And oh! I loved _Maman_ so! But I know that it is better as it is; he is safe there, with her now, far away from all his pain.

He saw her when he was dying." Then after a pause she went on: "Uncle Francis, you love Ethelrida very much, don't you?
Try to look back and think how _Maman_ loved Mimo, and he loved her.

Think of all the sorrow of her life, and the great, great price she paid for her love; and then, when you see him--poor Mimo--try to be merciful." And Francis Markrute suddenly felt a lump in his throat.

The whole pitiful memory of his beloved sister stabbed him, and extinguished the last remnant of rancor towards her lover, which had smoldered always in his proud heart.
There was a moisture in his clever eyes, and a tremulous note in his cold voice as he answered his niece: "Dear child, we will forget and forgive everything.

My one thought about it all now, is to do whatever will bring you comfort." "There is one thing--yes," she said, and there was the first look of life in her face.