“Your counsel is, perhaps, wise and generous; yet I will not follow it.  You know that all my sacrifices, my painful life, my constant agony, have been patiently endured for the sake of my only child.  You alone know that all I do has but, one purpose,—­a purpose which I hold sacred.  I have reason to believe that God is about granting the earnest prayer I have daily offered for ten years.  My daughter is beloved by a rich gentleman, whose character I think I may confide in, and his family appears to sympathize in all his views. Four months! it is but a short time, alas! yet, ought I, by anticipating the legal period of a sale, to destroy all my fond hopes?  Ought I instantly to welcome misery for myself and my child when I see the chance of sure relief from all we have suffered?”

“Then you want to deceive these people, whoever they may be?  Do you not suppose that by such a course of conduct you may make your daughter still more wretched?”

At the word “deceive” the poor gentleman winced as if stung by an adder, while a nervous thrill ran through his limbs and suffused his face with a blush of shame.

“Deceive!” echoed he, bitterly; “oh, no! but I dare not, by a rash avowal of my want, stifle the love that is growing up mutually.  Whenever it becomes necessary to be decided, I will make a loyal disclosure of my condition.  If the declaration ruin my hopes I will follow your advice.  I will sell all I have; I will quit the country and seek in some foreign land to maintain myself and my beloved child by teaching.”  He stopped for a moment, as if swallowing his grief, and then continued, in a lower tone, half speaking to himself, “And, yet, did I not promise my dear wife on her death-bed—­did I not promise it on the holy cross—­that our child should not undergo such a fate?  Ten years of suffering—­ten abject years—­have not sufficed to realize my promise; and now, at last, a feeble ray of hope struggles into my sombre future—­” He grasped the notary’s hand, looked wildly but earnestly into his eyes, and added, in suppliant tones, “Oh, my friend, help me! help me in this last and trying effort; do not prolong my torture; grant my prayer, and as long as I live I will bless my benefactor, the savior of my child!”

The notary withdrew his hand as he answered, with some embarrassment, “Yet, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, I cannot comprehend what all this has to do with the loan of a thousand francs!”

De Vlierbeck thrust his rejected hand into his pocket as he replied, “Yes, sir, it is ridiculous, is it not, to fall so low and to see one’s happiness or misery depend on things about which other persons may laugh?  And yet, alas! so it is!  The young gentleman of whom I spoke to you is to dine with us to-morrow in company with his uncle,—­the uncle invited himself,—­and we have absolutely nothing to give them! Besides this, my child needs some trifles to appear decently before the guests,