ould
he appear against Jacques, who was his friend, and who had actually
aided him in obtaining the promise of a great match. By that one hope
he had become, so to say, a member of the family. Did he not know that
among kinsmen it was a sacred duty to set aside all personal feelings
for the purpose of protecting that sacred patrimony called family honor?

M. Galpin felt like a man upon whom a handful of stones falls from the
fifth story of a house. Still he preserved his self-control, and even
asked himself what advantage he might obtain from this extraordinary
scene. Might it open a door for reconciliation?

As soon, therefore, as Miss Adelaide stopped, he began justifying
himself, painting in hypocritical colors the grief it had given him,
swearing that he was able to control the events, and that Jacques was as
dear to him now as ever.

"If he is so dear to you," broke in Miss Adelaide, "why don't you set
him free?"

"Ah! how can I?"

"At least give his family and his friends leave to see him."

"The law will not let me. If he is innocent, he has only to prove it. If
he is guilty, he must confess. In the first case, he will be set free;
in the other case, he can see whom he wishes."

"If he is so dear to you, how could you dare read the letter he had
written to Dionysia?"

"It is one of the most painful duties of my profession to do so."

"Ah! And does that profession also prevent you from giving us that
letter after having read it?"

"Yes. But I may tell you what is in it."

He took it out of a drawer, and the younger of the two sisters, Miss
Elizabeth, copied it in pencil. Then they withdrew, almost without
saying good-by.

M. Galpin was furious. He exclaimed,--

"Ah, old witches! I see clearly you do not believe in Jacques's
innocence. Why else should his family be so very anxious to see him? No
doubt they want to enable him to escape by suicide the punishment of his
crime. But, by the great God, that shall not be, if I can help it!"

M. Folgat was, as we have seen, excessively annoyed at this step taken
by the Misses Lavarande; but he did not let it be seen. It was very
necessary that he at least should retain perfect presence of mind and
calmness in this cruelly tried family. M. de Chandore, on the other
hand, could not conceal his dissatisfaction so well; and, in spite of
his deference to his grandchild's wishes, he said,--

"I am sure, my dear child, I don't wish to blame you. But you know yo