She had been the
wife of a man who studied with me at Laval. She paid me back every penny,
too, year by year for five years. The rest I lent money to never paid;
but they paid, the dummy and the harlot that was, they paid! But they
paid for the rest also! If I had refused these two because of the others,
I'd not be fit to visit at Neighbourhood House where Virginie Poucette
lives."
He looked closely at the order she had given him again, as though to let
it sink in his mind and be registered for ever. "I'm going to do without
any further use of your two thousand dollars," he continued cheer fully.
"It has done its work. You've lent it to me, I've used it"--he put the
hand holding it on his breast--"and I'm paying it back to you, but
without interest." He gave the order to her.
"I don't see what you mean," she said helplessly, and she looked at the
paper, as though it had undergone some change while it was in his hand.
"That you would lend it me is worth ten times two thousand to me,
Virginie Poucette," he explained. "It gives me, not a kick from
behind--I've not had much else lately--but it holds a light in front of
me. It calls me. It says, 'March on, Jean Jacques--climb the mountain.'
It summons me to dispose my forces for the campaign which will restore
the Manor Cartier to what it has ever been since the days of the Baron of
Beaugard.
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