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diff --git a/13162-0.txt b/13162-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4acc02 --- /dev/null +++ b/13162-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3403 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13162 *** + +EVERYDAY LIFE LIBRARY No. 2 + +CORALIE + +By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME + +Author of "Dora Thorne," "The Mystery of Colde Fell," "The Belle of +Lynn," "Madolin's Lover," "The Heiress of Hilldrop," Etc., Etc. + + +[Illustration] + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"Eighty pounds a year!" My reader can imagine that this was no great +fortune. I had little or nothing to spend in kid gloves or cigars; +indeed, to speak plain, prosaic English, I went without a good dinner +far oftener than I had one. Yet, withal, I was passing rich on eighty +pounds a year. + +My father, Captain Trevelyan, a brave and deserving officer, died when I +was a child. My mother, a meek, fragile invalid, never recovered his +loss, but died some years after him, leaving me alone in the world with +my sister Clare. + +When I was young I had great dreams of fame and glory. I was to be a +brave soldier like my dear, dead father, or a great writer or a +statesman. I dreamed of everything except falling into the common +grooves of life--which was my fate in after years. My mother, believing +in my dreams, contrived to send me to college--we both considered a +college education the only preliminary to a golden future. How she +managed it out of her slender means I cannot tell, but she kept me at +college for three years. I was just trying to decide what profession to +adopt, when a letter came summoning me suddenly home. + +My mother was ill, not expected to live. + +When I did reach home I found another source of trouble. My sister +Clare, whom I had left a beautiful, blooming girl of eighteen, had been +ill for the past year. The doctors declared it to be a spinal complaint, +from which she was not likely to recover, although she might live for +years. + +She was unable to move, but lay always on a couch or sofa. The first +glimpse of her altered face, so sweet, so sad and colorless, made my +heart ache. + +All the youth and bloom had died out of it. + +My mother did not live many days; at her death her income ceased, and I +found myself, at twenty, obliged to begin the world as best I could, the +sole protector of my invalid sister. The first step was to sell our +little home, a pretty cottage at Hempstead, then to take lodgings nearer +the city; after that I set vigorously to work to look for a situation. + +Ah, me, that weary task! I wonder if any of my readers ever went quite +alone, friendless, almost helpless, into the great, modern Babylon, to +look for a situation; if so, they will know how to pity me. I spent many +pounds in advertisements; I haunted the agency offices; I answered every +advertisement I read--it seemed all in vain. + +My father's regiment was then in India, but I wrote to several of the +officers, who had known and valued him. Then, as a last resource, I +looked up the few friends my mother had. + +If there is one thing more dreary than looking for a situation, it is +what is commonly called "hunting up one's friends." I found many, but +some were old and indifferent, others too much engrossed in their own +affairs to have any time to devote to mine. Some shook hands, wished me +well, promised to do all they could to help me, and before I had passed +from their sight forgot my existence. + +I gave up my friends. Their help in the hour of need is a beautiful +theory, but very seldom put into practice. + +Just as I was growing dull and dispirited, a friend upon whom I had not +called, and whose aid I had not solicited, wrote to me and offered me a +situation as clerk in his office, with a salary of eighty pounds per +annum, to be afterward increased. God send to every weary heart the +comfort this news brought to mine. I ran to Clare with the letter in my +hands. + +"Eighty pounds a year, darling!" I cried; "there is a fortune." + +We had neither of us ever had much to do with money; we were quite +ignorant of its value, how far it would go, what it would purchase, etc. +It seemed an inexhaustible sum. We had cheap, comfortable apartments in +Holloway--a room for my sister and two smaller rooms for myself. When I +think of her patience, her resignation, her unvarying sweetness, her +constant cheerfulness, my heart does homage to the virtue and goodness +of women. + +One fine morning in September I went for the first time to work. The +office of Lawson Brothers was in Lincoln's Inn. The elder brother seldom +if ever appeared; the younger was always there. He gave me a very kindly +welcome, said he hoped I should not find my work tiresome, showed me +what I had to do, and, altogether, set me at my ease. + +I sighed many times that morning to find of how little use was my +college education to me now and I sighed to think how all my dreams, all +my hopes and aspirations, had ended behind a clerk's desk, with eighty +pounds per annum in lieu of the fortune of which I had dreamed. + +After a few days I became used to the novelty and did my best to +discharge my duties well. + +Hundreds of young men in London lead lives similar to mine, with very +little variety; the only way in which I differed from them was that I +had my sister Clare to provide for. Alas! how soon I found out what a +small sum eighty pounds a year was! When we had paid the rent of our +three rooms, set aside a small sum for clothes and a small sum for food, +there was nothing left. Clare, whose appetite was dainty and delicate, +suffered greatly. I could not manage to provide even a bunch of grapes +for her; the trifling coppers I spent in flowers, that cheered her as +nothing else ever did, were sorely missed. + +How I longed sometimes to take home a ripe peach, a bottle of wine, an +amusing book! But every penny was rigorously needed; there was not one +to spare. How I pitied her for the long hours she spent alone in those +solitary lodgings! A bright inspiration came to me one day; I thought +how glad I should be if I could get some work to do at night, if it were +but possible to earn a few shillings. I advertised again, and after some +time succeeded in getting copying to do, for which I was not overwell +paid. + +I earned a pound--positively a whole golden sovereign--and when it lay +in my hand my joy was too great for words. What should I do with one +sovereign and such a multiplicity of wants? Do not laugh at me, reader, +when I tell you what I did do, after long and anxious debate with +myself. I paid a quarter's subscription at Mudie's, so that my poor +sister should have something to while away the dreary hours of the long +day. With the few shillings left I bought her a bottle of wine and some +oranges. + +That is years ago, but tears rise in my eyes now when I remember her +pretty joy, how gratefully she thanked me, how delicious she found the +wine, how she made me taste it, how she opened the books one after +another, and could hardly believe that every day she would have the same +happiness--three books, three beautiful new books! Ah, well! As one +grows older, such simple pleasures do not give the same great joy. + +It was some time before I earned another. It was just as welcome to me, +and there came to me a great wonder as to whether I should spend the +whole of my life in this hard work with so small a recompense. + +"Surely," I said to myself, "I shall rise in time; if I am diligent and +attentive at the office, I must make my way." + +But, alas! the steps were very small, and the clerks' salaries were only +increased by five pounds a year at a time. It would be so long before I +earned two hundred a year, and at the same rate I should be an old man +before I reached three hundred. + +One morning--it was the 1st of May--bright, warm, sunny day, the London +streets were more gay than usual, and as I walked along I wondered if +ever again I should breathe the perfume of the lime and the lilac in the +springtime. I saw a girl selling violets and daffodils, with crocuses +and spring flowers. I am not ashamed to say that tears came into my +eyes--flowers and sunshine and all things sweet seemed so far from me +now. + +I reached the office, and there, to my intense surprise, found a letter +waiting for me. + +"Here is a letter for you, Mr. Trevelyan," said the head clerk, +carelessly. + +He gave me a large blue official envelope. If he had but known what it +contained! + +Some minutes passed before I had time to open it; then I read as +follows: + + "To Sir Edgar Trevelyan: + + "Sir: We beg to inform you that by the death of Sir Barnard + Trevelyan, and his son, Mr. Miles Trevelyan, who both died of the + epidemic in Florence, you, as next of kin, will succeed. We are not + aware that the late Sir Barnard had any other relatives. Crown + Anstey, the residence of the late baronet, is ready at any time for + your reception. If you can favor us with a call today, we will + explain to you the different ways in which the late baronet's large + fortune is invested. We have managed the Crown Anstey property for + some years, and hope to have the honor of continuing our business + relations with you. We are, sir, your obedient servants, + + "Moreland & Paine." + +The letter fell from my hands and I looked at it in blank astonishment +too great for words. + +Sir Barnard Trevelyan! Crown Anstey! Why, the last time I ever heard +those names my mother sat talking to me about this proud, stately cousin +of my father--cousin who had never noticed either him or us by word or +by look. I was curious, and asked many questions about him. She told me +he had married some great lady, the daughter of a duke, and that he had +two sons--Miles, the eldest, and Cecil. I remembered having heard of +Cecil's death, but never dreamed that it could affect me. + +Moreland & Paine! I knew the firm very well; they had large offices in +Lincoln's Inn, and bore a high reputation. Suddenly my heart stood +still. Why, of course, it was a jest--a sorry jest of one of my fellow +clerks. There they were, looking at me with eager, wondering eyes--of +course it was a jest. My heart almost ceased to beat, and I caught my +breath with something like a sob. + +They should not laugh at me; they should not read what was passing in my +mind. + +I put the letter calmly and deliberately in my pocket and opened my +ledger. I fancied they looked disappointed. Ah! it was but a jest; I +would not think of it. + +I worked hard until the dinner hour, and then asked permission to absent +myself for a time. Dinner was not in my thoughts, but I went quickly as +I could walk to the office of Moreland & Paine. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Mr. Paine was not in. Mr. Moreland was in his office. I went up the +stairs, trembling, fearful of being abused for stupidity in taking the +least notice of such a letter. + +Mr. Moreland looked up when the clerk announced my name--looked up, +bowed and positively rose from his seat. I took the letter from my +pocket. + +"I received this this morning, but, believing it to be a jest played +upon me, I have not mentioned it. I have called to ask you if you know +anything of it." + +He took the letter from me with a strange smile. + +"I wrote it myself last evening," he said, and I looked at him +bewildered. + +Good heaven! it was all true. To this moment I do not know how I bore +the shock. I remember falling into a chair, Mr. Moreland standing over +me with a glass of something in his hand, which he forced me to drink. + +"Your fortune has a strange effect upon you," he said, kindly. + +"I cannot believe it!" I cried, clasping his hand. "I cannot realize it! +I have been working so hard--so hard for one single sovereign--and now, +you say, I am rich!" + +"Now, most certainly," he replied, "you are Sir Edgar Trevelyan, master +of Crown Anstey and a rent roll of ten thousand a year." + +I am not ashamed to confess that when I heard that I bowed my head on my +hands and cried like a child. + +"You have borne bad fortune better than this," said Mr. Moreland; and +then I remember telling him, in incoherent words, how poor we had been +and how Clare was fading away for want of the nourishment and good +support I was utterly unable to find for her. + +After a time I became calmer and listened while he told me of the death +of the stately Sir Barnard and his eldest son. They had gone away +together on a trip to Italy. Miles Trevelyan was very fond of pictures, +and his father had given him permission to buy what he pleased for the +great picture gallery at Crown Anstey. + +They went together to Florence, where a fearful epidemic was raging. +They, all unconscious of it, remained there for one night, caught it, +and in two days both lay dead. + +I asked how old was Miles, this eldest and favorite son. He told me +twenty-seven. I asked again, had he never been married. He answered no; +that, of course, if he had been married and had children, I should not +be the heir to Crown Anstey. + +"There was some little unpleasantness between father and son over a love +affair," said Mr. Moreland. "I do not know the particulars. Mr. Miles +Trevelyan was very proud and reserved. He mentioned it to us, but we +heard no more of it." + +"What am I to do next?" I asked him, nervously. + +"You ought to go down at once to Crown Anstey. The bodies of the two +gentlemen will be brought home for interment. They died on the 18th; +this is the 22d. We spent three days in trying to find out your address. +They will be at Crown Anstey, I should say, to-morrow. You should be +there to receive them and to officiate as head mourner. Mr. Paine and +myself will both be there, as a matter of course." + +"Then I must ask Mr. Lawson's permission," I said, doubtfully. + +Mr. Moreland laughed. + +"He will soon give you that. You will find the master of Crown Anstey a +powerful personage." + +"There is another thing," I said, with a crimson flush burning my face; +"I have but five shillings and sixpence in all the world." + +He laughed aloud at this. + +"I can advance you whatever you like, then--five hundred pounds or +more." + +The very mention of such a sum positively frightened me. Mr. Moreland +looked very much amused. + +"It will be some time," he said, "before you grow accustomed to ten +thousand a year." + +At that moment we were interrupted by the arrival of another client. I +rose to take my leave, with a check for three hundred pounds in my hand. + +"You will go down to Crown Anstey to-night?" said Mr. Moreland, as he +shook hands with me. "We shall be there to-morrow morning. You will make +what arrangements seem best to you over the funeral." + +So I went away, the most bewildered man in London. As I re-entered the +office I felt ashamed of my suspicions over my fellow-clerks. They were +all busy, while I--oh, heaven! could it be true? + +Mr. Lawson evidently thought I had been drinking when I went, white and +stammering, confused and hesitating, into his room. He looked very +sternly at me. + +"What do you want, Mr. Trevelyan? I am very busy." + +I took out the letter again and laid it before him. + +"Will you read that, sir?" I asked, "It will make you understand more +quickly than I can, I am so confused." + +He read it, then held out his hand to me. + +"I congratulate you," he said. "Your poor father, the last time I saw +him, spoke to me of his rich cousin. He never expected this. Sir Barnard +had two fine, strong, healthy sons of his own then." + +"My father could not have expected it less than myself. I have hardly +ever heard the name of Crown Anstey, and did not know that it was +entailed property. I shall have to ask you to let me go this afternoon, +sir." + +He was perfectly willing, I was only at the office an hour, yet the news +seemed to have spread. I promised the clerks a dinner when I returned, +then once more I stood in the street, alone. + +My brain was dizzy, my thoughts in a whirl. I remember taking a cab and +driving to a shop into which I had often looked with longing eyes. I +bought wine, grapes, peaches, flowers, dainty jellies--everything that I +thought most likely to please my sister--and then drove home. I had +resolved that I would not tell my good fortune to Clare all at once, +lest there should be some fatal mistake unforeseen by any one. She +looked up astonished when I entered the room, my arms full of fruit and +flowers. + +"Oh, Edgar!" she cried, "you have ruined yourself. Why you must have +spent your whole week's money!" + +I forgot now what fiction I told here--something of a friend of my +father, who had left me a little money, and that I was going away that +same evening on business. + +"Shall you be long?" she asked, with so sad a face I did not like to +leave her. + +"Two or three days at the outside," I told her. Then I took twenty +golden sovereigns from my purse and laid them before her, begging her +not to want for anything while I was away. + +She looked almost alarmed at such a quantity of money. + +"Twenty pounds, Edgar!" she cried. "How rich we are!" And I thought to +myself, "if she only knew!" + +Then I went into my own room, and my first action was to thank God for +this wonderful benefit. I thanked Him with streaming eyes and grateful +heart, making a promise--which I have never broken--that I would act as +steward of these great riches, and not forget the needy and the poor. + +At five o'clock I started for Thornycroft, the nearest town to Crown +Anstey. The journey was not a very long one, but I took no heed of time. +Was it all a dream, or was I in reality going to take possession of a +new and magnificent home? + +I reached the station--it was a large one. Thornycroft seemed to be a +thriving town. No one was there to meet me. I went to the nearest hotel +and ordered a carriage to Crown Anstey. + +I can recall even now my ecstasy of bewilderment at the splendid woods, +the beautiful park, the pleasure gardens. How long was it since I had +felt tears rush warm to my eyes at the scent of the violets? Here were +lime trees and lindens, grand old oaks, splendid poplars, beech trees, +cedars, magnolias with luscious blossom, hawthorn, white and pink +larches budding, and all were mine--mine. Then from between