fits of the iron-works.

At no time in his life had he hoped for or dreamed of such wealth. His
wildest wishes were surpassed. What more could he want?

Alas! he wanted the power of enjoying these riches; they had come too
late.

This fortune, fallen from the skies, should have filled his heart with
joy; whereas it only made him melancholy and angry.

This unlooked-for happiness seemed to have been sent by cruel fate as
a punishment for his past sins. What could be more terrible than seeing
this haven of rest open to him, and to be prevented from enjoying it
because of his own vile plottings?

Although his conscience told him that he deserved this misery, he blamed
Gaston entirely for his present torture. Yes, he held Gaston responsible
for the horrible situation in which he found himself.

His letters to Raoul for several days expressed all the fluctuations of
his mind, and revealed glimpses of coming evil.

"I have twenty-five thousand livres a year," he wrote to him, a few
hours after signing the agreement of partnership; "and I possess in my
own right five hundred thousand francs. One-fourth of this sum would
have made me the happiest of men a year ago. Now it is of no use to me.
All the gold on earth could not remove one of the difficulties of our
situation. Yes, you were right. I have been imprudent; but I pay dear
for my precipitation. We are now going down hill so rapidly that nothing
can save us; we must fall to the very bottom. To attempt stopping half
way would be madness. Rich or poor, I have cause to tremble as long as
there is any risk of a meeting between Gaston and Valentine. How can
they be kept apart? Will my brother renounce his plan of discovering the
whereabouts of this woman whom he so loved?"

No; Gaston would never be turned from his search for his first love, as
he proved by calling for her in the most beseeching tones when he was
suffering his worst paroxysms of pain.

He grew no better. In spite of the most careful nursing his symptoms
changed, but showed no improvement.

Each attack was more violent than the preceding.

Toward the end of the week the pains left his head, and he felt well
enough to get up and partake of a slight nourishment.

But poor Gaston was a mere shadow of his former self. In one week he had
aged ten years. His strong constitution was broken. He, who ten days ago
was boasting of his vigorous health, was now weak and bent like an old
man. He could hardly dra