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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16788-8.txt b/16788-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c99aec --- /dev/null +++ b/16788-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15100 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Little Lady, by Eleanor Frances Poynter + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Little Lady + +Author: Eleanor Frances Poynter + +Release Date: October 2, 2005 [EBook #16788] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LITTLE LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + + + + + +Eleanor Frances Poynter is the author of My little lady (1871 +novel), Ersilia (1876 novel), Among the hills (1881 novel), +Madame de Presnel (1885 novel), The wooing of Catherine and +other tales (1886), The failure of Elisabeth (1890 novel), An +exquisite fool (1892 novel), Michael Ferrier (1902 novel); and +translator of Wilhelmine von Hillern's The vulture maiden (Die +Geier-Wally) (1876) and Agnès Mary Duclaux (later Mrs James +Darmesteter)'s Froissart (1895). + +Two of her novels were translated in French: My little lady +as Madeleine Linders (1873); and Among the hills as Hetty +(1883). + + +_The Saturday Review_ vol. XXX p. 794 comments _My little lady_ as +follows: "There are certain female characters in novels which +remind one of nothing so much as of a head of Greuze,--fresh, +simple, yet of the cunningly simple type, 'innocent--arch,' and +intensely natural.... 'My Little Lady' is a character of this +Greuze-like kind.... The whole book is charming; quietly told, +quietly thought, without glare or flutter, and interesting in +both character and story,... and, if slight of kind, thoroughly +good of its kind." + + + + + + + + +COLLECTION + +OF + +BRITISH AUTHORS + + +TAUCHNITZ EDITION. + + +VOL. 1148. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. I. + + + + +Thy sinless progress, through a world +By sorrow darken'd and by care disturbed, +Apt likeness bears to hers through gather'd clouds +Moving untouch'd in silver purity. + +WORDSWORTH. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + + + + + +_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. + + + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. I. + + + + + + +LEIPZIG + +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ + +1871. + + +_The Right of Translation is reserved_. + + + + +To + +J.C.I. + + + + + + +PART I. + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +In the Garden. + + +There are certain days in the lives of each one of us, which +come in their due course without special warning, to which we +look forward with no anticipations of peculiar joy or sorrow, +from which beforehand we neither demand nor expect more than +the ordinary portion of good and evil, and which yet through +some occurrence--unconsidered perhaps at the moment, but +gaining in significance with years and connecting events--are +destined to live apart in our memories to the end of our +existence. Such a day in Horace Graham's life was a certain +hot Sunday in August, that he spent at the big hotel at +Chaudfontaine. + +Every traveller along the great high road leading from +Brussels to Cologne knows Chaudfontaine, the little village +distant about six miles from Liége, with its church, its big +hotel, and its scattered cottages, partly forges, partly +restaurants, which shine white against a dark green background +of wooded hills, and gleam reflected in the clear tranquil +stream by which they stand. On every side the hills seem to +fold over and enclose the quiet green valley; the stream winds +and turns, the long poplar-bordered road follows its course; +amongst the hills are more valleys, more streams, woods, +forests, sheltered nooks, tall grey limestone rocks, spaces of +cornfields, and bright meadows. Everyone admires the charming +scenery as the train speeds across it, through one tunnel +after another; but there are few amongst our countrymen who +care to give it more than a passing glance of admiration, or +to tarry in the quiet little village even for an hour, in +their great annual rush to Spa, or the Rhine, or Switzerland. +As a rule one seldom meets Englishmen at Chaudfontaine, and it +was quite by chance that Horace Graham found himself there. An +accident to a goods train had caused a detention of several +hours all along the line, as he was travelling to Brussels, +and it was by the advice of a Belgian fellow-passenger that he +had stopped at Chaudfontaine, instead of going on to Liége, as +he had at first proposed doing, on hearing from the guard that +it was the furthest point that could be reached that night. + +Behind the hotel lies a sunshiny shady garden, with benches +and tables set under the trees near the house, and beyond, an +unkempt lawn, a sort of wilderness of grass and shrubs and +trees, with clumps of dark and light foliage against the more +uniform green of the surrounding hills, and it was still cool +and pleasant when Graham wandered into it after breakfast on +that Sunday morning, whilst all in front of the hotel was +already basking in the hot sunshine. He had gone to bed the +night before with the fixed intention of leaving by the +earliest morning train, for his first impressions of +Chaudfontaine had not been cheerful ones. It was nearly +midnight when, with his companions, he had crossed the bridge +that connects the railway station with the hotel on the +opposite side of the stream, and scarcely a light was shining +from the windows of the dim white building before him; he was +very tired, rather cross, and disposed to grumble at the delay +in his journey; and the general aspect of things--the bad +supper, the sleepy waiter carrying a candle up flights of +broad shallow wooden stairs, and down a long passage to a +remote room barely furnished, the uncertain view of a +foreground of rustling poplars, and close behind them a black +silent mass of hill--all these had not tended to encourage him. + +But a man must be very cynical, or very _blasé_, or wholly +possessed by some other uncomfortable quality, who does not +feel much cheered and invigorated by morning sunbeams pouring +into a strange bed-room, and awakening him to new scenes and +unexperienced sensations. Horace Graham was neither cynical +nor _blasé_; on the contrary, he was a pleasant-tempered, fresh- +hearted lad of twenty or thereabouts, who only three weeks +before had made his first acquaintance with French gendarmes, +and for the first time had heard children shouting to each +other in a foreign tongue along white-walled, sunshiny, +foreign streets. Three weeks touring in Germany had only +served to arouse in him a passion for travelling and seeing, +for new places and peoples and scenes, that in all his life, +perhaps, would not be satiated; everything was new to him, +everything amused him; and so it happened that, while he was +dressing and studying from his window the view that had been +only obscurely hinted at in the darkness of night before, a +sudden desire came over him to remain where he was for that +day, climb the hills that rose before him, and see what manner +of country lay beyond. + +It was still early when, after breakfasting by himself in the +salle-à-manger, he found his way into the garden; no one was +stirring, it seemed deserted; he wandered along the gravel +paths, trod down the tall grass as he crossed the lawn, and +arrived at the confines of the little domain. On two sides it +was bounded by a narrow stream, separating it from the road +beyond; at the angle of the garden the shallow, trickling +water widened into a little fall crossed by a few planks; +there were trees and bushes on each side, and the grassy +garden bank sloped down to the stream. It was very green, and +peaceful and dewy. Horace stood still for a minute looking at +the flickering lights and shadows, and watching the dash and +current of the water. + +"_Fi donc, Mademoiselle, tu n'es pas raisonnable_," cries a +sweet shrill little voice close to him, "_tu es vraiment +insupportable aujourd'hui_." + +He turned round and saw a child between five and six years +old, dressed in a shabby little merino frock and white +pinafore, standing with her back towards him, and holding out +a doll at arm's length, its turned-out pink leather toes just +touching the ground. + +"_Veux-tu bien être sage?_" continues the small monitress with +much severity, "_encore une fois, un, deux, trois!_" and she +made a little dancing-step backwards; then with an air of +encouragement, "_Allons, mon amie, du courage!_ We must be +perfect in our steps for this evening, for you know, Sophie, +if you refuse to dance, M. le Prince will be in despair, and +M. le Baron will put his hand on his heart and cry, 'Alas, +mademoiselle, you have no pity, and my heart is desolated!' " + +"Madelon!" cries a voice through the trees in the distance. + +"_Me voici, papa!_" she answered, stopping the dancing-lesson +and looking round. As she did so she caught sight of Horace, +and gazed up in his face with a child's deliberate stare. She +had great brown eyes, a little round fair face, and light hair +curling all over her head. She looked up at him quite +fearlessly for a moment, and then darted away, dashing against +somebody who was coming along the path, and disappeared. + +"Take care, _ma petite;_ you nearly knocked me down!" cried a +good-humoured voice, belonging to a large gentleman with a +ruddy face, and black hair and beard. "Ah! good morning, +Monsieur," he continued as he approached Horace; "I rejoice to +see that you have not yet quitted Chaudfontaine, as you spoke +of doing last night." + +"I have changed my mind," said Horace, smiling as he +recognised his fellow-traveller of the night before. "I think +of staying here to-day, and not leaving for Brussels till to- +morrow morning." + +"You will not regret it," said his companion, as they turned +back towards the hotel, and walked on slowly together; "it is +true there is not much here to tempt you during the day; but +numbers will arrive for the four o'clock _table-d'hôte_. In the +evening there will be quite a little society, and we shall +dance. I assure you, monsieur, that we also know how to be gay +at Chaudfontaine." + +"I don't doubt it," answered Graham; "and though I don't care +much about dancing----" + +"You don't care about dancing?" interrupted the Belgian with +astonishment; "but that is of your nation, Monsieur. You are +truly an extraordinary people, you English; you travel, you +climb, you ride, you walk, and you do not dance!" + +"I think we dance too, sometimes," said the young Englishman, +laughing; "but I own that it is walking I care for most just +now--the country about here seems to be wonderfully pretty." + +"In fact it is not bad," said the Belgian, with the air of +paying it a compliment; "and if you take care to return in +time for the four o'clock _table-d'hôte_, you cannot do better +than make a little promenade to gain an appetite for dinner. I +can promise you an excellent one--they keep an admirable cook. +I entreat you not to think of leaving for Brussels; and +precisely you cannot go," he added, drawing out his watch, +"for it is just the hour that the train leaves, and I hear the +whistle at this moment." + +And, in fact, though they could not see the train from where +they stood, they heard its shrill whistle as it rushed into +the station on the other side of the river. + +"So it is decided," said Graham, "and I remain." + +"And you do wisely, Monsieur," cried his companion; "believe +me, you will not regret passing a day in this charming little +spot. Do they speak much in England of Chaudfontaine, +Monsieur?" + +"Well, no," Horace was obliged to acknowledge, "they do not." + +"Ah!" said the Belgian, a little disappointed; "but they speak +of Brussels, perhaps?" + +"Oh! yes, every one knows Brussels," answered Graham. + +"It is a beautiful city," remarked his companion, "and has a +brilliant society; but for my part, I own that at this season +of the year I prefer the retirement, the tranquillity of +Chaudfontaine, where also one amuses oneself perfectly well. I +always spend two or three months here--in fact, have been here +for six weeks already this summer. Affairs called me to Aix- +la-Chapelle last week for a few days, and that was how I had +the good fortune to meet Monsieur last night." + +"It was very lucky for me," said Horace. "I am delighted to be +here. The hotel seems to be very empty," he added. "I have +seen nobody this morning except one little girl." + +"But no, the hotel is almost full--people are gone to mass, +perhaps, or are in bed, or are breakfasting. It is still +early." + +"That little girl," said Horace--"does she belong to the +house?" + +"You mean the little girl who ran against me as I came up to +you just now? No, the _propriétaire_ of the hotel has but one +daughter, Mademoiselle Cécile, a most amiable person. But I +know that child--her father is one of the _habitués_ of the +hotel. She is much to be pitied, poor little one!" + +"Why?" asked Graham. + +"Because her father--_ah! bon jour, Madame_--excuse me, Monsieur, +but I go to pay my respects to Madame la Comtesse!" cried the +Belgian, as an elderly red-faced lady, with fuzzy sandy hair, +wearing a dingy, many-flounced lilac barége gown, came towards +them along the gravel path. + +"At last we see you back, my dear Monsieur!" she cried--"ah! +how many regrets your absence has caused!--of what an +insupportable _ennui_ have we not been the victims! But you are +looking better than when you left us; your journey has done +you good; it is plain that you have not suffered from +absence." + +"Alas! Madame," cries the other, "you little know! And how, +for my part, can I venture to believe in regrets that have +left no traces? Madame is looking more charming, more +blooming----" + +Horace waited to hear no more; he left the pair standing and +complimenting each other on the sunny pathway, and wandered +away under the shade of the big trees, crossed the little +stream and the white dusty road beyond, and began to ascend +the hills. + +"What an ugly old woman!" thought the lad. "She and my friend +seem to be great allies; she must be at least ten years older +than he is, and he talks to her as if she were a pretty girl; +but she is a Countess apparently, and I suppose that counts +for something. Oh! what a jolly country!" + +He strode along whistling, with his hands in his pockets, +feeling as if he had the world before him to explore, and in +the happiest of moods. Such a mood was not rare with Horace +Graham in these youthful days, when, by force of a good +health, and good spirits, and a large capacity for fresh +genuine enjoyment, he was apt to find life pleasant enough on +the whole, though for him it lacked several of the things that +go to make up the ordinary ideal of human happiness. He was +not rich; he had no particular expectations, and but few +family ties, for his parents had both died when he was very +young, and except an aunt who had brought him up, and a +married sister several years older than himself, he had no +near relations in the world. He was simply a medical student, +with nothing to look forward to but pushing his own way, and +making his own path in life as best he could. But he had +plenty of talent, and worked hard at his profession, to which +he was devoted for reasons quite unconnected with any +considerations of possible profit and loss. Indeed, having +just enough money of his own to make him tolerably +independent, he was wont to ignore all such considerations in +his grand youthful way, and to look upon his profession from a +purely abstract scientific point of view. And yet he was not +without large hopes, grand vague ambitions concerning his +future career; for he was at an age when it seems so much +easier to become one of the few enumerated great ones of the +world than to remain amongst the nameless forgotten +multitudes; and life lay before him rather as something +definite, which he could take up and fashion to his own +pleasure, than as a succession of days and years which would +inevitably mould and influence him in their course. It is not +wholly conceit, perhaps, which so assures these clever lads of +the vastness of their untried capabilities, that there are +moments when they feel as if they could grasp heaven and earth +in their wide consciousness; it is rather a want of experience +and clearness of perception. Horace Graham was not +particularly conceited, and yet, in common with many other men +of his age, he had a conviction that, in some way or other, +life had great exceptional prizes in store for him; and indeed +he was so strong, and young, and honest-hearted, that he had +been successful enough hitherto within his narrow limits. He +had pleasant manners, too, and a pleasant face, which gained +him as many friends as he ever cared to have; for he had a +queer, reserved, unsociable twist in his character, which kept +him aloof from much company, and rather spoilt his reputation +for geniality and heartiness. He hated the hard work he had to +go through in society; so at least he was wont to grumble, and +then would add, laughing, "I daresay I am a conceited puppy to +say so: but the fact is, there are not six people in the world +whose company I would prefer to my own for a whole day." + +He found his own company quite sufficient during all his +wanderings through that long summer's day in the lovely +country round Chaudfontaine, a country neither grand nor wild, +hardly romantic, but with a charm of its own that enticed +Graham onwards in spite of the hot August sun. It was so +green, so peaceful, so out of the world; the little valleys +were wrapped so closely amongst the hills, the streams came +gushing out of the limestone rocks, dry water, courses led him +higher and higher up amongst the silent woods, which stretched +away for miles on either hand. Sometimes he would come upon an +open space, whence he could look down upon the broader valley +beneath, with its quiet river flowing through the midst, +reflecting white villages, forges, long rows of poplars, an +occasional bridge, and here and there a long low island; or +descending, he would find himself in some narrow ravine, cleft +between grey rocky heights overgrown with brushwood and +trailing plants, the road leading beside a marshy brook, full +of rushes and forget-me-nots, and disappearing amongst the +forest trees. All day long Graham wandered about that pleasant +land, and it was long past the four o'clock dinner hour when +he stood on the top of the hill he had seen that morning from +his window, and looked across the wide view of woods and +cornfields to where a distant cloud of smoke marked the city +of Liége. Thence descending by a steep zig-zag path, with a +bench at every angle, he crossed the road and the little +rivulet, and found himself once more in the garden at the back +of the hotel. + + +CHAPTER II. + +In the Salon. + + +He had left it in the morning dewy, silent, almost deserted; +he found it full of gaiety and life and movement, talking, +laughing, and smoking going on, pretty bright dresses glancing +amongst the trees, children swinging under the great branches, +the flickering lights and shadows