d, "Farewell," as I pressed the letter to my
lips.

Such a mixture of tenderness and elevation of tone, such touching
solicitude to console my grief, such boundless confidence in my love and
fidelity! I felt crushed with my grief, proud only to think that I was
worthy of the generosity with which this noble-hearted man was
overwhelming me, prodigal as a father in his kindness. It seemed to me
at that moment that I had never loved him enough, and the grief at his
loss mingled itself with something like remorse. As if he were able hear
me, I swore to him that I would live for the accomplishment of his
wishes: from the depths of my soul, indeed, I felt certain that he saw
me.

When the flow of my tears had ceased, I did not want to tarry a moment
in the accomplishment of his last behests. I ran to his bed-chamber,
opened his desk, and found the two portraits. One, a valuable miniature,
represents a woman of twenty-five, the other is a photograph of Anna
Campbell at the age of fifteen. Although not so pretty as her mother,
perhaps, she has a charming childlike face; the poor little thing felt
uncomfortable, no doubt, when they made her sit, for her expression is
rather sulky and unnatural. Still she gives promise of being attractive
when she has passed the awkward age. I felt myself suddenly possessed by
a sentiment of affection for this unknown cousin, whose guardian I had
become and whose husband I am to be. Upon this cold picture I repeated
to my uncle the oath to obey his wishes; then, taking up a pen, I wrote
a will appointing Anna Campbell the universal legatee of all the
property which my uncle left us.

But one part of my inheritance, the most remarkable and the least
expected, was at present unknown either to the notary or to myself.

I don't wish to make myself out better than I really am, my dear Louis:
I must declare, nevertheless, that in spite of the very natural
bewilderment which I felt on finding myself the owner of such a fortune,
my first thought, when once I had disposed of the legal matters, was to
pay a tribute of mournful regrets to the memory of my poor uncle. I
should have considered it base ingratitude, not to say impiety on my
part, to have shown myself too eager to enjoy the wealth bequeathed to
me by so generous a benefactor. His loss really left a cruel void in my
heart. I decided, therefore, at least to live a few months at Ferouzat.
I wrote immediately to the aunt of Anna Campbell, to e