The little maid who came to open the door was weeping, and as I came in I was surprised to hear the voice of Laubépin.
"It is Maxime, Marguerite," he said.
Had Marguerite also risen up from a bed of sickness to see Mlle. de Porhoet? I sprang up the stairs, and entered the room.
"My poor, dear boy!" said Mlle. de Porhoet, in a strange, broken voice.
She was lying in bed. Laubépin, a priest, and a doctor were standing on one side, and Marguerite and her mother were kneeling down in prayer on the other. I saw at once that she was at the point of death, and knelt down beside Marguerite. The poor dying woman smiled faintly, and groped for my hand and put it in Marguerite's, and then fell back on the pillow. She was dead.
Laubépin led me out of the room, and put a document in my hand. It was a will, and the ink on it was hardly dry. Mlle. de Porhoet had made me her heir.
"How good of her!" I said to Laubépin. "I shall treasure her testament as a mark of her love for me. I will settle her little estate on my sister. It will at least keep Hélène from having to go out into the world as a governess."
"And it will keep you, my friend, from having to go out into the world as a steward," said Laubépin, with a smile. "Don't you remember that document about the Spanish succession which you discovered and sent to me? We have won the law-suit, and you are the heir to an estate in Spain which will make you one of the richest men in France."
I went into the garden to think over my strange fortune. How long I sat there in the darkness I do not know. On rising up, I heard a faint sound beneath one of the trees, and a beloved form emerged from the foliage, and stood against the starry sky.
"Marguerite!" I cried, running up to her with outstretched arm.