“At Bellevue, madam, yesterday morning.  I arrived at eleven o’clock to-day.”

“When did Mr. Dumont return from his journey up the river?” asked Dr. Vaudelier.

De Guy reflected a moment; from the shade of displeasure on his countenance, it was evident he disliked the interference of the doctor.

“About four days ago.”

“When did you last see your uncle, Miss Dumont?” asked the doctor.

“I have not seen him since the second day of our journey,”—­which was the time that Jaspar had been left at the wood-yard.

“Probably, then, he has returned to Bellevue.  It is singular that, under the instructions of the will, he should leave you in this unceremonious manner.”

“Not at all,” interrupted De Guy.

“You speak as though you were familiar with his motions,” said Dr. Vaudelier, with a penetrating glance at the attorney.

“To some extent, I am,” replied the silky-toned lawyer, with a smile which was intended to declare his own innocence in any of the plots of Jaspar.  “He has voluntarily acquainted me with some of the particulars of this unfortunate affair.”

“Indeed, sir!”

“Such is the fact,” continued the attorney, with professional ease; “he has sent for Miss Dumont in order to effect a compromise.”

“A compromise!” exclaimed Emily, with disdain; “there can be no compromise, short of restoring, absolutely, my rights!”

“It is very probable he is quite ready to do so,” replied the accommodating attorney.

“May I ask what has produced this singular and sudden change in the purpose of my uncle?”

“Well, madam, it would be difficult to explain the precise reasons.  His mind seemed troubled; I advised him to unburden to me, which he did.  The conclusion of the whole matter is, he has taken this step by my advice,” said De Guy, with an air of the deepest humility.

Emily was somewhat moved, by the revelation of the attorney, from the stern reserve she had manifested, and said,

“I am grateful for your interest in my behalf.”

“Do not mention it, madam.  There is a pleasure in doing one’s duty, which is superior to every other gratification.”

“May I ask what prompted you to give such advice?” asked Dr. Vaudelier, incredulously.

“The consciousness that my duty to this lady demanded it.  It was not exactly in keeping with the profession, I am aware; but I felt obliged to sacrifice professional consistency to the call of justice,” said the attorney, in such a way as to leave it doubtful whether he was perpetrating a jest or a moral axiom.

“Humph!” said the doctor, with a doubtful sneer.

“Principle before professional advantage, is my motto, sir,” continued De Guy.

“Pray, what gave you the first intimation that all was not right between this lady and her uncle?”

“The voluntary confession of Mr. Dumont,” replied De Guy, readily.