"As I have already said," observed old Richard, after a moment of silence, "I shall appeal to your kind heart and affection for me.

"You have but to speak, then, my father," rejoined the young man dutifully.

"You declared a few moments ago that if you sometimes dreamed of a more luxurious existence, it was not for yourself, being entirely satisfied with your humble condition, but for me."

"And I repeat it!"

"Well, my child, the realization of your wish depends on yourself only."

"What do you mean?"

"Listen to me. Reverses of fortune, which closely followed your mother's death, while you were still a child, robbed me of nearly all I possessed, leaving me barely enough to provide for your education. When this was all spent I was forced to open a bureau as public scribe—"

"True, my good, kind father," said the young man, with emotion; "and seeing with what courage and resignation you endured ill-fortune, my affection and veneration for you augmented to a degree that falls little short of worship."

"This ill-fortune may pursue us, my child; I am growing old, my sight is dimmed, and I foresee the sad day when it shall become impossible for me to earn our daily bread."

"My father, rely on—"

"On you? You will do your best, I know, but your own future is precarious. You shall never be more than first or second clerk, for it requires money to buy out a notary's office, and I am poor."

"Don't be alarmed, I shall always earn enough for both."

"You are counting without illness or the force of events. How many unexpected circumstances may reduce you to idleness for months! And then how should we live?"

"But, my dear father, if we poor people anticipated all the trouble we may be threatened with, we should certainly lose courage. Let us close our eyes to the future, and think of the present only. Thank God! there is nothing to frighten us in that."

"When the future is threatening, it is assuredly wiser to turn the eyes away; but when it may be happy and smiling, it is better to face it!"

"I don't deny that."

"Well, I repeat it, our future lies in your hands; it depends entirely on you to make it happy and assured."

"Then it is done. Only tell me how?"

"I shall astonish you greatly. That poor M. Ramon, with whom you have just spent a few days and whom you judge so harshly, is an old friend of mine."

"He, your friend?"

"Your visit to Dreux was arranged beforehand between us."

"But those deeds—"

"Your employer obligingly consented to aid us in our little ruse, by entrusting you with valueless papers."

"But what was your purpose?"

"Ramon wanted to observe and study your character without your knowledge, and he assures me he is quite enchanted with you. I received a long letter from him this morning, in which he speaks of you is the highest terms."

"I regret my inability to return the compliment; but why should it matter to me whether he thinks well or ill of me?"

"It matters very much, indeed, my boy; for the happy future of which I spoke depends entirely on Ramon's opinion of you."

"This is an enigma to me."

"Although not exactly rich, Ramon possesses a modest fortune, augmented each day by his economies."

"Humph! I believe that. But what you charitably term economy is sordid avarice, and nothing else."

"Call it what you will; we shall not bandy words about it. Owing to this avarice, however, Ramon will leave a snug fortune after him—I say after him, because he gives nothing away during his life-time."

"I am not surprised at that. But I really cannot understand what you are leading to, father!"

"I feel some hesitation in pursuing; for however false and unjust first impressions may be, they are exceedingly tenacious—and you judged Mademoiselle Ramon so severely—"

"Red-nose! Say rather that I was very indulgent!"

"You will overcome these prejudices, I am sure. Believe me,
Mademoiselle Ramon is one of those persons who improve on better
acquaintance. She is a woman of firm character and exemplary virtues.
What more can be desired in the mother of a family?"

"The mother of a family!" gasped Louis, who until now had not suspected the danger that threatened him, but was beginning to conceive a vague fear. "The mother of a family!" he repeated in dismay, "and what matters it to me whether Mademoiselle Ramon is or is not fitted to become a good mother?"

"It matters more to you than to anyone else."

"To me?"

"Certainly."

"And why, pray?"

"Because my most cherished, and only desire is, to see you marry
Mademoiselle Ramon," declared the old man, resolutely.

