The dream was rudely broken to fragments the next day. The young man of six or seven and twenty who stood leaning against the counter, one foot half crossed over the other, with an easy, gentlemanly air that betokened training beyond what the average habitant of the new countries acquired, was well calculated to win a woman’s heart, a girl’s heart, perhaps too easily caught, satisfied with the outward indications of manliness. Gaspard Denys could not quite tell why, but in his heart he did not altogether approve of this fine gentlemen, for all his good looks, his well-modulated voice and excellent breeding. And he had asked him for the pride of his eye, the idol of his heart, the dearest thing on earth, to take her away for years, perhaps forever, and leave him to the loneliness of old age! And, monstrous thought, he was persuaded that Renée would love him when he had spoken. He had seen indications of it. Last evening he had startled her by some vehemence, for in spite of her apparent gayety and merriment she was a tender, sensitive plant. He would woo her with the utmost gentleness after the permission was once given. “She is so young,” Gaspard Denys began reluctantly. “Whether a girl at that time of life knows her own mind, is able to choose wisely——” “But it is the guardians and parents generally who choose. A little advice, suggestion—and I think I can satisfy you on any point you desire. Ma’m’selle Renée would go back to the standing of her father’s family. She would have advantages, and I may succeed to a title. Still, now I only present myself, and rely upon no adventitious aids.” “It would be—for her to decide. And I would rather have her here. Her father, it seems, cared little enough about her. No, I do not think I could give her up,” decisively. “But it is not absolutely necessary that I return to France,” in a gravely gentle tone. “After my affairs in Montreal are settled, which I hope will turn out profitably, I should be free to do as I liked, or as another liked,” smiling affably. “We will not decide this matter hastily. If you chose to go to Montreal, and the spring will soon open,” M. Denys said tentatively. M. Laflamme thought he had only to ask to have. He fancied Gaspard Denys would be very glad to marry his adopted daughter into a good family—for, after all, her grandfather had not been held in high esteem. A little persuasion on Denys’s part, a little setting forth of the advantages, and he could manage to do the rest by flattery and cajolery. He began to half wish he had not taken a step in the matter, but he could not draw back now. “I should like to know that my suit was favorably looked upon before I went,” was the rejoinder. “Oh, you may soon know that. To-morrow, perhaps.” “Meanwhile may I see Ma’m’selle de Longueville?” “She is at the Marchands’.” Monsieur Laflamme bowed. He did not care to subject himself to the clear, intent eyes of Madame Marchand. They were too penetrating.