In Search of a Son. Walsh William Shepard
questioned Monsieur Roger. He thought, "She cannot understand sorrow, this little girl, who has not had any trials."
And the eyes of Miette seemed to answer, "But George? George? did they not find him?"
At last Monsieur Roger understood this thought in the mind of Miette without any necessity on her part to express it by her lips, and, as if he were answering to a verbal question, he said, shaking his head,—
"No, they never found him."
Miette expected this answer; then she too began to weep.
Monsieur Dalize repeated the last words of Monsieur Roger.
"They did not find him! I do not dare to ask you, my dear friend, if you preserve any hope."
"Yes, I hope. I forced myself to hope for a long time. But the ocean kept my child in the same way that it buried in its depths many other victims of this catastrophe, for it was that very hope that made me remain in America. I might have returned to France and given up my engagements; but there I was closer to news, if there were any; and, besides, in work, in hard labor to which I intended to submit my body, I expected to find, if not forgetfulness, at least that weariness which dampens the spirit. I remained ten years in Texas, and I returned to-day without ever having forgotten that terrible night."
There was a silence. Then Monsieur Dalize, wishing to create a diversion, asked,—
"How does it happen that you did not announce to me beforehand your return. It was not until I received your telegram this morning that we learned this news which made us so happy. I had no reason to expect that your arrival would be so sudden. Did you not say that you were to remain another six months, and perhaps a year, in Texas?"
"Yes; and I did then think that I should be forced to prolong my stay for some months. My contract was ended, my work was done. I was free, but the mining-company wished to retain me. They wanted me to sign a new contract, and to this end they invented all sorts of pretexts to keep me where I was. As I did not wish to go to law against the people through whom I had made my fortune, I determined to wait, hoping that my patience would tire them out; and that, in fact, is what happened. The company bowed before my decision. This good news reached me on the eve of the departure of a steamer. I did not hesitate for a moment; I at once took ship. I might indeed have given you notice on the way, but I wished to reserve to myself the happiness of surprising you. It was not until I reached Paris that I decided to send you a despatch; and even then I did not have the strength to await your reply."
"Dear Roger!" said Monsieur Dalize. "And then your process, your discovery, succeeded entirely?"
"Yes, I have made a fortune,—a large fortune. I have told you that the enterprise was at my risk, but that the company would give me ten per cent. on all the ore that I would succeed in saving. Now, the mines of Texas used to produce four million dollars' worth a year. Thanks to my process, they produce nearly a million more. In ten years you can well see what was my portion."
"Splendid!" said Monsieur Dalize; "it represents a sum of–"
Madame Dalize interrupted her husband.
"Miette," said she, "cannot you do that little sum for us, my child?"
Miette wiped her eyes and ceased crying. Her mother's desire had been reached. The little girl took a pencil, and, after making her mother repeat the question to her, put down some figures upon a sheet of paper. After a moment she said, not without hesitation, for the sum appeared to her enormous,—
"Why! it is a million dollars that Monsieur Roger has made!"
"Exactly," said Monsieur Roger; "and, my dear child, you have, without knowing it, calculated pretty closely the fortune which you will receive from me as your wedding portion."
Monsieur and Madame Dalize looked up with astonishment. Miette gazed at Monsieur Roger without understanding.
"My dear friends," said Roger, turning to Monsieur and Madame Dalize, "you will not refuse me the pleasure of giving my fortune to Miss Miette. I have no one else in the world; and does not Mariette represent both of you? Where would my money be better placed?"
And turning towards Miss Miette, he said to her,—
"Yes, my child, that million will be yours on your marriage."
Miette looked from her mother to her father, not knowing whether she ought to accept, and seriously embarrassed. With a sweet smile, Monsieur Roger added,—
"And so, you see, you will be able to choose a husband that you like."
Then, quietly and without hesitation, Miss Miette said,—
"It will be Paul Solange."
CHAPTER VII.
VACATION
Monsieur and Madame Dalize could not help smiling in listening to this frank declaration of their daughter: "It will be Paul Solange."
Monsieur Roger smiled in his turn, and said,—
"What! has Miss Miette already made her choice?"
"It is an amusing bit of childishness," answered Madame Dalize, "as you see. But, really, Miss Miette, although she teases him often, has a very kindly feeling for our friend Paul Solange."
"And who is this happy little mortal?" asked Monsieur Roger.
"A friend of Albert's," said Monsieur Dalize.
"Albert, your son?" said Monsieur Roger, to whom this name and this word were always painful. Then he added,—
"I should like very much to see him, your son."
"You shall soon see him, my dear Roger," answered Monsieur Dalize. "Vacation begins to-morrow morning, and to-morrow evening Albert will be at Sainte-Gemme."
"With Paul?" asked Miss Miette.
"Why, certainly," said Madame Dalize, laughing; "with your friend Paul Solange."
Monsieur Roger asked,—
"How old is Albert at present?"
"In his thirteenth year," said Monsieur Dalize.
Monsieur Roger remained silent. He was thinking that his little George, if he had lived, would also be big now, and, like the son of Monsieur Dalize, would be in his thirteenth year.
Next day the horses were harnessed, and all four went down to the station to meet the five-o'clock train. When Albert and Paul jumped out from the train, and had kissed Monsieur and Madame Dalize and Miss Miette, they looked with some surprise at Monsieur Roger, whom they did not know.
"Albert," said Monsieur Dalize, showing Monsieur Roger to his son, "why don't you salute our friend Roger?"
"Is this Monsieur Roger?" cried Albert, and the tone of his voice showed that his father had taught him to know and to love the man who now, with his eyes full of tears, was pressing him to his heart.
"And you too, Paul, don't you want to embrace our friend?" said Monsieur Dalize.
"Yes, sir," answered Paul Solange, with a sad and respectful gravity, which struck Monsieur Roger and at once called up his affection.
On the way, Monsieur Roger, who was looking with emotion upon the two young people, but whose eyes were particularly fixed upon Paul, said, in a low voice, to Monsieur Dalize,—
"They are charming children."
"And it is especially Paul whom you think charming; acknowledge it," answered Monsieur Dalize, in the same tone.
"Why should Paul please me more than Albert?" asked Monsieur Roger.
"Ah, my poor friend," replied Monsieur Dalize, "because the father of Albert is here and the father of Paul is far away."
Monsieur Dalize was right. Monsieur Roger, without wishing it, had felt his sympathies attracted more strongly to this child, who was, for the time being, fatherless. He bent over to Monsieur Dalize, and asked,—
"Where is Paul's father?"
"In Martinique, where he does a big business in sugar-cane and coffee. Monsieur Solange was born in France, and he decided