At all events, she could have found no better way to conquer this generous nature. The effect was instantaneous. The idea that his mother some day would lean on him suddenly decided him to yield at once. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Promise me that you will never be ashamed of me when my hands are black, and that you will always love me.” She covered her boy with kisses, concealing in this way her trouble and remorse, for from this time henceforward the unhappy woman was a prey to remorse, and never thought of her child without an agonized contraction of the heart. But he, supposing that her embarrassment came from anxiety, and possibly from shame, tore himself away, and ran toward the stairs. “Come, mama, I will tell him that I accept.” “I beg your pardon, sir,” said the little fellow to D’Argenton, as he opened the door; “I was very wrong in refusing your kindness. I accept it with thanks.” “I am happy to find that reflection has taught you wisdom. But now express your gratitude to M. Labassandre: it is he to whom you are indebted.” The child extended his hand, which was quickly ingulfed in the enormous paw of the artist. This last week Jack spent in his former haunts he was more anxious than sad, and the responsibility he felt made itself seen in two little wrinkles on his childish brow. He was determined not to go away without seeing Cécile. “But, my dear, after the scene here the other day, it would not be suitable,” remonstrated his mother. But the night before Jack’s departure, D’Argenton, full of triumph at the success of his plans, consented that the boy should take leave of his friends. He went there in the evening. The house was dark, save a streak of light coming from the library—if library it could be called—a mere closet, crammed with books. The doctor was there, and exclaimed, as the door opened, “I was afraid they would not let you come to say good-bye, my boy! It was partially my fault. I was too quick-tempered by far. My wife scolded me well. She has gone away, you know, with Cécile, to pass a month in the Pyrenees with my sister. The child was not well; I think I told her of your impending departure too abruptly. Ah, these children! we think they do not feel, but we are mistaken, and they feel quite as deeply as we ourselves.” He spoke to Jack as one man to another. In fact, every one treated him in the same way at present. And yet the little fellow now burst into a violent passion of tears at the thought of his little friend having gone away without his seeing her.