the +luxuriant foliage I saw the tall, gray towers of a stately mansion, and +my whole heart went out to it as my future home. + +The birds were singing, the sun shining; all nature was so beautiful and +bright that my very soul was enraptured. + +Then I caught a glimpse of gold from the laburnums, of purple from the +lilacs, of white from the sweet acacia trees. + +The carriage drove up a long grove of chestnut trees, and then for the +first time I saw Crown Anstey. The western sunbeams fell upon it. I +thought of that line of Mrs. Hemans: + + "Bathed in light like floating gold." + +They showed so clearly the dainty, delicate tracing, the large, arched +windows. The house itself was built in the old Elizabethan style. I +found afterward that it was called Crown Anstey because it had belonged +in former years to one of the queens of England. The Queen's Chamber was +the largest and best room in it. Report said that a royal head had often +lain there; that the queen to whom the house had belonged had spent many +of her sorrowful and happy hours there. The Queen's Terrace run all +along the western wing, and was shaded by whispering lime trees. +Afterward I found many relics of this ancient time of royal +possessions--antique, out-of-the-way things, with the crown and royal +arms of England upon them. I was not a little proud of these historical +treasures. A broad flight of steps led from the lawn to a broad porch. +As I passed under it I figured to myself the gorgeous splendor of other +days, when "knights and dames of high degree" had entered there. + +An old butler, evidently an old family retainer, was the first person I +saw. He bowed low when I told him that I was Sir Edgar Trevelyan, "the +heir come to take possession." + +I went through the magnificent house like a man in a dream. Could it be +possible that all this magnificence, all this grandeur, was mine? Mine, +these grand old rooms, with furniture and hangings that once served a +queen; mine, these superb pictures and statues, these gems of art, this +profusion of gold and silver plate? I laughed and cried in the same +breath. I make no pretensions to being a strong-minded hero, and I was +overcome. + +Then, when I had some short time alone, the butler, whose name was +Hewson, came back and told me the Red Room was ready for my use. He had +selected it as being the most comfortable. Afterward I could, of course, +take what rooms I liked. + +I found myself in a large, spacious chamber, called the Red Room, from +the prevailing tint of everything in it being crimson. The three large +windows were hung with crimson velvet; the carpet was crimson. I opened +one of the windows and looked over the glorious landscape, so full of +sunshine, flowers and beauty, that my heart thrilled within me, and my +soul did homage to the great Creator. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Half an hour later I was summoned to the dining-room, where dinner was +laid for me. God knows that I had never coveted wealth or thought much +of luxury--I had been content with my lot. + +What did I think when I saw that stately dining-room, with its brilliant +lights, the gold and silver, the recherche dishes, the odorous wines and +rare fruits? My first feeling was one of wonder that fortune should have +so overpowered me; my second was a fervent wish that such pleasant times +could fall to every one. + +I had finished dinner and enjoyed, for the first time in my life, a +really prime cigar, when Hewson came into the library, evidently wishing +to see me. + +"I thought I had better tell you. Sir Edgar, that Mademoiselle +d'Aubergne is in the drawing-room." + +I looked at him in astonishment. + +"Who is Mademoiselle d'Aubergne?" I asked. + +"Do you not know, Sir Edgar?" he said, in great surprise. + +"I have never even heard the name," I replied. + +"Mademoiselle is the daughter of the late Sir Barnard's cousin; she has +been living here for the past five years. Sir Barnard, I believe, +adopted her. I thought perhaps Messrs. Moreland & Paine might have +mentioned her." + +They had perhaps forgotten to do so, and I felt quite at a loss what to +do. However, if there was a lady in the house, I was bound to be +courteous; so I went to the drawing-room. + +I attempt no description of that magnificent room, its treasures of art, +its statues, pictures, flowers, its wonders of bric-a-brac. For the +first minute my eyes were dazzled, and then I saw-- + +Well, I had read in the old poets' descriptions of sirens' wondrous +language, wondrous words telling of beauty almost divine in its +radiance--of golden hair that had caught the sunshine and held it +captive--of eyes like lode-stars, in whose depths men lost +themselves--of lovely scarlet lips that could smile and threaten. I saw +such loveliness before me now. + +From the luxurious depths of a crimson velvet fauteuil rose a lovely +woman, who advanced to meet me with outstretched hands. Her mourning +dress fell in graceful folds around her tall, queenly figure, and from +the same dark dress her fair face and golden head shone out bright and +luminous as a jewel from a dark background. + +"Sir Edgar Trevelyan," she said, "allow me to welcome you home." + +Her voice was sweet and rich; she had a pretty, piquant accent, and the +play of her lips as she spoke was simply perfection. + +"It is very lonely for you," she said. "There is great gloom over the +house, it is all sad and dark; but the brightness will come back in +time." + +I touched the white hand she held out to me; it was warm and soft; the +touch of those slender fingers had a magical effect. + +"I must apologize for not having seen you before," I said, "but until +five minutes ago I did not know you were in the house." + +"No," she replied, with a faint sigh, "I can believe that." + +"You must know," I continued, "that I am a complete stranger to the +family. I never saw any of them in my life. I never heard the name more +than five or six times." + +"Then, as a matter of course," she said, "you never heard of me." + +"I am at a loss to know whether I should address you as kinswoman or +not," was my confused reply. + +"It would take a bench of lawyers to decide," she said. "My mother was a +favorite cousin of Sir Barnard. I think, but I am not sure, that once +upon a time he was fond of her himself. My mother married a French +gentleman, Monsieur d'Aubergne, and at her death Sir Barnard kindly +offered me a home here, since I had no other." + +"Is your father living?" I asked. + +"Alas! no; he died when I was a child. There had been some quarrel +between my mother and Sir Barnard; perhaps he never forgave her for +marrying a Frenchman. During her lifetime he never wrote to her or took +the least notice of me." + +"And then offered you his home?" + +"Then he adopted me," she said, looking earnestly at me; "treated me in +every way as his own child. I have been with him ever since. I have no +home except here at Crown Anstey, and I had not a sou in the world +except what he gave me. Ah! I miss him so sorely." + +A cloud came over her beautiful face, and her lips quivered. I sat down +in sore perplexity with my inheritance. I had not certainly expected +this. What was I to say to her--this beautiful and radiant woman, who +seemed thrown upon my hands like a child? There was silence between us +for some time, then she said, suddenly: + +"How sad this is about poor Sir Barnard and his son, is it not? I +thought at first that I should never recover from the shock. Miles was a +very handsome man; so clever and full of spirits. I am told," she +continued, "that the bodies are to be brought home to-night. Is it true, +Sir Edgar?" + +"I believe so. I am here to receive them and to preside at the funeral." + +Her face grew a shade paler. + +"I am so frightened and nervous at everything connected with death," she +said. + +"Your best plan will be to remain in your own room until it is all +over," I suggested, and she seemed very grateful for the thought. + +"Will you take some tea?" she asked, suddenly. "I always made tea for +Sir Barnard and Miles." + +Then she drew back shrinkingly, her face crimson. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "I forgot; I have no right to take the +same place now." + +What could I do but hasten to implore her not to yield to such an idea, +to consider Crown Anstey her home, as it had been--at least for a time? + +"You make me so happy!" she said; "but how can I--how can I stay here? I +find it awkward to explain myself--how can I remain here with you?" + +I hastened eagerly to explain that I had a sister, an invalid sister, +and that I should be delighted if she would take an interest in her; and +it pleased me to think how happy Clare would be. + +"Then you wish me to remain here as a companion to your sister?" she +said, slowly; and there was evidently some little disappointment in her +face. + +"Unless we can think of something more pleasant for you," I replied. "We +can make that a temporary arrangement. In any case, permit me to say +that I shall take the care of your future on my hands, as Sir Barnard +would have done." + +"You are very kind," she said, thoughtfully; "I had no right to expect +that. I did not anticipate anything of the sort." + +We talked then, in low tones, about the late baronet and his son. Of +Miles she said very little. Of Sir Barnard she told me many anecdotes, +illustrating his pride, his grave, stately character, his intense love +of caste, his conservatism. I felt almost as though I had known him +before she had finished. + +"And Miles," I said, "the poor young heir; how did you like him?" + +Was it my fancy, the light flickering on her face, or did a quick +shudder pass over it? + +"Every one liked him," she said, slowly. "He was proud and reserved; yet +he was a general favorite." + +She was strangely quiet after that, and I suddenly remembered the +drawing-room was hers. I rose, bidding her good-night. + +"You shall be sure to hear the stir of the arrival, mademoiselle," I +said; "do not let it disturb you. I should advise you to keep your room +tomorrow until the funeral is over." + +Yet, although I so advised her, it struck me that she did not feel any +great amount of sorrow. I cannot tell why I had that impression, but it +was very strong upon me. + +Nine o'clock, and the arrival had not yet taken place. The fragrant +gloaming was giving way to night; there was promise of a bright moon, +and the golden stars were peeping one by one. The night-wind was laden +with odors, a thousand flowers seemed to have given their sweet breath +to fan it. It would have been profanation to have lighted a cigar, so I +went out on the Queen's Terrace and walked under the whispering lime +trees, thinking of all that had passed in those few days. + +Slowly but surely the conviction gained upon me that I did not like +Coralie d'Aubergne. I ought, according to all authentic romances, to +have fallen in love with her on the spot, but I was far from doing so. +"Why?" I asked myself. She was very brilliant--very lovely; I had seen +no one like her, yet the vague suspicion grew and grew. It was not the +face of a woman who could be trusted; there was something insincere +beneath its beauty. I should have liked her better if she had shown more +sorrow for the awful event that had happened; as, it was, I could not +help thinking that her chief emotion had been a kind of half fear as to +what would become of herself. + +Then I reproached myself for thinking so unkindly of her, and resolved +that I would not judge her; after that I forgot mademoiselle. I heard +the sound of carriage wheels in the distance, and, looking down the long +vista of trees, I saw a hearse slowly driven up, and then I knew that +the dead Trevelyans had been brought home. + +The desolation and sadness of that scene I shall never forget--the +hearse, the dark, waving plumes, the sight of the two heavy laden +coffins, the servants all in mourning. + +A room next the great entrance hall had been prepared; it was all hung +with black and lighted with wax tapers. In the midst stood the two +coffins covered with a black velvet pall. + +On the coffin of Miles Trevelyan, the son and heir, I saw a wreath of +flowers. I asked several times who had brought it, but no one seemed to +know. + +I do not think that any one at Crown Anstey went to rest that night, +unless it were mademoiselle. There was something in the event to move +the hardest heart. + +Father and son had left Crown Anstey so short a time since, full of +health, vigor, strength and plans for the future. They lay there now, +side by side, silent and dead; no more plans or hopes, wishes or fears. +The saddest day I ever remember was the one on which I helped to lay my +two unknown kinsmen in the family vault of the Trevelyans. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was all over. The morning, with its sad office, had passed; the +servants had gone back to their work; the blinds were drawn up, and +light once more found its way into the darkened house. The will was read +in the library; the whole of the property, entailed and unentailed, was +left to his only son, Miles, and after him to his heirs. There was +several legacies to his servants, but no mention was made of +mademoiselle. I thought it strange at the time, afterward I understood +it. + +Of course, as the poor young Miles was dead without heirs, I, as next of +kin, took his place. I faithfully carried out every wish expressed in +the will. That same evening I sent orders to London for a splendid +memorial window to be placed in the church, and while I sat wondering +whether I had remembered everything that required attention, there came +a rap at the library door. Mademoiselle would be glad if I could see her +for five minutes. + +I went at once to the drawing-room, knowing she would be there. She was +dressed in the deepest mourning, and her face was very pale. + +"I knew you would spare me a short time," she said. "I want to ask you a +question that I could not ask any one else. Of course you were present +when the will was read to-day?" + +She raised her eyes to mine. I knew not what magnetism, what spell lay +in them; but no other eyes were like them. They compelled attention; a +man could no more release himself from their glance than he could fly. I +was not at all in love with her, yet those eyes held me spell-bound. + +"I want you to tell me," she said, "if there was any other will. +Did--did Miles leave one?" + +As she put the question to me I saw that her lips were parched and +burning, her white fingers so tightly clenched that they left great red +marks. + +"No," I replied; "there was only one will, and that was Sir Barnard's." + +A great calm fell over her. After some minutes she looked at me again. + +"Was there any mention in that will of me?" + +I told her none. Once more she raised those resistless eyes to mine. + +"Then I am, indeed, alone in the world--alone and forsaken." + +"Nay, nay!" I cried, eagerly; "do not say so. Clare will take care of +you." + +"And you?" she asked, in a voice that must have melted an anchorite. + +"I will help her--or, rather, I will take care of you both." + +"What is your sister like?" she asked, eagerly. "Is she very +clever--very beautiful? Shall I be frightened at her?" + +"She is the sweetest and most gentle of girls--doubly gentle from her +great affliction." + +"What affliction?" she asked eagerly, "you did not tell me there was +anything the matter with her." + +"She has a spinal complaint," I replied, "and is unable to move." + +"Is it quite incurable?" she asked again. + +"We hope not; perhaps a change of air may do something for her; but even +at the best, it will be years before she is able to go about." + +"I am so sorry," she said; "so very sorry. How sad for you and for her. +I can understand why you want a companion for her; she can take no +active share in the management of a large establishment like this." + +"No, no share at all. We will not decide anything until my sister comes; +but it seems to me that she will be most thankful to have you here, that +you will be more useful to her than I can say. She would not be able to +see guests, give orders or anything of that kind." + +There was a strange light in her eyes, a strange, suppressed glitter in +her face. + +"When will your sister come?" she next inquired. + +"I am going to-morrow to fetch her. There will be no need for you to +make any alterations. You spoke of going away; there will be no need of +that. I leave here to-morrow, and when my sister comes I suppose the +sternest British propriety will be satisfied." + +She smiled. + +"I suppose so, too. And Sir Barnard has not even left me a +mourning-ring? Well, I have so much less to be grateful for. The old +servants were all remembered, I hope?" + +"All of them. I will say good-night, mademoiselle; I have much to attend +to. I shall hope to find you well when I return." + +What a strange fascination her beauty had! I remember it with a shudder. +Her face haunted me all night; I could not forget it. + +The following morning I returned to London. I had yet to break the news +of our fortune to Clare, and make arrangements for our journey to Crown +Anstey. + +People who wish to be philosophers tell you money is nothing. Certainly, +as far as the spiritual and higher, holier interests of life go, it is +not; but as far as this world is concerned, it is almost everything. I +had been poor and friendless in London, and then it had seemed to me a +desert; now I had money, it was another place--bright, cheerful, every +one kind and friendly. I seemed to float in sunshine; the very air +around me was elastic, full of hope; every step was a pleasure. What +made the difference? I was poor, and now I had money. + +Clare was pleased to see me; she cried out in astonishment at my black +clothes, so new and glossy. + +"Edgar," she said, "I cannot understand you. You have money, clothes. +How is it? What has happened?" + +I knelt down by her side and took her in my arms. + +"Clare," I said, "God has been very kind to us. All of our poverty and +privations are ended. Will you be calm and brave if I tell you what it +is?" + +"They have taken you into partnership!" she cried, rapturously. "They +have found out how clever and good you are!" + +In the midst of my agitation I laughed at this very unbusiness-like +idea. + +"It is better than that, Clare. There need be no more business, no more +work for me. You remember hearing my mother speak of my father's cousin, +Sir Barnard Trevelyan, of Crown Anstey?" + +"Yes, I remember it," she said. "I had almost forgotten." + +"He is dead, and, sad to say, both his sons are dead. One died with him, +and one died years ago. Now do you understand?" + +"No," she replied. "They cannot have left us anything, because they did +not know us." + +"Sir Barnard and his only son died together, and the heir to Crown +Anstey, the title and the whole of that vast fortune is--myself." + +"You are not jesting, Edgar?" + +"No; I am telling you the simple, perfect truth." And then, when she had +recovered from what to her was really a shock, I gave her the whole +history. + +"I hope you will like Mademoiselle, Clare. She is so utterly friendless +and alone that, unless we keep her with us, I do not know what is to +become of her." + +"I shall be sure to like her," she said. "My heart is so full of +happiness that I shall love every one. O, Edgar, if I could but get +well!" + +Yes, that was the one drawback to our happiness. The bright, sweet +sister, who would have enjoyed our prosperity so much, was a helpless +invalid. + +That same afternoon I went to the office and invited all my fellow +clerks to a sumptuous dinner at a far-famed restaurant. I made some sad +hearts light and happy with my money, thank God! Poor Stephen Knowsley +had a sick mother and was three quarters behind with his rent. I gave +him fifty pounds, and the tears that stood in his eyes were the sweetest +thanks man could have. What gives such pleasure as plenty of money to +help one's friends? + +A comfortable invalid carriage was provided for Clare, and the journey +did not fatigue her. We said good-by to the old life, the old +privations, the old trials, and embarked on a new, smiling and sunny +sea. + +Another week saw us comfortably settled at Crown Anstey. The first +bewilderment of our new position passed away, I began to feel more at my +ease as master of that magnificent mansion, and on my sister's calm face +I saw already signs of returning health. + +We had a grand reception when I returned with Clare to Crown Anstey. The +Anstey church bells pealed out merrily; the servants were all assembled; +mademoiselle, fresh and beautiful as a morning star, was in the hall. + +I saw the kindly looks of commiseration that followed my sister. All the +servants in the house vied with one another who should he the most +attentive. Coralie looked at me, with sweet, sisterly anxiety shining in +her eyes. + +The following day Coralie suggested we find two nice, large, lofty +cheerful rooms for my sister's use. We decided upon two in the western +wing--they both looked on the Queen's Terrace--large, lofty rooms, with +the sun shining on them all day, each one containing two large windows, +from which could be seen a glorious vista of trees and flowers. + +Without saying one word to Clare, they were prepared for her. Books, +music, pictures, statues, flowers, were all arranged in order; +everything bright and beautiful was brought there. A small part of the +room was partitioned off and made into a conservatory, where she could +see the flowers bloom and hear the birds sing all the day long. + +I have seen many lovely places since then, but none that looked to me so +bright and beautiful as my sister's rooms. All that money could do to +alleviate her sufferings was done. I ordered the easiest reclining +chair, on which she could be gently moved from room to room, resolving +in my own mind, no matter what went on in other parts of the house, that +in her rooms there should be always sunshine and happiness. + +Her joy when she was carried into them was most pretty and pathetic to +see. Then, when she was fairly installed, I wrote to London for the +celebrated Dr. Finlaison, and I placed her under his care. He gave me +some little hope. + +In the course of time, he said, with the best of attention, the most +tender care and cheerful society, she would, he believed, recover so as +to be once more able to take her place in the world; and the hour in +which I heard that was, I do not hesitate to say, one of the very +happiest of my life. + +This part of my story has been, perhaps, commonplace. There was coming +for me a different phase. If my reader thinks it too romantic, I can +only say--it is true. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +It was some little time before I asked Clare how she liked Coralie, then +the answer was most diplomatic. + +"I am so very sorry for her, Edgar, and so pleased that she has a home +with us." + +She never said more than that, or less. Knowing her amiable character, I +came to the conclusion that she did not like her, but was too +good-natured and kind-hearted to say so. + +Mademoiselle, as she was called in the household, was very kind to my +sister. She engaged a maid, whose only business was to wait upon her; +and more than that, she spent some hours, at least, every day in her +room. She attended to her flowers, fed her birds, selected her books, +played and sang to her, read to her, talked to her in her bright, lively +way, superintended her dress, so that I always saw my darling +exquisitely attired; and yet I could not see that Clare liked her. + +She soon made herself almost indispensable. She gave orders to the +housekeeper and cook, she managed everything; she received our visitors +and entertained them with marvelous grace and courtesy; she understood +all the affairs of the estate; in fact, she was, to all intents and +purposes, mistress of the house. + +I insisted upon making her a very handsome allowance, which, after a +little resistance, she accepted. + +For a time everything went on most prosperously. How I loved my new life +no words of mine can tell. The luxury of having plenty of money, of +being able to do what I liked with my time, of seeing my sister so +happy, of being altogether without those dark fears for the future which +so often beset those whose lot is hard work and very limited means--I +thanked God for it all. + +I had made the acquaintance of most of the tenants on the estate, and my +neighbors had begun to call upon me. It was surprising how every one +liked, or, I may say, loved, my sister Clare. That invalid couch of hers +became a kind of center of society. + +One morning I saw some cards lying on the hall table. Coralie was +standing near when I took them up. "Sir John Thesiger," "Lady Thesiger." + +"That is a new name," I said to mademoiselle. + +When she took the card from my hand and saw it, a dark look came over +her face; I saw her lips close more firmly. + +"Have you not heard of the Thesigers? I thought every one knew Sir John. +They live at Harden Manor, about five miles from here." + +"Are they old friends of the family?" I asked. + +Again the darkening look and the tightening lips. + +"Both Sir Barnard and Miles knew them, but I cannot say whether they +were very great friends. Shall you call?" + +She asked the question carelessly, but I saw that she was awaiting my +reply with painful anxiety. + +"Yes, I shall go; I like to be on friendly and intimate terms with all +my neighbors. Sir John is the Tory member for Chingwell, is he not?" + +"Yes," she replied, shortly. + +"And next year I hope to be returned for Anstey, so that, of all men, I +shall probably find him the most useful of acquaintances." + +She turned away, and a sudden conviction came over me that, for some +reason or other, Coralie d'Aubergne did not like the Thesigers. I rode +over to Harden Manor on the day following, and found Sir John at home. + +I liked him at first sight--a frank, kind-hearted English gentleman. He +was pleased to see me, and we spent some time talking over the late +baronet and his son. He told me something I had not heard from +Coralie--that there had been some slight misunderstanding between father +and son. He asked me if I would join the ladies, who were in the +drawing-room. I was only too pleased. + +"Lady Thesiger was Sir Barnard's confidant. He consulted her about +everything--indeed, we were such near and dear friends that you must +forgive me if I cannot look upon you as a stranger." + +Entering a very pretty drawing-room, long low and old-fashioned, I saw +two ladies, one a matron, the other a lovely young girl. Sir John +introduced me to his wife and then to Agatha, his daughter. + +Looking up, I saw my fate. Never believe those cold-natured, +cold-hearted people who tell you that love grows from respect. It does +not. It comes into existence all at once--suddenly, as a flower is +kissed into color by the sun. When I entered Harden Manor, I was +heart-whole, fancy-free, loving no one but Clare; after one upward look +in Agatha Thesiger's face, I loved her with a love that was my doom. + +Sir John looked at me in amazement. + +"I--I did not know you had a daughter, Sir John." + +"Ah! but I have, and a very precious one, too. Poor Sir Barnard was very +fond of Agatha; he used to call her his sunbeam. I was almost jealous of +him at times." + +"There was no need, papa," said a sweet voice, the very sound of which +made me tremble. + +Why had mademoiselle never mentioned this young girl, so fair, so +lovely? Why had she told me nothing about her? I should like to describe +her, reader, so as to make you love her. She was tall, very little above +the medium height, slender, graceful, with a delicate, arched neck and +the "fairest face the sun e'er shone on." Not beautiful--that word would +not describe her; fair, sweet and lovely. She had no brilliant or vivid +coloring; her complexion was clear, with the faintest rose-bloom; her +eyes large and blue, her lips sweet and sensitive; a white brow and a +wealth of soft, brown hair. She was no queenly beauty; she had not +Coralie's brilliancy and bright coloring, but she was the fairest and +most lovable girl who ever made a man's heart glad. + +I did not know how the next few minutes passed. Sir John and Lady +Thesiger were talking about the neighborhood, and I was thinking that if +Agatha bid me lie down there at her feet and die for her sweet sake, I +should do so with a smile. + +When I came to my senses, Lady Thesiger was asking me if I would dine +with them the week following; they were expecting some visitors from +London. I am sure she must have thought me almost an imbecile, I +answered her in such a confused, hesitating way. + +All the time Agatha sat opposite to me, her lovely eyes drooping over +the drawing on which she was engaged when I entered. I could bear it no +longer; come what might, I must see those eyes. I went over and stood by +her side. + +Alas! I had rarely, if ever, spoken to any young ladies except Clare and +Coralie. I had crossed the room purposely to speak to her. Standing by +her chair, every word I had ever known in my life died from memory, I +could not think of one thing to say. + +Bending over the picture, I asked if she were fond of drawing, and then +I hated myself for the utter imbecility of the question. + +When at once the blue eyes were raised to mine all constraint died away; +they kindled a fire in my heart that nothing could ever extinguish. + +"Miss Thesiger," I said, "I should be so pleased if I could excite your +interest in my sister." + +"Have you a sister?" asked Lady Thesiger. "I did not know it; I am +afraid she will think me very remiss." + +I told them all about Clare, speaking, as was my fashion, with my heart +upon my lips, telling them of her sweetness, her patience, her long +illness, her cheerful resignation. Agatha forgot her reserve, Lady +Thesiger looked deeply interested, and when I had finished speaking, the +tears were in my eyes. + +Lady Thesiger held out her hand. + +"You have quite touched my heart, Sir Edgar; I shall not rest until I +have seen Miss Trevelyan." + +"Nor I," added the daughter. + +I turned eagerly to her. + +"You will come over to see my sister? I should be so grateful; she would +welcome you so warmly. I have always longed for her to have a friend." + +There was a slight constraint in the faces of mother and daughter. I +wondered what it meant. Lady Thesiger was the first to speak. + +"We shall be delighted to do all that lies in our power to soften Miss +Trevelyan's terrible affliction. Pray, pardon me, Sir Edgar, but is +Mademoiselle d'Aubergne still at Crown Anstey?" + +"She is staying there as a companion to my sister, who is utterly +incapable of taking any share in the management of the house." + +"You must find a wife," said Sir John. "I should say myself that Crown +Anstey requires a mistress." + +I longed to say there and then how I should pray him to give me his +daughter for a wife. Our eyes met. She must have read my thoughts, for +her face grew crimson, nor did I catch another glimpse of those lovely +eyes during my visit. + +It was with difficulty I could tear myself away. Sir John, who was a +great connoisseur in horses, went with me to see Bonnie Prince. While we +stood on the lawn he turned to me with a constrained smile. + +"So mademoiselle is still at Crown Anstey?" he said. "I suppose she is +as beautiful as ever?" + +"Tastes differ," I replied, oddly. "Her beauty is not according to my +idea." + +His kindly face cleared. + +"That is right; she is of the siren order; some people would find her +irresistible. Now, pardon me if I say one word. I have known the lady +for five years, and know nothing against her, still mistrust her without +knowing why. You are young, new to the world; new, perhaps, to the +influence of great womanly beauty; keep your heart safe. Do not let +Mademoiselle d'Aubergne take it from you." + +"There is no fear," I replied, with a light laugh. "Some day, Sir John, +I will tell you where my heart has found its home." + +"I am glad you know how to take a hint given in all kindness," he said, +cordially. "As my old friend's heir and representative, my heart warms +to you." + +I left Harden Manor a changed man. The very earth around seemed changed +to me; the sky wore a deeper blue; the grass a fairer green; there was +new music in the birds' songs and in the whisper of the wind, new hope +in my own heart, new beauty all around me. That was the beginning of the +glamour posts call frenzy, men call love. + +Mademoiselle was out on the lawn as I rode up to the door. She came to +meet me, her glittering eyes on my face. + +"Have you enjoyed your visit?" was the first question she asked. + +"More than I ever enjoyed anything in my life. You did not tell me what +a beautiful neighbor I had at Harden Manor." + +"I never thought of it," she replied, carelessly. "Agatha Thesiger is +only a school-girl." + +"Then school-girls are very different from what I thought them," was my +reply, and mademoiselle turned away with a strange smile. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +No matter what I did, that face was always before me. If I read it +looked up at me with sweet, serene eyes from the pages of my book. It +rose between me and the blue heavens. I saw it in every flower. It +haunted me until I could have cried out for respite from the pleasure +that was yet half pain. + +Poets sing of the joy and the rapture of love. Who knows its pain? For +pain it surely is when no sleep comes near you, and the every-day duties +of life only weary you, and your sole desire is to dream over looks and +words you cannot forget. It is surely pain when a thousand doubts assail +you, when you weigh yourself in the balance and find yourself wanting. + +A hundred times each day I found myself wondering whether Sir John would +think me good enough for his daughter. She was not his heiress, I knew, +for he had a son at college, but she was lovely, high-born, +accomplished, and my one great puzzle was whether he would think me a +good match for her. + +Other doubts came to madden me. Perhaps she was already engaged. She had +doubtless a number of admirers. Who was I that I should dare to hope for +her favor? + +It was only two days since I had seen her, and I longed to see her +again. A fierce, wild desire to look once more into that sweet face took +possession of me. When my longing was gratified the very gates of +Paradise seemed opened to me. One beautiful morning Lady Thesiger and +Agatha came over to Crown Anstey. It so happened that I was in Clare's +room when they arrived, and Coralie, too, was there, attending to the +flowers, giving them fresh water, cutting off dead leaves and gathering +the fairest buds. + +Lady Thesiger and Miss Thesiger were suddenly announced. Clare looked +eagerly, and I just caught the dark, bitter expression on Coralie's +face; then they entered. As a matter of course, I introduced Lady +Thesiger first. She stooped down to kiss the sweet face that seemed to +win universal love. Then I remember taking Agatha's hand and leading her +up to Clare. What could they have thought of me? I forgot everything +except that the two women I loved best were there together. + +Lady Thesiger then turned toward mademoiselle. There was no kindly hand +extended, no warm greeting, no friendly words. Lady Thesiger made the +most formal of bows, Coralie returned it by one more formal still, +Agatha did the same, and a strange, constrained silence fell upon us +all. + +Without a word mademoiselle quitted the room. The beauty of her face was +not pleasant in that moment; there was a glitter in her eye, a +compression of her lips that might have told any one to beware. Lady +Thesiger became her own natural self after Coralie's departure; she +talked so kindly to Clare that I could have kissed her hand in +gratitude. + +I took Miss Thesiger to show her my sister's flowers; for no word of +mine would those lovely eyes look up. She was not shy; her grace of +manner was too perfect for that, but she was evidently afraid to look at +me, and I reproached myself that I had perhaps frightened her at first. + +Patiently I showed her flower after flower, perfect bud and perfect +blossom, the little white doves I had tamed, the birds of bright plumage +I had bought to amuse my sister. I showed her the little fountains that +rippled all day, the rocks and ferns. She admired everything. + +"Your sister must be happy in spite of her illness," she said to me. + +But I could bear those drooping eyes no longer. + +"Miss