“That is a sad line: I should have chosen a different one.”
“It is appropriate to the present occasion. Now add your name.”
She was about to write it when he stopped her.
“Your real name,” said he. “Write your other name, to-night—the name that suits you so well—Fleurange!”
Fleurange smiled, and shook her head. “Oh! no,” she said. “I gave it up with regret, but I should not have thought of such a thing had I previously known you all. But I have been so happy since I have borne the name of Gabrielle—and you were the first to call me so, Clement—so happy that I no longer love the name associated with the sadness of the past, and, were I to hear any one call me Fleurange now, I should imagine it an ill omen.”
Clement made no reply, but, when she returned the book, he retained her hand a moment: “Gabrielle, one word more—perhaps my last before your departure. Listen to me. Wherever you may be, if you ever need a friend—a friend, do you understand?—that would value no sacrifice for your sake, do not forget that your brother is ready to aid you, not only willingly, but with a pleasure you have no idea of.”
Clement’s voice was grave and solemn, but at the same time agitated and tremulous, as he uttered these words. They were so in conformity with what Fleurange had reason to expect from him that they touched her, but excited no surprise.
“Yes, Clement,” she replied frankly, casting an affectionate glance toward him; “I promise to have recourse to you. I feel I have no better friend in the world than you, and doubt if I ever shall have.”
Were these words sweet or bitter? He hardly knew. The sadness that overwhelmed him it seemed impossible to increase, and equally impossible to alleviate. And yet!—she was still there—beside him—with an air of serenity and hope. There was not a single sentiment of her heart he did not share. She called him her friend, and there was no other she preferred to him. The moment, so full of anguish, was yet a happy one, and he regretted at a later day not having known how to profit more by it.
This was their last conversation in the Old Mansion. Clement preserved the little volume in which she had written the name of Gabrielle as a memento of this interview, and also a sprig of the honeysuckle that touched her forehead.