dancing on their white +frocks and curly heads, white-capped bonnes dangling their +_bébés_, papas drinking coffee and liqueurs at the little +tables, mammas talking the latest Liége scandal, and +discussing the newest Parisian fashions. The table-d'hôte +dinner was just over, and everybody had come out to enjoy the +air, till it was time for the dancing to begin. + +The glass door leading into the passage that ran through the +house stood wide open; so did the great hall door at the other +end; and Graham could see the courtyard full of sunshine, the +iron railing separating it from the road, the river gleaming, +the bridge and railway station beyond, and then again the +background of hills. He passed through the house, and went out +into the courtyard. Here were more people, more gay dresses, +gossip, cigars, and coffee; more benches and tables set in the +scanty shade of the formal round-topped trees that stood in +square green boxes round the paved quadrangle. Outside in the +road, a boy with a monkey stood grinding a melancholy organ; +the sun seemed setting to the pretty pathetic tune, which +mingled not inharmoniously with the hum of voices and sudden +bursts of laughter; the children were jumping and dancing to +their lengthening shadows, but with a measured glee, so as not +to disturb too seriously the elaborate combination of starch +and ribbon and shining plaits which composed their fête day +toilettes. A small tottering thing of two years old, emulating +its companions of larger growth, toppled over and fell +lamenting at Graham's feet as he came out. He picked it up, +and set it straight again, and then, to console it, found a +sou, and showed it how to put it into the monkey's brown +skinny hand, till the child screamed with delight instead of +woe. The lad had a kind, loving heart, and was tender to all +helpless appealing things, and more especially to little +children. + +He stood watching the pretty glowing scene for a few minutes, +and then went in to his solitary _réchauffé_ dinner. Coming out +again half an hour or so later, he found everything changed. +The monkey boy and his organ were gone, the sun had set, +twilight and mists were gathering in the valley, and the +courtyard was deserted; but across the grey dusk, light was +streaming through the muslin window curtains of the salon, the +noise of laughter, and voices, and music came from within now, +breaking the evening stillness; for everyone had gone indoors +to the salon, where the gas was lighted, chairs and tables +pushed out of the way, and Mademoiselle Cécile, the fat good- +natured daughter of the _propriétaire_, already seated at the +piano. The hall outside fills with grinning waiters and maids, +who have their share of the fun as they look in through the +open door. Round go the dancers, sliding and twirling on the +smooth polished floor, and Mademoiselle Cécile's fingers fly +indefatigably over the keys, as she sits nodding her head to +the music, and smiling as each familiar face glides past her. + +Horace, who, after lingering awhile in the courtyard, had come +indoors like the rest of the world, stood apart at the further +end of the room, sufficiently entertained with looking on at +the scene, which had the charm of novelty to his English eyes, +and commenting to himself on the appearance of the dancers. + +"But you do wrong not to dance, dear Monsieur, I assure you," +said his Belgian friend, coming up to him at the end of a +polka, with the elderly Countess, who with her dingy lilac +barége gown exchanged for a dingier lilac silk, and her sandy +hair fuzzier than ever, had been dancing vigorously. +"Mademoiselle Cécile's music is delicious," he continued, "it +positively inspires one; let me persuade you to attempt just +one little dance." + +"Indeed, I would rather look on," said Horace; "I can listen to +Mademoiselle Cécile's music all the same, and I do not care +much for dancing, as I told you; besides, I don't know anyone +here." + +"If that be all," cried the other eagerly, "I can introduce +you to half a dozen partners in a moment; that lady that I +have just been dancing with, for instance, will be charmed----" + +"Stop, I entreat you," said the young Englishman, in alarm, as +his friend was about to rush off; "I cannot indeed--I assure +you I am a very bad dancer; I am tired with my long walk too." + +"Ah, that walk," said the Belgian, "I did wrong in advising +you to take it; you prolonged it till you missed the _table- +d'hôte_ dinner, and now you are too much fatigued to dance." + +"But I am very much amused as it is, I assure you," insisted +Graham. "Do tell me something about all these people. Are they +all stopping at the hotel?" + +His companion was delighted to give any information in his +power. No, not a third of the people were stopping at the +hotel, the greater part had come over from Liége, and would go +back there by the ten o'clock train. + +"Then you do not know many of them?" Graham said. + +"No," the Belgian admitted, "he did not know many of them; +only those who were staying at Chaudfontaine. That lady he had +just been dancing with, Monsieur had seen in the morning, he +believed; she was the Countess G----, a most distinguished +person, with blood-royal in her veins, and came from Brussels. +That pretty girl in blue was Mademoiselle Sophie L----, who was +going to be married next month to one of the largest +proprietors in the neighbourhood, the young man standing by +her, who was paying her so much attention. The odd-looking man +in shoes and buckles was a rising genius, or thought himself +so, a violinist, who came over occasionally from Liége, and +hoped to make his fortune some day in London or Paris; and +perhaps he will do so," says the Belgian, "for he has talent. +That little dirty-looking young man with a hooked nose, and +the red Turkish slippers, is a Spaniard going through a course +of studies at Liége; he is staying in the hotel, and so are +the fat old gentleman and lady seated on the sofa; they are +Brazilians, and he has been sent over by his Government to +purchase arms, I believe. Those three young ladies in white +are sisters, and are come here from Antwerp for the summer; +that is their mother talking to Mademoiselle Cécile. I see no +one else at this moment," he added, looking slowly round the +room at the groups of dancers who stood chattering and fanning +themselves in the interval between the dances. + +"Who is that?" asked Graham, directing his attention to a +gentleman who had just appeared, and was standing, leaning in +the doorway opposite. + +He was a tall handsome man, with light air, and a long fair +moustache and beard, perfectly well dressed, and with an air +sufficiently distinguished to make him at once conspicuous +amongst the Liége clerks and shopkeepers, of whom a large part +of the company consisted. + +"Ah! precisely, Monsieur, you have fixed upon the most +remarkable personage here," cried his companion, with some +excitement; "but is it possible you do not know him?" + +"I never saw him before," answered Graham. "Is he a celebrity? +A prince, or an ambassador, or anything of that kind?" + +"No, nothing of that kind," said the other laughing, "but a +celebrity nevertheless in his way. That is M. Linders, the +great gambler." + +"I never even heard of him," said the young Englishman; "but +then I don't know much about such people." + +"It is true, I had forgotten that Monsieur is not of this +country; but you would hear enough about him were you to stay +any time at Wiesbaden, or Homburg, or Spa, or any of those +places. He twice broke the bank at Homburg last year, won two +hundred thousand francs at Spa this summer, and lost them +again the next week. He is a most dangerous fellow, and +positively dreaded by the proprietors of the tables." + +"What! when he loses two hundred thousand francs?" + +"Ah! that is a thing that rarely happens; as a rule he is +perfectly cool, which is the principal thing at these tables, +plays when the run is in his favour, and stops when it is +against him; but occasionally he gets excited, and then of +course the chances are that he loses everything like another." + +"What can he be doing here?" said Graham. + +"Who knows? Stopping a night or two on his way to Paris, or +Brussels, perhaps, on the chance of finding some one here rich +enough and imprudent enough to make it worth his while. You do +not play, Monsieur?" + +"Never in that way," answered the lad, laughing; "I can get +through a game of whist decently enough, but I rarely touch +cards at all." + +"Ah, then you are safe: otherwise I would have said, avoid M. +Linders; he has not the best reputation in the world, and he +has a brother-in-law who generally travels with him, and is +even a greater rogue than himself, but not so lucky--so they +say at least." + +"Do you know him, this famous gambler? He does not look much +like one," says Graham. + +"That is true; but he is a man of good birth and education, I +believe, though he has turned out such a _mauvais sujet_, and it +is part of his _métier_ to get himself up in that style. Yes, I +know him a little, from meeting him here and elsewhere; he is +always going about, sometimes _en prince_, sometimes in a more +humble way--but excuse me, dear Monsieur, Mademoiselle Cécile +has begun to play, and I am engaged to Mademoiselle Sophie for +this dance; she will never forgive me if I make her wait." + +The dancers whirled on; the room grew hotter and hotter. M. +Linders had disappeared, and Graham began to think that he too +had had almost enough of it all, and that it would be pleasant +to seek peace and coolness in the deserted moonlit courtyard. +He was watching for a pause in the waltz that would admit of +his crossing the room, when his attention was attracted by the +same little girl he had seen that morning in the garden. She +was still dressed in the shabby old frock and pinafore, and as +she came creeping in, threading her way deftly amongst the +young ladies in starched muslins and gay ribbons who were +fluttering about, she made the effect of a little brown moth +who had strayed into the midst of a swarm of brilliant +butterflies. No one took any notice of her, and she made her +way up to the large round table which had been pushed into the +far corner of the room, and near which Graham was standing. + +"Do you want anything?" he asked, as he saw her raise herself +on tiptoe, and stretch forward over the table. + +"I want _that_," she said, pointing to a miniature roulette +board, which stood in the middle, beyond the reach of her +small arm. + +He gave it to her, and then stood watching to see what she +would do with it. She set to work with great deliberation; +first pulling a handful of sugar-plums out of her pocket, and +arranging them in a little heap at her side on the table, and +then proceeding with much gravity to stake them on the +numbers. She would put down a bonbon and give the board a +twirl; "_ving-cinq_," she would say; the ball flew round and +fell into a number; it might be ten, or twenty, or twenty- +five, it did not much matter; she looked to see what it was, +but right or wrong, never failed to eat the bonbon--an +illogical result, which contrasted quaintly with the intense +seriousness with which she made her stakes. Sometimes she +would place two or three sugar-plums on one number, always +naming it aloud--"_trente-et-un_," "_douze-premier_," "_douze- +après_." It was the oddest game for a small thing not six years +old; and there was something odd, too, in her matter-of-fact, +business-like air, which amused Graham. He had seen gambling- +tables during his three weeks' visit to Germany, and he felt +sure that this child must have seen them too. + +"Eh! What an insupportable heat!" cried a harsh high-pitched +voice behind him. "Monsieur Jules, I will repose myself for a +few minutes, if you will have the goodness to fetch me a glass +of _eau sucrée. Je n'en peux plus!_" + +Graham, recognizing the voice, turned round, and saw the +Countess G---- leaning on the arm of a young man with whom she +had been dancing. + +"But it is really stifling!" she exclaimed, dropping into an +arm-chair by the table as her partner retired. "Monsieur does +not dance, apparently," she continued, addressing Horace. +"Well, you are perhaps right; it is a delightful amusement, +but on a night like this---- Ah! here is little Madelon. I have +not seen you before to-day. How is it you are not dancing?" + +"I don't want to," answered the child, giving the roulette- +board a twirl. + +"But that is not at all a pretty game that you have there," +said the Countess, shaking her head; "it was not for little +girls that Mademoiselle Cécile placed the roulette-board +there. Where is your doll? why are you not playing with her?" + +"My doll is in bed; and I like this best," answered the child +indifferently. "_Encore ce malheureux trente-six! Je n'ai pas +de chance ce soir!_" + +"But little girls should not like what is naughty: and I think +it would be much better if you were in bed too. Come, give me +that ugly toy; there is Monsieur quite shocked to see you +playing with it." + +Madelon looked up into Horace's face with her wide-open gaze, +as if to verify this wonderful assertion; and apparently +satisfied that it had been made for the sake of effect, +continued her game without making any reply. + +"Oh, then, I really must take it away," said the Countess; +"_allons_, be reasonable, _ma petite;_ let me have that, and go +and dance with the other little boys and girls." + +"But I don't want to dance, and I like to play at this," cries +Madelon with her shrill little voice, clutching the board with +both her small hands, as the Countess tried to get possession +of it; "you have no right to take it away. Papa lets me play +with it; and I don't care for you! Give it me back again, I +say; _je le veux, je le veux!_" + +"No, no," answered the Countess, pushing it beyond Madelon's +reach to the other side of the table. "I daresay you have seen +your papa play at that game; but children must not always do +the same as their papas. Now, be good, and eat your bonbons +like a sensible child." + +"I will not eat them if I may not play for them!" cried the +child; and with one sweep of her hand she sent them all off +the table on to the floor, and stamped on them again and again +with her tiny foot. "You have no right to speak to me so!" she +went on energetically; "no one but my papa speaks to me; and I +don't know you, and I don't like you, and you are very ugly!" +and then she turned her back on the Countess and stood in +dignified silence. + +"_Mais c'est un petit diable!_" cried the astonished lady, +fanning herself vigorously with her pocket-handkerchief. She +was discomfited though she had won the victory, and hailed the +return of her partner with the _eau sucrée_ as a relief. "A +thousand thanks, M. Jules! What if we take another turn, +though this room really is of insufferable heat." + +Madelon was let confronting Horace, a most ill-used little +girl, not crying, but with flushed cheeks and pouting lips--a +little girl who had lost her game and her bonbons, and felt at +war with all the world in consequence. Horace was sorry for +her; he, too, thought she had been ill-used, and no sooner was +the Countess fairly off than he said, very immorally, no +doubt, + +"Would you like to have your game back again?" + +"No," said Madelon, in whom this speech roused a fresh sense +of injury; "I have no more bonbons." + +Graham had none to offer her, and a silence ensued, during +which she stood leaning against the table, slowly scraping one +foot backwards and forwards over the remains of the scattered +bonbons. At last he bethought him of a small bunch of charms +that he had got somewhere, and hung to his watch-chain, and +with which he had often enticed and won the hearts of +children. + +"Would you like to come and look at these?" he said, holding +them up. + +"No," she replied, ungraciously, and retreating a step +backwards. + +"Not at this?" he said. "Here is a little steam engine that +runs on wheels; and, see, here is a fan that will open and +shut." + +"No," she said again, with a determined little shake of her +head, and still retreating. + +"But only look at this," he said, selecting a little flexible +enamel fish, and trying to lure back this small wild bird. +"See this little gold and green fish, it moves its head and +tail." + +"No," she said once more, but the fish was evidently a +temptation, and she paused irresolute for a moment; but Graham +made a step forward, and this decided her. + +"I don't care for _breloques_," she said, with disdain, "and I +don't want to see them, I tell you." And then, turning round, +she marched straight out of the room. + +At that moment the music stopped, the waltzing ceased, an a +line of retreat was left open for Graham. He saw the Countess +once more approaching, and availed himself of it; out of the +noise and heat and crowd he fled, into the fresh open air of +the quiet courtyard. + + +CHAPTER III. + +In the Courtyard. + + +Three gentlemen with cigars, sitting on the bench under the +salon windows, two more pacing up and down in the moonlight +before the hall-door, and a sixth apparently asleep in a +shadowy corner, were the only occupants of the courtyard. +Graham passed them by, and sought solitude at the lower end, +where he found a seat on the stone coping of the iron railing. +The peace and coolness and silence were refreshing, after the +heat and clamour of the salon; the broad harvest-moon had +risen above the opposite ridge of hills, and flooded +everything with clear light, the river gleamed and sparkled, +the poplars threw long still shadows across the white road; +now and then the leaves rustled faintly, some far-off voice +echoed back from the hills, and presently from the hotel the +sound of the music, and the measured beat of feet, came +softened to the ear, mingled with the low rush of the stream, +and the ceaseless ringing of the hammers in the village +forges. + +Horace had not sat there above ten minutes, and was debating +whether--his Belgian friend notwithstanding--a stroll along the +river-bank would not be a pleasanter termination to his +evening than a return to the dancing, when he saw a small +figure appear in the hall doorway, stand a moment as is +irresolute, and then come slowly across the courtyard towards +him. As she came near he recognised little Madelon. She pauses +when she was within a yard or two of him, and stood +contemplating him with her hands clasped behind her back. + +"So you have come out too," he said. + +"_Mais oui--tout ce tapage m'agace les nerfs_," answered the +child, pushing her hair off her forehead with one of her old- +fashioned little gestures, and then standing motionless as +before, her hands behind her, and her eyes fixed on Graham. +Somehow he felt strangely attracted by this odd little child, +with her quaint vehement ways and speeches, who stood gazing +at him with a look half _farouche_, half confiding, in her great +brown eyes. + +"Monsieur," she began, at last. + +"Well," said Graham. + +"Monsieur, I _would_ like to see the little green fish. May I +look at it?" + +"To be sure," he answered. "Come here, and I will show it to +you." + +"And, Monsieur, I do like _breloques_ very much," continues +Madelon, feeling that this is a moment for confession. + +"Very well, then, you can look at all these. See, here is the +little fish to begin with." + +"And may I have it in my own hand to look at?" she asked, +willing to come to some terms before capitulating. + +"Yes, you shall have it to hold in your own hand, if you will +come here." + +She came close to him then, unclasping her hands, and holding +a tiny palm to receive the little trinket. + +Horace was engaged in unfastening it from the rest of the +bunch, and whilst doing so he said, + +"Will you not tell me your name? Madelon, is it not?" + +"My name is Madeleine, but papa and every one call me +Madelon." + +"Madeleine what?" + +"Madeleine Linders." + +"Linders!" cried Horace, suddenly enlightened; "what, is M. +Linders--" the famous gambler he had nearly said, but checked +himself--"is that tall gentleman with a beard, whom I saw in +the salon just now, your papa?" + +"Yes, that is my papa. Please may I have that now?" + +He put the little flexible toy into her hand, and she stood +gazing at it for a moment, almost afraid to touch it, and then +pushing it gently backwards and forwards with one finger. + +"It does move!" she cried delighted. "I never saw one like it +before." + +"Would you like to keep it?" asked Graham. + +"Always, do you mean?