“That, I understand you to say, was the grandfather of the young woman who is after money.  She’s a Frenchwoman, then?”

“She’s half French.  That was her grandfather.  The father was of much the same type, but a lighter weight.  He married an Irish beauty, a Miss O’Hara, as poor as himself.  He died young, I believe, and I’d lost sight of the lot, till this Mademoiselle Diane de la Ferronaise floated into view, some five years ago, in the train of the Nohant family.  Her marriage to George Eveleth, which took place almost at once, was looked upon as an excellent thing all round.  It rid the Nohants of a poor relation, and helped to establish the Eveleths in the heart of the old aristocracy.  Since then Diane has been going the pace.”

“What pace?”

“The pace the Eveleth money couldn’t keep up with; the pace that made her the most-talked-of woman in a society where women are talked of more than enough; the pace that led George Eveleth to put a bullet through his head under pretence of fighting a duel.”

“Dear me!  Dear me!  A most unusual young woman!  Do you tell me that her husband actually put an end to himself?”

“So I understand.  The affair was a curious one; but Bienville swears he fired into the air, and I believe him.  Besides, George Eveleth was found shot through the temple, and no one but himself could have inflicted a wound like that.  To make it conclusive, Melcourt and Vernois, who were seconds, testify to having seen the act, without having the time to prevent it.  You can see that it is a relief to me to be able to take this view of the case—­on poor Marion’s account.”

“Marion—­your daughter!  Was she mixed up in the affair?”

“Mixed up is a little to much to say.  I don’t mind telling you in confidence that there was something between her and Bienville.  I don’t know where it mightn’t have ended; but of course when all this happened, and we got wind of Bienville’s entanglement with Mrs. Eveleth, we had to put a stop to the thing, and pack her off to America.  She’ll stay there with her aunt, Mrs. Bayford, till it blows over.”

“And your friend Bienville?  Hasn’t he brought himself within the clutches of the law?”

“George Eveleth was officially declared a suicide.  He had every reason to be one—­though I don’t want to say anything against Mrs. Eveleth.  When Bienville refused to put an end to him, he evidently decided to do it himself.  His family know nothing about that, so please don’t let it slip out if you see Diane.  With her notions, the husband fallen in her cause has perished on the field of honor; and if that’s any comfort to her, let her keep it.  As for Bienville, he’s joined young Persigny, the explorer, in South America.  By the time he returns the affair will have been forgotten.  He’s a nice young fellow, and it’s a thousand pities he should have fallen into the net of a woman like Mrs. Eveleth.  I don’t want to say anything against her, you understand—­”