Thesiger," I said, hurriedly, "do not be unkind to me. I know I am +very presumptuous, but do, pray do, give me one kind look before you +go." + +Then she raised her eyes and looked at me. Alas! my tell-tale face. They +fell again, and the crimson flush mounted to her white brow. I could say +no more to her after that. She went to her mother's side, and they +talked to Clare until it was time for lunch. + +I asked if they would remain and take lunch with my sister. They +consented, and when it was arranged I sent to ask Coralie if she would +join us. Her answer was that she was busily engaged and begged we would +excuse her. Again I felt sure that Lady Thesiger looked considerably +relieved. + +Every moment I was falling more deeply and more helplessly in love, and +yet across all my rapturous thoughts of Agatha came doubt and wonder as +to why they did not like Coralie. + +Strange; she had the beauty of a siren, the grace and wit of a queen of +society, the talents and accomplishments of a complete woman of the +world, yet no one seemed to like her. How could it be? + +Lady Thesiger rose at last, declaring that she was ashamed at the length +of her visit. When they were gone I went back to Clare. She looked up +at me with a smile; there was a bright flush of animation on her face. + +"How much I like them, Edgar! How kind Lady Thesiger is, and Agatha! Oh, +brother, how I wish I had a sister like her!" + +I thought I would ask her to solve my doubt. + +"Clare," I said, gravely, "I want you to explain something to me. You, +being a woman, can understand women. Tell me how it is no one likes +Coralie. She is beautiful and clever; why is it no one cares for her?" + +My sister looked at me uneasily. + +"I cannot tell. I wish you would not ask me, Edgar." + +"Nay; tell me what you think?" + +"Then I fancy it must be because she is not quite sincere. I do not like +saying anything so unkind. You must not let it prejudice you against +her; but she gives me always the impression of a person who leads two +lives--one that everybody sees and one that nobody understands save +herself." + +"How old should you imagine her to be?" I asked; and again my sister +looked uneasily at me. + +"We have been in the habit of considering her a young girl," she +replied, "but do you know, Edgar, I believe she is more than thirty?" + +"It is impossible!" I cried. "Why, Clare, she does not look a day more +than eighteen." + +"She is what the French people call well preserved. She will look no +older for the next ten years. She has a girl's figure and a girl's face, +but a woman's heart, Edgar, I am sure of it." + +"She is thirty, you say, and has been here for five years; that would +make her a woman of twenty-five before she left France. A French woman +of twenty-five has lived her life." + +"That is just what I mean," she replied. "Rely upon it, for all her +girlish face and girlish ways, Coralie d'Aubergne has lived hers." + +"Clare," I asked, half shyly, "how do you like Miss Thesiger?" + +A look bright as a sunbeam came over my sister's face. + +"Ah! hers is a beautiful nature--sweet, frank, candid, transparent--no +two lives there, Edgar. Her face is as pure as a lily, and her soul is +the same. No need to turn from me, dear; I read your secret when she +came in. If you give me such a sister as that I shall be grateful to +you." + +"Then you think there might be some chance for me if I asked her to +become my wife?" + +"Assuredly. Why not?" + +She said no more, for at that moment Coralie returned; she had been in +the garden gathering some flowers for Clare. The brightest bloom was on +her face; the brightest light was in her eye. Looking at her, it was +impossible to believe that she was anything but a light-hearted happy +girl. + +She glanced round the room. + +"Your visitors are gone," she said. "I felt sure they were staying for +dinner." + +"Coralie," I asked, "Lady Thesiger tells me she has been here a good +deal, yet you do not seem to be on very intimate terms with her?" + +"No," she said, with that frank smile that was lovely enough to charm +any one. "I neither like nor admire Lady Thesiger." + +Clare uttered a little cry of astonishment. + +"Why not?" I asked. + +"I should not like to prejudice you against them, Sir Edgar; but as you +ask me, I will tell you. The Thesigers have but one object." + +"What is it?" I inquired for she had paused abruptly, and seemed to be +entirely engrossed in her flowers. + +"The one aim they have had in view for several years past is to see +Agatha mistress of Crown Anstey. She was educated solely and entirely +for that purpose." + +"I do not believe it!" cried Clare, indignantly. + +"I should never expect you to do so. You are too unworldly--too good; +you know nothing of the manners of fashionable people. Sir Barnard knew +it. They fairly hunted him down; they were always driving over here, or +asking Sir Barnard and Miles there; they were continually contriving +fresh means to throw Miles and Agatha together." + +I would not please her by showing my anger. + +"Perhaps," I said, carelessly, "Miles admired her; he may even have been +her lover." + +She turned to me with a strange, glittering smile, a look I could not +fathom on her face. + +"No," she replied: "Miles knew all about it; he was too sensible to be +caught by the insipid charms of a mere school-girl. Sir Barnard was not +so wise; he would have liked to join the two estates--he spoke of it +very often--but Miles never gave the matter a serious thought." + +There was such unconcealed bitterness in her words and look--such malice +in that glittering smile, I turned away half in disgust. + +"All our neighbors understand Lady Thesiger's politics," she continued; +"they have been a source of great amusement for some time." + +"Miss Thesiger is not a day above eighteen," I said, fairly angry at +last; "so that there can not have been much time for manoeuvring." + +"Ah!" she said, "how I admire you, Sir Edgar. That simple, noble faith +you have in women is most beautiful to me; one sees it so seldom in +those who have lived always among fashionable men and women." + +A little speech that was intended to remind me how strange and fresh I +was to this upper world. I began to find something like dislike to +mademoiselle growing up in my mind; but I spoke to her of the Thesigers +no more. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +It seems an unmanly thing to write of a woman--my own face flushes hotly +as I write the words--but to make my story plain the truth must be +told. I could not help seeing that Coralie d'Aubergne was growing to +like me very much. + +To describe how a man woos a woman is a task pleasant enough. It is +natural and beautiful; he is in his place then and she in hers; but who +would not shrink from the hateful task of describing how a woman woos a +man? + +God bless all women, say I! My life has been a long one, and my +experience of them bids me say they are almost all angels. I have found +them true, tender and earnest. I could tell stories of women's quiet +heroism that would move any one's heart. God bless them, one and +all--they are the chief comfort in life! + +Still even I, who love and respect them so much, am compelled to own +that there are women wanting in purity and goodness, in modesty and +reserve. I grieve to say Coralie d'Aubergne was one of them. She pursued +me, and yet it was all so quietly done that she left me no room to +speak--no ground on which to interfere. + +If I went out in the gloaming to smoke a cigar, as I liked best to do +among the sighs of the roses, in a few minutes that beautiful, fair face +was sure to be smiling at my side. She had a pretty, picturesque way of +throwing a black lace shawl over her shoulders and of draping it round +her head, so making her face look a thousand times more fair. + +She would come to me with that graceful, easy, dignified walk of hers +and say: + +"If I am not intruding, Sir Edgar, I should enjoy a few minutes with +you." + +She had a wonderful gift of conversation--piquant, sparkling and +intellectual. If I had been the dullest of the dull, I should have known +that such a woman would not pass her life as a companion unless she had +some wonderful end in view. She was far too brilliant. She would have +made a good ambassadress, for she could make herself all things to all +men. No matter what subject interested you, on that she could speak. She +seemed to understand every one intuitively; one's likes, dislikes, +tastes. She had a wondrous power of reading character. She was worldly +with the worldly, good with the good, romantic with the young, sensible +with the old. To me she was always the same. Sometimes, when I saw her +coming to meet me along those paths where the rose leaves lay dead, I +felt inclined to go away and leave her; but natural politeness came to +my aid. Then when she had talked to me for a few minutes, a strange, +subtle charm would steal over me. + +I knew her well-chosen compliments were all flattery. I knew she was +pursuing me for some object of her own. Yet that charm no words can +describe was stronger than my reason. Away from her I disliked her; my +judgment was all against her; in her presence no man could help being +fascinated. + +I thank Heaven that I had the shield of a pure and holy love; I was but +a weak man, and nothing else saved me. If there came a wet day, or one +that was not pleasant for walking, she had a thousand ways of making +time fly. She played billiards as well as any man; she read aloud more +beautifully and perfectly than I have ever heard any one else. She made +every room she entered cheerful; she had a fund of anecdote that never +seemed to be exhausted. + +But the time she liked best for weaving her spells was after sunset, +before the lamps were lighted. + +"You are fond of music, Sir Edgar," she would say to me. "Come, and I +will sing you some songs I used to sing years ago." + +And she did sing. Listening to her, I could well believe in the +far-famed Orpheus lute. It was enough to bewilder any man. She had a +sweet, rich voice, a contralto of no ordinary merit, and the way in +which she used it was something never to be forgotten. + +There was a deep bay-window in the drawing-room, my favorite nook; from +it there was a splendid view of waving trees and blooming flowers. She +would place my chair there for me and then sing until she sung my senses +away. There was such power, such pathos, such passion, in her voice that +no one could listen to it unmoved. + +Then, when she had sung until my very senses were steeped in the sweet +madness of her music, she would come and sit, sometimes by my side, +sometimes on a Turkish cushion at my feet. + +And then--well, I do not like to say more, but as women can woo, she +wooed me. Sometimes her hand, so warm and soft, would touch mine; +sometimes, to see what I was reading, she would bend over me until her +hair brushed my cheek and the perfume of the flowers she always wore +reached me. + +Thank God, I say again, that I was shielded by a pure love. + +"How I love Crown Anstey!" she said to me one evening; "if I were asked +to choose between being crowned Queen of Great Britain or mistress of +Crown Anstey, I should prefer to remain here." + +How well I remember that evening! The golden summer was dying then; the +flowers seemed to be yielding all their sweetest perfumes to it; there +was a lovely light from the evening sky that lingered on the tufted lime +trees; the birds were singing a faint, sweet vesper hymn; the time so +soon was coming when they were to cross the sunny seas in search of +warmer climes. + +I had been reading to Clare, but she did not seem to be quite so well +and asked to be left alone. + +"Let Coralie play and sing for you, Edgar," she said; "I shall hear the +faint sound of it, and it will make me happy, because I shall know you +are well amused." I did not like to tell her how distasteful Coralie's +playing and singing were to me. We went into the drawing-room together. +I saw how everything was prepared for me; there were fresh flowers, my +favorite periodicals, my favorite chair, placed in the nook I liked +best. + +"I shall sing to you some gay French chansons," said Coralie, "and we +will leave the door open so that Clare may hear them." + +A few moments later and I was in an atmosphere of delight. The rich, +sweet music rose and fell; it cheered me like strong wine. + +Then after a time its character changed; it was no longer gay, +triumphant and mirthful. The very spirit of love and pathos seemed to +breathe through it. My heart beat; every nerve thrilled; every sense +answered to these sweet, soft words. + +It ceased then, and Coralie came over to the bay-window. She sat down +upon the Turkish curtains, and looked with longing eyes at the light on +the trees and flowers. There was a softened expression on her face, a +flush as of awakened emotion, a new and brighter light in those dark, +dangerous eyes. The white fingers trembled, the white bosom heaved as +though she had felt deeply the words she had been singing. + +Then it was said she would rather be mistress of Crown Anstey than Queen +of Great Britain. + +I laughed, not knowing what to say. + +"Crown Anstey ought to thank you very much," I said. "You pay it a great +compliment." + +"My heart is here," she continued, those dreamy eyes still fixed upon +mine. "I think if any one were to say to me, 'You must leave Crown +Anstey,' I should die." + +All the music on earth seemed embodied in those few words. + +"I should die," she repeated, "just as a flower dies when it is torn +from the soil it has taken deep root." + +"Why do you speak of such things?" I asked. "No one thinks of your +going; this is your home." + +"In my happiest hours the fear lies heaviest upon me," she replied. "No +one has ever spoken of my going, that is true; but I have common sense, +and common sense tells me if certain events happen I must go." + +"What events do you mean?" I asked, all unconsciously. + +She sighed deeply. + +"If you were to be married, Sir Edgar--Cousin Edgar, I like to say +best--then I must go." + +"I do not see the necessity." + +"Ah! you do not understand; women are all jealous. I have grown so +accustomed to perform a hundred little services for you, they make the +pleasure and sunshine of my life. To be able to do some little thing to +help you is the highest earthly joy that I can ever know. When you are +married, Sir Edgar, your wife will take all this happiness from me." + +"I do not see why," I replied, dryly, inwardly wishing myself safe in +Clare's room. + +"Ah! you do not understand--men never can understand the love of women. +Wives, above all, are so very jealous. Fancy, if ever I wanted to make +your tea, or get anything ready for you, she would be angry, and I +should be wretched." + +"In that case you must make tea for Clare instead of me." + +"If I am anywhere near you, I must always attend to you before every one +and anything in the wide world," she said, impulsively. + +"You are making very sure that my wife will not like you," I said. "What +if I have no wife?" + +She shook her head gravely. + +"You will marry, Sir Edgar. All the Trevelyans of Crown Anstey marry, +as becomes the head of a grand old family. You will marry, and your wife +will be the happiest woman in the world." + +"I may be a modern Bluebeard, Coralie." + +"No; you will not. Ah, me! To go away and leave Crown Anstey--to leave +you--I shall feel like Eve driven forth from Paradise to die." + +My hand lay carelessly on the back of a chair. She bent down swiftly and +laid her burning lips upon it. I would not tell--my face flames as I +write the word--but unless you know all, reader, you will not understand +my story. + +She laid her warm, soft lips upon it! And though I did not love her--did +not even trust her--the magnetic touch thrilled every nerve. I took my +hand away. + +"Ah, cousin!" she said, looking at me with those dark, dangerous eyes, +"you love even your dog Hector better than me." + +She was so near to me that the perfume from her flowers reached me. It +was by a desperate effort I broke the spell. + +"This room is insufferably warm," I said; "I am going into the garden. +You had better see if Clare wants anything, Coralie." + +So, like many another man, I ran away, not knowing how to meet my fair +adversary on equal grounds. