atter over. The idea of taking
charge of a child in my state of health terrifies me. Am I not a child
myself, an invalid who needs to be taken care of? You will take care of
me; you will be with me, if I should end by losing the use of my limbs."

There was a sound of tears in his voice, so great a pity did he feel
for himself. He saw himself, in fancy, sick; he saw his sister at his
bedside, like a Sister of Charity; if she consented to remain unmarried
he would willingly leave her his fortune, so that his father might not
have it. The dread which he had of solitude, the need in which he should
perhaps stand of having a sick-nurse, made him very pathetic.

"It would be very kind on your part, and you should have no cause to
repent it."

Martine, who was serving the mutton, stopped short in surprise; and
the proposition caused the same surprise at the table. Felicite was the
first to approve, feeling that the girl's departure would further her
plans. She looked at Clotilde, who was still silent and stunned, as it
were; while Dr. Pascal waited with a pale face.

"Oh, brother, brother," stammered the young girl, unable at first to
think of anything else to say.

Then her grandmother cried:

"Is that all you have to say? Why, the proposition your brother has just
made you is a very advantageous one. If he is afraid of taking Charles
now, why, you can go with him, and later on you can send for the child.
Come, come, that can be very well arranged. Your brother makes an appeal
to your heart. Is it not true, Pascal, that she owes him a favorable
answer?"

The doctor, by an effort, recovered his self-possession. The chill that
had seized him made itself felt, however, in the slowness with which he
spoke.

"The offer, in effect, is very kind. Clotilde, as I said before, is very
sensible and she will accept it, if it is right that she should do so."

The young girl, greatly agitated, rebelled at this.

"Do you wish to send me away, then, master? Maxime is very good, and I
thank him from the bottom of my heart. But to leave everything, my God!
To leave all that love me, all that I have loved until now!"

She made a despairing gesture, indicating the place and the people,
taking in all La Souleiade.

"But," responded Pascal, looking at her fixedly, "what if Maxime should
need you, what if you had a duty to fulfil toward him?"

Her eyes grew moist, and she remained for a moment trembling and
desperate; for she alone