who was also staying in Paris
just now. It had gradually become the custom of the Baronne de Vibray,
when she was dining out, to entrust Therese to Etienne Rambert's care,
and the young girl and the old man got on together perfectly. Their
hearts had met across the awful chasm that fate had tried to cut between
them.

To Therese's last words now Etienne Rambert replied:

"You need not apologise for staying late, dear; you know how glad I am
to see you. I wish the house were yours."

The girl glanced round the room that had grown so familiar to her, and
with a sudden rush of feeling slipped her arm around the old man's neck
and laid her fair head on his shoulder.

"I should so love to stay here with you, M. Rambert!"

The old man looked oddly at her for a moment, repressing the words that
he might perhaps have wished to say, and then gently released himself
from her affectionate clasp and led her to a sofa, on which he sat down
by her side.

"That is one of the things that we must not allow ourselves to think
about, my dear," he said. "I should have rejoiced to receive you in my
home, and your presence, and the brightness of your dear fair face would
have given a charm to my lonely fireside; but unfortunately those are
vain dreams. We have to reckon with the world, and the world would not
approve of a young girl like you living in the home of a lonely man."

"Why not?" Therese enquired in surprise. "Why, you might be my father."

Etienne Rambert winced at the word.

"Ah!" he said, "you must not forget, Therese, that I am not your father,
but--his: the father of him who----" but Therese's soft hand laid upon
his lips prevented him from finishing what he would have said.

To change the conversation Therese feigned concern about her own future.

"When we left Querelles," she said, "President Bonnet told me that you
would tell me something about my affairs. I gather that my fortune is
not a very brilliant one."

It was indeed the fact that after the murder of the Marquise the
unpleasant discovery had been made that her fortune was by no means so
considerable as had generally been supposed. The estate was mortgaged,
and President Bonnet and Etienne Rambert had had long and anxious
debates as to whether it might not be well for Therese to renounce her
inheritance to Beaulieu, so doubtful did it seem whether the assets
would exceed the liabilities.

Etienne Rambert made a vague, but significant gesture when he h