er.

"Also," the lawyer continued, without heeding, "I would wager that
to-day there is but little left of the patrimony of little Colette, your
mother, and----"

"He would marry you to hide his misuse of your money!" cried the miller,
slapping his thigh, as if he had discovered the whole plot
single-handed.

"Exactly," said Don Jordy, "he would cover his misappropriation with the
cloak of marriage. I warrant also he has lied to the King as to the
amount of the legacy, perhaps denying that there was any benefice at
all--saying that he had paid the amount to your father--or what not! And
our most catholic Philip can forgive all sins except those which lose
him money--so Master Raphael finds himself in a tight place!"

The silence which followed Don Jordy's exposition was a solemn one--that
is, to all except Claire, who only pouted a little with ostentatious
discontent.

"I don't believe a word of it," she cried; "money or no money,
will or no will, it is just as possible that he wants to marry
me--because--because he wants to marry me! There!"

But the Senora knew better.

"True it is, my little lady," she said, nodding her head, "that any man
might wisely and gladly crave your love and your hand--aye, any honest
man, were he a king's son (here Claire thought of a certain son of
Saint Louis, many times removed, now mending his shoes on the corner of
a farrier's anvil in the camp of the Bearnais)--an honest man, I said.
But not Raphael Llorient, your cousin, and my foster-son. He never had a
thought but for himself since he was a babe, and even then he would
thrust Don Jordy there aside, as if I had not been his mother. I was a
strong woman in those days, and suckled twins--or what is harder, a
foster-child and mine own, doing justice to both!"

And Claire, a little awed by the old lady's vehemence, jested no more.

There was little said till Donna Amelie took Claire up with her to her
chamber, and the three men were left alone. The Professor sighed deeply.

"Women are kittle handling," he said. "I brought you a little orphan
maid. I knew, indeed, that she was Colette Llorient's daughter, and that
there was some risk in that. But with her cousin Raphael, wistful to
marry her for a rich heiress, whose property he has squandered--that is
more than I reckoned with!"

"There is no going back when a woman leads the way," slowly enunciated
the Alcalde.

"Who spoke of going back?" cried the Professor indignantly.