--for my very own?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Ah, yes!" she cried, "I should like it very much. I will wear +it round my neck with a string, and love it so much, --better +than Sophie." + +She looked at it with great admiration as it glittered in the +moonlight; but her next question fairly took Horace aback. + +"Is it worth a great deal of money, Monsieur?" she inquired. + +"Why, no, not a great deal--very little, in fact," he replied. + +"Ah! then, I will beg papa to let me keep it always, always, +and not to take it away." + +"I daresay he will let you keep it, if you tell him you like +it," said Graham, not clearly understanding her meaning. + +"Oh! yes, but then he often gives me pretty things, and then +sometimes he says he must take them away again, because they +are worth so much money. I don't mind, you know, if he wants +them; but I will ask him to let me keep this." + +"And what becomes of all your pretty things?" + +"I don't know; I have none now," she answered, "we left them +behind at Spa. Do you know one reason why I would not dance +to-night?" she added, lowering her voice confidentially. + +"No; what was it?" + +"Because I had not my blue silk frock with lace, that I wear +at the balls at Wiesbaden and Spa. I can dance, you know, papa +taught me; but not in this old frock, and I left my other at +Spa." + +"And what were your other reasons?" asked Graham, wondering +more and more at the small specimen of humanity before him. + +"Oh! because the room here is so small and crowded. At +Wiesbaden there are rooms large--so large--quite like this +courtyard," extending her small arms by way of giving +expression to her vague sense of grandeur; "and looking- +glasses all round, and crimson sofas, and gold chandeliers, +and ladies in such beautiful dresses, and officers who danced +with me. I don't know any one here." + +"And who were the Count and the Prince you were talking about +to Mademoiselle Sophie in the garden this morning?" + +Madelon looked disconcerted. + +"I shan't tell you," she said, hanging down her head. + +"Will you not? Not if I want to know very much?" + +She hesitated a moment, then burst forth-- + +"Well, then, they were just nobody at all. I was only talking +make-believe to Sophie, that she might do the steps properly." + +"Oh! then, you did not expect to see them here this evening?" + +"Here!" cries Madelon, with much contempt; "why, no. One meets +nothing but _bourgeois_ here." + +Graham was infinitely amused. + +"Am I a _bourgeois?_" he said, laughing. + +"I don't know," she replied, looking at him; "but you are not +a milord, I know, for I heard papa asking Mademoiselle Cécile +about you, and she said you were not a milord at all." + +"So you care for nothing but Counts and Princes?" + +"I don't know," she said again. Then with an evident sense +that such abstract propositions would involve her beyond her +depth, she added, "Have you any other pretty things to show +me? I should like to see what else you have on your chain." + +In five minutes more they were fast friends, and Madelon, +seated on Graham's knee, was chattering away, and recounting +to him all the history of her short life. He was not long in +perceiving that her father was the beginning and end of all +her ideas--her one standard of perfection, the one medium +through which, small as she was, she was learning to look out +on and estimate the world, and receiving her first impressions +of life. She had no mother, she said, in answer to Graham's +inquiries. _Maman_ had died when she was quite a little baby; +and though she seemed to have some dim faint recollection of +having once lived in a cottage in the country, with a woman to +take care of her, everything else referred to her father, from +her first, vague floating memories to the time when she could +date them as distinct and well-defined, facts. She had once +had a nurse, she said, --a long time ago that was, when she was +little--but papa did not like her, and so she went away; and +now she was too big for one. Papa did everything for her, it +appeared, from putting her to sleep at night, when +Mademoiselle was disposed to be wakeful, to nursing her when +she was ill, taking her to fêtes on grand holidays, buying her +pretty things, walking with her, teaching her dancing, and +singing, and reading; and she loved him so much--ah! so much! +Indeed, in all the world, the child had but one object for a +child's boundless powers of trust and love and veneration, and +that one was her father. + +"And where do you generally live now?" asked Graham. + +"Why, nowhere in particular," Madelon answered. "Of course +not--they were always travelling about. Papa had to go to a +great many places. They had come last from Spa, and before +that they had been at Wiesbaden and Homburg, and last winter +they had spent at Nice: and now they were on their way to +Paris." + +"And do you and your papa always live alone? Have you not an +uncle?" enquired Graham, remembering the Belgian's speech +about the brother-in-law. + +"Oh! yes, there is Uncle Charles--he comes with us generally; +but sometimes he goes away, and then I am so glad." + +"How is that? are you not fond of him?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I don't like him at all; he is very +disagreeable, and teases me. And he is always wanting me to go +away; he says, 'Adolphe'--that is papa, you know--'when is that +child going to school?' But papa pays no attention to him, for +he is never going to send me away; he told me so, and he says +he could not get on without me at all." + +Graham no longer wondered at Madelon's choice of a game, for +it appeared she was in the habit of accompanying her father +every evening to the gambling tables, when they were at any of +the watering-places he frequented. + +"Sometimes we go away into the ball-room and dance," she said, +"that is when papa is losing; he says, 'Madelon, _mon enfant_, I +see we shall do nothing here to-night, let us go and dance.' +But sometimes he does nothing but win, and then we stop till +the table closes, and he makes a great deal of money. Do you +ever make money in that way, Monsieur?" she added naïvely. + +"Indeed I do not," replied Graham. + +"It is true that everyone has not the same way," said the +child, with an air of being well informed, and evidently +regarding her father's way as a profession like another, only +superior to most. "What do you do, Monsieur?" + +"I am going to be a doctor, Madelon." + +"A doctor," she said reflecting; "I do not think that can be a +good way. I only know one doctor, who cured me when I was ill +last winter; but I know a great many gentlemen who make money +like papa. Can you make a fortune with ten francs, Monsieur?" + +"I don't think I ever tried," answered Horace. + +"Ah, well, papa can; I have often heard him say, 'Give me only +ten francs, _et je ferai fortune!_' " + +There was something at once so droll and so sad about this +child, with her precocious knowledge and ignorant simplicity, +that the lad's honest tender heart was touched with a sudden +pity as he listened to her artless chatter. He was almost glad +when her confidences drifted away to more childlike subjects +of interest, and she told him about her toys, and books, and +pictures, and songs; she could sing a great many songs, she +said, but Horace could not persuade her to let him hear one. + +"Why do you talk French?" she said presently; "you speak it so +funnily. I can talk English." + +"Can you?" said Horace laughing, for indeed he spoke French +with a fine English accent and idiom. "Let me hear you. Where +did you learn it?" + +"Uncle Charles taught me; he is English," she answered, +speaking correctly enough, with a pretty little accent. + +"Indeed!" cried Graham. "Your mother was English, then?" + +"Yes. Mamma came from England, papa says, and Uncle Charles +almost always talks English to me. I would not let him do it, +only papa wished me to learn." + +"And have you any other relations in England?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "We have never been in England, +and papa says he will never go, for he detests the English; +but I only know Uncle Charles and you, and I like you." + +"What is your Uncle Charles' other name? Can you tell me?" + +"Leroy," she answered promptly. + +"But that is not an English name," said Graham. + +This was a little beyond Madelon, but after some +consideration, she said with much simplicity, + +"I don't know whether it is not English. But it is only lately +his name has been Leroy, since he came back from a journey he +made; before that it was something else, I forget what, but I +heard him tell papa he would like to be called Leroy, as it +was a common name; and papa told me, in case anyone asked me." + +"I understand," said Graham; and indeed he did understand, and +felt a growing compassion for the poor little girl, whose only +companions and protectors were a gambler and a sharper. + +They were still talking, when the silence of the courtyard was +broken by a sudden confusion and bustle. The sound of the +music and dancing had already ceased; and now a medley of +voices, a shrill clamour of talking and calling, made +themselves heard through the open hall door. + +"Henri! Henri! Où est-il donc, ce petit drôle?" + +"Allons, Pauline, dépêche-toi, mon enfant, ton père nous +attend!" + +"Ciel! j'ai perdu mon fichu et mes gants." + +"Enfin." + +"The people are going away," says Madelon; and, in fact, in +another minute the whole party, talking, laughing, hurrying, +came streaming out by twos and threes into the moonlight, and, +crossing the road and bridge, disappeared one by one in the +station beyond, the sound of their voices still echoing back +through the quiet night. The last had hardly vanished when a +tall solitary figure appeared in the courtyard, and advanced, +looking round as if searching for some one. + +"Madelon!" cried the same voice that Graham had heard that +morning in the garden. + +"There is papa looking for me; I must go," exclaimed the child +at the same moment; and before Graham had time to speak, she +had slipped off his knee and darted up to her father; then +taking his hand, the two went off together, the small figure +jumping and dancing by the side of the tall man as they +disappeared within the doorway of the hotel. + +A few minutes more, and then a sound as of distant thunder +told that the train was approaching through the tunnel. Graham +watched it emerge, traverse the clear moonlit valley with +slackening speed, and pause at the station for its freight of +passengers. There was a vague sound of confusion as the people +took their places, and then with a parting shriek it set off +again; and as the sound died away in the distance, a great +stillness succeeded the noise and bustle of a few moments +before. + +Horace was afraid he had seen the last of Madelon, for +returning to the hotel he found no one in the salon, with the +exception of Mademoiselle Cécile, who was already putting out +the lights. The hall, too, was deserted; the servants had +vanished, and the _habitués_ of the hotel had apparently gone to +bed, for he met no one as he passed along, and turned down the +passage leading to the salle-à-manger. This was a large long +room, occupying the whole ground floor of one wing of the +hotel, with windows looking out on one side into the +courtyard, on the other into the garden, two long tables, +smaller ones in the space between, and above them a row of +chandeliers smothered in pink and yellow paper roses. The room +looked bare and deserted enough now; a sleepy waiter lounged +at the further end, the trees in the garden rustled and waved +to and fro in the rising night breeze, the moonlight streamed +through the uncurtained windows on to the boarded floor and +white table-cloths, chasing the darkness into remote corners, +and contending with the light of the single lamp which stood +on one of the smaller tables, where two men were sitting, +drinking, smoking, and playing at cards. + +One of them was a man between thirty and forty, in a tight- +fitting black coat buttoned up to his chin, and with a thin +face, smooth shaven, with the exception of a little yellow +moustache, and sharp grey eyes. He would have been handsome, +had it not been for his unpleasant expression, at once knowing +and suspicious. The other Horace immediately recognised as +Monsieur Linders; and a moment afterwards he perceived little +Madeleine, sitting nestled close up to her father's side. The +lamplight shone on her curly head and innocent _mignonne_ face +as she watched the game with eager eyes; it was piquant, and +she was marking for her father, and when he had a higher score +than his opponent, she laughed and clapped her hands with +delight. + +Graham stood watching this little scene for a minute; and +somehow, as he looked at the little motherless girl, there +came the thought of small rosy children he knew far away in +England, who, having said their prayers, and repeated their +Sunday hymns, perhaps, had been tucked into little white beds, +and been fast asleep hours ago; and a kind, foolish notion +entered the young fellow's head, that, for that one evening at +least, he must get the brown-eyed child, who had taken his +fancy so much, away from the drinking, and smoking, and card- +playing, into a purer atmosphere. He went up to the table, and +leant over her chair. + +"Will you come out again and have a walk with me in the +garden?" he said in English. + +The man opposite, who was dealing, looked up sharply and +suspiciously. Madelon turned round, and gazed up into the kind +face smiling down on her, then shook her head with great +decision. + +"Not a little walk? I will tell you such pretty stories, all +about fairies, and moonlight, and little boys and girls, and +dragons," said Horace, drawing largely on his imagination, in +his desire to offer a sufficient inducement. + +"No," said Madelon, "I can't come; I am marking for papa." + +"What is it?" said M. Linders, who understood very little +English; "what does this gentleman want, _mon enfant?_" + +"I was asking your little girl if she would take a walk with +me in the garden," says Horace, getting rather red, and in his +bad French. + +"Monsieur is too good," answers M. Linders, making a grand +bow, whilst his companion, having finished dealing, sat +puffing away at his cigar, and drumming impatiently with his +fingers on the table; "but the hour is rather late; what do +you say, Madelon? Will you go with Monsieur?" + +"No, papa," says the child, "I am marking for you; I don't +want to go away." + +"You see how it is, Monsieur," said M. Linders, turning to +Graham with a smile and shrug. "This little one thinks herself +of so much importance, that she will not leave me." + +"Are you then mad," cried his companion, "that you think of +letting Madelon go out at this time of night? It is nearly +eleven o'clock, and she can hardly keep her eyes open." + +"My eyes are wide, wide open, Uncle Charles," exclaimed +Madelon, indignantly; "I'm not a bit tired, but I don't want +to go out now." + +"Monsieur will perhaps join our party," said Monsieur Linders, +very politely. "I should be delighted to try my luck with a +fresh adversary." + +"Thank you," said Graham, "but I hardly ever touch cards." +Then turning to Madelon, he added, "I must go away now, since +you will not come for a walk. Won't you wish me good-bye? I +shall not be here to-morrow." + +She turned round and put her little hand into his for a +moment; then with a sudden shy caprice snatched it away, and +hid her face on her father's shoulder, just peeping at him +with her bright eyes. But she started up again suddenly as he +was leaving the room, calling out "_Adieu, Monsieur, bon +voyage_," and kissing her hand to him. He smiled and nodded in +return, bowed to M. Linders, and so went away. There was a +moment's silence after he went, and then, "You have made a +fine acquaintance this evening, Madelon," said her uncle. + +Madelon made a little _moue_, but did not answer. + +"Are you then mad, Adolphe," he said again, "that you permit +Madeleine to pick up an acquaintance with anyone who chooses +to speak to her? An Englishman too!" + +"Papa is not mad," cried Madelon, between whom and her uncle +there was apparently a standing skirmish. "He was a very kind +gentleman, and I like him very much; he gave me this little +goldfish, and I shall keep it always, always," and she kissed +it with effusion. + +"Bah!" said M. Linders, "English or French, it is all one to +me; and what harm could he do to the little one? It was an +accident, but it does not matter for once. Come, Madelon, you +have forgotten to mark." + +"It is your turn to deal next, papa," said the child, "may I +do it for you?" + +Horace Graham left Chaudfontaine by the earliest train the +following morning; and of all the people he had seen on that +Sunday evening at the hotel, only two ever crossed his path +again in after years--M. Linders, and his little daughter, +Madeleine. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Retrospect. + + +M. Linders was of both Belgian and French extraction, his +father having been a native of Liége, his mother a Parisian of +good family, who, in a moment of misplaced sentiment, as she +was wont in after years to sigh, had consented to marry a +handsome young Belgian officer, and had expiated her folly by +spending the greater part of her married life at Malines, +where her husband was stationed, and at Liége, where his +mother and sister resided. Adolphe's education, however, was +wholly French; for Madame Linders, who, during her husband's +life, had not ceased to mourn over her exile from her own +city, lost no time, after his death, in returning to Paris +with her two children, Thérèse, a girl of about twelve, and +Adolphe, then a child five or six years old. + +Madame Linders had money, but not much, and she made it go +further than did ever Frenchwoman before, which is saying a +great deal. Adolphe must be educated, Adolphe must be clothed, +Adolphe was to be a great man some day; he was to go into the +army, make himself a name, become a General, a Marshal,--heaven +knows what glories the mother did not dream for him, as she +turned and twisted her old black silks, in the _entresol_ in the +Chaussée d'Antin, where she had her little apartment. She had +friends in Paris, and must keep up appearances for Adolphe's +sake, not to mention her own, and so could not possibly live +in a cheap out-of-the-way quarter. + +As for Thérèse, she was of infinitely small account in the +family. She was plain, not too amiable, nor particularly +clever, and inclined to be _dévote;_ and, as in spite of +positive and negative failings, she also had to eat and be +clothed as well as her handsome fair brother, she could be +regarded as nothing else than a burden in the economical +household. + +"You ask me what I shall do with Thérèse?" said Madame Linders +one day to a confidential friend. "Oh! she will go into a +convent, of course. I know of an excellent one near Liége, of +which her aunt is the superior, and where she will be +perfectly happy. She has a turn that way. What else can I do +with her, my dear? To speak frankly, she is _laide à faire +peur_, and she can have no _dot_ worth mentioning; for I have not +a sou to spare; so there is no chance of her marrying." + +Thérèse knew her fate, and was resigned to it. As her mother +said, she had a turn that way; and to the Liége convent she +according went, but not before Madame Linders' death, which +took place when her daughter was about seven-and-twenty, and +which was, as Thérèse vehemently averred, occasioned by grief +at her son's conduct. + +Adolphe had also known the fate reserved for him, and was by +no means resigned to it; for he had never had the least +intention of becoming a soldier, and having escaped +conscription, absolutely refused to enter the army. He was a +clever, unprincipled lad, who had done well at his studies, +but lost no time in getting into the most dissipated society +he could find from the moment he left college. He inherited +his father's good looks, but his mother's predilections +apparently; for he set out in life with the determination to +be Parisian amongst Parisians--of a certain class, be it +understood; and having some talent for drawing, as indeed he +had for most things, he used it as a pretext, announced that +he intended to be an artist, and furnishing a room in the +Quartier Latin, with an easel and a pipe, he began the wild +Bohemian life which he found most in accordance with his +tastes. + +He was selfish and reckless enough, but not altogether +heartless, for he had a real affection for his mother, which +might have been worked upon with advantage. But Madame +Linders, who had indulged him till he had learnt to look upon +her devotion as a thing of course, now turned upon him with +the fretful, inconsequent reproaches of a weak mind; and +finding that he was constantly met with tearful words and +aggrieved looks, her son avoided her as much as possible. His +sister he could not endure. Thérèse had always been jealous of +the marked preference shown to him; and now, with an evident +sense of triumph, she preached little sermons, talked at him +with unceasing perseverance, and in truth was not a very +engaging person. + +Madame Linders had not been dead ten days, when the brother +and sister had a violent quarrel, and parted with the +determination on either side never to meet again--a resolution +which was perfectly well kept. Thérèse retired to the Belgian +convent, and Adolphe, the possessor of a few thousand francs, +the remains of his mother's small fortune, returned to his +studio and to the life he had chosen. + +The success and duration of a career of this sort is in exact +proportion to the amount of capital, real or assumed, invested +in it. Monsieur Linders' capital was very small; his francs +and credit both were soon exhausted, and began to find that +making-believe to paint pictures was hardly a paying business. +He tried to take portraits, attempted etching, gambled, and, +finally, being more in debt than he could well afford, +disappeared from the Paris world for a number of years, and +for a long space was known and heard of no more. It was indeed +affirmed in his circle of acquaintance that he had been seen +playing a fiddle at one of the cheap theatres; that he had +been recognized in the dress of a fiacre-driver, and in that +of a waiter at a Café Chantant: but these reports were idly +spread, and wanted confirmation. They might or might not have +been true. M. Linders never cared to talk much of those seven +or eight years in which he had effaced himself, as it were, +from society; but it may be imagined that he went through some +strange experiences in a life which was a struggle for bare +existence. Respectable ways of gaining a livelihood he ever +held in aversion; and it was not, therefore, to be expected +that a foolish and unprofitable pride would interfere to +prevent his using any means not absolutely criminal in order +to reach any desired end. + +At length, however, he emerged from obscurity, and rose once +more to the surface of society; and one of his old +acquaintance, who encountered him at Homburg, returned +marvelling to Paris to relate that he had seen Adolphe Linders +winning fabulous sums at _trente-et-quarante_, that he was +decently clothed, had a magnificent suite of apartments at one +of the first hotels, and an English wife of wondrous beauty. +Monsieur Linders had, in fact, sown his wild oats, so to +speak, and settled down to the business of his life. In former +days, gambling had been a passion with him--too much so, +indeed, to admit of his playing with any great success; he had +been apt to lose both temper and skill. Time, however, while +increasing this passion for play, till it gradually became a +necessity of his life, had taught him to bring to bear upon it +all the ability which would have eminently fitted him for some +more praiseworthy employment. Formerly he had indulged in it +as a diversion; now it became a serious business, which he +prosecuted with a cool head, determined will, and unfailing +perseverance--qualities for which few would have given him +credit in the wild unsettled period of his early career. The +result was highly satisfactory to himself; he was soon known +as one of the most successful haunters of the German and +Belgian gaming-tables; he cast off the outward aspect and +manners of the Bohemian set he had once affected, and assumed +the guise and dress of the gentleman he really was--at least by +birth and education--and which he found at once more profitable +and more congenial to his maturer tastes. He lived splendidly, +and spent money freely when he had it; incurred debts with +great facility when he had not--debts which he did or did not +pay, as the case might be. + +It was during a winter spent at Brussels that he made the +acquaintance of Charles Moore, a young Englishman with tastes +identical with his own, but inferior to him in ability, +talents, and even in principles. A sort of partnership was +formed between them, Mr. Linders undertaking most of the work, +and the Englishman contributing his small fortune as capital; +and not only his own, but that of his sister Magdalen, a young +girl who had come abroad with her brother, the only near +relation she had in the world. M. Linders had been introduced +to her, and she, in complete ignorance of the real character +of either him or her brother Charles, had, with all the +simplicity of eighteen, straightway fallen in love with the +handsome gentlemanlike man, who, on his side, made no secret +of the impression produced on him by the great loveliness of +the English girl. Moore, who was a thoroughly heartless scamp, +had not the least compunction in agreeing to a marriage +between his sister and this man, with whose character and mode +of life he was perfectly well acquainted; indeed, it suited +his views so well, that he did what lay in his power to +forward it. There were no difficulties in the way; the two +were almost alone in the world. He had been left her sole +guardian by their old father, who had died a twelve-month +before; and she, trusting her brother entirely, was glad to +leave everything in his hands. The marriage was accomplished +with all possible speed, and it was not till nearly two months +later that an accident revealed to Magdalen Linders, what +indeed in any case she must have discovered before long--what +manner of man this was she had got for her husband. + +Then she did not pine away, nor sicken with despair, being of +a great courage, strong to bear evil and misfortune, and not +made of the stuff that gives way under cruel deception and +disappointment. She uttered only one reproach-- + +"You should have told me of all this, Adolphe," she said. + +"You would not have married me," he answered gloomily. + +"I--I do not know. Ah, I loved you so much, and so truly!" + +And she did love him still; and clung to him to the last, but +not the less was she broken-hearted, so far as any enjoyment +of life was concerned; and her husband saw it. All sense of +rejoicing seemed to die out of her heart for ever. She hated +the splendour with which he sometimes surrounded her, even +more than the paltry shifts and expedients to which at other +times they had to resort, when he had spent all his money, and +there was no more forthcoming for the moment; she wept when +her children were born, thinking of the iniquity of the world +they had entered; and when her two little boys died one after +the other, there was almost a sense of relief mixed with the +bitterness of her sorrow, as she reflected on the father she +could not have taught them to respect, and on the abject evil +and misery from which she could not have shielded them. + +As for M. Linders, he at once adored and neglected his wife, +as was the nature of the man; that is, he adored her +theoretically for her rare beauty, but neglected her +practically, when, after a few months of married life, he saw +her bloom fading, and her animation vanish, in the utter +despondency which had seized her, and which found its outward +expression in a certain studied composure and coldness of +manner. There soon came a time when he would have willingly +freed himself altogether from the constraint of her presence. +He travelled almost incessantly, spending the summer and +autumn at the German watering-places; the winter in France, or +Belgium, or Italy; and he would sometimes propose that she +should remain at a Paris hotel till he could return to her. In +the first years after their marriage she objected vehemently. +She was so young, so unused to solitude, that she felt a +certain terror at the prospect of being left alone; and, +moreover, she still clung with a sort of desperation to her +girlish illusions, and, loving her husband, could not cease to +believe in his love for her. She had plans, too, for reforming +him, and for a long time would not allow herself to be +convinced of their utter vanity and hopelessness. After the +death of her little boys, however, she became more +indifferent, or more resigned. And so it came to pass that +when she had been married about six years, and four months +after her third child was born, Madame Linders died, alone at +a Paris hotel, with no one near her but the doctor, her baby's +nurse, and the woman of the house. She had dictated a few +words to tell her husband, who was then in Germany, that she +was dying; and, stricken with a horrible remorse, he had +travelled with all possible haste to Paris, and arrived at +daybreak one morning to find that his wife had died the +evening before. + +Madame Linders' death had been caused by a fever, under which +she had sunk rapidly at last. There had been no question of +heart-breaking or pining grief here--so her husband thought +with a sort of satisfaction even then, as he remembered his +sister's words of bitter reproach over their mother's death- +bed; and yet not the less, as he looked at his dead wife's +face, did the reflection force itself upon him, that he had +made the misery instead of the happiness of her life. He was a +man who had accustomed himself to view things from the hardest +and most practical point of view; and from such a view his +marriage had been rather a failure than otherwise, since the +memory of the little fortune she had brought with her had +vanished with the fortune itself. But it had not been +altogether for money that he had married her; he had been in +love with her at one time, and that time repeated itself, with +a pertinacity not to be shaken off, as he stood now in her +silent presence. + +Whatever his feelings may have been, however, they found no +expression then. He turned sharply on the women standing +round, who had already, after the fashion of womankind, +contrived, without speaking, to let him know their opinion of +a man who had left his wife alone for six months at an hotel, +whilst he went and amused himself. He scarcely glanced at the +small daughter, now presented to him for the first time; and +he bade Madame Lavaux, the mistress of the hotel, "make haste +and finish with all that," when, with tearful voice, and +discursive minuteness, she related to him the history of his +wife's last days. He made all necessary arrangements; took +possession of Madame Linders' watch and few trinkets; himself +superintended the packing of her clothes and other trifling +properties into a large trunk, which he left in Madame Lavaux' +charge; attended the funeral on the following day; and +immediately on his return from it, ordered a fiacre to be in +readiness to convey him to the railway station, as he was +going to quit Paris immediately. He was on the point of +departure, when he was confronted by Madame Lavaux and the +nurse bearing the infant, who begged to know if he had any +directions to leave concerning his child. + +"Madame," he answered, addressing the landlady, "I entrust all +these matters to you; see that the child is properly provided +for, and I will send the requisite money." + +"We had arranged that her nurse should take her away to her +own home in the country," said Madame Lavaux. + +"That will do," he answered; and was about to leave the room, +when the nurse, an honest countrywoman, interposed once more, +to inquire where she should write to Monsieur to give him +tidings of his little daughter. + +"I want none," he replied. "You can apply here to Madame for +money if the child lives; if it dies she will let me know, and +I need send no more." And so saying, he strode out of the +room, leaving the women with hands and eyes uplifted at the +hard-hearted conduct of the father. + +For nearly two years M. Linders was absent from Paris, +wandering about, as his habit was, from one town to another, a +free man, as he would himself have expressed it, except for +the one tie which he acknowledged only in the sums of money he +sent from time to time, with sufficient liberality, to Madame +Lavaux. No news reached him of his child, and he demanded +none. But about twenty months after his wife's death, business +obliged him to go for a few weeks to Paris; and finding +himself with a leisure day on his hands, it occurred to him, +with a sudden impulse, to spend it in the country and go and +see his little girl. He ascertained from Madame Lavaux where +she was, and went. + +The woman with whom little Madeleine had been placed lived +about fifteen miles from Paris, in a small village perched +half-way up a steep hill, from the foot of which stretched a +wide plain, where the Seine wound slowly amongst trees and +meadows, and scattered villages. The house to which M. Linders +was directed stood a little apart from the others, near the +road-side, but separated from it by a strip of garden, planted +with herbs and a patch of vines; and as he opened the gate, he +came at once upon a pretty little picture of a child of two +years, in a quaint, short-waisted, long-skirted pinafore, +toddling about, playing at hide-and-seek among the tall poles +and trailing tendrils, and kept within safe limits by a pair +of leading-strings passed round the arm of a woman who sat in +the shade of the doorway knitting. As M. Linders came up the +narrow pathway she ran towards him to the utmost extent of her +tether, uttering little joyous inarticulate cries, and +bubbling over with the happy instinctive laughter of a child +whose consciousness is bounded by its glad surroundings. + +When, in moments of pseudo remorse, which would come upon him +from time to time, it occurred to M. Linders to reflect upon +his misdeeds, and adopt an apologetic tone concerning them, he +was wont to propound a singular theory respecting his life, +averring, in general terms, that it had been spoilt by women,-- +a speech more epigrammatic, perhaps, than accurate, since of +the two women who had loved him best, his mother and his wife, +he had broken the heart of the one, and ruined the happiness +of the other. And yet it was not without its grain of meaning, +however false and distorted; for M. Linders, who was not more +consistent than the rest of mankind, had, by some queer +anomaly, along with all his hardness, and recklessness, and +selfishness, a capacity for affection after his own fashion, +and an odd sensitiveness to the praise and blame of those +women whom he cared for and respected which did not originate +merely in vanity and love of applause. He had been fond of his +mother, though he had ignored her wishes and abused her +generosity; and he had hated his sister Thérèse, because he +imagined that she had come between them. Their reproaches had +been unbearable to him, and though his wife had never blamed +him in words, there had been a mute upbraiding in her mournful +looks and dejected spirits, which he had resented as a wrong +done to the love he had once felt for her. In the absence of +many subjects for self-congratulation, he rather piqued +himself on a warm heart and sensitive feelings, and chose to +consider them ill-requited by the cold words and sad glances +of those whose happiness he was destroying. The idea that he +should set matters straight by adjusting his life to meet +their preconceived notions of right and wrong, would have +appeared to him highly absurd; but he considered them +unreasonable and himself ill-used when they refused to give +their approbation to his proceedings, and this idea of ill- +usage and unreasonableness he was willing to encourage, as it +enabled him to shift the responsibility of their unhappiness +from his own shoulders on to theirs, and to deaden the sense +of remorse which would make itself felt from time to time. For +in the worst of men, they say, there still lingers some touch +of kindly human feeling, and M. Linders, though amongst the +most worthless, was not perhaps absolutely the worst of men. +He was selfish enough to inflict any amount of pain, yet not +hardened enough to look unmoved on his victims. He had, in +truth, taken both their misery and their reproaches to heart; +and sometimes, especially since his wife's death, he had +surprised in himself a strange, unaccountable desire for a +love that should be true and pure, but which, ignorant of, or +ignoring his errors, should be content to care for him and +believe in him just as he was: such a love as his wife might, +perhaps, have given him in her single month of unconscious +happiness. It was a longing fitful, and not defined in words, +but a real sentiment all the same, not a sentimentality; and, +imperfect as it was in scope and tendency, it expressed the +best part of the man's nature. He despised it, and crushed it +down; but it lay latent, ready to be kindled by a touch. + +And here was a small piece of womankind belonging to him, who +could upbraid by neither word nor look, who ran towards him +confidently, stretching out tiny hands to clutch at his +shining gold chain, and gazing up in his face with great brown +eyes, that recalled to him those of her dead mother, when she +had first known and learnt to love him. Had Madelon been a shy +plain child--had she hidden her face, and run from him +screaming to her nurse, as children are so wont to do, he +would then and there have paid the money he had brought with +him as the ostensible cause of his visit, and gone on his way, +thinking no more about her for another two years perhaps. But +Madelon had no thought of shyness with the tall fair handsome +man who had taken her fancy: she stood for a moment in the +pathway before him, balancing herself on tiptoe with uplifted +arms, confident in the hope of being taken up; and, as the +woman recognizing M. Linders, came forward and bade the child +run to Papa, with a sudden unaccustomed emotion of tenderness, +almost pathetic in such a man, he stooped down and raised her +in his arms. + +As he travelled back to Paris that day, M. Linders formed a +plan which he lost no time in carrying, partially, at least, +into execution. During the next twelvemonth he spent much of +his time in Paris, and went frequently to see his mall +daughter, never without some gift to win her heart, till the +child came to regard his pocket as the inexhaustible source of +boundless surprises, in the shape of toys and cakes and +bonbons. It was not long before she was devoted to her father, +and, her nurse dying when she was a little more than three +years old, M. Linders resolved at once to carry out his idea, +and, instead of placing her with any one else, take possession +of her himself. He removed her accordingly from the country to +Paris, engaged a _bonne_, and henceforth Madelon accompanied him +wherever he went. