"
M. Wilkie took up his hat, but, though he was longing to depart,
embarrassment kept him to the spot. He vaguely felt that he ought
not to leave his mother in this style. "I hope I shall soon have
some good news to bring you," he began.
"Before night I shall have left this house," she answered.
"Of course. But you are going to give me your new address."
"No."
"What?--No!"
She shook her head sadly, and in a scarcely audible voice
responded: "It is not likely that we shall meet again."
"And the two millions that I am to turn over to you?"
"Mr. Patterson will collect the money. As for me, say to yourself
that I'm dead. You have broken the only link that bound me to
life, by proving the futility of the most terrible sacrifices.
However, I am a mother, and I forgive you." Then as he did not
move, and as she felt that her strength was deserting her, she
dragged herself from the room, murmuring, "Farewell!"
XVI.
Stupefied with astonishment, M. Wilkie stood for a moment silent
and motionless. "Allow me," he faltered at last; "Allow me--I
wish to explain." But Madame d'Argeles did not even turn her head;
the door closed behind her and he was left alone.
However strong a man's nature may be, he always has certain
moments of weakness. For instance, at the present moment Wilkie
was completely at a loss what to do.
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