Lomaque, who had remained imperturbably cool during the outbreak of the old lady’s anger—­Lomaque, whose observant eyes had watched sarcastically the effect of the scene between mother and son on Trudaine and his sister, was the last to take leave.  After he had bowed to Rose with a certain gentleness in his manner, which contrasted strangely with his wrinkled, haggard face, he held out his hand to her brother “I did not take your hand when we sat together on the bench,” he said; “may I take it now?”

Trudaine met his advance courteously, but in silence.  “You may alter your opinion of me one of these days.”  Adding those words in a whisper, Monsieur Lomaque bowed once more to the bride and went out.

For a few minutes after the door had closed the brother and sister kept silence.  “Our last night together at home!” That was the thought which now filled the heart of each.  Rose was the first to speak.  Hesitating a little as she approached her brother, she said to him, anxiously: 

“I am sorry for what happened with Madame Danville, Louis.  Does it make you think the worse of Charles?”

“I can make allowance for Madame Danville’s anger,” returned Trudaine, evasively, “because she spoke from honest conviction.”

“Honest?” echoed Rose, sadly, “honest?—­ah, Louis!  I know you are thinking disparagingly of Charles’s convictions, when you speak so of his mother’s.”

Trudaine smiled and shook his head; but she took no notice of the gesture of denial—­only stood looking earnestly and wistfully into his face.  Her eyes began to fill; she suddenly threw her arms round his neck, and whispered to him:  “Oh, Louis, Louis! how I wish I could teach you to see Charles with my eyes!”

He felt her tears on his cheek as she spoke, and tried to reassure her.

“You shall teach me, Rose—­you shall, indeed.  Come, come, we must keep up our spirits, or how are you to look your best to-morrow?”

He unclasped her arms, and led her gently to a chair.  At the same moment there was a knock at the door, and Rose’s maid appeared, anxious to consult her mistress on some of the preparations for the wedding ceremony.  No interruption could have been more welcome just at that time.  It obliged Rose to think of present trifles, and it gave her brother an excuse for retiring to his study.

He sat down by his desk, doubting and heavy-hearted, and placed the letter from the Academy of Sciences open before him.

Passing over all the complimentary expressions which it contained, his eye rested only on these lines at the end:  “During the first three years of your professorship, you will be required to reside in or near Paris nine months out of the year, for the purpose of delivering lectures and superintending experiments from time to time in the laboratories.”  The letter in which these lines occurred offered him such a position as in his modest self-distrust he had never dreamed of before; the lines themselves contained the promise of such vast facilities for carrying on his favorite experiments as he could never hope to command in his own little study, with his own limited means; and yet, there he now sat doubting whether he should accept or reject the tempting honors and advantages that were offered to him—­doubting for his sister’s sake!