"I do," he replied fervently, "better than life!"
"And wish to make her yours?" she continued.
"I do," he again replied. "She has told me———"
"I heard what she said," interrupted the mother. "And now I must have some conversation with her. Will you continue in the same mind till to-morrow, think you?"
De Cheville smiled faintly. "I fear I shall," said he.
"Very well, then," Madame Lefrette continued; "come to us at three to-morrow, and Marie shall give you your answer. Can you curb your impatience so long?"
"I will try," he said, and with a bow, left the mother and daughter alone together.
In justices' courts, it is always two o'clock till the third hour is complete; but among the suitors in the courts of Cupid, the "practice" is reversed; and no lover ever had an appointment which he did not meet before the time. De Cheville was no exception to the remark.
At least half an hour before three o'clock, on the following day, his patience was exhausted, and his nervous eagerness beyond resistance. He walked resolutely to the house where the great question of his life was to be solved, and was archly shown into the parlor by Madame Dupley. Marie's mother sat near the window, alone. It was with a sinking heart that he took the seat to which she directed him. His voice was hardly sufficient to reply to her grave observation upon the fineness of the weather.
Other common-places followed, solemn as a funeral. A quarter of an hour passed, and De Cheville believed himself older by, at least, a twelve-month. He was about to rise and retire—deeming this only a delicate way of conveying a negative—when the voice of Marie was heard upon the corridor, and Madame Lefrette suddenly turned toward him.
"Your mind has not changed, Monsieur?" she asked hastily.
De Cheville began awkwardly to protest his undying fidelity, when Marie's entrance interrupted him.
