become reconciled to
our marriage. They will give you a handsome fortune and we will divide
it. I will give you back your liberty, and then we can each of us be
happy in our own way.' It was for this reason that he wished to marry
me. I consented on account of my unborn child. My father and mother had
died, and he hoped to prevail upon me to claim my share of the paternal
fortune. As for claiming it himself, he dared not. He was a coward, and
he was afraid of my brother. But I took a solemn oath that he should
never have a farthing of the wealth he coveted, and neither threats nor
BLOWS could compel me to assert my claim. God only knows how much I had
suffered from his brutality when I at last succeeded in making my escape
with Wilkie. He has sought us everywhere for fifteen years, but he has
not yet succeeded in finding a trace of us. Still he has not ceased to
watch my brother. I am sure of that, my presentiments never deceive me.
So, if I followed your advice--if I claimed possession of my brother's
fortune--my husband would instantly appear with our marriage contract in
his hands, and demand everything. Shall I enrich him? No, never, never!
I would rather die of want! I would rather see Wilkie die of starvation
before my very eyes!"

Madame d'Argeles spoke in that tone of concentrated rage which betrays
years of repressed passion and unflinching resolution. One could
scarcely hope to modify her views even by the wisest and most practical
advice. The baron did not even think of attempting to do so. He had
known Madame d'Argeles for years; he had seen so many proofs of her
invincible energy and determination. She possessed the distinguishing
characteristic of her family in a remarkable degree--that proverbial
Chalusse obstinacy which Madame Vantrasson had alluded to in her
conversation with M. Fortunat.

She was silent for a moment, and then, in a firm tone she said: "Still,
I will follow your advice in part, baron. This evening I will write
to M. Patterson and request him to send for Wilkie. In less than a
fortnight I shall have sold my furniture and disappeared. I shall remain
poor. My fortune is not so large as people suppose. No matter. My son is
a man; he must learn to earn his own living."

"My banking account is always at your disposal, Lia."

"Thanks, my friend, thanks a thousand times; but it will not be
necessary for me to accept your kind offer. When Wilkie was a child I
did not refuse. But now I would