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Monsieur Linders' System. + + +My little lady had given Horace Graham a tolerably correct +impression of her life as they had talked together in the +moonlight at Chaudfontaine. When M. Linders took her home with +him--if that may be called home which consisted of wanderings +from one hotel to another--it was with certain fixed ideas +concerning her, which he began by realizing with the success +that not unfrequently attended his ideas when he set himself +with a will to work them out. His child's love and trust he +had already gained, as she had won suddenly for herself a +place in his heart, and he started with the determination that +these relations between them should never be disturbed. She +should be educated for himself; she should be brought up to +see with his eyes, to adopt his views; she should be taught no +troublesome standard of right and wrong by which to measure +him and find wanting; no cold shadow of doubt and reproach +should ever rise between them and force them asunder; and +above all, he would make her happy--she for one should never +turn on him and say, "See, my life is ruined, and it is you +who have done it!" She should know no life, no aims, no wishes +but his; but that life should be so free from care and sorrow +that for once he would be able to congratulate himself on +having made the happiness, instead of the misery, of some one +whom he loved and who loved him. + +These were the ideas that M. Linders entertained concerning +Madelon, expressing them to himself in thoughts and language +half genuine, half sentimental, as was his nature. But his +love for his child was genuine enough; and for the fulfilment +of his purpose he was willing to sacrifice much, devoting +himself to her, and giving up time, comfort, and even money, +for the sake of this one small being whom in all the world he +loved, and who was to be taught to love him. He took her about +with him; she associated with his companions; he familiarized +her with all his proceedings, and she came in consequence to +look upon their mode of life as being as much a matter of +course, and a part of the great system of things, as the child +does who sees her father go out to plough every day, or mount +the pulpit every Sunday to preach his sermon. Of course she +did not understand it all; it was his one object in life that +she should not; and fondly as he loved his little Madelon, he +did not scruple to make her welfare subordinate to his own +views. He was careful to keep her within the shady bounds of +that world of no doubtful character, which he found wherever +he went, hovering on the borders of the world of avowed +honesty and respectability, jealously guarding her from every +counter-influence, however good or beneficial. He would not +send her to school, was half unwilling, indeed, that she +should be educated in any way, lest she should come to the +knowledge of good and evil, which he so carefully hid from +her; and he even dismissed her good, kind-hearted bonne, on +overhearing her instruct the child, who could then hardly +speak plain, in some little hymn or prayer, or pious story, +such as nurses delight in teaching their charges. After that +he took care of her himself with the assistance of friendly +landladies at the hotels he frequented, who all took an +interest in and were kind to the little motherless girl, but +were too busy to have any time to spend in teaching her, or +enlarging her ideas; and indeed all the world conspired to +carry out M. Linders' plan; for who would have cared, even had +it been possible, to undertake the ungracious task of opening +the eyes of a child to the real character of a father whom she +loved and believed in so implicitly? And she was so happy, +too! Setting aside any possible injury he might be doing her, +M. Linders was the most devoted of fathers, loving and caring +for her most tenderly, and thinking himself well repaid by the +clinging grasp of her small hand, by the spring of joy with +which she welcomed him after any absence, by her gleeful voice +and laughter, her perfect trust and confidence in him. + +There must have been something good and true about this man, +roué and gambler though he was, that, somehow, he himself and +those around him had missed hitherto, but that sprang +willingly into life when appealed to by the innocent faith, +the undoubting love of his little child. Thus much Madelon all +unconsciously accomplished, but more than this she could not +do. M. Linders did not become a reformed character for her +sake: he had never had any particular principles, and +Madelon's loving innocence, which aroused all his best +emotions, had no power to stir in him any noble motives or +high aspirations, which, if they existed at all, were buried +too deep to be awakened by the touch of her small hand. His +misdeeds had never occasioned him much uneasiness, except as +they had affected the conduct of others towards himself; and +he had no reproaches, expressed or implied, to fear from +Madelon. "No one had ever so believed in him before!" he would +sigh, with a feeling not without a certain pathos in its way, +though with the ring of false sentiment characteristic of the +man, and with an apparent want of perception that it was +ignorance rather than belief that was in question. Madelon +believed indeed in his love, for it answered readily to her +daily and hourly appeals, but she cannot be aid to have +believed in his honour and integrity, for she can hardly have +known what they meant, and she made no claims upon _them_. It +was, perhaps, happy for her that the day when she should have +occasion to do so never arrived. + +She was not left quite uneducated, however; her father taught +her after his own fashion, and she gained a good deal of +practical knowledge in their many wanderings. When she was six +years old she could talk almost as many languages, could +dance, and could sing a variety of songs with the sweetest, +truest little voice; and by the time she was eight or nine, +she had learned both to write and read, though M. Linders took +care that her range of literature should be limited, and +chiefly confined to books of fairy-tales, in which no examples +drawn from real life could be found, to correct and confuse +the single-sided views she received from him. This was almost +the extent of her learning, but she picked up all sorts of odd +bits of information, in the queer mixed society which M. +Linders seemed everywhere to gather round him, and which +appeared to consist of waifs and strays from every grade of +society--from reckless young English milords, Russian princes, +and Polish counts, soi-disant, down to German students and +penniless artists. + +It was, no doubt, fortunate, even at this early age, that +Madelon's little pale face, with its wide-open brown eyes, had +none of the prettiness belonging to the rosy-cheeked, blue- +eyed, golden-haired type of beauty, and that she thus escaped +a world of flattery and nonsense. She was silent too in +company, as a rule, keeping her chatter and laughter, for the +most part, till she was alone with her father, and content +sometimes to sit as quiet as a mouse for a whole evening, +watching what was going on around her; she was too much +accustomed to strangers ever to feel shy with them, but she +cared little for them, unless, as in Horace Graham's case, +they happened to take her fancy. + +It must no be imagined, however, that M. Linders was quite +without conscience as regarded his child; there were some +people with whom he took care that she should not associate, +some society into which he never took her. Many an evening did +Madelon spend happily enough while her father was out, in the +snug little parlours of the hotels, where Madame, the +landlady, would be doing up her accounts perhaps, and +Monsieur, the landlord, reposing after the exertions of the +day; whilst Mademoiselle Madelon, seated at the table, would +build card-houses, or play at dominoes, and eat galette and +confitures to her heart's content. Here, too, she would get +queer little glimpses into life--hearing very likely how +Monsieur B. had made off without paying his bill, or how those +trunks that Madame la Comtesse C. had left eighteen months +ago, as a pledge of her return, had been opened at last, and +been found to contain but old clothes, fit for the rag-market; +how a few francs might be advantageously added on here and +there in the bill for the rich English family at the _premier;_ +how the gentleman known as No. 5 was looked upon as a +suspicious character; and how Pierre the waiter had been set +to watch the door of No. 8, who had spent three months in the +house without paying a sou, and was daily suspected of +attempting to abscond. All these, and a dozen similar stories, +and half the gossip of the town, would come buzzing round +Madelon's ears as she sat gravely balancing one card one the +top of the other. She heard and comprehended them with such +comprehension as was in her; and no doubt they modified in +some degree her childish views of life, which in these early +days was presented to her, poor child! under no very sublime +or elevated aspect; but they had little interest for her, and +she paid small heed to them. In truth, her passionate love for +her father was, no doubt, at this time her great preservative +and safeguard, ennobling her, as every pure unselfish passion +must ennoble, and by absorbing her thoughts and heart, acting +as a charm against many an unworthy influence around her. The +first sound of his footstep outside was enough to put both +stories and gossip out of her head, and was the signal for her +to spring from her chair, and rush into the passage to meet +him; and a few minutes after they would be seated together in +their room upstairs, she nestling on his knee most likely, +with her arm tight round his neck, while he recounted the +adventures of the evening. His purse would be brought out, and +it was Madelon's special privilege and treat to pour out the +contents on the table and count them over. If M. Linders had +won it was a little fête for both--calculations as to how it +should be spent, where they should go the next day, what new +toy, or frock, or trinket should be bought; if he had lost, +there would be a moment of discouragement perhaps, and then +Madelon would say, + +"It does not signify, papa, does it?--you will win to-morrow, +you know." + +As for M. Linders, the thought of the little, eager innocent +face that would greet his return home was the brightest and +purest vision that lighted his dark and wayward life, and he +appealed to his child's sympathy and encouragement in a way +that had something touching in it, showing as it did the +gentler side of a man who was always reckless, and could be +hard and merciless enough sometimes; but he was never anything +but tender with his little Madelon, and one can fancy the two +sitting together, as she counts over the little gold pieces +shining in the candlelight. Once, not long after his marriage, +he had appealed to his wife in the same way, when, after an +unusual run of luck, he had returned in triumph with his +winnings. She, poor girl, looked first at them and then at +him, with a piteous little attempt at a smile; then suddenly +burst into tears, and turned away. It was the first and last +time he tried to win her sympathy in these matters, and was, +perhaps, the beginning of the sort of estrangement that grew +up between them. + +These were happy evenings, Madelon thought, but she found +those happier still when her father was at home, generally +with one or two men who would come in to play cards with him. +They were always good-natured and kind to the little girl who +sat so still and close to her father's side, watching the game +with her quick, intelligent eyes; though some of them, foolish +smooth-faced lads, perhaps, would go away cursing the fate +that had ever led them across M. Linders' path, and carrying +an undying hatred in their hearts for the handsome courteous +man who had enticed them on to ruin. How M. Linders lured +these poor birds into the snare, and by what means he plucked +them when there, Madelon never knew; all that belonged to the +darker side of this character, which she never fully +understood, and on which, for her sake, we will not dwell. + +Most of all, however, did Madelon enjoy being at the German +watering-places, for then she went out with her father +constantly. The fair-haired, brown-eyed little girl was almost +as well-known in the Kursaals of Homburg and Wiesbaden as the +famous gambler himself, as evening after evening they entered +the great lighted salons together, and took their places +amongst the motley crowd gathered round the long green tables. +There she would remain contented for hours, sometimes sitting +on his knee, sometimes herself staking a florin or two--"to +change the luck," M. Linders would say laughingly,--sometimes +wearied out, curled up fast asleep in a corner of one of the +sofas. Then there were the theatres, to which her father often +took her, and where, with delighted, wondering eyes, she made +acquaintance with most of the best operas and learnt to sing +half Bellini's and Weber's music in her clear little voice. +More than once, too, she was taken behind the scenes, where +she saw so much of the mysteries of stage-working and +carpentering as would have destroyed the illusions of an older +person; but it did not make much difference to her; the next +time she found herself in the stalls or balcony she forget all +about what was going on behind, and was as much enchanted as +ever with the fine results prepared for the public gaze. + +On other nights there would be the balls, always a supreme +enjoyment. It must be owned that Madelon took great pleasure +in seeing her small person arrayed in a smart frock; and she +was never weary of admiring the big rooms with their gilded +furniture, and mirrors, and brilliant lights, and polished +floors, where a crowd of gay people would be twirling about to +the sound of the music. She danced like a little fairy, too, +with pure delight in the mere motion, was never tired, and +rarely sat down; for Mademoiselle, who generally held herself +rather aloof from strangers, would be pleased on these +occasions to put on a little winning graciousness, giving her +hand with the air of a small princess to any one soliciting +the honour of a dance; and she was seldom without some tall +partner, attracted by her _gentillesse_ and naïve prattle--a +moustached Austrian or Prussian officer, perhaps, in white or +blue uniform, or one of her counts or barons, with a bit of +ribbon dangling from his button-hole; or, if all else failed, +there was always her father, who was ever ready to indulge her +in any of her fancies, and never resisted her coaxing pleading +for one more dance. + +These were the evenings; for the days there were pleasures +enough too, though of a simpler kind, and more profitable, +perhaps, for our poor little Madelon, in her gay unconscious +dance through that mad Vanity Fair, innocent though it was for +her as yet. + +Except on some special emergency, M. Linders rarely went to +the gambling tables during the day. He had a theory that +daylight was prejudicial to his prosperity, and that it was +only at night that he could play there with any fair chance of +success; but he not unfrequently had other business of a +similar nature on hand to occupy his mornings and afternoons; +and when he was engaged or absent, Madelon, with the happy +adaptability of a solitary child, had no difficulty in amusing +herself alone with her toys, and picture-books, and dolls. At +other times, when her father was at leisure, there would be +walks with him, long afternoons spent in the gay Kursaal +gardens, listening to the bands of music; and on idle days, +which with M. Linders were neither few nor far between, +excursions perhaps into the country, sometimes the two alone, +but more frequently accompanied by one or two of M. Linders' +companions. There they would dine at some rustic Gasthof, and +afterwards, whilst her father and his friends smoked, drank +their Rhine wine, and brought out the inevitable cards and +dice in the shady, vine-trellised garden, Madelon, wandering +about here and there, in and out, through yard and court, and +garden and kitchen, poking her small nose everywhere, gained +much primary information on many subjects, from the growing of +cabbages to the making sauerkraut--from the laying of eggs by +ever-hopeful hens, to their final fulfilment of a ruthless +destiny in a frying-pan. In return, she was not unwilling to +impart to the good Hausfrau, and her troop of little ones and +retainers, many details concerning her town