"Listen! To-morrow all will be over for me. We shall see each other no
more. To-morrow you will be a man, my child. So I am obliged to make
some arrangements, which must remain a secret, known only to us. Take
the key of my little table. That is it. Now open the drawer. You will
find two sealed papers to the left. There is the name of LOUIS on one,
and on the other MARIE."

"Here they are, mother."

"Those are your certificates of birth, darling; you will want them.
Give them to our poor, old Annette to keep for you; ask her for them
when you need them. Now," she continued, "is there not another paper
as well, something in my handwriting?"

"Yes, mother," and Louis began to read, "_Marie Willemsens, born
at_----"

"That is enough," she broke in quickly, "do not go on. When I am dead,
give that paper, too, to Annette, and tell her to send it to the
registrar at Saint-Cyr; it will be wanted if my certificate of death
is to be made out in due form. Now find writing materials for a letter
which I will dictate to you."

When she saw that he was ready to begin, and turned towards her for
the words, they came from her quietly:--

"Monsieur le Comte, your wife, Lady Brandon, died at Saint-Cyr, near
Tours, in the department of Indre-et-Loire. She forgave you."