osity, that would, her woman's instinct taught her, at once
decide the conflict.

No doubt the prosperous ship-broker _was_ unusually agitated. The old
woman's news had touched a chord which, though dulled and slackened by
the heat and dust of seventeen years of busy, anxious life, still
vibrated strongly, and awakened memories that had long slept in the
chambers of his brain, especially one pale Madonna face, with its
soft, tear-trembling eyes that---- '_Ciel_!' he suddenly exclaimed, as
the door opened and gave to view the very form his fancy had conjured
up: '_Ciel_! can it be---- Pshaw!' he added, as he fell back into the
chair from which he had leaped up; 'you must suppose me crazed,
Mademoiselle--Mademoiselle de la Tour, I am quite certain.'

It was indeed Marie de la Tour whom Jeanne Favart had, with much
difficulty, persuaded to make a personal appeal to M. Derville. She
was a good deal agitated, and gladly accepted that gentleman's
gestured invitation to be seated, and take a glass of wine. Her errand
was briefly, yet touchingly told, but not apparently listened to by
Derville, so abstracted and intense was the burning gaze with which he
regarded the confused and blushing petitioner. Jeanne, however, knew
whom he recognised in those flushed and interesting features, and had
no doubt of the successful result of the application.

M. Clement Derville _had_ heard and comprehended what was said, for he
broke an embarrassing silence of some duration by saying, in a pleased
and respectful tone: 'Twelve Napoleons, you say, mademoiselle. It is
nothing: here are twenty. No thanks, I beg of you. I hope to have an
opportunity of rendering you--of rendering Madame de la Tour, I mean,
some real and lasting service.'

Poor Marie was profoundly affected by this generosity, and the
charming blushfulness, the sweet-toned trembling words that expressed
her modest gratitude, were, it should seem, strangely interpreted by
the excited ship-broker. The interview was not prolonged, and Marie de
la Tour hastened with joy-lightened steps to her home.

Four days afterwards, M. Derville called at the Rue St Antoine, only
to hear that Madame de la Tour had died a few hours previously. He
seemed much shocked; and after a confused offer of further pecuniary
assistance, respectfully declined by the weeping daughter, took a
hurried leave.

There is no question that, from the moment of his first interview with
her, M. Derville had concei