When he reached the gate, he saw a placard pasted on the wall; he read: “This house for sale or rent.”
“It’s ours!” he cried. “I am going to live again in the house where I passed my childhood; I ran away from it at fifteen years of age, I shall return to it at thirty; God grant that I may never leave it again! Adeline, I am sure, will be delighted to return to it; it was here, she told me, that she passed the happiest days of her life; even if this place does remind her of a man she loved too well, at all events when they lived here he was still worthy of her.”
Jacques rang at the gate; no one answered, but a neighbor advised him to go to the notary’s, which was almost opposite. The notary was the same man who had made the deeds for Edouard Murville four years before. The house, having fallen into the hands of creditors, had belonged to several owners in succession. The present owner almost never lived in it and was very desirous to get rid of it. Jacques inquired the price and promised to return the next day to conclude the bargain; he dared not do it without consulting Monsieur Gerval. He hastened back to the farm, and the old man saw by his pleased expression that he had found a house which suited him.
“You will recognize it,” said Jacques, “for you often went there in the old days; it is the house that belonged to my father.”
“And you didn’t conclude the bargain? Well! well! I see that I must go myself and settle the business.”
And the next morning the old man set out in his carriage with his dear godson. He drove to the notary’s and purchased the estate in the name of Jacques, knowing that he did not intend to bear any other name; but honest Gerval asked no explanation of that resolution, because he guessed a part of Edouard’s misconduct.
“Here, my boy,” he said to Jacques, as he handed him the deed; “it is high time that I should make you a present, to recompense you for having given you such a wretched name. This estate is yours, and my little Jacques is at home in the house from which his name caused him to run away long ago.”
Jacques embraced the old man, and they returned to the farm for Adeline and her daughter.
“Did I misjudge your heart,” Jacques asked his sister-in-law, “in thinking that you would be glad to find yourself back in the dear old house at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges?”
“No, my friend,” replied Adeline; “I have been too happy there not to wish to pass the rest of my life there; happy memories will sometimes mingle with my sad thoughts; I will banish from my mind all that he has done elsewhere than there, and I will try to remember only the days of his affection for me; then I shall at least be able to weep for him without blushing.”