good people. Your father must have had your fascination, Gilberte; and your mother: I picture your mother as an exquisite, charming creature like yourself. ... Did you love her very much?"
"More than my life, madame."
"Here, Guillaume, read it out."
Guillaume took and opened the envelope. As he was unfolding the letter which it contained, he had a momentary hesitation.
"Why, what's the matter?" asked Mme. de la Vaudraye.
"Nothing," he said, presently.
And he unfolded the letter.
They were there, all three of them, affected in different ways, but anxious and even a little timorous, as we are at the approach of the solemn events of our lives, even when we expect nothing from them but pleasure and satisfaction.
"Well?" asked Gilberte, who was certainly the least excited of the three.
