“I have received a letter from the Comte D’Ucelles,” she observed finally; “he is, as you may remember, Jean’s nearest relation upon the French side—in fact, his only near French relation.”
“Parfaitement,” replied the doctor, “he is a gallant man and has had a certain success in Paris. There is a remarkable resemblance between him and the late Baron.”
“Ah!” said Miss Prenderghast thoughtfully, “I trust it is only superficial. Still it cannot be helped; he is Jean’s uncle, and he has at last chosen to intimate some interest in the boy’s future.”
“Very natural, very natural indeed,” exclaimed the Curé. “Nothing could be more convenable, madame, the true spirit of a good Catholic and of an uncle!”
“It may be as you say,” replied Miss Prenderghast, with knitted brows. “In any case, he has waited long enough before showing either of them. However, it is not easy for me to make up my mind what it is best to do.”
“And Jean, what is his opinion?” asked the doctor.
“I have not consulted him upon the question,” said Miss Prenderghast. “It is possible I should have done so, in which case I should hardly have troubled you for your advice; but yesterday a very, very painful incident occurred, which has greatly shaken my intention.”
Both the doctor and the priest started; they did not look at each other, though they were thinking the same thought.
“He has fallen from grace,” the priest said to himself.
“He has become a man,” thought the doctor.