‘Madeline!’
‘Yes.’
‘You were not yourself this morning, so I did not tell you all my news. Are you composed enough to listen to me now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, then, there is a condition attached to the will which left me all the money—a condition to which I fear you will not be inclined to accede, chérie.’
Madeline raised her eyes to his.
‘You have told me the news at a proper time then, Monsieur; I feel inclined to accede to anything to-day.’
‘My wife,’ said the Frenchman gravely, ‘I would not ask you to accede to anything wrong. Well, the words in the will are these: “Five thousand pounds to my dear nephew, Emile Belleisle, if he is unwed. If he remain unwed for one year after my decease, the sum of three thousand pounds to be paid to him annually during his life. If he marries within the year the said three thousand pounds per annum to be paid to the State.” Now when my beloved relative died I was a single man—when the news came to me I had been married two days. Perhaps it was avaricious of me; but as I was so wretchedly poor I could not bear the thought of three thousand pounds per annum being taken from me and given to the State; so I thought, “I will say nothing of being married; I will take my Madeline to the seaside, and live quietly with her until the year is expired, and then the money will be mine to pour at her feet.”’
‘And what has induced you to change your mind?’
‘My beloved one, you shall hear. I made a confidante of my good aunt, Madame de Fontenay, and, though she loves you not as I do, her woman’s heart did you more justice. She said, “Why should the child suffer because you have come into a fortune? She has a good heart and generous impulses. Tell her—throw yourself upon her mercy—and let her enjoy your good fortune to the full.”’