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +Walking among the whispering leaves, the conclusion I came to was that I +must take some precaution, or Coralie d'Aubergne would marry me whether +I was willing or not. A siren is a faint shadow compared with a +beautiful woman resolved to win a man whether he wants winning or not. + +Why not risk my fate and ask Agatha to be my wife? There was a faint +hope in my heart that she would not refuse me, yet she was so modest, so +retiring, that though I had most perseveringly sought her favor since +the first moment I had seen her, I could not tell whether she cared for +me or not. + +To judge by Coralie's standard, she did not like me. In all our +conversation it half maddened me to see the lovely eyes I loved so +dearly dropped shyly away from me. + +It may not be a very elegant comparison, but she always reminded me of +some shy, beautiful bird. She had a bright, half-startled way of looking +at me. Several times, when I met her suddenly, I saw the lovely face +flush and the little hands tremble. + +Did she love me or did she not? I could not tell. Of whom should I take +counsel? There was a bird singing over me; I wondered if that sweet +night-song was all of love. Alas! that I had not been more into the +world of women--their ways and fashions were all mysteries to me. + +"Faint heart never won fair lady," says the old proverb, and it ran +through my mind. I resolved to try my fortune. If she did not love me, +why then, life held nothing more for me. If I could not win her I would +never ask the love of woman more, but live out my life with Clare. + +Like many other anxious lovers, I lay awake all night, wondering what I +should say to her, how I should woo her, in what words I should ask her +to be my wife. When day dawned I was still undecided, only that it was +to be. + +"You are going away early," said Coralie, as I ordered my horse. "Surely +you will not be away all day, Sir Edgar?" + +"I am going to Harden Manor, and cannot say when I shall return. Do not +wait dinner for me--I may dine there." + +"It will be a long, dark day," she said, with a sigh. "Do not be +late--every hour will seem like two." + +She hovered round me, asking many questions, evidently seeking to know +my business there. When my horse was brought to the door, she came to me +with a delicate spray of heliotrope. + +"Let me fasten this in your coat, Sir Edgar. No gentleman looks +completely dressed without a flower. You do not know what heliotrope +means. Men never--or, at least, very seldom--care for the sweetest of +all languages--the language of flowers. What that heliotrope means, +cousin, I say to you." + +It was not until some weeks afterward that, looking quite accidentally +over an old book, I discovered the spray of heliotrope meant, "I love +you." + +The beautiful picture of this fair, passionate woman died from my mind +as I went to seek one a thousand times more fair. How well I remember +the day--the golden sunshine, the fragrant wind, the blooming flowers, +as I rode forth to win my love! It seemed to me that the summer skies +smiled on me, and the singing birds wished me joy. + +The way to Harden Manor lay through green, flowery lanes and a shady +highroad. It seemed long because my heart sighed to be with her; yet +short because I was so uncertain what to say, and how my wooing would +end. + +I reached the manor at last. Sir John was from home. Lady Thesiger and +Agatha were busily engaged in making pretty fancy articles for a grand +fancy fair that was to be held--for the benefit of some out-of-the-way +people--by special permission of His Grace the Duke of Fairholme in the +grounds of Fairholme Castle. + +Lady Thesiger looked up when I entered, with a smile. + +"Good morning, Sir Edgar; I am very glad to see you. Agatha and I were +just wishing we had a gentleman to help us. Are you willing to assist us +for a day?" + +My face flushed hotly with delight. + +"Am I willing to give myself a day of Utopian delight, Lady Thesiger? +Most certainly. I will do anything--I can be very useful. I can mount +drawings, frame photographs, sketch and design, and my humble talents +are all yours." + +Then Agatha looked at me, and the glance of those eyes was so sweet I +almost lost myself. + +"The Cherokee Indians, or whatever they are called, will be much obliged +to you," she said. "I cannot call working for them 'Utopian delight;' my +fingers ache with this stiff cardboard." + +"You willfully misunderstand me, Miss Thesiger; the delight consists in +being with you, not in working for the Cherokees. Save that I shudder +when I hear that they have eaten a missionary, they have no particular +interest for me." + +Lady Thesiger smiled. + +"You must work, not talk, Sir Edgar. Sit down here, pray, and if you +think Miss Trevelyan will be uneasy, I will send a servant to tell her +that you will remain here for lunch and for dinner." + +"I prepared her for that emergency; now give me something to do for the +Cherokees." + +My hands were soon filled. It was pleasant sitting there in that +fragrant, sunny drawing-room, with two of the most gracious and graceful +women in England. Yet it was hard. I had gone there purposely to tell +the story of my love, and now I was condemned to sit for hours by +Agatha's side and say nothing to her. + +"Perhaps fortune may favor me," I thought; "Lady Thesiger may leave the +room, and then I will not lose a moment." + +How fervently I blessed these Cherokees before the day was ended no one +will ever know. Lady Thesiger never left us; Agatha worked very hard. +Looking at the sweet, calm, high-bred face, I wondered if she knew that +a lover, with his heart on fire, sat near her. + +Lunch came--we went to the dining-room. Lady Thesiger told us we had +only half an hour to spare; she had promised the duchess to send +everything in that evening, and she did not wish to break her word. + +"It is worse than slavery," I said, and Lady Thesiger laughed, little +knowing why I was so impatient. + +Back again to work. Happily, all was finished, and the servants were +called in to pack the pretty, fragile articles. + +"Now I shall have five minutes," I thought to myself, "and I will find +out whether she cares for me or not." + +Alas! there was the dressing-bell. "We have just finished in time for +dinner," said Lady Thesiger. "Sir John will not be at home; he does not +return until late." + +I was tortured with impatience. Had I been waiting for a verdict over +life or death, my agony would not have been one-half so great. + +The long ordeal of dinner had to pass. + +"You will allow me to go to the drawing-room with you," I said to the +mistress of the house. "I could not sit here alone." + +Then I saw a chance. Agatha went to the piano and played one of +Mendelssohn's "Songs Without Words." The difference between the pure, +sweet, high-bred English girl and the brilliant, seductive French woman +never appeared to me so great as when they were at the piano. Coralie's +music wrapped one's soul, steeped one's senses, brought one nearer to +earth; Agatha took one almost straight to heaven. Listening to her, pure +and holy thoughts came, high and noble impulses. + +Then, seeing that Lady Thesiger looked tired, I suggested that she +should rest upon the sofa while I took Miss Thesiger for a little stroll +through the gardens. The evening was beautiful, warm and clear, the +golden sun lingering as though loath to leave the fair world to +darkness. + +At last, at last! My hands trembled with impatience as I drew the black +lace mantilla over her white shoulders. At last, at last I had her all +to myself, only the birds and flowers around us, only the blue sky +overhead. + +Then, when I would have given worlds for the power of speech, a strange, +dull silence came over me. + +"Agatha," I said at last, "I came over today on purpose to see you. I +want to ask you something, a favor so great my lips can hardly frame the +words." + +She looked at me. There was infinite wonder, infinite gentleness in her +eyes. I took courage then, and told my tale in burning words. I cannot +remember now, but I told her how I had loved her from the first moment I +had ever seen her, and had resolved upon winning her, if she was to be +won. + +Never mind what passed. I only know the sun never shone so brightly, the +flowers were never one-half so fair, the world so bright, no man ever +one-half so happy. + +For she--well, she had listened to me, and her sweet lips quivered, her +beautiful face had grown tender and soft; she laid her little, white +hands in mine and said she loved me. + +I have wondered since that the weight of my own happiness did not break +my heart, the suspense had been so great. + +"You love me? Say it again, Agatha. I cannot believe it. Oh, my darling, +it seemed to me easier to reach the golden stars than to win you!" + +"You did not try," she said, with a smile half sweet, half divine. "You +always looked frightened at me." + +"So I was, but I will grow bolder now. Such beauty, such purity, such +goodness as yours would awe anyone. I can hardly believe now in my own +good fortune. Say it again, darling." + +She raised her sweet face to mine. + +"I love you," she said, simply; and it seemed to me the words died away +in the summer wind more sweetly than an echo from heaven would die. + +"And you will be my wife? Agatha, promise me." + +"I will be your wife," she said; and then, to my thinking, we went +straight away to fairyland. + +I do not remember the sun setting, although it must have set; for when +my senses returned to me a servant was standing before us, saying that +Lady Thesiger was afraid it was growing cold. + +There lay the dew shining on the trees and flowers, yet we had not even +seen it fall. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +I would not leave the manor house until I had seen Sir John. Agatha did +not go back to the drawing-room with me. + +"What will mamma think?" she said, in utter dismay. "See how late it is; +and the dew has fallen." + +"I will tell her why I detained you, Agatha. You are sure that I shall +not wake up tomorrow and find all this is a dream?" + +"I do not think so," she replied; and then she would not stop for +another word, and I went in to meet Lady Thesiger alone. + +She was surprised when I told her. No matter what Coralie said about +maneuvering, if ever I saw real, genuine surprise in any woman's face, +it was in Lady Thesiger's this evening. + +"You have asked Agatha to marry you!" she repeated, looking half +bewildered; "and pray, Sir Edgar, what did the child say?" + +"She promised to marry me," I replied, more boldly; "that is, of course, +if Sir John and you, Lady Thesiger, have no objection." + +"I am afraid that you have not taken that much into consideration. Asked +the child to marry you! Why, Sir Edgar, how long have you been in love +with her?" + +"From the very first moment I ever saw her." + +"Why," cried her ladyship, "Sir John told me you were in love, and had +promised to confide in him." + +Remembering what I had said to him, I explained to her that in speaking +as I had done I referred entirely to Agatha. + +"It is so utterly unexpected," she said, "that you must pardon my +strange reception of your intelligence." + +She sat quite silent for some minutes, then continued: + +"It seems so strange for you to fall in love with Agatha. The dearest +wish of Sir Barnard's heart was to have her for a daughter-in-law." + +A fierce spasm of jealousy almost robbed me of my breath. + +"Did she--did she--" + +Then I could get no further. + +"No, Agatha did not like Miles, if that is what you mean?" + +"Did Miles love her?" + +"I cannot tell--there was something very mysterious about him. He looked +to me like one who had a secret on his mind. I have often wondered what +it could be. He was not a happy man of late years." + +"You have not told me yet, Lady Thesiger, if I have your good wishes." + +She held out her hand with a gracious, kindly smile. + +"Shall I tell you the truth--no flattery, but just the simple truth? I +would rather Agatha married you than any other man in the nation. She +has not only my full consent, but I am pleased, proud and happy." + +"And Sir John, shall I have his consent?" + +"There is little doubt of it. I hear him now--he has just arrived, I +suppose. You shall see him at once." + +I rode away from Harden Manor that night a happy man. Sir John, like +Lady Thesiger, gave his full, free, unhesitating consent. We had a long, +confidential conversation. He told me how his affairs stood. He was a +wealthy man, but his expenses were great. He told me frankly that he +should not be able to give Agatha a large portion at her marriage, nor +could he leave her anything considerable at his death. Harden Manor, +with its rich revenues, was all entailed on his son. + +"So that I am glad, Sir Edgar," he said, "she is likely to marry a rich +man. She has been brought up in all luxury, and would never be able to +bear privation. I shall feel satisfied of her future now." + +Alas! so did I. I rode home through the sweet, gathering gloom and the +starlight, one of the happiest men in England. I had won my love. She +loved me whom I loved best. + +There seemed to be nothing wanting then. Two short years ago I was poor, +my daily life one of monotonous toil, without the least hope of relief. +Now the silvery moon fell upon the woods and silvered the roof of the +grand old mansion, and all this fair land over which I was riding was +mine. + +Coralie was waiting for me. She affected to be just crossing the hall, +but I knew that she had been waiting there to have the first word with +me. She looked eagerly into my face. + +"How long you have been away, Sir Edgar! Surely the starlight agrees +with you. I have coffee ready for you in the drawing-room--you have +dined, I suppose?" + +"Yes, I dined at Harden Manor. I have been there all day." + +A dark cloud came for a moment over her radiant face. + +"All day," she repeated. "Ah, poor Miles! If he rode over in the morning +they were always sure to make him stay to the evening, if they could." + +"If Miles found the place as pleasant as I do, the length of his visits +would not surprise me," I said, laughingly. "I will run up to see Clare +first and then try your coffee, Coralie." + +I longed to tell my good news to my sister. + +"Clare," I said, kneeling by her side, "look at me. Do you know, can you +guess, what news I have to tell you?" + +She raised her eyes to mine; she laid her dear hand on my brow. + +"I can guess," she said, quietly. "You have told Agatha you love her, +and have asked her to be your wife. Is that it?" + +"Yes. She has promised, Clare. She loves me--she whom I have always +looked up to as some queen so far above me." + +"Any good woman would love you, Edgar," said my sister. She hesitated, +then asked slowly: "Have you said anything to Coralie?" + +"Certainly not. Why should I?" + +A delicate color flushed my sister's face. + +"To tell you the truth," she replied, "I have fancied of late that +Coralie likes you. Nay, I need not mince matters; I am quite sure she +loves you." + +"She loves us both, because we are all in the world she has to love; but +not in the way you mean, Clare." + +But Clare shook her head doubtfully. + +"I hope I may be mistaken; but, Edgar, I have a nervous feeling about +it, difficult to describe and hard to bear, as though evil would come to +you through her. I cannot tell you how the thought haunts and perplexes +me." + +I laughed, little dreaming then how it would be. + +"Sheer nervous fancy, Clare. Take it at the very worst, that Coralie +does like me, perhaps, a little too well, and is both piqued and angry +at my engagement, in the name of common sense, I ask you, what possible +harm can she do to me?" + +"None that I can see; yet the dread lies heavy upon me, brother." + +"You will forget it all, darling, when you hear the chimes of wedding +bells. Ah, Clare, if you could get better I should not have a wish left +ungratified." + +Then, still smiling at Clare's nervous fancy, I went to the +drawing-room. Coralie was there awaiting me. The picture, in all its +details, rises before me as vividly as though I had only seen it +yesterday. + +Although the day had been warm, the evening was chilly, and a small fire +burned brightly in the grate; the lamps were lighted, and gleamed like +huge, soft, warm, pearls; the air of the room was heavy with sweet and +subtle perfume. I have seen no woman who could arrange flowers like +Coralie. The way in which she gathered them and placed each fragrant +flower so that it could be most perfectly seen was wonderful. Great +masses of crimson against white, amber and blue. She had the instinctive +elegance of a true Parisienne. + +It struck me as I entered that I had never seen so many lovely flowers; +the vases and the stands were all full. Coralie herself sat in a large +velvet fauteuil, the rich color of which formed a magnificent background +to her bright face and golden-brown hair. She was dressed with unusual +elegance; a robe of soft, black crape fell in graceful folds around her. +I never shall understand ladies' dresses, but this was made so that the +beautiful, white neck and arms were bare. + +I remember, too, that she had great sprays of heliotrope in the bodice +of her dress and in her hair. She looked more lovely, more seductive, +than any words of mine could describe, if I wrote for six months. + +On the table by her side was a tray set with delicate china and silver, +over which the firelight played cheerily. It was a picture of luxurious +home comfort. She looked up as I entered with a grave, sweet smile. + +"Your coffee is ready, Sir Edgar." + +There was my favorite chair drawn up to the table. As I sat down I said +aloud: + +"This is comfortable." + +Her smile brightened and deepened. + +"You are like Miles, Sir Edgar. No matter where he went, he always said +coming home was the most pleasant part of the day." + +Then, with her white, jeweled hand, she poured out my coffee, and +certainly the aromatic fragrance was very pleasant. + +"You must be like Miles in something else," she said. "He always +declared that I made better coffee than anyone else--better than he +tasted in all his travels. Do you not think the same?" And she looked at +me as anxiously as though the making of coffee to please me were the +chief aim of life. + +"Was Sir John at home?" she asked, after a few minutes. + +Then I had to describe my day, to give her a history of the coming fair, +in which she affected great interest. + +"I should like to go very much," she said. "I have read in fashionable +novels of fancy fairs, but I have never seen one. Are you going, Sir +Edgar?" + +"Lady Thesiger has asked my assistance, and I have promised it. We shall +make up a party. If you wish to go, Coralie, you shall." + +She thanked me, and when I had finished my coffee, rang the bell and +ordered it to be cleared away. + +"I am going to sing to you," she said. "I know you are tired. Throw your +head back, shut your eyes and listen. Do not speak, because I am going +to weave a charm for you." + +I declare before Heaven that when I remember the magic of that charm my +heart beats even now with fear! + +Are you keenly sensitive to music, reader? If so, you will understand. +I could neither sing nor play, but I loved music with a perfect passion. +There was not a nerve or pulse in my body, not a thrill in my heart, +that did not answer it. Listening to beautiful music, sweet, soothing +and sad, this world fell from me. I was in an ideal life, with vague, +glorious fancies floating round me, beautiful, lofty dreams filling my +whole soul. + +In this higher world Coralie's music wrapped me; then I came to myself +with a sudden start, for there was Coralie half kneeling by my side, +covering my hand with kisses and tears. