What had she meant by her feeling being a kind of religion? It
was the religion simply of the family laws, the religion of which her
implacable little mother was the high priestess. Twist the thing about
as her generosity would, the one certain fact was that they had used
force against her. Her generosity had tried to screen them, but Newman's
heart rose into his throat at the thought that they should go scot-free.
The twenty-four hours wore themselves away, and the next morning Newman
sprang to his feet with the resolution to return to Fleurieres and
demand another interview with Madame de Bellegarde and her son. He
lost no time in putting it into practice. As he rolled swiftly over
the excellent road in the little caleche furnished him at the inn at
Poitiers, he drew forth, as it were, from the very safe place in his
mind to which he had consigned it, the last information given him by
poor Valentin. Valentin had told him he could do something with it, and
Newman thought it would be well to have it at hand. This was of course
not the first time, lately, that Newman had given it his attention. It
was information in the rough,--it was dark and puzzling; but Newman was
neither helpless nor afraid. Valentin had evidently meant to put him in
possession of a powerful instrument, though he could not be said to
have placed the handle very securely within his grasp.
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