but that he should leave the whole of it to one alone--of course people
would wonder, and whisper, and end by smiling. How was it that he had
not foreseen this, that his father had not felt it? How was it that
his mother had not guessed it? No; they had been too delighted at this
unhoped-for wealth for the idea to come near them. And besides, how
should these worthy souls have ever dreamed of anything so ignominious?

But the public--their neighbours, the shopkeepers, their own tradesmen,
all who knew them--would not they repeat the abominable thing, laugh at
it, enjoy it, make game of his father and despise his mother?

And the barmaid's remark that Jean was fair and he dark, that they were
not in the least alike in face, manner, figure, or intelligence, would
now strike every eye and every mind. When any one spoke of Roland's son,
the question would be: "Which, the real or the false?"

He rose, firmly resolved to warn Jean, and put him on his guard against
the frightful danger which threatened their mother's honour.

But what could Jean do? The simplest thing no doubt, would be to refuse
the inheritance, which would then go to the poor, and to tell all
friends or acquaintances who had heard of the bequest that the will
contained clauses and conditions impossible to subscribe to, which would
have made Jean not inheritor but merely a trustee.

As he made his way home he was thinking that he must see his brother
alone, so as not to speak of such a matter in the presence of his
parents. On reaching the door he heard a great noise of voices and
laughter in the drawing-room, and when he went in he found Captain
Beausire and Mme. Rosemilly, whom his father had brought home and