I shall be mayor of Douai; I'll obtain the cross, and get to be deputy--in short, everything.

Ha, ha! Pierquin, my boy, now keep yourself in hand; no more nonsense, because--yes, on my word of honor--Felicie--Mademoiselle Felicie Van Claes--loves you!" When the lovers were left alone Emmanuel held out his hand to Marguerite, who did not refuse to put her right hand into it.

They rose with one impulse and moved towards their bench in the garden; but as they reached the middle of the parlor, the lover could not resist his joy, and, in a voice that trembled with emotion, he said,-- "I have three hundred thousand francs of yours." "What!" she cried, "did my poor mother entrust them to you?
No?
then where did you get them ?" "Oh, my Marguerite! all that is mine is yours.

Was it not you who first said the word 'ourselves' ?" "Dear Emmanuel!" she exclaimed, pressing the hand which still held hers; and then, instead of going into the garden, she threw herself into a low chair.
"It is for me to thank you," he said, with the voice of love, "since you accept all." "Oh, my dear beloved one," she cried, "this moment effaces many a grief and brings the happy future nearer.

Yes, I accept your fortune," she continued, with the smile of an angel upon her lips, "I know the way to make it mine." She looked up at the picture of Van Claes as if calling him to witness.
The young man's eyes followed those of Marguerite, and he did not notice that she took a ring from her finger until he heard the words:-- "From the depths of our greatest misery one comfort rises.