ing worse?" asked Louis.

"Put 'Louis-Gaston,'" she went on.

She sighed, then she went on.

"Seal the letter, and direct it. To Lord Brandon, Brandon Square, Hyde
Park, London, Angleterre.--That is right. When I am dead, post the
letter in Tours, and prepay the postage.--Now," she added, after a
pause, "take the little pocketbook that you know, and come here, my dear
child.... There are twelve thousand francs in it," she said, when Louis
had returned to her side. "That is all your own. Oh me! you would have
been better off if your father----"

"My father," cried the boy, "where is he?"

"He is dead," she said, laying her finger on her lips; "he died to save
my honor and my life."

She looked upwards. If any tears had been left to her, she would have
wept for pain.

"Louis," she continued, "swear to me, as I lie here, that you will
forget all that you have written, all that I have told you."

"Yes, mother."

"Kiss me, dear angel."

She was silent for a long while, she seemed to be drawing strength from
God, and to be measuring her words by the life that remained in her.

"Listen," she began. "Those twelve thousand francs are all that you have
in the world. You must keep the money upon you, because when I am dead
the lawyers will come and seal everything up. Nothing will be yours
then, not even your mother. All that remains for you to do will be to go
out, poor orphan children, God knows where. I have made Annette's future
secure. She will have an annuity of a hundred crowns, and she will stay
at Tours no doubt. But what will you do for yourself and your brother?"

She raised herself, and looked at the brave child, standing by her
bedside. There were drops of perspiration on his forehead, he was pale
with emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears.

"I have thought it over, mother," he answered in a deep voice. "I will
take Marie to the school here in Tours. I will give ten thousand francs
to our old Annette, and ask her to take care of them, and to look after
Marie. Then, with the remaining two thousand francs, I will go to Brest,
and go to sea as an apprentice. While Marie is at school, I will rise to
be a lieutenant on board a man-of-war. There, after all, die in peace,
my mother; I shall come back again a rich man, and our little one shall
go to the Ecole polytechnique, and I will find a career to suit his
bent."

A gleam of joy shone in the dying woman's eyes. Two tears brimmed over,
and fell over h