MY DEAREST DAUGHTER--I hope that the news I announce will give you as much joy as it has already given our dear Roland and me. Sir John, whose heart you doubted, claiming that it was only a mechanical contrivance, manufactured in the workshops at Vaucanson, admits that such an opinion was a just one until the day he saw you; but he maintains that since that day he has a heart, and that that heart adores you. Did you suspect it, my dear Amélie, from his aristocratic and polished manners, when your mother’s eyes failed to discern this tenderness. This morning, while breakfasting with your brother, he formally asked your hand. Your brother received the offer with joy, but he made no promises at first. The First Consul, before Roland’s departure for the Vendée, had already spoken of making himself responsible for your establishment. But since then he has asked to see Lord Tanlay, and Sir John, though he maintained his national reserve, was taken into the first Consul’s good graces at once, to such a degree that he received from him, at their first interview, a mission to his uncle, Lord Grenville. Sir John started for England immediately. I do not know how many days Sir John will be absent, but on his return he is certain to present himself to you as your betrothed. Lord Tanlay is still young, pleasing in appearance, and immensely rich; he is highly connected in England, and Roland’s friend. I do not know a man who has more right, I will not say to your love, but to your profound esteem. The rest of my news I can tell you in two words. The First Consul is still most kind to me and to your two brothers, and Madame Bonaparte has let me know that she only awaits your marriage to place you near her. There is talk of leaving the Luxembourg, and removing to the Tuileries. Do you understand the full meaning of this change of domicile? Your mother, who loves you, CLOTILDE DE MONTREVEL. Without pausing, the young man turned to Roland’s postscript. It was as follows: You have read, my dear little sister, what our good mother has written. This marriage is a suitable one under all aspects. It is not a thing to be childish about; the First Consul _wishes_ you to become Lady Tanlay; that is to say, he _wills_ it. I am leaving Paris for a few days. Though you may not see me, you will hear of me. I kiss you, ROLAND. “Well, Charles,” asked Amélie, when the young man had finished reading, “what do you think of that?” “That it is something we had to expect from day to day, my poor angel, but it is none the less terrible.” “What is to be done?” “There are three things we can do.” “Tell me.” “In the first place, resist if you have the strength; it is the shortest and surest way.” Amélie dropped her head. “You will never dare, will you?” “Never.” “And yet you are my wife, Amélie; a priest has blessed our union.”