However it may have
been, I told him my story, but not without changing the names, and
omitting many particulars. He had taken a seat beside me on the
bench, and I saw big tears roll down his cheeks as I proceeded
with my narrative. 'It is ever so! it is ever so!' he muttered.
'To love is to incur the risk of martyrdom. It is to offer one's
self as a victim to every perfidy, to the basest treason and
ingratitude.' The man who spoke in this fashion was Baron
Trigault. He did not allow me to finish my story. 'Enough!' he
suddenly exclaimed, 'follow me!' A cab was passing, he made us
get in, and an hour later we were in a comfortable room, beside a
blazing fire, with a generously spread table before us. The next
day, moreover, we were installed in a pleasant home. Alas! why
wasn't the baron generous to the last? You were saved, Wilkie, but
at what a price!"
She paused for a moment, her face redder than fire; but soon
mastering her agitation, she resumed: "There was one great cause
of dissension between the baron and myself. I wished you to be
educated, Wilkie, like the son of a noble family, while he desired
you should receive the practical training suited to a youth who
would have to make his own way in the world, and win position,
fortune, and even name for himself. Ah! he was a thousand times
right, as events have since proved only too well! But maternal
love blinded me, and, after an angry discussion, he went away,
declaring he would not see me again until I became more
reasonable.
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