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Poynter, Eleanor Frances

"My Little Lady"

Linders,
impatiently. "A long illness? Bah! M. le Docteur, I know, and
you know that I am going to die--to-day, to-morrow, who knows?--
and she will be left alone. She has no one in the world but
me, and she has been foolish enough to love me--my little one!"
He paused for a moment, and then went on, with a vehemence
that struggled for utterance, with his hoarse feeble voice and
failing breath.
"If this cursed accident had happened but one day sooner or
later, I could have left her a fortune--but a superb fortune;
only one day sooner--I had it two days ago--or to-morrow--I
should have had my revenge last night of that _scelerat_--that
devil--that Legros, and won back the money he cheated me of,
he--he--of all men, a mere beginner, a smatterer--ah! if I had
been the man I once was, it would have been a different
account to settle----"
He lay back panting, but began again before Graham could
speak.
"I only want time--give me a little time, and my little
Madeleine shall have such a fortune as shall make her
independent of every one; or stay, why not send for him now? I
will give you his address--yes, now--now at once, before it is
too late!"
"That is quite impossible, Monsieur," Graham answered with
decision; "and if you agitate yourself in this way, I must
refuse to listen to another word.


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