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"Coralie!" I cried, in surprise. "What is the matter? What are you +doing?" + +She looked up at me, the fire of her eyes flashing through the mist of +tears. + +"Don't scold me, Edgar; it is the fault of the music. It sent me here to +tell you how dearly I love you, and to ask from you one kind word." + +I was terribly embarrassed. Could it be possible this beautiful woman +was confessing her love for me? + +"Do not judge me hastily," she said. "I am not like the fair, cold girls +of this northern clime. My father had Spanish blood in his veins, and +some of it flows in mine. My music went deep into my heart, and my heart +cried aloud for one kind word from you." + +"Am I not always kind, Coralie?" + +"Ah, yes, with that cold, English kindness which kills even sooner than +your keen frost and biting winds. I want something more than this cruel +kindness. Oh, cousin, can you not see I love you? I love you--ah, +heaven, how dearly!--and I want your love in return." + +Believe me, reader, I was speechless. I would fain have raised her, have +told her, in short, sharp words, that what she was saying branded her as +unmaidenly and indiscreet; but I was powerless either to move or to +speak. + +"I loved you," she said, "the first moment I saw you. You are not like +other men, Sir Edgar. You are so generous, so simply truthful, so noble. +No wonder that I love you; no wonder that I look proud of my love. Ah, +me! ah, me! would that I knew how to tell you! Give me your love; you +shall never repent it. I will make home heaven for you. Men say that I +have beauty and talent. Ah, me! I would use every gift I have for you; +help you to win high honors that cold, unambitious natures never dream +of. Ah, love me; love me, cousin! You will find no one else so true!" + +Her face paled with passion; her glorious eyes, dim with tears, were +raised to mine. + +"Forgive me that I have spoken first. I should have died with my love. I +know that other women in my place would have done so. I could not; life +is strong within me. I could not die here, tortured to death by inches, +without telling you. Ah, say to me that I shall not die!" + +Weak words of mine cannot tell the passionate music of her voice, the +passionate beauty of her face. + +"You do not speak to me; you cannot forgive me that I have not borne my +love and sorrow in silence until it killed me. Ah, see what love must +mine be to make me to speak to you, to make me kneel to you, asking for +my life, my life!" and as she uttered the words her head dropped on my +arm, and her wealth of golden-brown hair fell over me. + +God knows I would have given worlds to have rushed away. Never was man +more unwillingly drawn into an embarrassing situation. And that very day +Agatha had promised to be my wife. It was high time I said something. +Gently as my patience and embarrassment would allow me, I raised the +girl. + +"Coralie," I said, gravely, "you are not yourself, I am sure." + +"It is for my life," she said. "I am asking for my life!" + +"You are easily excited and impulsive," I said; "that music has +bewildered you. I do love you, Coralie; so does Clare. You are our +kinswoman and our charge. How can we help loving you?" + +"Ah, me!" she moaned, "you will not understand; it is not that love, +Edgar. I want to pass my life by your side. I want your joys to be +mine--your sorrows to be mine, darling; I want to share your interests. +Will you not understand?" + +"I do understand, Coralie. All the love of my heart is given--gone from +me. Only this day I asked Miss Thesiger to be my wife, and she +consented. All my love, my faith, my loyalty are hers." + +I shall never forget how that fair woman rose and looked at me. The +love-light and the mist of tears died from her eyes. All the lovely +color faded from her face. + +"You have slain me; you have given me, my death-blow!" + +"Nay, Coralie; you are too sensible and brave." + +She waved her hand with a gesture commanding silence. + +"Do not seek to comfort me," she said. "You cannot. I have humiliated +myself in vain. I have shown the depth of my heart, the very secrets of +my soul, only that you may laugh at me with your fair-faced Agatha." + +"Hush, Coralie; you have no right to say such things; what you have just +said will never pass my lips. I shall not even think of it. You cannot +suspect me of the meanness to talk to Miss Thesiger of anything of the +kind." + +She looked at me with a dazed face, as though she could barely grasp my +meaning. + +"Tell me it again," she said. "I cannot believe it." + +"Listen, Coralie: I love Agatha Thesiger with all my heart, and hope +very soon to make her my wife. I love her so dearly that I have no room +in my heart for even a thought of any other woman." + +Her face grew ghastly in its pallor. + +"That is sufficient," she said; "now I understand." + +"We will both forget what has been said tonight, Coralie; we will never +think of it, but for the future be good cousins and good friends." + +"No," she said, proudly; "there can be no friendship between us." + +"You will think better of it; believe me, you have no truer friends than +Clare and myself." + +"If I ask for bread and you give me a stone, is that anything to make me +grateful? But I declare to you, Sir Edgar Trevelyan, that you have +slain me; you have slain the womanhood in me tonight by the most cruel +blow!" + +She looked so wild, so white, so despairing, I went up to her. + +"Coralie," I said, "forget all this nonsense and be your own bright self +again." + +"My own bright self will never live again; a man's scorn has killed me." + +Suddenly, before I knew what she was doing, she had flung herself in a +fearful passion of tears in my arms. She was sobbing with her face close +to mine and her hot hands clinging to me. + +"With it all, Edgar, she does not love you; she loved Miles; she loves +Crown Anstey, and not you. Forget her, dear; give her up. I love you. +She is cold and formal and prudish; she is not capable of loving you as +I do. She loves your fortune, not you, and I--oh, I would die if you bid +me! Give her up, Edgar, and love me!" + +When the passionate outburst of tears had had full vent, I unclasped her +arms and placed her in a chair. + +"Let us talk reasonably, Coralie. You ask me what is impossible. I shall +never, with life, give up my engagement to Miss Thesiger." + +A strange, bitter smile parted her white lips. I knew afterward what +that meant. + +"It is better to speak plainly," I continued, "in a case like +this--better for both. Listen to me, and believe, Coralie, that even had +I never seen Miss Thesiger, I--forgive me, but it is the truth--I should +never have loved you with more than a cousin's love; my friendship, my +esteem, my care, are all yours; more I can never give you." + +Pray God I may never see another woman as I saw her then. She rose; with +her white face and glittering eyes. Then came to mind that line: + + "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." + +"You throw the love I have offered you back in my face, Sir Edgar?" + +"No, dear; I lay it kindly and gratefully in your hands, to make the joy +and happiness of some good man's life." + +"You distinctly tell me that you never did--never could love me?" + +"I love you as my cousin, Coralie--not in any other way." + +"You would never, never, under any circumstances, make me your wife?" + +"Why do you pain me so, Coralie?" + +"I want a plain answer--you would never marry me? Say 'yes' or 'no.'" + +"No--since you force me into ungracious speech." + +"Thank you," she said, bitterly; "I am answered--there can be no +mistake. Sir Edgar, you speak your mind with honorable frankness. I have +given you every chance to correct yourself, should you be mistaken. I +am, perhaps, more richly endowed than you think for. Would my dowry make +any difference?" + +"No," I replied, sternly; "and, Coralie, pray pardon me; it is high time +that this should end." + +"It shall end at once," she replied. "It is to be war between us, Sir +Edgar--war to the knife!" + +"There is no need for war," I said, wearily. "Let us forget all about +it. There will be no need for you to do anything romantic, Coralie. +Stay on at Crown Anstey, and make yourself happy with Clare." + +"Yes," she replied, with that strange smile, "I shall remain at Crown +Anstey--I have no thought of going away." + +She turned as though she would quit the room. I went up to her. + +"Good night, Coralie. Shake hands, and let us part friends." + +"When I touch your hand again, Sir Edgar, it will be under very +different circumstances. Good night." + +She swept from the room with the dignity of an outraged queen, leaving +me unhappy, bewildered and anxious. + +I had the most chivalrous love and devotion for all womankind, and I +must confess to feeling most dreadfully shocked. It seemed almost +unheard of. + +Then I tried to forget it--the passionate words, the pale, tearful +beauty of that wonderful face. Strange that Clare's conviction should so +soon be realized. What of that nervous conviction she had that evil +would come of this fair woman's love? What if that were realized, too? + +I sat late that night, dreaming not only of the pure, sweet girl I had +won, but of the woman whose burning tears had fallen on my hands. What +harm could she do if she tried? What did she mean by being richly +dowered? Had she any fortune that I did not know of? Her words were +mysterious. Strange to say, the same nervous forebodings that had seized +Clare seized me. + +Evil would come of it; how or why I could not imagine, but it would +come. I felt it gathering round me; then I laughed at myself, at my own +foolish fancy. + +Yet the same fancy had shaken me so that when I went into Clare's room +to say "Good night," she asked me if I were ill, and would not be +satisfied until I laughingly told her my happiness had been too much for +me. + +I felt shy as a girl the next morning at the thought of coming +downstairs to meet mademoiselle. Nor was I quite devoid of some little +fear. Would she be sorrowful, resigned, pathetic, angry, or what? It was +impossible to tell. + +Imagine my surprise on opening the breakfast-room door to find her +already at the table, looking blooming and beautiful as a June rose. She +greeted me gayly, with bright smiles and bright words. I might have +thought all the passion, the sorrow and despair of last night a dream. + +Only too happy to imitate her, I began to talk of a score of indifferent +matters. About everything she had some piquant, bright words to say. By +the time breakfast was ended I had really begun to think I must have +dreamed the most unpleasant scene. + +Yet I thought to myself that I must be guarded. I must continue to be +kind to her because she had no other friends, but all kindness shown to +her must be of the true, cousinly type. + +This morning, instead of lingering with her while she went through the +conservatories, as had been my idle fashion, I went at once into Clare's +room. Coralie noticed the change, for her face grew pale as I quitted +the room. + +Some weeks passed without anything happening. I went over to Harden +Manor every day. The sun never set without my seeing Agatha, and every +day I loved her more and more. + +She was so simple, so tender, so true; now that she had promised to be +my wife, there was no idle coquetry about her, no affection of shyness. +She was simply perfect, and it seemed to me that by some wonderful +miracle I had reached the golden land at last. + +Then I began to agitate for an early marriage. Why wait? Lady Thesiger +told me laughingly that there was much to do at Crown Anstey before I +could take my wife home. + +"Remember," she said, "that before your sister came there had been no +ladies at the Hall for some years. The late Lady Trevelyan died sixteen +years ago." + +I saw that she had completely forgotten the existence of mademoiselle, +and did not care to remind her of it. + +"You will want to refurnish a suite of rooms for Agatha," she continued; +"and there will really be so much to do that if we say Christmas for the +wedding, that will be quite soon enough." + +"It seems like an eternity!" I said, discontentedly. + +"It is the most picturesque season of the year for a wedding," said Lady +Thesiger, "I like the holly and evergreens even better than summer +flowers." + +So it was settled; Clare agreed with Lady Thesiger that Crown Anstey +required preparation for a bride. + +"Those reception rooms want refurnishing," said my sister. "Of course, +after your marriage you will give parties and balls. You will have to +show hospitality to all the county, Edgar." + +Half to my consternation, she said this before Coralie. I looked at her +hastily, wondering how she would take it. Her beautiful face was quite +calm, and wore an expression of pleased interest. + +"Do you agree with me, Coralie?" asked my unsuspecting sister. + +"Certainly; there is no position in the county equal to that of Lady +Trevelyan of Crown Anstey." + +"How strange it is, Edgar, that you should be married, and your wife +Lady Trevelyan! Sometimes it seems to me all a dream." + +"Dreams come and go so lightly," said Coralie, with that smile which +always made me slightly afraid. + +The remainder of that day we spent in making out a long list of all +things needful. Coralie's taste was paramount. She decided upon little +matters of elegance we never even thought of. It was she who strongly +advised me to send to London for Mr. Dickson, the well-known decorator. + +"He will arrange a suite of rooms so perfectly that you will hardly know +them," she said. + +So it was decided. Mr. Dickson came, and when he found there was to be +no limit either to time, expense, money, or anything else, he promised +me something that should make Crown Anstey famous. All things went on +perfectly. The magnificent preparations making for my darling occupied +my time most happily. It was now almost the end of November, and our +marriage was to take place on the 26th of December. Mr. Dickson and his +army of workmen had taken their departure, and the rooms prepared for my +wife were beyond all praise. + +The boudoir was hung in blue and silver; it was a perfect little +fairyland; nothing was wanting to make it a nest of luxury. The boudoir +opened into a pretty little library, where all the books that I thought +would please Agatha were arranged. There was a dressing-room, a +bath-room and a sleeping-room, all en suite. Mr. Dickson had improvised +a pretty flight of stairs leading into a small conservatory, and that +opened into the garden. + +When the pictures, the flowers, the statues, the rich hangings and the +graceful ornaments were all arranged, I was more pleased than I had been +for some time. Lady Thesiger came over to look at them, but my darling +was not to see them until they were her own. + +There was an unpleasant duty to perform. What was to be done with +Coralie? Knowing Lady Thesiger's opinion of her, I felt sure she would +never allow her daughter to live in the same house. What was to be done +with her? Where was she to go? I did not know in the least what to +suggest. I was perfectly willing to offer her a very handsome allowance, +knowing that, as Sir Barnard's charge, she had some claim on me. + +I might have spared myself all the trouble of thinking and deciding. One +morning Mrs. Newsham, a pretty young matron, very popular in our +neighborhood, paid us a visit. + +Coralie, as usual, received her, and did the honors of the house. A very +beautiful fountain had just been placed in the lawn, and we went to look +at it. I had left the two ladies looking over the basin of the fountain +while I raised the branches of a rare and valuable plant. + +Stooping down, I did not hear the commencement of the conversation. When +my attention was attracted, Mrs. Newsham was concluding a sentence with +these words: "If ever you leave Crown Anstey." + +I saw Coralie d'Aubergne look up at her with a quiet smile. + +"I shall never leave Crown Anstey," she said, "under any possible +circumstances." + +Mrs. Newsham laughed. + +"You may be married, or Lady Trevelyan may not like the place and wish +it closed--a thousand things may happen to prevent you remaining here +always." + +But I saw Coralie d'Aubergne shake her head, while she replied, calmly: + +"No, Mrs. Newsham, I shall never leave Crown Anstey." + +I cannot tell how the words impressed me. I found myself repeating them +over and over again--"I shall never leave Crown Anstey." + +Yet she must have known that when my young wife came home, Crown Anstey +would be no place for her. + +Was there any meaning in the words she repeated so often, or did she say +them merely with an idea of comforting herself? + +It was that very evening that I sat by myself in the library arranging +some papers, and thinking at the same time what I must say to Coralie, +and how I must say it, when the door suddenly opened and she entered. + +I looked at her, surprised, for she did not often intrude when I was +alone and occupied. She was very pale. With quiet determination on her +beautiful face, she walked up to me and leaned her arm on the back of my +chair. + +"So, cousin," she said, "this marriage is going on?" + +"Certainly, Coralie. I pray to God nothing may prevent it." + +"You would lose your reason, I suppose, if you lost Agatha?" + +"I cannot tell. I only know that, no matter how long I lived, life would +have no further charm for me." + +She bent her head caressingly over me; her perfumed hair touched my +face. + +"Edgar," she whispered, "once more I lose sight of my woman's pride; +once more I come to you and ask you--ah! do not turn from me--I ask you +to give up Agatha, and"-- + +She paused, for very shame, I hope. + +"Give up Agatha and marry you, you would say, Coralie?" + +"Ah, dear, I love you so! You would never repent it. I would make you +happy as a crowned king." + +I stopped her. + +"Say no more, Coralie! I am grieved and shocked that you should renew +the subject. I told you before I should never love any woman, save +Agatha Thesiger, were I to live forever." + +"Nothing will ever induce you to change your mind?" she asked, slowly. + +"No, nothing in the wide world." + +She paused for a few minutes, then she quietly lifted her arm from the +chair. + +"Has it ever struck you," she said, "it may be in my power to do you +deadly mischief?" + +"I never thought you capable of such a thing, nor do I believe that it +is in your power." + +"It is," she said; "you and your sister are both in my power. If you are +a wise man, you will take my terms and save yourself while there is +time. Of course, if I were Lady Trevelyan, my interests would be yours; +then, if I knew anything against your welfare, I should keep the secret +faithfully--ah! a thousand times more faithfully than if it concerned my +own life." + +She looked earnestly at me. + +"You hold no secrets of mine, Coralie. I have no secrets. Thank God, my +life is clear and open--a book any one may read. Supposing I had a +secret, I should not purchase the keeping of it by any such compromise +as you suggest. I detest all mysteries, Coralie--all underhand doings, +all deceit. Speak out and tell me, Coralie, what you mean." + +"I shall speak out when the time comes. Once more, Cousin Edgar, be +reasonable; save yourself--save me." + +She withdrew some steps from me, and looked at me with her whole soul in +her eyes. + +"I will not hear another word, Coralie. I do not wish to offend you, or +to speak harshly to you; but this I do say--if ever you mention this, to +me, hateful subject, I will never voluntarily address you again--never +while I live." + +She made no answer. She turned, with a dignified gesture, and quitted +the room. + +I never gave one serious thought to her threats, looking upon them as +the angry words of an angry woman. They did not even remain upon my mind +or disturb my rest. