant to pursue.
"You will scarcely be surprised to hear," she said, greeting him with, a beaming smile, "that I purpose retiring wholly from my position of heiress of Seven-Oak Waaste, and of offering it to Colonel Brand. I am well aware of the pride which impelled him to scorn fighting for his rights with an adventuress, and knowing this, I am sure that no letter from the executors, or myself, would lead him to accept, amicably, his rightful position. So, in order to leave him no room for misunderstanding me, I propose going with one of my advisers to New York and personally urging my determination upon him. He is weak and in bad health, you say"—here the woman's yearning heart spoke out in her glowing eyes—"and I think it in a measure my duty to go and take care of him until he is safe at his own Castle Brand. What do you say to this, sir?"
"Magnificent, Marguerite!" sighed the chevalier; "but, mademoiselle, let me be your counsellor in this little thing. Duty before pleasure."
"What duty chevalier?"
"We must give our convict his dose of oakum sweet, mi ladi, before we dig the murdered man out of his grave."