life; and might +sometimes be found, perched on the kitchen table, relating +long histories to an admiring audience, in which the blue silk +frocks and tall partners made no small figure, one may be +sure. + +It was a golden childhood. Even in after years, when, reading +the history of these early days in a new light, she suffered a +pang for almost every pleasure she had then enjoyed, even then +Madelon maintained that her childhood had been one of +unclouded happiness, such as few children know. The sudden +changes of fortune, from splendour to poverty of the shabbiest +description, the reckless, dishonest expenditure, and the +endless debts consequent on it; the means--doubtful to say the +least of them--employed by M. Linders for procuring money; the +sense of alienation from all that is best, and noblest, and +truest in life;--all these, which had gone far to make up the +sum of her mother's misery, affected our Madelon hardly at +all. Some of them she did not know of; the rest she took as a +matter of course. In truth, it mattered little to her whether +they lived in a big hotel or a little one; whether the debts +were paid or unpaid; whether money were forthcoming or not; +she never felt the want of it, we may be sure. If she did not +have some promised fête or amusement on one day, it was +certain to come on another; and even the one or two occasions +on which M. Linders, absolutely unable to leave an hotel until +he had paid part of what he owed there, had been obliged to +confiscate everything, caused her no uneasiness. The next +week, very likely, she had other trinkets and knick-knacks, +newer and prettier; and indeed, so long as she had her father, +she cared for little else. In any small childish misfortune or +ailment she had but to run to him to find help, and sympathy, +and caresses; and she had no grief or care in these first +years for which these were not a sufficient remedy. + +Amidst all the miserable failures, and more unworthy successes +of a wasted life, M. Linders gained at least one legitimate +triumph, when he won his child's undying love and gratitude. +All her life long, one may fancy, would Madelon cherish the +remembrance of his unceasing tenderness, of his unwearying +love for his little girl, which showed itself in a thousand +different ways, and which, with one warm, loving little heart, +at any rate, would ever go far to cover a multitude of sins. +The only drawback to her perfect content in these early days +was the presence of her uncle Charles, whom she could not +bear, and who, for his part, looked upon her as a mere +encumbrance, and her being with them at all as a piece of +fatuity on the part of his brother-in-law. There were constant +skirmishes between them while they were together; but even +these ceased after a time, for Moore, who, ever since his +sister's marriage, had clung fitfully to M. Linders, as a +luckier and more prosperous man than himself, was accustomed +to be absent on his own account for months together, and +during one of these solitary journeys he died, about two years +after Horace Graham had seen him at Chaudfontaine. Henceforth +Madelon and her father were alone. + +Madelon, then, by the time she was eight years old, had learnt +to sing, dance, speak several languages, to write, to play +_rouge et noir_, and _roulette_, and indeed _piquet_ and _écarté_, +too, to great perfection, and to read books of fairy tales. At +ten years old, her education was still at the same point; and +it must be owned that, however varied and sufficient for the +purposes of the moment, it left open a wide field for labour +in the future years; though M. Linders appeared perfectly +satisfied with the results of his teaching so far, and showed +no particular desire to enlarge her ideas upon any point. As +for religion, no wild Arab of our London streets ever knew or +heard less about it than did our little Madelon; or was left +more utterly uninstructed in its simplest truths and dogmas. +What M. Linders' religious beliefs were, or whether he had any +at all, we need not inquire. He at least took care that none +should be instilled into his child's mind; feeling, probably, +that under whatever form they were presented to her, they +would assuredly clash sooner or later with his peculiar system +of education. For himself, his opinions on such matters were +expressed when occasion arose, only in certain unvarying and +vehement declamations against priests and nuns--the latter +particularly, where his general sense of aversion to a class +in the abstract, became specific and definite, when he looked +upon that class as represented in the person of his sister +Thérèse. + +Of the outward forms and ceremonies of religion Madelon could +not, indeed, remain entirely ignorant, living constantly, as +she did, in Roman Catholic countries; but her very familiarity +with these from her babyhood robbed them in great measure of +the interest they might otherwise have excited in her mind, +and their significance she was never taught to understand. As +a rule, a child must have its attention drawn in some +particular way to its everyday surroundings, or they must +strike it in some new and unfamiliar light, before they rouse +more than a passing curiosity; and though Madelon would +sometimes question her father as to the meaning and intention +of this or that procession passing along the streets, he found +no difficulty in putting her off with vague answers. It was a +wedding or a funeral, he would say, or connected with some +other ordinary event, which Madelon knew to be of daily +recurrence; though none such had as yet had part in the +economy of her small world; and priests, and nuns, and monks +became classed, without difficulty, in her mind, with doctors +and soldiers, and the mass of people generally, who made money +in a different way from her father, with whom, therefore, she +seldom came into personal contact, and with whom she had +little to do--money making being still her one idea of the aim +and business of life. + +The first time, however, that she ever entered a church, when +she was little more than nine years old, was an experience in +her life, and this was the occasion of it. It was in a French +provincial town, where M. Linders had stopped for a day on +business--only for one day, but that Madelon was to spend for +the most part alone; for her father, occupied with his +affairs, was obliged to go out very early, and leave her to +her own devices; and very dull she found them, after the first +hour or two. She was a child of many resources, it is true, +but these will come to an end when a little girl of nine years +old, with books and dolls all packed up, has to amuse herself +for ever so many hours in a dull country hotel, an hotel, too, +which was quite strange to her, and where she could not, +therefore, fall back upon the society and conversation of a +friendly landlady. Madelon wandered upstairs and downstairs, +looked out of all the windows she could get at, and at last +stood leaning against the hall-door, which opened on to the +front courtyard. It was very quiet and very dull, nothing +moving anywhere; no one crossed the square, sunny space, paved +with little stones, and adorned with the usual round-topped +trees, in green boxes. Inside the house there was an +occasional clatter of plates and dishes, or the resonant nasal +cry of "Auguste," or "Henri," from one or other of the +servants, but that was all. Madelon found it too tiresome; the +_porte-cochère_ stood half open, she crossed the courtyard and +peeped out. She saw a quiet, sunny street, with not much more +life or movement than there was within, but still a little +better. Over the high walls surrounding the houses opposite +green trees were waving; at one end of the street there was +the gleam of a river, a bridge, and a row of poplars; the +other end she could not see, for the street made a bend, and a +fountain with dribbling water filled up the angle. Presently a +little boy in a blue blouse, and a little girl with a tight +round white cap, came up to the stone basin, each with a +pitcher to fill; they were a long time about it, for what +would be pleasanter, on this hot summer morning, than to stand +dabbling one's fingers in the cool water? Madelon watched them +till she became possessed with an irresistible desire to do +the same. It was only a few steps off, and though she was +strictly forbidden by her father ever to go out alone, still-- +she had so seldom an opportunity of being naughty, that her +present consciousness of disobedience rather added, perhaps, +to the zest of the adventure. She would go just for this once-- +and in another moment she was out in the street. The little +boy and girl fled with full pitchers as she came up to the +fountain, suddenly awakened to a sense of the waste of time in +which they had been indulging; but that made no difference to +Madelon; she stood gazing with mute admiration at the open- +mouthed monsters, from whose wide jaws the water trickled into +the basin below; and then she held her hands to catch the +drops till they were quite cold, and thought it the best play +she had ever known. By-the-by, however, she began to look +about her in search of further excitement, and, emboldened by +success, turned the corner of the street, and ventured out of +sight of the hotel. On one side large _portes-cochères_ at +intervals, shutting in the white, green-shuttered houses, that +appeared beyond; on the other a long, high, blank wall, with +nothing to be seen above it, and one small arched doorway +about half-way down. This was the shady side; and Madelon, +crossing over to it, arrived at the arched door, and stood for +a moment contemplating it, wondering what could be inside. + +She was not left long in doubt, for two priests crossed the +road, and pushed open the door, without seeing the child, who, +urged by a spirit of curiosity, crept unnoticed after them, +and suddenly found herself in a cloister, running round a +quadrangle, on one side of which rose the walls and spires and +buttresses of a great church; in the centre a carefully kept +space of smooth grass. Madelon stood for a moment motionless +with delight; it reminded her of a scene in some opera or play +to which she had been in Paris with her father, but, oh! how +much more beautiful, and all real! The sunlight streamed +through the tracery of the cloisters, and fell chequered with +sharp shadows on the pavement; the bright blue sky was crossed +with pinnacles and spires, and there was an echo of music from +the church which lured her on. The two priests walked quickly +along, she followed, and all three entered the building by a +side door together. + +A vast, dim church, with long aisles and lofty pillars, which +seemed to Madeleine's unpractised eye, fresh from the outer +glare, to vanish in infinite mysterious gloom; a blaze of +light, at the far-off high altar, with its priests, and +incense, and gorgeous garments and tall candles; on every side +shrines and tapers, and pictures, awful, agonised, +compassionate Saviours, sad, tender Madonnas; a great silent +multitude of kneeling people, and, above all, the organ +peeling out, wave after wave of sound, which seemed to strike +her, surround her, thrill her with a sense of--what? What was +it all? What did it all mean? An awful instinct suddenly woke +in the child's heart, painfully struggling with inarticulate +cries, as it were, to make itself understood, even to herself. +Wholly inarticulate, for she had been taught no words that +could express, however feebly, these vague yearnings, these +unutterable longings, suddenly stirring in her heart. This +wonderful, solemn music, this place, so strange, so separate +from any other she had known, what was it? what did it all +mean? Ah, yes, what did it all mean? A little girl, no older +than herself, who knelt close by the door, with careless eyes +that roamed everywhere, and stared wondering at Madelon's +cotton frock and rough uncovered little head, could have +explained it all very well; she had a fine gilt prayer-book in +her hand, and knew most of her Catechism, and could have +related the history of all the saints in the church; she did +not find it at all impressive, though she liked coming well +enough on these grand fête-days, when everyone wore their best +clothes, and she could put on her very newest frock. But our +little stray Madelon, who knew of none of all these things, +could find nothing better to do at last than to creep into a +dark corner, between a side chapel and a confessional, crouch +down, and begin to sob with all her heart. + +Presently the music ceased, and the people went pouring out of +the great doors of the church. Madelon, roused by the movement +around her, looked up, dried her eyes, and came out of her +corner; then, following the stream, found herself once more +outside, not in the cloister by the door of which she had +entered, but at the top of a wide flight of steps, leading +down to a large sunny Place, surrounded with houses, where a +fair was going on. She was fairly bewildered; she had never +been in the town before, and though, in fact, not very far +from the hotel where she was staying, she felt completely +lost. + +As she stood still for a moment, in the midst of the +dispersing crowd, looking scared and dazed enough very likely, +she once more attracted the attention of the little girl who +had been kneeling near her in the church, and who now pointed +her out to her parents, good, substantial-looking bourgeois. + +"_Comme elle a l'air drôle_," said the child, "with her hair all +rough, and that old cotton frock!" + +"She looks as if she had lost someone," says the kindly +mother. "I will ask her." + +"No, she had not lost anyone," Madelon said, in answer to her +inquiries, "but she did not know where she was; could Madame +tell her the way to the Hôtel de l'Aigle d'Or?" + +"It is quite near," Madame answered; "we are going that way; +if you like to come with us, we will show it to you." + +So Madelon followed the three down the broad steps, and out +into the Place, where she looked a queer figure enough, +perhaps, in the midst of all the gay holiday-folk who were +gathered round the booths and stalls. She did not concern +herself about that, however, for her mind was still full of +what she had seen and heard in the church; and she walked on +silently, till presently Madame, with some natural curiosity +as to this small waif and stray she had picked up, said, "Are +you staying at the hotel, _ma petite?_" + +"Yes," answered Madelon, "we came there last night." + +"And how was it you went to church all alone?" + +"Papa had to go out," says Madelon, getting rather red and +confused, "and I was so dull by myself, and I--I went out into +the street, and got into the church by a little door at the +side--not that other one we came out at just now; so I did not +know where I was, nor the way back again." + +"Then you are a stranger here, and have never been to the +church before?" said Monsieur. + +"No," said Madelon; and then, full of her own ideas, she asked +abruptly--"what was everyone doing in there?" + +"In there!--in the church, do you mean?" + +"Yes, in the church--what was everyone doing?" + +"But do you not know, then," said the mother, "that it is to- +day a great fête--the fête of the Assumption?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I did not know. Was that why so many +people were there? What were they doing?" she persisted. + +"How do you mean?--do you not go the _messe_ every Sunday?" said +Madame, surprised. + +"To the _messe!_" answered Madelon--"what is that? I never was in +a church before." + +"Never in a church before!" echoed a chorus of three +astonished voices, while Monsieur added--"Never in this church, +you mean." + +"No," answered Madelon, "it is the first time I ever went into +a church at all." + +"But, _mon enfant_," said the mother, "you are big enough to +have gone to church long before this. Why, you must be eight +or nine years old, and Nanette here went to the _grand' messe_ +before she was five--did you not, Nanette?" + +"Yes," says Nanette, with a further sense of superiority added +to that already induced by the contrast of her new white +muslin frock with Madelon's somewhat limp exterior. + +"And never missed it for a single Sunday of fête-day since," +continued Madame, "except last year, when she had the +measles." + +"Do you go there every Sunday?" asked Madelon of the child. + +"Yes, every Sunday and fête-days. Would you like to see my new +Paroissien? My god-father gave it to me on my last birthday." + +"And is it always like to-day, with all the singing, and +music, and people?" + +"Yes, always the same, only not always quite so grand, you +know, because to-day is a great fête. Why don't you go to +church always?" + +"She is perhaps a little Protestant," suggested the father, +"and goes to the Temple. Is that not it, my child?" + +"I do not know," said Madelon, bewildered; "I never went to +any Temple, and I never heard of Protestants. Papa never took +me to church; but then we do not live here, you know." + +"But in other churches it is the same--everywhere," cries +Madame. + +"What, in all the big churches in Paris, and everywhere?" said +Madelon. "I did not know; I never went into them, but I will +ask papa to take me there now." Then, recurring to her first +difficulty, she repeated, "But what do people go there for?" + +"Mais--pour prier le bon Dieu!" said the good man. + +"I do not understand," said Madelon, despairingly. "What does +that mean? What were the music and the lights for, and what +were all the pictures about?" + +"But is it, then, possible, _ma petite_, that you have had no +one to teach you all these things? And on Sundays, what do you +do then?" said the mother, while Nanette stared more and more +at Madelon, with round eyes. + +"We generally go into the country on Sundays," said Madelon. +"Papa never goes to church, I am sure, or he would have taken +me. I will ask him to let me go again--I like it very much." It +was at this moment that they turned into the street in which +stood the hotel. "Ah! there is papa," cried Madelon, rushing +forward as she saw him coming towards them, and springing into +his arms. He had returned to the hotel for a late _déjeuner_, +and was in terrible dismay when Madelon, being sought for, was +nowhere to be found. One of the waiters said he had seen her +run out of the courtyard, and M. Linders was just going out to +look for her. + +"_Mon Dieu!_ Madelon," he cried, "where, then, have you been?" + +"I ran out, papa," said Madelon, abashed. "I am very sorry--I +will not do it again. I lost myself, but Monsieur and Madame +here showed me the way back." + +Her friendly guides stood watching the two for a moment, as, +after a thousand thanks and acknowledgments, they entered the +hotel together. + +"It is singular," said Madame; "he is handsome, and looks like +a gentleman. How can anyone bring up a little child like that +in such ignorance? She can have no mother, _pauvre petite!