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +On the following day Lady Thesiger had arranged to come to Crown Anstey +with Agatha, for the purpose of choosing from some very choice +engravings that had been sent to me from London. I asked Sir John to +accompany them and stay at lunch. It was always a red-letter day to me +when my darling came to my house, and I remember this one--ah, me!--so +well. It was fine, clear and frosty; the sky was blue; the sun shone +with that clear gold gleam it has in winter; the hoar frost sparkled on +the leafless trees and hedges; the ground was hard and seemed to ring +beneath one's feet. + +"A bright, clear day," said Coralie, as we sat at breakfast together. + +"Yes," I replied. "Coralie, will you see that a good luncheon is served +today? Sir John and Lady Thesiger are coming--Miss Thesiger, too--and +they will remain for lunch." + +Her face cleared and brightened. + +"Coming today, are they? I am very glad." + +I looked upon this as an amiable wish to atone for the unpleasantness of +last night, and answered her in the same good spirit. + +I am half ashamed to confess that when Agatha was coming I seldom did +anything but stand, watch in hand, somewhere near the entrance gates. +That I did today, and was soon rewarded by seeing the Harden carriage. + +Ah, me! will the memory of that day ever die with me? My darling came +and seemed to me more beautiful than ever. Her sweet, frank eyes looked +into mine; her pure, beautiful face had a delicate flush of delight, and +I--God help me!--forgot everything while by her side. + +We were all in the library. How I thanked God afterward that Clare had +not felt well enough to have the engravings sent to her room, as I +proposed! We sat round the large center-table on which the folios lay +open, Sir John, who took great delight in such things, explaining to +Lady Thesiger. I was showing Agatha those I liked best, when quite +unexpectedly, Coralie entered the room. + +The moment I saw her face I knew that she meant mischief. Surely, +woman's face never had so hard, so wicked a look before. + +Sir John rose and bowed. Lady Thesiger looked, as she always did in the +presence of mademoiselle, constrained and annoyed. Agatha's look was one +of sheer surprise, for Coralie walked up to the table. + +"Choosing engravings, Miss Thesiger?" she said, with an easy smile. "I +must ask you to give me your attention for a short time. Perhaps you +will not think the engravings of much importance after that." + +She declined the chair Sir John placed for her with the hauteur of a +grand duchess. As she stood there, calmly surveying us, she looked the +most beautiful yet the most determined of women. + +"May I ask," she said, "the exact date fixed for the marriage?" + +Sir John answered her: + +"The 26th of December, mademoiselle." + +"May I ask," she said, "what Sir Edgar has thought of doing for me? +Doubtless Lady Thesiger will have advised him. This has been my home for +many years, and is my only home now. Has the question been considered? +In the event of Sir Edgar bringing a young wife here, what is to become +of me?" + +There was a mocking smile on her beautiful face; her dark eyes flashed +from one to the other of us; we felt uncomfortable. She had just hit +upon the weak point that disturbed us all, the one cloud in a clear sky. + +As no one else seemed inclined to speak, I answered: + +"Everything will be done for your comfort, Coralie; you may be sure of +that, for Sir Barnard's sake." + +"And not for my own?" she said. "What is your idea of comfort, Sir +Edgar? Do you propose offering me a little cottage and a few pounds per +week? That would not content me." + +She looked so imperial, so beautiful, that I wondered involuntarily what +would content her, she who might have anything. + +"Whatever you yourself think right, Coralie, you shall have." + +I saw a strong disapproval in Lady Thesiger's face, and Coralie's quick +eyes, following mine, read the same. + +"Ah!" she said, hastily, "Lady Thesiger does not approve of carte +blanche to ambitious cousins." + +Lady Thesiger really restrained herself; she was tempted to speak--I saw +that--but refrained. + +"The best plan," said Sir John, calmly, "would be for Mademoiselle +d'Aubergne to say what she herself wishes." + +"I will tell you," she replied, "what I claim." + +Then, as we looked up at her in wonder, she continued, with bland +calmness: + +"I claim as my own and right, on the part of my infant son, the whole of +the estate and revenues of Crown Anstey. I claim, as widow of the late +Miles Trevelyan, Esq., my share of all due to me at his death." + +A thunder-bolt falling in our midst would not have alarmed us as those +words did. Sir John looked sternly at her. + +"In the name of heaven, what do you mean?" + +"Just what I say, Sir John. I was the wife, and am now the widow, of the +late Miles Trevelyan, Esq." + +"But that is monstrous!" he cried. "Miles was never married." + +"Miles was married to me, Sir John." + +"But we must have proof; your word goes for nothing. There must be +indisputable proof of such an assertion." + +She smiled with quiet superiority. + +"Knowing with whom I have to contend, it is not probable that I should +assert anything false. I am prepared to prove everything I say." + +My darling's face grew white as death. I was bewildered. If this were +true--oh, my God! if it were true--fortune, love and everything else +were lost. + +"Where were you married?" asked Sir John. + +"At Edgerton--St. Helen's, Edgerton. The Rev. Henry Morton married us, +and the two witnesses were Sarah Smith, who was my maid, and Arthur +Ireton, who was head game-keeper here at Crown Anstey." + +It was so quickly told and so seemingly correct, we looked at each other +in amaze. + +"We must examine into it," said Sir John, "before going any further." + +"That will be best," she replied, composedly. "I had better explain that +Miles, poor fellow, fell in love with me the first time he saw me. Sir +Barnard would not hear of such a thing. He told Miles that if he +persisted in marrying me he would curse him. Perhaps he had his own +reasons for not liking me. His son tried to obey him, but I am proud to +say that the love Miles had for me was far stronger than fear of his +father. Still, for pecuniary reasons he did not care to offend him, so +we were married privately the second year of my stay at Crown Anstey." + +She turned to Lady Thesiger with a mocking smile. + +"I know perfectly well," she said, "why your ladyship has never liked +me. You met me walking one evening with Miles Trevelyan in the Anstey +woods; you saw him kiss me. You know, now, that he was my husband and +had a right to kiss me if he chose." + +Lady Thesiger bowed very stiffly. + +"Two years after our marriage," Coralie continued, "my little son, +called Rupert, after the Crusader Trevelyan, was born. Under the +pretense of visiting some of my relations, I went to Lincoln. In the +registry of the church of St. Morton Friars you will find the proper +attestation of my son's birth." + +"Where is that son?" asked Sir John, incredulously. + +"At Lincoln. I can send for him. You can go there and see him; he is +under the care of Sarah Smith, my nurse. He is living and well, and he, +not Mr. Edgar, is the heir of Crown Anstey." + +"But why," asked Sir John, incredulously, "why have you never told this +story before? It seems incredible that you should have waited until +now." + +"I have my own reasons," she replied. "I waited first to see what Sir +Edgar would be like; then, when I saw him--I--I need not be ashamed to +own it, even before Miss Thesiger--I liked him, and if he had been +reasonable I should never have told my story at all." + +"That is," said Sir John, with supreme disgust, "if Edgar had been duped +by you and had married you, you would have defrauded your son of his +rights?" + +"Yes," she replied, with a smile; "it is Crown Anstey I love, and I +would rather be the wife than the mother of the master of Crown Anstey." + +"You are a wicked woman," he said, sternly. + +"I am a successful one," she retorted. "Pray, Sir John, examine all +these proofs at your earliest convenience; I am anxious to take my place +as mistress of my own house; I am anxious to have my child here in his +own home." + +We all rose; no words can express my emotions. It was not the fortune, +God knows--not the fortune; but I knew when I lost that I lost Agatha. + +I felt my face growing white as death itself and my hands trembled. + +"One moment," I said. "A year ago the doctor told me if my sister kept +up her strength, and had nothing to make her either anxious nor unhappy, +she would in all probability recover. Now, whether this story be true or +false, I pray you all, for God's sake, keep it from her!" + +"I shall not mention it," said Coralie. + +"Do not despair, Edgar," said Sir John. "I do not believe--I never +shall!" + +"I wrote to London last night," continued Coralie, "for Mr. Dempster, +who was Sir Barnard's lawyer on one or two occasions. You, of course, +Mr. Edgar Trevelyan, will retain the services of the family solicitors." + +"I shall need no solicitors if your story be true. I shall not seek to +defraud Miles' son of his birthright; I shall yield it to him." + +"You will find it true in every particular," she said; "and remember +always that it is your own fault I have told it." + +With that parting shot she quitted the room. + +"My poor boy," said Sir John, "this is a terrible blow to you." + +"I am afraid," said Lady Thesiger, "that this abominable woman has +spoken the truth. I always thought poor Miles had something on his +mind--some secret. I told him so one day, and he did not deny it." + +My darling came up to me with her sweet, pale face and outstretched +hands. + +"Never mind, Edgar," she said. "If you lose Crown Anstey I will try to +love you all the more to make up for it." + +What could I do but bless her and thank her? Yet I knew--God help me, I +knew in losing my fortune I lost her! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +The little party that had so gayly assembled in the old library broke up +in the deepest gloom. Sir John was the only one who seemed at all +incredulous. + +"Rely upon it," he said, "that, after all, it is some trick of the +French woman." + +But Lady Thesiger had no such hope. + +"I felt sure there was something wrong with Miles," she said. "He was +not happy. He had married in haste and repented at leisure." + +For my own part, I had no hope. Remembering the subtle, seductive beauty +of the woman, I could well imagine Miles being led, even against +himself, into a marriage or anything else. + +When they were gone I went back to the library. I wanted to face this +terrible blow alone, to realize the possibility that instead of being +Sir Edgar Trevelyan, of Crown Anstey, wealthy, honored and powerful, I +was Edgar Trevelyan, poor, homeless and penniless. + +Could it be possible that after this life of ease, luxury and happiness, +I was to fall back into the old position--hard, monotonous labor, with +eighty pounds per annum? + +It seemed too hard. Do not think any the worse of me, reader, if I own +that the tears came into my eyes. It was bitterly hard. + +Without warning Coralie entered the room. It must have been a triumph to +her to see the tears in my eyes. She stood at some little distance from +me. + +"Edgar," she asked, "do you hate me?" + +"No! I am too just to hate you for claiming what is your own. You ought +to have told me before, Coralie. It has been most cruel to let me live +in this delusive dream. If you had told me that night when I came here +first, it would have been a momentary disappointment, but I should have +gone back to my work none the worse for it." + +"I might have done it, but I saw in this, my secret power, the means of +winning you. Edgar, it is not too late even now. Make me mistress of +Crown Anstey, and I will find the means of restoring your lost position +to you." + +I turned from her in unutterable loathing. She was so lost to all +womanly honor and delicacy, my whole soul revolted against her. + +"Not another word, Coralie. I would not take Crown Anstey from you if +the alternative were death!" + +"That is very decisive," she replied, with the mocking smile I dreaded. +"We shall see." + +"You will keep your word to me?" I cried, hastily. "You will say nothing +to Clare? She will soon be well. I could not bear to have any obstacles +thrown in the way of her recovery. When I leave her, my friends will +make some arrangements to spare her the shock of knowing why--at least, +for a time." + +"I shall respect your wishes, Edgar. I have no desire to hurt your +sister. She is quite safe, so far as I am concerned." + +It may be imagined that I did not sleep very well that night. Early on +the following morning Sir John rode over. + +"The sooner we look into this affair the better," he said. "We will ride +over to Edgerton today and examine the church register." + +We did so. Alas! there was no mistake; the marriage had been celebrated +on the 14th of June. The two witnesses, as she said, were Sarah Smith +and Arthur Ireton. The marriage service had been performed by the +Reverend Henry Morton. + +The entry was perfectly regular, no flaw in it. Sir John's face fell as +he read it. + +"Now," he said, "the marriage laws in England are very strict; there is +no evading them. If this marriage is perfectly legal we shall find an +entry of it in the registrar's books. We must pay for a copy of the +certificate." + +We went to the registrar's office. There, sure enough, was the entry, +all perfectly legal and straightforward. + +"Now," said Sir John, "before we rest let us find out the Reverend Henry +Morton, and see what he knows about it." + +That involved a journey to Leamington, where he was then residing. We +found him without difficulty. He remembered the marriage, and had no +hesitation in answering any questions about it. He knew Miles Trevelyan, +and had remonstrated with him over the marriage. But what could he do? +Miles was of full age, and told him frankly that if he refused to marry +him someone else would. + +"I have been ill and occupied," he said, "and have heard nothing of the +Trevelyans since I left Edgerton. However, if my evidence and solemn +assurance are of any service, you have them. They were properly and +legally married; nothing in the world can upset that fact." + +"So it seems," said Sir John, with a deep sigh, "Edgar, you have lost +Crown Anstey." + +The next day I wrote to Moreland & Paine, asking one or both to come +over at once. Mr. Paine arrived the same evening, and looked very grave +when he was in full possession of the case. He had a long interview with +Mrs. Trevelyan, as we called her now; also with her solicitor, Mr. +Dempster. Then he sought me. + +"This is a bad business, Mr. Trevelyan," he said; and by his ceasing to +use the title, I knew he had given up all hope of my cause. "Of course," +he continued, "you can go to law if you like, but I tell you quite +honestly you have no chance. The evidence is clear and without a flaw; +nothing can shake it. If you have a lawsuit you will lose it, and +probably have to pay all costs." + +I told him that I had no such intention; that if the estate were not +legally mine, I had no wish to claim it. + +"It was a very sad thing for you, Mr. Trevelyan. I am heartily grieved +for you." + +"I must bear it like a man. I am not the first who has lost a fortune." + +But Sir John would not hear of my final arrangements until we had been +to Lincoln and had seen the child. + +"No one knows the depth of those French women," he said. "It is possible +there may be no child. Let us take her by surprise this very day, and +ask her to accompany us to the house where the nurse lives." + +Both lawyers applauded the idea. + +"If there be any imposture we are sure to find it out," they said. + +Without a minute's loss of time, Mrs. Trevelyan was asked to join us in +the library. She complied at once. + +"We want you to go with us to Lincoln to show us the child," said Sir +John, abruptly. + +She consented at once so readily that I felt certain that our quest was +useless. We started in an hour's time, my poor Clare being led to +believe that we had gone to Harden on a visit. + +We reached Lincoln about six o'clock at night. While we stood in the +station waiting for a cab Mr. Paine turned suddenly to Coralie. + +"What is the address?" he asked. + +Again there was not a moment's hesitation. + +"No. 6 Lime Cottages, Berkdale Road," she replied; and fast as a +somewhat tired horse could take us we went there. + +We reached the place at last; a row of pretty cottages that in summer +must have been sheltered by the lime trees, and the door of No. 6 was +quickly opened to us--opened by a woman with a pleasant face, who looked +exceedingly astonished at seeing us. Coralie came forward. + +"I had no time to write and warn you of this visit, Mrs. Smith. Be kind +enough to answer any questions these gentlemen may wish to ask you." + +We all made way for Mr. Paine. I shall never forget the group, the +anxiety and suspense on each face. + +"Have you a child here in your charge?" asked the lawyer. + +But she