getting these papers away from M. de Clameran.
Had he anticipated my intention of thus disposing of them, they would
never have been surrendered to my keeping."

As he finished speaking, the young man threw the bundle of papers into
the fire where they blazed up; and in a moment nothing remained of them
but a little heap of ashes.

"All is now destroyed, madame," he said, with a satisfied air. "The
past, if you desire it, is as completely annihilated as those papers.
If anyone, thereafter, dares accuse you of having had a son before your
marriage, treat him as a vile calumniator. No proof against you can be
produced; none exists. You are free."

Mme. Fauvel began to understand the sense of this scene; the truth
dawned upon her bewildered mind.

This noble youth, who protected her from the anger of De Clameran, who
restored her peace of mind and the exercise of her own free will, by
destroying all proofs of her past, was, must be, the child whom she had
abandoned: Valentin-Raoul.

In an instant, all was forgotten save the present. Maternal tenderness,
so long restrained, now welled up and overflowed as with intense emotion
she murmured:

"Raoul!"

At this name, uttered in so thrilling a tone, the youth started and
tottered, as if overcome by an unhoped-for happiness.

"Yes, Raoul," he cried, "Raoul, who would a thousand times rather die
than cause his mother a moment's pain; Raoul, who would shed his life's
blood to spare her one tear."

She made no attempt to struggle against nature's yearnings; her longing
to clasp to her heart this long-pined-for first-born must be gratified
at all costs.

She opened her arms, and Raoul sprang forward with a cry of joy:

"Mother! my blessed mother! Thanks be to God for this first kiss!"

Alas! this was the sad truth. The deserted child had never been blest by
a mother's kiss. This dear son whom she had never seen before, had
been taken from her, despite her prayers and tears, without a mother's
blessing, a mother's embrace. After twenty years waiting, should it be
denied him now?

But joy so great, following upon so many contending emotions, was more
than the excited mother could bear; she sank back in her chair almost
fainting, and with distended eyes gazed in a bewildered, eager way upon
her long-lost son, who was now kneeling at her feet.

With tenderness she stroked the soft chestnut curls, and drank in the
tenderness of his soft dark eyes, and expressive mouth,