not deny that; but what! a noble chateau might still be made of
it. Once restored, I would bring my father over to end his days with me,
under the roof that alone could properly shelter a person of such
nobility. He had won my father's heart, too, Melody, as he won all
hearts; they understood each other in some fine, far-off way, that was
beyond me. I sometimes felt a little pang that was not, I am glad to
believe, jealousy, only a wish that I might be more like Yvon, more like
my mother's people, since it was that so charmed my poor father.

I asked Yvon how I was to live, how my father and I should support
ourselves in our restored castle, and whose money would pay for the
restoration. He threw this aside, and said that money was base, and he
refused to consider it. It had nothing to do with the feelings, less
than nothing with true nobility. Should I then take my cobbler's bench,
I asked him, and make shoes for him and his neighbours, while my father
tilled the ground? But then, for the first and almost the last time, I
saw my friend angry; he became like a naughty, sulky child, and would
hardly speak to me for the rest of the day.

But he clung to his idea, none the less; and, to my great surprise, my
father took it up after awhile. He thought well, he told me, of Yvon's
plan; Yvon had talked it over with him. He, himself, was much stronger
than he had been (this was true, Melody, or nothing would have induced
me to leave him even for a week; Yvon had been like a cordial to him,
and he had not had one of his seizures for weeks); and I could perfectly
leave him under Abby's care. I had not been strong myself, a voyage
might be a good thing for me; and no doubt, after seeing with my own
eyes the matters this young lad talked of, I would be glad enough to
come home and settle to my trade, and would have much to think over as I
sat at my bench. It might be that a man was better for seeing something
of the world; he had never felt that the Lord intended him to travel,
having brought to his own door all that the world held of what was best
(he paused here, and said "Mary!" two or three times under his breath,
a way he had when anything moved him), but it was not so with me, nor
likely to be, and it might be a good thing for me to go. He had money
laid by that would be mine, and I could take a portion of that, and have
my holiday.

These are not his very words, Melody, but the sense of them. I was
strangely surprised; an