_" + +"What an odd little girl, Maman," cried Nanette, "never to +have been to church before, and not to know why people go!" + +"_Chut_, Nanette!" said her father. "Thou also woudst have known +nothing, unless some good friends had taught thee." And so +these kindly people went their way. + +Madelon, meanwhile, was relating all her adventures to her +father. He was too rejoiced at having found her again to scold +her for running away; but he was greatly put out, +nevertheless, as he listened to her little history. Here, +then, was en emergency, such as he had dimly foreseen, and +done much to avoid, which yet had come upon him unawares, +without fault of his, and which he was quite unprepared to +meet. He did not, indeed, fully understand its importance, nor +all that was passing in his child's mind; but he did perceive +that she had caught a glimpse through doors he had vainly +tried to keep closed to her, and that that one glance had so +aroused her curiosity and interest, that it would be less easy +than usual to satisfy her. + +"Why do you never go to church, papa?" she was asking. "Why do +you not take me? It was so beautiful, and there were such +numbers of people. Why do we not go?" + +"I don't care about it myself," he answered, at last, "but you +shall go again some day, _ma petite_, if you like it so much." + +"May I?" said Madelon. "And will you take me, papa? What makes +so many people go? Madame said they went every Sunday and _fête_ +day." + +"I suppose they like it," answered M. Linders. "Some people go +every day, and all day long--nuns, for instance, who have +nothing else to do." + +"It is, then, when people have nothing else to do that they +go?" asked Madelon, misunderstanding him, with much +simplicity. + +"Something like it," answered M. Linders, rather grimly; then, +with a momentary compunction, added, "Not precisely. They do +it also, I suppose, because they think it right." + +"And do you not think it right, papa? Why should they? I have +seen people coming out of church before, but I never knew what +it was like inside. I _may_ go again some day?" + +"When you are older, my child, I will take you again, +perhaps." + +"But that little girl Nanette, papa, was only five years old +when she went first, her mother said, and I have never been at +all," said Madelon, feeling rather aggrieved. + +"Well, when we go to Florence next winter, Madelon, you shall +visit all the churches. They are much more splendid than +these, and have the most beautiful pictures, which I should +like you to see." + +"And will there be music, and lights, and flowers there, the +same as here, papa?" + +"Oh! for that, it is much the same everywhere," replied M. +Linders. "People are much alike all the world over, as you +will find, Madelon. Priests, and mummery, and a gaping crowd, +to stare and say, 'How wonderful! how beautiful!' as you do +now, _ma petite;_ but you shall know better some day." + +He spoke with a certain bitterness that Madelon did not +understand, any more than she did his little speech; but it +silenced her for a moment, and then she said more timidly, + +"But, papa----" + +"Well, Madelon!" + +"But, papa, he said--_ce Monsieur_--he said that people go to +church _pour prier le bon Dieu_. What did he mean? We often say +'_Mon Dieu_,' and I have heard them talk of _le bon Dieu;_ is that +the same? Who is He then--_le bon Dieu?_" + +M. Linders did not at once reply. Madelon was looking up into +his face with wide-open perplexed eyes, frowning a little with +an unusual effort of thought, with the endeavour to penetrate +a momentary mystery, which she instinctively felt lay +somewhere, and which she looked to him to explain; and he +_could_ not give her a careless, mocking answer; he sat staring +blankly at her for a few seconds, and then said slowly, + +"I cannot tell you." + +"Do you not know, papa?" + +"Yes, yes, certainly I know," he answered hastily, and with +some annoyance; "but--in short, Madelon, you are too young to +trouble your head about these things; you cannot understand +them possibly; when you are older you shall have them +explained to you." + +"When, papa?" + +"Oh, I don't know--one of these days, when you are a great +girl, grown up." + +"And you can't tell me now?" said Madelon, a little wistfully; +"but you will let me go to the church again before that? Oh, +indeed it was beautiful, with the lights, and the singing, and +the music. Do you know, papa, it made me cry," she added, in a +half whisper. + +"_Vraiment!_" said M. Linders, with some contempt in his voice, +and a slight, involuntary shrug of the shoulders. + +The contempt was for a class of emotion with which he had no +sympathy, and for that which he imagined had called it forth; +not for his little Madelon, nor for her expression of it. But +the child shrank back, blushing scarlet. He saw his mistake, +perhaps, for he drew her towards him again, and with a tender +caress and word tried to turn her thoughts in another +direction; but it was too late; the impression had been made, +and could never again be effaced. All unconsciously, with that +one inadvertent word, M. Linders had raised the first slight +barrier between himself and his child, had given the first +shock to that confidence which he had fondly hoped was ever to +exist undisturbed between them. In the most sacred hour her +short life had yet known, Madeleine had appealed to him for +help and sympathy, and she had been repulsed without finding +either. She did not indeed view it in that light, nor believe +in and love him the less; she only thought she must have been +foolish; but she took well to heart the lesson that she should +henceforth keep such folly to herself--as far as he was +concerned, at any rate. + +As for M. Linders, this little conversation left him alarmed, +perplexed, uneasy. What if, after all, this small being whom +he had proposed to identify, as it were, with himself, by +teaching her to see with his eyes, to apprehend with his +understanding, what if she were beginning to develop an +independent soul, to have thoughts, notions, ideas of her own, +perhaps, to look out into life with eager eyes that would +penetrate beyond the narrow horizon it had pleased him to fix +as her range of vision, to ask questions whose answers might +lead to awkward conclusions? For the moment it seemed to him +that his whole system of education, which had worked so well +hitherto, was beginning to totter, ready at any time, it might +be, to fall into ruins, leaving him and his child vainly +calling to each other across an ever-widening, impassable +gulf. Already he foresaw as possible results all that he had +most wished to avoid, and felt himself powerless to avert +them; for, however ready to alienate her from good influences, +and expose her to bad ones, he yet shrank from inculcating +falsehood and wrong by precept. With a boy it would have been +different, and he might have had little hesitation in bringing +him up, by both precept and example, in the way he was to go; +but with his little innocent woman-child--no, it was +impossible. She must be left to the silent and negative +teachings of surrounding influences, and in ignorance of all +others; and what if these should fail? Perhaps he over- +estimated the immediate danger, not taking sufficiently into +account the strength and loyalty of her affection for him; +but, on the other hand, he perhaps undervalued the depth and +force of those feelings to the consciousness of which she had +first been roused that day. "It shall not occur again, and in +time she will forget all about it," was his first conclusion. +His second was perhaps wiser in his generation, taking into +consideration a wider range of probabilities. "No," he +reflected, "there has been an error somewhere. I should have +accustomed Madelon to all these things, and then she would +have thought nothing of them. Well, that shall be remedied, +for she shall go to every church in Florence, and so get used +to them." + + +CHAPTER VI. + +At Florence. + + +If we have dwelt with disproportionate detail on the above +little incident, we must be forgiven in consideration of its +real importance to our Madeleine, marking, as it did, the +commencement of a new era in her life. The sudden inspiration +that had kindled for a moment in the great church died away, +indeed, as newer impressions more imperatively claimed her +attention; but the memory of it remained as a starting point +to which any similar sensations subsequently recurring might +be referred, as a phenomenon which seemed to contain within +itself the germ and possible explanation of a thousand vague +aspirations, yearnings which began about this time to spring +up in her mind, and which almost unconsciously linked +themselves with that solemn hour the remembrance of which, +after her conversation with her father, she had set apart in +her own heart, to be pondered on from time to time, but in +silence,--a reticence too natural and legitimate not to be +followed by a hundred others of a similar kind. + +M. Linders, for reasons of his own, with which we need not +concern ourselves here, spent the following autumn and winter +in Florence, establishing himself in an apartment for the +season, contrary to his usual practice of living in hotels; +and this was how it happened that Madelon made two friends who +introduced quite a new element into her life, one which, under +other circumstances, might hardly have entered into it as a +principle of education at all. The rooms M. Linders had taken +were on the third floor of a large palazzo with many +occupants, where a hundred feet daily passed up and down the +common staircase, the number of steps they had to tread +increasing for the most part in direct proportion to their +descent in the social grade which, with sufficiently imposing +representatives on the first floor, reached its minimum, in +point of wealth and station, in the fifth storey garret. On +the same floor as Madelon and her father, but on the opposite +side of the corridor, lived an American artist; and M. Linders +had not been a week in the house before he recognized in him +an ancient _confrère_ of his old Parisian artist days, who, +after many wanderings to and fro on the earth, had finally +settled himself in Florence. The old intimacy was renewed +without difficulty on either side. M. Linders was made free of +the American's _atelier_, and he, for his part, willingly smoked +his pipe of an evening in the Frenchman's little salon. He was +a great black-bearded yellow-faced fellow, with a certain +careless joviality about him, that made him popular, though +leading a not very respectable life; always extravagant, +always in debt, and not averse to a little gambling and +betting when they came in his way. He was a sufficiently +congenial spirit for M. Linders to associate with freely; but +he was kind-hearted, honourable after his own fashion, and had +redeeming points in an honest enthusiasm, in a profound +conviction of the grand possibilities of life in general, and +of his art in particular. He was no great artist, and his +business consisted mainly in making copies of well-known +pictures, which he did with great skill, so that they always +commanded a ready sale in the Florence market. But he also +painted a variety of original subjects; and, in unambitious +moments, occasionally surprised himself by producing some +charming little picture which encouraged him to persevere in +this branch of his art. + +This man took a great fancy to Madelon, in the first instance +from hearing how prettily and deftly she spoke English; and +she, after holding herself aloof in dignified reserve for +three days from this new acquaintance, was suddenly won over +in a visit to his _atelier_, which henceforth became to her a +sort of wonderland, a treasure domain, where she might come +and go as she pleased, and where, from beneath much +accumulated dust, persevering fingers might extract inimagined +prizes, in the shape of sketches, drawings, plaster casts, +prints, and divers queer possessions of different kinds. After +this, she soon became fast friends with the American, who was +very kind and good-natured to her, and M. Linders' promise +that she should see all the churches in Florence was fulfilled +by the artist. He took her to visit both them and the +galleries, showed her the famous pictures, and told her the +names of their painters; and the genuine reverence with which +he gazed on them, his ever-fresh enjoyment and appreciation of +them, impressed her, child as she was, far more than any mere +expressions of admiration or technical explanations of their +merits would have done. + +Sometimes, if she accompanied him to any of the churches where +he happened to be copying a picture, he would leave her to +wander about alone, and they were strange weird hours that she +spent in this way. She did not indeed again assist at any of +the great church ceremonies, but the silent spaces of these +chill, grand, solemn interiors impressed her scarcely less +with a sense of mysterious awe. Tapers twinkled in dim side +chapels, pictures and mosaics looked down on her from above, +rare footsteps echoed along the marble pavements, silent +figures knelt about here and there, pillars, marbles, statues +gleamed, and heavy doors and curtains shut in the shadowy, +echoing, silent place from the sunshine, and blue sky, and +many coloured life without. Madelon, wandering about in the +gloom, gliding softly into every nook and corner, gazing at +tombs and decorated altars and pictures, wondered more and +more at this strange new world in which she found herself, and +which she had no one to interpret to her. It had a mysterious +attraction for her, as nothing had ever had before; and yet it +was almost a relief at last to escape again into the warm, +sunny out-of-door life, to walk home with the painter through +the bright narrow streets, listening to his gay careless talk, +and lingering, perhaps, at some stall, in the busy market- +place, to buy grapes and figs; and then to take a walk with +her father into the country, where roses nodded at her over +garden walls, and vines were yellowing beneath the autumn sky. +Her sensitive perception of beauty and grandeur was so much +greater than her power of grasping and comprehending them, +that her poor little mind became oppressed and bewildered by +the disproportion between the vividness with which she +received new impressions, and her ability for seizing their +meaning. + +The pictures themselves, which, before long, she learnt to +delight in, and even in some sort to appreciate, were a +perpetual source of perplexity to her in the unknown subjects +they represented. Her want of knowledge in such matters was so +complete that her American friend, who, no doubt, took it for +granted that she had been brought up in the religion of the +country, never even guessed at it, not imagining that a child +could remain so utterly uninstructed in the simple facts and +histories; and, somehow, Madelon divined this, and began to +have a shy reluctance in asking questions which would betray +an unsuspected ignorance. "This is such or such a Madonna," +the artist would say; "there you see St. Elizabeth, and that +is St. John the Baptist, you know." Or he would point out St. +Agnes, or St. Cecilia, or St. Catherine, as the case might be. + +"Who was St. Catherine?" Madelon ventured to ask one day. + +"Did you never hear of her?" he answered. "Well then, I will +tell you all about her. There were, in fact, two St. +Catherines, but this one here, who, you see, has a wheel, +lived long before the other. There once dwelt in Alexandria a +lovely and accomplished maiden--" And he would no doubt have +related to her the whole of the beautiful old mystical legend; +but her father, who happened to be with them that day, +interrupted him. + +"Don't stuff the child's head with that nonsense," he said, +and, perhaps, afterwards gave his friend a hint; for Madelon +heard no more about the saints, and was left to puzzle out +meanings and stories for the pictures for herself--and queer +enough ones she often made, very likely. On the other hand, +the American, who liked to talk to her in his own tongue, and +to make her chatter to him in return, would tell her many a +story of the old master painters, of Cimabue and the boy +Giotto, of Lionardo da Vinci, and half a dozen others; old, +old tales of the days when, as we sometimes fancy, looking +back through the mist of centuries, there were giants on the +earth, but all new and fresh to our little Madelon, and with a +touch or romance and poetry about them as told by the +enthusiastic artist, which readily seized her imagination; +indeed he himself, with his black velvet cap, and short pipe, +and old coat, became somehow ennobled and idealised in her +simple mind by his association through his art with the mighty +men he was teaching her to reverence. + +Madelon spent much of her time in the painter's _atelier_, for +her father took it into his head this winter to try his hand +once more at his long-neglected art, and, armed with brushes +and palette, passed many of his leisure hours in his friend's +society. We cannot accredit M. Linders with any profound +penetration, or with any subtle perception of what was working +in his little daughter's mind, but with the most far-reaching +wisdom he could hardly have devised better means, at this +crisis in her life, for maintaining his old hold upon her, and +keeping up the sense of sympathy between them, which had in +one instance been disturbed and endangered. + +She was just beginning to be conscious of the existence of a +new and glorious world, where money-making was, on the whole, +in abeyance, and roulette-tables and croupiers had apparently +no existence at all; and the sight of her father at his easel +day after day, at once connected him with it, as it were, +since he also could produce pictures--_tout comme un autre_. Then +M. Linders could talk well on most subjects, and in the +discussions that the two men would not unfrequently hold +concerning pictures, Madelon was too young, and had too strong +a conviction of her father's perfect wisdom, to discern +between his mere clever knowledge of art and the American's +pure love and enthusiasm; or if, with some instinctive sense +of the difference, she turned more readily to the latter for +information, that was because it was his _métier;_ whereas with +papa----Oh! with papa it was only an amusement; his business was +of quite another kind. + +The American amused himself by painting Madelon more than +once; and she made a famous little model, sitting still and +patiently for hours to him and to her father, who had a knack +of producing any number of little, affected, meretricious +pictures, in the worst possible style and taste. Years +afterwards, Madelon revisited the studio, where the black- +bearded friendly American, grown a little bent and a little +grey, was still stepping backwards and forwards before the +same easel standing in the old place; orange and pomegranate +trees still bloomed in the windows; footsteps still passed up +and down the long corridor outside where her light childish +ones had so often echoed; the old properties hung about on the +walls; and there, amongst dusty rolls piled up in a corner, +Madelon came upon more than one portrait of herself, a pale- +faced, curly-headed child, who looked out at her from the +canvas with wistful brown eyes that seemed full of the +thoughts