with an immense fortune and an uncompromised
character? I have heard of these
objections: I know they have made bad blood;
and I ask myself, again and again, what can
they be?"

"God knows I have often tried to dismiss
them from my mind, as fanciful and absurd,"
said Trudaine, "and I have always failed.
It is impossible, in your presence, that I can
describe in detail what my own impressions
have been from the first of the master whom
you serve. Let it be enough if I confide to
you that I cannot, even now, persuade myself
of the sincerity of his attachment to my
sister, and that I feel— in spite of myself, in
spite of my earnest desire to put the most
implicit confidence in Rose's choice— a distrust
of his character and temper, which now, on
the eve of the marriage, amounts to positive
terror. Long secret suffering, doubt, and
suspense, wring this confession from me,
Monsieur Lomaque, almost unawares, in
defiance of caution, in defiance of all the
conventionalities of society. You have lived for
years under the same roof with this man;
you have seen him in his most unguarded
and private moments. I tempt you to betray
no confidence— I only ask you if you can
make me happy by telling me that I have
been doing your master grievous injustice by
my opinion of him? I ask you to take my
hand, and tell me, if you can, in all honour,
that my sister is not risking the happiness of
her whole life by giving herself in marriage
to Danville to-morrow!"

He held out his hand while he spoke. By
some strange chance, Lomaque happened, just
at that moment, to be looking away towards
those beauties of nature which he admired so
greatly. "Really, Monsieur Trudaine, really
such an appeal from you, at such a time,
amazes me." Having got so far, he stopped
and said no more.

"When we first sat down together here
I had no thought of making this appeal,
no idea of talking to you as I have talked,"
pursued the other. "My words have escaped
me, as I told you, almost unawares— you
must make allowances for them and for me.
I cannot expect others, Monsieur Lomaque, to
appreciate and understand my feelings for
Rose. We two have lived alone in the world
together: father, mother, kindred, they all
died years since and left us. I am so much
older than my sister, that I have learnt to
feel towards her more as a father than as a
brother. All my life, all my dearest hopes,
all my highest expectations have centred in
her. I was past the period of my boyhood
when my mother put my little child-sister's
hand in mine, and said to me on her deathbed,
' Louis, be all to her that I have been,
for she has no one left to look to but you.'
Since then the loves and ambitions of other
men have not been my loves or my ambitions.
Sister Rose— as we all used to call her in
those past days, as I love to call her still—
Sister Rose has been the one aim, the one
happiness, the one precious trust, the one
treasured reward of all my life. I have lived
in this poor house, in this dull retirement, as
in a Paradise, because Sister Rose, my innocent,
happy, bright-faced Eve, has lived here
with me. Even if the husband of her choice
had been the husband of mine, the necessity
of parting with her would have been the
hardest, the bitterest of trials. As it is,
thinking what I think, dreading what I dread,
judge what my feelings must be on the eve of
her marriage; and know why, and with what
object, I made the appeal which surprised
you a moment since, but which cannot
surprise you now. Speak if you will — I can say
no more." He sighed bitterly; his head
dropped on his breast, and the hand which
he had extended to Lomaque trembled as he
withdrew it and let it fall at his side.

The land-steward was not a man
accustomed to hesitate, but he hesitated now. He
was not usually at a loss for phrases in which
to express himself, but he stammered at
the very outset of his reply. "Suppose I
answered," he began slowly; "suppose I told
you that you wronged him, would my testimony
really be strong enough to shake
opinions, or rather presumptions, which have
been taking firmer and firmer hold of you for
months and months past? Suppose, on the
other hand, that my master had his little—"
(Here Lomaque hesitated before he pronounced
the next word) — "his little — infirmities, let
me say; but only hypothetically, mind that!
infirmities— and suppose I had observed them,
and was willing to confide them to you, what
purpose would such a confidence answer now,
at the eleventh hour, with Mademoiselle
Rose's heart engaged, with the marriage fixed
for to-morrow? No! no! trust me —"

Trudaine looked up suddenly. "I thank
you for reminding me, Monsieur Lomaque,
that it is too late now to make inquiries, and
by consequence too late also to trust in others.
My sister has chosen; and on the subject of
that choice my lips shall be henceforth sealed.
The events of the future are with God: whatever
they may be, I hope I am strong enough
to bear my part in them with the patience
and the courage of a man! I apologise,
Monsieur Lomaque, for having thoughtlessly
embarrassed you by questions which I had
no right to ask. Let us return to the house—
I will show you the way."

Lomaque's lips opened, then closed again:
he bowed uneasily, and his sallow complexion
whitened for a moment. Trudaine led the
way in silence back to the house: the land-
steward following slowly at a distance of
several paces, and talking in whispers to
himself. "His father was the saving of me,"
muttered Lomaque; "that is truth, and there
is no getting over it: his father was the saving
of me; and, yet, here am I — no! it's too
late!— too late to speak— too late to act— too
late to do anything!"