Mirelle shook her head. ’No; my mind is made up. Indeed, from the moment that I knew my husband was dead, and that I was a free agent, I had no doubt as to what I must do.’ ’You are not dreaming of shutting yourself up in a convent?’ ’I am going home.’ ’Home! what do you mean by home?’ ’I mean whatever you associate with rest and fragrance and holiness, with love and innocence and happiness. Some find this ideal in a family. I have never had any experience of home in this sense; the only family I have been with was that of the Trampleasures, and that in no way comes up to my ideal. I will not say more about that. No! what I mean by home is that which I know—the convent of the Sacré Coeur.’ Trecarrel rubbed his chin musingly, and then pulled his moustache. ’If you become a nun, what is to become of Welltown? You are, I presume, well off. Herring had no brothers and sisters, and that falls to you I suppose. Are you thinking of selling John Herring’s property, of calling in all your available funds, and bestowing everything on the convent and the bears of Paris?’ ’I have not this thought. Orange and her mother will reside at Welltown and manage the estate, and let me have the money I need.’ ’And who will check their accounts—who look after your interests?’ ’Orange will send me what I want. I do not require much.’ ’What did my poor friend John Herring die worth? That is—how much has come to you, Mirelle?’ ’I do not know the value of the Welltown estate.’ ’But I do,’ said Trecarrel, sharply. ’Six hundred nett, on the outside. Is that all?’ ’No,’ answered Mirelle, ’there is a great deal more money than that. Many thousand pounds. There are the mortgages on West Wyke, and there is a mine somewhere about there, and money beside.’ ’All yours?’ asked Trecarrel, turning his melting blue eye on Mirelle, and stroking his moustache. ’I suppose so.’ ’And this is all to be left to the unchecked management of Orange?’ ’Yes, Orange is so kind and sensible, she will know better than I what ought to be done, and how to do it.’ ’Mirelle!’ exclaimed the Captain, standing up, and placing himself before the fire, occupying the entire rug; ’you are not going to leave England. You are not going to shirk your duty.’ ’My duty! I have done that to the best of my powers, which are small. No, Captain Trecarrel, I must go back whence I came. You cannot conceive how abhorrent to me has been the life I have led since I came to England. It has nearly killed me. Look at my hands; they were plump when I left France, compared to what they are now. My strength is gone; a very short walk now tires me out. I was strong before. I have had no illness whatever except that fever at Dolbeare before I was married, but my soul has been sick ever since I left France, and now I feel a sort of instinct in me that if I am to live I must spread my wings and escape over the water to dear France and nestle into the old convent home again.’