ur
uncle?"

"My uncle!" murmured Gustave, with evident grief; "that is true; I need
his consent. All I possess or ever shall possess in the world depends on
his affection for me. I am the orphan son of his brother. He adopted me
as his child and has overwhelmed me with kindness. He has the right to
decide my lot in life, and I must obey him."

"And do you think that he, a merchant, who probably places a very high
value on money, because experience has taught him its value, will say,
like you, 'Palace or hovel, poverty or wealth, it makes no difference'?"

"Alas! I know not, Monsieur De Vlierbeck," said Gustave, droopingly.
"But my uncle is so good to me--so extraordinarily good--that I may
rightly hope for his consent. He will return to-morrow. When I embrace
him I will declare all my wishes. I will say my comfort, my happiness,
my life, depend on his consent. I know that he loves Lenora sincerely;
for, before his departure, he even seemed to encourage my pretensions to
her hand. Your disclosures will undoubtedly surprise him; but my prayers
will conquer: believe it!"

Monsieur De Vlierbeck rose, to put an end to the conversation.

"Well, ask your uncle's consent," said he; "and, if your hopes are
realized, let him come here and consult about the marriage. Whatever
may be the issue of this affair, Gustave, you at least have always
behaved toward us with the delicacy of a generous youth. My esteem and
friendship shall always be yours. Go now; quit Grinselhof this time
without seeing Lenora, for you ought not to meet her until this affair
is settled. I will tell her myself whatever I think proper for her to
know."

Half pleased, half sad,--his heart divided between joy and
anxiety,--Gustave bade farewell to Lenora's father and returned to
Echelpoel.

CHAPTER V.

On the afternoon of the following day Monsieur De Vlierbeck was seated
in his parlor, his head resting on his hand. He seemed plunged in
profound thought, for his eyes were fixed on vacancy and his face
exhibited by turns contentment and hope, inquietude and anxiety.

Occasionally Lenora came into the apartment, and, seeming unusually
restless, wandered about from spot to spot, arranging and rearranging
the little fancy articles upon the tables, looking out of the window
into the garden, and at last running down-stairs suddenly as if she were
pursued. No one who saw her could doubt that she was nervously anxious
about something; yet her express