looked at Coralie. + +"Am I to answer, madam?" + +"You are to answer any questions put to you; my story is known." + +"Have you a child here in your charge?" he repeated. + +"I have," she repeated. + +"Who is it? Tell us in your own words, if you please." + +"He is the son of the late Mr. Miles Trevelyan and his wife, who was +Mademoiselle d'Aubergne." + +"Where were they married?" he asked. + +"They were married at the Church of St. Helen's, Edgerton. I was one +witness; the other was Arthur Ireton, the head game-keeper." + +"Where was this child born?" he asked again. + +"Here, sir, at this house. Mrs. Trevelyan left home, it was believed, to +visit some friends. She came here and took this house. I remained with +her, and have had charge of little Master Rupert ever since." + +He asked fifty other questions; they were answered with equal clearness +and precision. + +"Let us see the child," said Sir John, impatiently. + +She went into the next room and brought out a lovely little boy. He was +asleep, but at the sound of strange voices opened his eyes. + +"Mamma!" he cried when he saw Coralie, and she took him in her arms. + +Sir John looked earnestly at him. + +"There is no mistake," he said; "we want no further evidence. I can tell +by his face this is poor Miles' son." + +He was a lovely, bright-eyed boy; he had Coralie's golden-brown hair, +which fell in thick ringlets down his pretty neck. + +"But it is Miles' face," Sir John repeated, and we did not doubt him. +"There remains but one thing more to make the whole evidence complete. +We must see the registration of the birth of the child, and it would be +better to see the doctor who attended you, madam." + +We did both on the following day. The registration of the child's birth +was right, perfect and without a flaw. + +The doctor, a highly respectable medical practitioner, offered us his +evidence on oath. + +There was nothing left, then, but to return to Crown Anstey and give up +possession. + +I loved the little boy. It was too absurd to feel any enmity against +him. He was so bright and clever; it would have been unmanly not to have +loved dead Miles' son. + +Of Coralie Trevelyan I asked but one favor; that she would allow me one +week in which to make some arrangement for Clare before she brought the +young heir home. She cheerfully agreed to this. + +"You bear your reverses very bravely," she said. + +"Better than I bore prosperity," I replied, and that, God knows, was +true. + +This new trial had braced my nerves and made me stronger than I had ever +been in my whole life before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +The arrangement made for my sister was one I knew not how to be grateful +enough for. Lady Thesiger insisted that she should go to Harden and +remain there until she was well. + +"She need know nothing of your misfortune yet. We have but to say that +she must be kept quiet and admit no visitors except such as we can trust +to say nothing to her. Agatha and myself will take the greatest care of +her, and when she has recovered we will break the news to her." + +I was deeply grateful. It was all arranged without exciting my sister's +suspicions. She told her that for many reasons it had been considered +better to put off the marriage for some time; that I was going abroad +for a year, and that she was to spend the year with Lady Thesiger. + +She looked wistfully at me. + +"It's all very sudden, Edgar. Are you sure it is for the best?" + +I steadied my voice and told her laughingly it was all for the best. + +She asked where Coralie would be, and I told her that when she returned +from the visit she was paying she would remain at Crown Anstey. + +There was not a dry eye among the servants when my sister was carried +from the home where she had been so happy. Of course, they all knew the +story--it had spread like wild fire all over the neighborhood--yet every +one understood how vitally important it was that it should be kept from +her. + +Can I ever tell in words how kindly Lady Thesiger received her? True +friends, they took no note of altered fortunes. My sister was +comfortably installed in the charming rooms they had prepared for her. +Her favorite maid was to stay with her. + +Then came the agony I had long known must come. I must give up Agatha. +How could I, who had not one shilling in my pocket, marry the daughter +of Sir John Thesiger, a girl, delicate and refined, who had been brought +up in all imaginable luxury? Let me work hard as I might, I could hardly +hope to make two hundred a year. In all honor and in all conscience I +was bound to give her up. + +I had no prospect before me save that of returning to my former position +as clerk. Agatha Thesiger must never be a clerk's wife, she who could +marry any peer in the land! + +Talk of waiting and hoping! I had nothing to hope for. The savings of my +whole life would not keep her, as she had been kept, for even one year. + +I must give her up. Ah, my God! It was hard--so bitterly hard! I told +Sir John, and he looked wretched as myself. + +"I see, I see. It is the only thing to be done. If I could give her a +fortune you should not lose her; but I cannot, and she must not come to +poverty." + +Lady Thesiger wept bitterly over me. + +"I foresaw it from the first," she said. "I knew it was not the loss of +Crown Anstey, but the loss of Agatha, that would be your sorest trial." + +Then I said "good-by" to her whom I had hoped so soon to call my wife. I +kissed her white face and trembling hands for the last time. + +But the dear soul clung to me, weeping. + +"You may say you must leave me a thousand times, Edgar, but I shall +never be left. I shall wait for you; and if it be never in your power +to claim me, I shall marry no other man. I will be yours in death as in +life." + +And though I tried to shake her resolution, I knew that it would be so. +I knew that no other man would ever call her wife. + +The day before I left, Mrs. Trevelyan, with her little Sir Rupert, took +possession of the Hall. She must have found many thorns in her path, +for, although she had attained her heart's desire, and was now mistress +of Crown Anstey, she was shunned and disliked by all the neighborhood. + +"An adventuress," they called her, and as such refused to receive her +into their society. Perhaps she had foreseen this when she wished to +marry me. + +By Sir John's influence, the post of secretary was found for me with an +English nobleman residing in Paris. I was to live in the house; my +duties were sufficiently onerous, and I was to receive a salary of one +hundred and fifty pounds per annum; so that, after all, I was better off +than I had once expected to be. + +I bade farewell to Agatha, to Clare, to my kind friends Sir John and +Lady Thesiger. God knew the grief that filled my heart; I cannot +describe it. + +On my road to the station I met the Crown Anstey carriage. Mrs Trevelyan +bowed to me from it. She was taking a drive with the little Sir Rupert. + +"God bless the child!" I said, as his little face smiled from the +carriage window. "God bless him and send him a happy life!" + +It took me some little time to settle down to my new life. My employer, +Lord Winter, lived in the Champs Elysees. He preferred Paris to England, +because it was brighter and gayer. I often wondered how that mattered to +him, for he lived only in his books. + +I was required to assist him in making extracts, answering letters, +searching for all kinds of odd information, and I do believe I learned +more in that time than I should have done in a lifetime differently +spent. + +I became reconciled to it after a hard struggle. From Harden Manor I +constantly received the kindest letters. Agatha wrote to me, and +although the word "love" seldom occurred in her letters, I knew her +heart was, and always would be mine. She would never forget me, nor +would that crown of all sorrows be mine--I should never have to give her +up to a wealthier rival. Although she said nothing of the kind in her +letters, I felt that it was true. + +A year passed, and at last came good tidings of my sister; she was able +to sit up, even to walk across the room, and the doctor said that in +another month she would in all probability be able to take her place in +the world again. + +How that gladdened my heart! Lady Thesiger said she had not the least +idea yet of the change in my fortunes, although she wondered incessantly +why I was absent. + +"Have no fear for your sister's future," wrote kind Lady Thesiger. +"While Agatha lives at home she is a most charming companion for her. +Should she ever leave home, she would be the same to me. We shall only +be too happy if she will spend the rest of her life at Harden Manor." + +I was grateful for that. Now, then, fate seemed kinder. I could fight +through for myself, providing that my fragile, delicate Clare was safely +taken care of. + +Another six months passed. Clare knew all then and was resigned. God had +been very good to her. She could walk; distance did not fatigue her, and +the doctors thought it was very unlikely that the same disease would +attack her again. + +She wrote and told me about it. + +"I was out yesterday," she said, "with Agatha, and we met the Crown +Anstey carriage. Coralie was most gracious--overwhelmed me with +congratulations, invited me to the Hall. And I saw little Sir Rupert. He +is so bright and beautiful--the most princely boy I ever beheld. 'I am +going to have a white pony,' he said to me, and I kissed him, Edgar, +with all my heart. Coralie inquired very minutely after you, and asked +me if I owed her any ill-will for what she had done. I said no, not in +the least, and that I hoped little Sir Rupert would live to make her +very happy. I am not quite sure, but I think there were tears glistening +in her eyes when she drove away." + +Some weeks afterward I received the following letter from Mrs. +Trevelyan: + + "My Dear Edgar--Once again, I address you--once again, setting + pride and all things aside, I offer you Crown Anstey. You have been + away some time now, and know how different is your present hard + life from the happy, luxurious one you led here. Your engagement + with Miss Thesiger is, of course, broken off. I hear she has a + wealthy suitor--Lord Abberley. It will be a good match for her. + Edgar, you will find no one in the world so true to you as myself. + See, I forgot all the past. Once more I offer you my love, my hand, + and with it, until my son is of age, Crown Anstey. I never intended + you to give it up as you have done. I always wished to offer + yourself and your sister an income sufficient for your maintenance. + I have not done so before because I hoped that poverty would seem + so hateful to you you would gradually come to think better of my + offer. Is it so, Edgar? Will you recognize my love, my fidelity, my + devotion at last? One word and all your troubles cease, you are + back again in the beautiful old home, and I am happy. Only one + word. From your ever loving, devoted + + CORALIE." + +I need not repeat my answer. It was, No! I was no more free, no more +inclined to return to Crown Anstey than I had been to remain there. + +After that there was a long silence. Agatha told me herself all about +Lord Abberley; that he had been very kind to her, was very fond of her, +but she had told him our story, and he had most generously forborne to +press his suit. + +Time was doing much for me; every hour was golden in its acquisition of +blanks in my life were filled by books. God sent every one the same +comfort I had. + +[Transcriber's note: One or more lines appear to be missing from the +previous paragraph.] + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +It was just three years since I had left Crown Anstey. Lord Winter told +me I should have some weeks to myself, but he was so incessantly +occupied I never liked to ask for them. + +I had never seen or heard anything of Crown Anstey since I left it. At +Harden Manor all was the same, unchanged and unaltered. + +One morning, when I went into the library, a letter lay waiting for me. +I saw that it was Coralie's handwriting, and my first impulse was to +burn it unread. Why should she write to me again? Her letters only +pained me. I threw it aside and began to work--in the busy occupation of +the morning I forgot all about it. + +I did not open it until evening. It was from Coralie, but it only held +these few words: + + "Edgar--My boy--my beautiful boy--is dying. Come to me; for if I + lose him I shall die, too. In my distress I would rather have you + near me than any one else. + + CORALIE TREVELYAN." + +Was it true, or was it an invention? Poor little Rupert dying! Why, no +one had even told me he was ill. Perhaps I had better go. No mother +could be so cold and so wicked as to feign death for her only child. + +Lord Winter raised no objections. + +"It was not very convenient," he said, but of course he "must bow to +necessity." + +I was in time to catch the mail train. Eight o'clock found me the next +morning in London, and, without waiting for rest or refreshment, I +started at once for Crown Anstey. + +It was only too true. I found my old home full of the wildest confusion; +women were weeping and wringing their hands--the whole place was in +disorder. + +I was shown into the library, and in a few minutes Coralie came to me. I +hardly recognized her; her face was white, her eyes were dim with long +watching and bitter tears. + +"I knew you would come," she said. "He is dying, Edgar; nothing in the +world can save him. Come with me." + +I followed her to the pretty chamber where little Sir Rupert lay. Yes, +he was dying, poor child! He lay on the pretty, white bed; a grave-faced +doctor was near; the nurse, Sarah Smith, sat by his side. + +His mother went up to him. + +"No better! No change!" she cried, wringing her hands. "Oh, my God! must +I lose him? Must he die?" + +He was my unconscious rival; his little life stood between me and all I +valued most, yet I knelt and prayed God, as I had never prayed before, +that He would spare him. I would have given Crown Anstey twice over for +that life; but it was not to be. + +"Do not disturb him with cries," said the doctor to his mother; "he has +not long to live." + +She knelt by his side in silence, her face colorless as that of a marble +statue, the very picture of desolation, the very image of woe. + +So for some minutes we sat; the little breath grew fainter and more +feeble, the gray shadow deepened on the lovely face. + +"Mamma!" he cried. "I see! I see!" + +She bent over him, and at that moment he died. + +I can never forget it--the wild, bitter anguish of that unhappy woman, +how she wept, how she tore her hair, how she called her child back by +every tender name a mother's love could invent. + +It was better, the doctor said, that the first paroxysm of grief should +have full vent. All attempts at comfort and consolation were unavailing. +I raised her from the ground, and when she saw my face she cried: + +"Oh, Edgar! Edgar! it is my just punishment!" + +I did my best to console her. I told her that her little child would be +better off in heaven than were he master of fifty Crown Ansteys. But I +soon found that my words fell on deaf ears; she was unconscious. + +"I do not like the look of Mrs. Trevelyan," said the doctor. "I should +not be surprised to find that she has caught the fever herself. If so, +in her present state of agitation, it will go hard with her." + +He was right; before sunset Coralie lay in the fierce clutches of the +fever, insensible to everything. + +I do not like dwelling on this part of the story; it is so long, long +since it all happened, but the memory of it stings like a sharp pain. + +Clare came to nurse her, and everything that human science and skill +could suggest was done to save her. It was all in vain. + +We buried the little child on the Tuesday morning, when the sun was +shining and the birds were singing in the trees, and on the Saturday +they told us his mother could not live. + +It was early on the dawn of the Sunday morning when they sent for me. +She was dying, and wished to speak to me. + +I went into her room. Clare knelt by her side. She turned her white face +to me with a smile. + +"Edgar," she said, "I am glad you have come. I want to--to die in your +arms. Bend down to me," she whispered. "I want to speak to you. Will you +forgive me? I can see now how wrong I was, how wicked to love you so +much, and how wicked to tell you so. Will you forgive me, and now that I +am dying say one kind word to me, and tell me you can respect me in +death?" + +I pillowed that dying head on my arm, and told her I should only +remember of her what had been kind and good. + +"You will only remember that I loved you, Edgar, not that I was +unwomanly and wicked?" + +"I will forget everything, except that you were my dear cousin and dear +friend." + +"You will marry Agatha," she said, faintly, "and bring her home here. I +hope you will be happy; but, oh! Edgar--Edgar--when she is your wife, +and you are so happy together, you will not forget me; you will stroll +out sometimes when the dew is falling to look at my grave and say, 'Poor +Coralie! how well she loved me--so well--so dearly!' You will do that, +Edgar?" + +My tears were falling warm and fast on her face. + +"Are these your tears? Then you care a little for me. Ah, then, I am +willing to die!" + +And so, with her head pillowed on my arm, and a smile on her lips, she +died. + +We buried her by the side of Miles Trevelyan. After life's fitful fever +she sleeps well. + +From the first hour of her illness the doctor had no hope for her. I +learned afterward that for some time before the child took the fever she +had been ailing and ill. + +It was such a strange life. Thinking over it afterward, it seemed to me +more like romance than reality. + +A year passed before the dream of my life was fulfilled and Agatha came +to Crown Anstey. I need not to say how happy we were. + +Lady Trevelyan is the most beloved and popular lady in the county; our +children are growing up good and happy; we have not a care or trouble in +the world, and the sharpest pain I have is the memory of Coralie. + + +[The end.] + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Coralie, by Charlotte M. Braeme + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13162 *** |