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Updated: May 26, 2025
"I was asking your little girl if she would take a walk with me in the garden," says Horace, getting rather red, and in his bad French. "Monsieur is too good," answers M. Linders, making a grand bow, whilst his companion, having finished dealing, sat puffing away at his cigar, and drumming impatiently with his fingers on the table; "but the hour is rather late; what do you say, Madelon?
Who is He then le bon Dieu?" M. Linders did not at once reply.
Adolphe's education, however, was wholly French; for Madame Linders, who, during her husband's life, had not ceased to mourn over her exile from her own city, lost no time, after his death, in returning to Paris with her two children, Thérèse, a girl of about twelve, and Adolphe, then a child five or six years old.
I don't suppose you recollect the circumstance, Monsieur, but I very well remember meeting you at Chaudfontaine some years ago." "No, I don't remember," said M. Linders faintly, "but I think I may trust you. You will see that Madelon reaches Liége safely?" "I will take her there myself," answered Graham. "Would you like to send any message to your sister?"
Madame Lavaux had readily related the history of Madelon's birth and Madame Linders' death.
"Did you tumble down, Eliza?" he asked with great concern. "No," said Eliza. "Did you bump your head agin something?" "No." "Did anybody hurt you?" and already the professor was casting wrathful glances from boy to boy, well calculated to strike terror to the heart of the culprit. "Not much;" said the matter-of-fact little voice. "I guess 't was her pa done it," spoke up Patsy Linders.
After five-and-twenty years of convent life, Thérèse Linders still clung to the memory of the closing scenes of her worldly career, as the most eventful in the dead level of a grey monotonous life, still held to the remembrance of her mother's death, and of her fierce quarrel with her brother, as the period when all her keenest emotions had been most actively called into play.
If M. Linders had won it was a little fête for both calculations as to how it should be spent, where they should go the next day, what new toy, or frock, or trinket should be bought; if he had lost, there would be a moment of discouragement perhaps, and then Madelon would say, "It does not signify, papa, does it? you will win to-morrow, you know."
"You ask me what I shall do with Thérèse?" said Madame Linders one day to a confidential friend. "Oh! she will go into a convent, of course. I know of an excellent one near Liége, of which her aunt is the superior, and where she will be perfectly happy. She has a turn that way. What else can I do with her, my dear? To speak frankly, she is laide
He watched M. Linders narrowly as he spoke, and saw a sudden gleam of fear or excitement light up his dull eyes for a moment, whilst his fingers clutched nervously at the sheet, but that was all the sign he made. "So I am going to die?" he said, after a pause. "Well that is ended, then. Send for anyone? Whom should I send for?" he added, with some vehemence.
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