He turned away from them almost abruptly. "Bah!" he said. "Of course a _depositaire_ has to see to such little things. That is nothing. You should rather blame me for the bad choice I made. I will tell you what strikes me. There is a Madame Aubert here, an excellent woman, whose husband has but lately died, and whose daughter is delicate and wants a companion of her own age. I think you might be very happy there, provided,"--his voice trembled--"provided you desire to remain in Charville?" "Where could I go?" she said, with heavy tears dropping from her eyes. "I wonder whether in all France there is any one so friendless as I am." It was spoken under her breath, but he caught the forlorn words. "Therese!" he said passionately. "Therese!--" She half rose from the seat, turning on him a frightened face. He stopped her. "Hear me at least," he said. "I ask nothing--nothing: I would not pain you, no, not for all the joy which a word of yours might bring. I have not forgotten what you told me,--if you repeat it now, my Therese, I swear your love shall be to me as sacred a thing as it has been since I heard it from your lips. If it is so, I will say only, forgive me, and trust me once more. But, if things are not as they were--if--if--" His great frame shook with emotion, he put out his hands, his voice was choked. Then he recovered himself with a strong effort. "Therese, is there any hope?" She was silent. What was this rush of tenderness which swept across her heart? What was this great contentment which seemed suddenly to calm all the sadness and the wounds and the self reproach of the past days? Could it be new, this feeling which seemed to fill her whole being with a sense of unutterable happiness? Ah, no, more likely all this time it had been growing in her unawares. More likely, as has been said before, she had taken his goodness, and his nobility, and his tenderness, and had set them up in her heart, and called the image Fabien. She had done it in good faith, all unconsciously, only she had been treasuring a shadow; and, lo! there came a waft, and the shadow was gone. It may have been strange that the awakening had not come before; nevertheless it had not. She had been faithful to Fabien, but it was to Fabien dressed in M. Deshoulieres' virtues. Sometimes those deceptions are very terrible. With the real knowledge there comes every now and then a blank, or, what is worse, the terrible word, "too late." One is thankful that for this poor little Therese there were better things, and that circumstances occurred to show her Fabien's character at once without the veil which might have carried on the deception and made her burden infinitely harder. She was silent. But over her face there came a soft, tender flush, her sweet eyes looked shyly up into his. "Is there any hope?" he said again, bending over her, and speaking in a low, quick, eager tone. And then into his outstretched hands she put her own...