“They will be better given to-morrow, dear aunt,” said Westover. “Let us finish one volume of the book first. Jeanette has just been telling me, Louis, that you have got the precious document signed by the Marquis de Carcassonne’s own hand—show it to her, show it to her—it will do her good to see it.” My mother read it with eyes blinded by tears, and then pressed it to her lips. “Thank God, thank God!” she said. “I cannot help sometimes thinking, Louis, that the dead can see us, and if so, it must give even greater joy to the spirit of your father in glory, to see his name thus justified by the efforts of his son.” I disclaimed much of the credit she attributed to me, and acknowledged that the principal honor was due to good Jeanette. Jeanette was then called in and embraced us all round, kissed Charles Westover on each side of the face, and me twice on each side, called him an _excellent garçon_, and me her _chèr Louis_, and then danced for a minute for very joy, and then ran out of the room to weep, from the same cause. We protracted our sitting till nearly midnight, and I retired with a heart lightened of its heaviest load. The next morning, I went, as had been arranged by Westover, to call upon my grandfather at his breakfast hour. I found him alone—for my mother had not come down to breakfast for years—but he received me very kindly, gave me his whole hand, and made me sit down to breakfast with him. For the first five minutes he called me Monsieur de Lacy, but it very soon got to Louis, and he talked of the news of the day, and of Charles Westover, and of the state of his health, and of his own anxiety to prevent him from joining his regiment again, while that ball was in his chest. I followed his lead, and replied, “I dare say, sir, you might find a means, if you wished it.” He shook his head, saying, “I don’t think it. Boys and girls are all obstinate—what means?” “If you were to persuade some fair lady to ask him, sir,” I said, “he would never refuse her.” “Ha—what do you mean, Miss ——?” “I really do not know who the lady is,” I answered; “but I dare say your lordship is well aware.” “Oh yes, I know quite well. He has been engaged to Miss —— two years; I wonder why they have not married before now.” “I really cannot tell,” I answered; “but perhaps they do not know that you would approve—or Westover may think that he has not sufficient to keep his position as your grandson.” “Ay, that old uncle of his, Westover,” he said, “left his fortune charged with such a jointure that nothing will come in from that till the old lady dies—” He thought for a moment, and then added, “But all that will be speedily arranged. Why did he not speak to me about it himself?” “I only speak myself by guess, my lord,” I answered, “and am conscious I am taking an unwarrantable liberty in mentioning the subject to you at all.”