"Marry—Mademoiselle Ramon!" cried Louis, aghast, shrinking back in his chair as if the red-nosed spinster had suddenly appeared before him. "I—marry?—"

"Yes, my child," rejoined old Richard, in his most affectionate tone, "marry Mademoiselle Ramon, and our future is assured. We shall live at Dreux; Ramon's house is sufficiently large for us all. He gives his daughter no dowry; but we shall live in his home, and his influence will obtain a position for you. At the death of your father-in-law, you will inherit a snug fortune—Louis, my beloved son," concluded the old man, beseechingly, grasping the young man's hands in his, "consent to this marriage and you will make me the happiest man in the world; for I can then die without anxiety for your future."

"Ah! my father, you don't realize what you ask!" rejoined Louis reproachfully.

"You may say that you feel no love for Mademoiselle Ramon, but mutual esteem is sufficient in marriage; and you must admit that she is deserving of that esteem. As to her father, I can understand that you may have been shocked at what you term his avarice; but this will seem less odious to you when you reflect that you shall one day enjoy the benefits of this economy. At heart, Ramon is an excellent man. His only ambition is to leave a small fortune to his daughter and her husband; and to attain this aim, he practices the strictest economy. Do you call that a crime? Come, my child, give me one word of hope!"

"Father," said the young man, in a constrained voice, "it grieves me to disappoint you in your projects, but what you ask is impossible."

"Louis, can you really answer thus, when I appeal to your affection for me?"

"To begin with, this marriage will bring you no personal advantage; you think of me only."

"What! do you call it no advantage to live in his house without spending a sou? I tell you it is all arranged; he is to board us gratuitously, instead of giving his daughter a dowry."

"Father, as long as there remains a drop of blood in my veins, you shall receive charity from no one! I have already begged you many times to give up your occupation, pledging myself to provide for both—"

"But, if you were taken ill, my child, I should be forced to seek admittance into the alms-house!"

"I shall not be ill, and you will want for nothing; but if I had the misfortune to be that detestable creature's husband, I should die of grief."

"Yon cannot be serious, my son."

"Perfectly serious, father. In your blind affection for me you sought to contract an advantageous union, and I am deeply grateful for your kind solicitude—but let us dismiss the subject; as I have already said, this marriage is impossible."

"Louis!"

"I shall always feel an invincible aversion toward Mademoiselle Ramon, and besides, I love a young girl, and she alone shall be my wife."

"Ah! my son, I believed I enjoyed your full confidence, and yet you formed this grave resolution without consulting me!"

"I was silent on the subject because the young girl and myself agreed to wait a whole year before speaking of marriage, that we might be sure we had not mistaken a passing fancy for a real passion. Thank heaven! our love has resisted all trials. The time of probation expires this very day, and to-morrow we shall fix the wedding day. The young girl I love is as poor as ourselves, but she possesses the noblest heart in the world. Never will you find a more devoted daughter, and I shall double in zeal and energy to make life agreeable to you. Believe me, nothing is more painful to me than to disagree with you, and I beg you to spare me the pain of another refusal. Do not insist on this union, for I shall never resign myself to it, and I swear by my affection for you that I shall have no other wife than Mariette Moreau."

The young man uttered these last words so firmly that the father decided not to insist at that moment, but merely said in a grieved tone:

"I cannot believe, Louis, that all the reasons I have pleaded in favor of this marriage can be without value in your eyes. I have more confidence in your heart than you seem to have yourself, and I am sure that reflection will bring you to a wiser decision."

"I shall not change my mind."

"I shall insist no further on the subject, but leave you to your reflections. I give you twenty-four hours to come to a definite resolution. Until then, I shall not say a word of this marriage, and I beg of you, on your side, not to trouble me with your love affairs."

"Very well, father; but I assure you that delay—"

"Not a word more on the subject," interrupted the old man, rising.

As he silently paced the room, he cast furtive glances on his son, who was thoughtfully gazing at the letter before him, with his head leaning on his hands, and his elbows supported by the table.