that at that time had begun to agitate her poor +little brain. How the sight of them brought back the old +vanished days! How it stirred within her sudden tender +recollections of the quiet hours when, dressed out in some +quaint head-gear, or _contadina_ costume, or merely in her own +everyday frock, she had sat perched up on a high stool, or on +a pile of boxes, dreaming to herself, or listening to the talk +between the two men. + +"That man is a fool," the American would exclaim, dashing his +brush across a whole morning's work; "that man is a +presumptuous fool who, here in Florence, here where those +others have lived and died, dares to stand before an easel and +imagine that he can paint--and I have been that man!" He was +wont to grow noisy and loquacious over his failures--not moody +and dumb, as some men do. + +"You concern yourself too much," M. Linders would reply +calmly, putting the finishing touch to Madelon as a _bergère_ +standing in the midst of a flock of sheep, and a green +landscape--like the enlarged top of a _bonbonnière_. "You are too +ambitious, _mon cher_--you are little, and want to be great--hence +your discomfort; whilst I, who am little, and know it, remain +content." + +"May I be spared such content!" growled the other, who was +daily exasperated by the atrocities his friend produced by way +of pictures. It was beyond his comprehension how any man could +paint such to his disgrace, and then calmly contemplate them +as the work of his own hands. "Heaven preserve me from such +content, I say!" + +"But it is there you are all in the wrong," says M. Linders, +quite unmoved by his companion's uncomplimentary energy. "You +agitate, you disturb yourself with the idea that some day you +will become something great--you begin to compare yourself with +these men whose works you are for ever copying, with who +knows? --with Raffaelle, with Da Vinci----" + +"I compare myself with them!" cries the American, interrupting +him. "I! No, mon ami, I am not quite such a fool as that. I +reverence them, I adore their memory, I bow down before their +wonderful genius"--and as he spoke he lifted his cap from his +head, suiting his action to his words--"but compare myself! -- +I!" Then picking up his brush again, he added, "But the world +needs its little men as well as its great ones--at any rate, +the little ones need their _pot au feu;_ so to work again. +_Allons, ma petite_, your head a little more this way." + +This little conversation, which occurred nearly at the +beginning of their acquaintance, the painter's words and +manner, his energy, his simple, dignified gesture as he raised +his cap--all made a great impression on our Madelon; it was +indeed one of her first lessons in that hero-worship whereby +lesser minds are brought into _rapport_ with great ones; and, +even while they reverence afar off, exultingly feel that they +in some sort share in their genius through their power of +appreciating it. Nor was it her last lesson of the same kind. + +Her second friend was an old German violinist, who inhabited +two little rooms at the top of the big house, a tall, broad- +shouldered, stooping man, whose thick yellow hair and +moustache, plentifully mixed with grey, blue eyes, and fair +complexion, testified to his nationality, as did his queer, +uncouth accent, though he has spent at least two-thirds of his +life in Florence. He was an old friend of the American +painter's, and paid frequent visits to his studio; and it was +there he first met Madelon and her father. He did not much +affect M. Linders' company, but he took a fancy to the child, +as indeed most people did, and made her promise that she would +come and see him; and when she had once found her way, and +been welcomed to his little bare room, where an old piano, a +violin, and heaps of dusty folios of music, were the principal +furniture, a day seldom passed without her paying him a visit. +She would perch herself at his window, which commanded a wide +view over the city, with its countless roofs, and domes, and +towers, and beyond the encircling hills, with their scattered +villas, and slopes of terraced gardens, and pines, and olives, +all under the soft blue transparent sky; and with her eyes +fixed on this sunny view, Madelon would go off into some +dreamy fit, as she listened to the violinist, of whose playing +she never wearied. He was devoted to his art, though he had +never attained to any remarkable proficiency in it; and at any +hour of the day he might be heard scraping, and tuning, and +practising, for he belonged to the orchestra of one of the +theatres. It was quite a new sensation for Madelon to hear so +much music in private life, and she thought it all beautiful-- +tuning and scraping and all. + +"But that is all rubbish," the German would cry, after +spending an hour in going through some trashy modern Italian +music. "Now, my child, you shall hear something worth +listening to;" and with a sigh of relief he would turn to some +old piece by Mozart or Bach, some minuet of Haydn's, some +romance of Beethoven's, which he would play with no great +power of execution, indeed, but with a rare sweetness and +delicacy of touch and expression, and with an intense +absorption in the music, which communicated itself to even so +small a listener as Madelon. + +It would have been hard to say which of the two had the more +enjoyment--she, as she sat motionless, her chin propped on her +two hands, her brown eyes gazing into space, and a hundred +dreamy fancies vaguely shaped by the music, flitting through +her brain; or he, as he bent over his violin, lovingly +exacting the sweet sounds, and his thoughts--who knows where? -- +anywhere, one may be sure, rather than in the low-ceiled, +dusty garret, redolent of tobacco smoke, and not altogether +free from a suspicion of onions. + +"There, my child," he would say at the end, "that is music-- +that is art! What I was playing before was mere rubbish--trash, +unworthy of me and of my violin." + +"And why do you play it?" asks Madelon, simply. + +"Ah! why indeed?" said the violinist--"because one must live, +my little Fraülein; and since they will play nothing else at +the theatre, I must play it also, or I should be badly off." + +"You are not rich, then?" said Madelon. + +"Rich enough," he answered. "I gain enough to live upon, and I +ask no more." + +"Why don't you make money like papa?" says Madelon; "then you +could play what you liked, you know. We are very rich +sometimes." + +The old German screwed up his queer, kind, ugly face. + +"It--it's not my way," he said drily. "As for money, I might +have had plenty by this time, if I had not run away from home +when I was a boy, because I preferred being a poor musician to +a rich merchant. Money is not the only nor the best thing in +the world, my little lady." + +M. Linders apparently saw no danger to Madelon's principles in +these new friendships, or else, perhaps, he was bent on +carrying out his plan of letting her get used to things; at +any rate, he did not interfere with her spending as much time +as she liked with both painter and musician; and every day +through the winter she grew fonder of the society of the old +violinist. He was a lonely man, who lived with his music and +his books, cared little for company, and had few friends; but +he liked to see Madelon flitting about his dusky room, +carrying with her bright suggestions of the youth, and gaiety, +and hopefulness he had almost forgotten. He talked to her, +taught her songs, played to her as much as she liked, and +often gave her and her father orders for the theatre to which +he belonged, where, with delight, she would recognise his +familiar face as he nodded and smiled at her from the +orchestra. He instructed her, too, in music; made her learn +her notes, and practise on the jangling old piano, and even, +at her particular request, to scrape a little on the violin; +but she cared most for singing, and for hearing him play and +talk. She never felt shy or timid with him, and one day, at +the end of a long rhapsody about German music and German +composers, she asked him innocently enough-- + +"Who was Beethoven, and Mozart, and--and all those others you +talk about? I never heard of them before." + +"Never before!" he cried, in a sort of comic amazement and +dismay. "Here is a little girl who has lived half her life in +Germany, who talks German, and yet never heard of Beethoven, +nor of Mozart, nor of--of all those others! Listen, then--they +were some of the greatest men that ever lived." + +And, indeed, Madelon heard enough about them after that; for +delighted to have a small, patient listener, to whom he could +rhapsodize as much as he pleased in his native tongue, the +violinist henceforth lost no opportunity of delivering his +little lectures, and would harangue for an hour together, not +only about music and musicians, but about a thousand other +things--a queer, high-flown, rambling jumble, often enough, +which Madelon could not possibly follow nor understand, but to +which she nevertheless liked to listen. A safer teacher she +could hardly have had; she gained much positive information +from him, and when he got altogether beyond her, she remained +impressed with the conviction that he was speaking from the +large experiences of deep, mysterious wisdom and knowledge, +and sat listening with a reverential awe, as to some strange, +lofty strain, coming to her from some higher and nobler region +than she could hope to attain to as yet, and of which she +could in some sort catch the spirit, though she could not +enter into the idea. At the same time there was a certain +childlike vein running through all the old man's rambling +talk, which made it, after all, not unsuited to meet the +instinctive aspirations of a child's mind. With him love and +veneration for greatness and beauty, in every form, amounted +almost to a passion, which was still fresh and genuine, as in +the lad to whom the realization of the word _blasé_ seems the +one incomprehensible impossibility of life. In the simple +reverence with which he spoke of the great masters of his art, +Madelon might have recognized the same spirit as that which +animated the American; and as the artist had once uncovered at +the name of Raffaelle and Lionardo da Vinci, so did the +musician figuratively bow down at the shrines of Handel, or +Bach, or Beethoven. From both these men, so different in other +respects, the child began to learn the same lesson, which in +all her life before she had never even heard hinted at. + +All this, however, almost overtaxed our little Madelon's +faculties, and it was not surprising that, as the winter wore +on, a change gradually came over her. In truth, both intellect +and imagination were being overstrained by the constant +succession of new images, new ideas, new thoughts, that +presented themselves to her. She by no means grew accustomed +to churches--not in the sense, at any rate, which her father +had hoped would be the result of his new system. It was not +possible that she should, while so much remained that was +mysterious and unexplained; she only wearied her small brain +with the effort to find the explanation for all these new +perplexities, which she felt must exist somewhere, though she +could not find it; add to this, these long conversations, this +music, with its strange, vague suggestions, and even the +thousand novelties of the picturesque Italian life around her, +not one of which was lost on her impressionable little mind, +and we need not wonder that she began to suffer from an +excitement that gathered in strength from day to day. She grew +thin, morbid, nervous, ate almost nothing, and lost her usual +vivacity, sitting absorbed in dreamy fits, from which it was +difficult to arouse her, and which were very different from +the quiet, happy silence in which she used to remain contented +by her father's side for hours. All night she was haunted with +what she had seen by day in picture-galleries and churches. +The heavenly creations of Fra Angelico or Sandro Botticelli, +of Ghirlandaio or Raffaelle, over which she had mused and +pondered, re-produced themselves in dreams, with the intensity +and reality of actual visions, and with accessories borrowed +from all that, in her new life, had impressed itself most +vividly on her imagination. Once more she would stand in the +vast church, the censers swinging, the organ pealing overhead, +round her a great throng of beatified adoring saints, with +golden glories, with palms, and tall white lilies, and many- +coloured garments; or pillars and arches would melt away, and +she would find herself wandering through flower-enamelled +grass, in fair rose-gardens of Paradise; or radiant forms +would come gliding towards her through dark-blue skies; or the +heavens themselves would seem to open, and reveal a blaze of +glory, where, round a blue-robed, star-crowned Madonna, choirs +of rapturous angels repeated the divine melodies she had heard +faintly echoed in the violinist's dim little room. All day +long these dreams clung to her, oppressing her with their +strange unreal semblance of reality, associating themselves +with every glowing sunset, with every starry sky, till the +pictures themselves that had suggested them looked pale by +comparison. + +She was, in fact, going through a mental crisis, such as, in +other circumstances, and under fostering influences, has +produced more than one small ecstatic enthusiast; the infant +shining light of some Methodist conventicle; the saintly child +visionary of some Catholic convent. But Madelon had no one to +foster, nor to interpret for her these feverish visions, so +inexplicable to herself, poor child! To the good-natured, +careless, jovial American, she would not have even hinted at +them for worlds, and not less carefully did she shun appealing +to her father for sympathy. That contemptuous "_vraiment_" dwelt +in her memory, not as a matter of resentment, but as something +to be avoided henceforth at the cost of any amount of self- +repression. She would sit leaning her languid little head on +his shoulder; but when he anxiously asked her what ailed her, +she could only reply, "I don't know, papa." And indeed she did +not know; nor even if she had, could she have found the words +with which to have explained it to him. It was, after all, the +old German who won her confidence at last. There was, as we +have said, something simple, genuine, homely about the old +man; a reminiscence, perhaps, of his homely Fatherland still +clinging about him, after more than forty years of voluntary +exile, which Madelon could well appreciate, though she could +not have defined it; for a child judges more by instinct than +reflection, and it was through no long process of reasoning +that she had arrived at the certainty that she would be met +here by neither contempt nor indifference. Moreover, his +generally lofty and slightly incomprehensible style of +conversation, and the endless stores of learning with which +she had innocently accredited him, had surrounded him with +that vague halo of wisdom and goodness, so dear to the hearts +of children of larger as of smaller growth, and which they are +so eager to recognize, that they do not always distinguish +between the false and the true. From the very beginning of +their acquaintance, it had occurred to Madelon that she might +be able to gain some information on that subject, which her +father had pronounced to be above her comprehension as yet; +but which, on reflection, and encouraged by a Nanette's +example, she felt quite sure she could understand if it were +only explained to her. Twenty times had that still unanswered +question trembled on her lips, but a shy timidity, not so much +of her old friend as of the subject itself, which had become +invested in her mind with a kind of awful mystery, to which a +hundred circumstances daily contributed, checked her at the +moment of utterance. + +One evening, however, she was sitting as usual at the window +in the old man's room. The sun had set, the short twilight was +drawing to a close, church bells were ringing, down in the +city yellow lights were gleaming in windows here and there, +above, the great sky rounded upward from a faint glow on the +horizon through imperceptible gradations of tint, to pure +depths of transparent blue overhead, where stars were +beginning to flash and tremble; within, in the gloom, the +musician sat playing a sacred melody of Spohr's, and as +Madelon listened, some subtle affinity between this hour and +the first one she had spent in the church touched her, and her +eyes filled with sudden tears of painful ecstasy. As the old +German ceased, she went up to him with an impulse that +admitted of no hesitation, and, as well as she could, told him +all that was in her mind--her dreams, her strange weird +fancies, all that for the last few months had been haunting +and oppressing her with its weight of mystery. "Papa said I +could not understand," she said in conclusion, "but I think I +could. Will you not explain it to me? Can you not tell me what +it all means, and who--who is God?" + +The German had heard in silence till then, but at this last +question he started from his listening attitude. + +"_Was--was--_" he stammered, and suddenly rising--"_Ach, mein Gott!_" +he cried, with the familiar ejaculation, "to ask me!--to ask +me!" + +He walked twice up and down the room, as stirred by some +hidden emotion, his head bowed, his hands behind his back, +murmuring to himself, and then stopped where Madelon was +standing by the window. She looked up, half trembling, into +the rugged face bent over her. He was her priest for the +moment, standing as it were between earth and heaven--her +confessor, to whom she had revealed the poor little secrets of +her heart; and she waited with a sort of awe for his answer. + +"My child," he said at length, looking down sadly enough into +her eager, inquiring eyes, "when I was no older than thou art, +I had a pious, gentle mother, at whose knee night and morning +I said my prayers--and believed. If she were alive now, I would +say, 'Go to her, and she will tell thee of all these things'-- +but do not speak of them to me. Old Karl Wendler is neither +good, nor wise, nor believing enough to instruct thee, an +innocent child." + +He made this little speech very gently and solemnly; then +turned away abruptly, took up his hat, and left the room +without another word. Madelon stood still for a minute +baffled, repulsed, with a sort of bruised, sore feeling at her +heart, and yet with a new sense of wondering pity, roused by +something in his words and manner; then she too left the room, +and though the darkness crept softly downstairs. + +So ended this little episode with the violinist. Not that she +did not visit and sit with him as much as before; the very +next day, when she returned, rather shyly, upstairs, she found +him sitting in the old place, with the old nod and smile to +welcome her, but somehow he managed to put things on a +different footing--he spared her his long metaphysical +discourses, and talked to her more as the child that she was, +laughing, joking, and telling her queer hobgoblin and fairy +stories, some of which she knew before indeed, but which he +related with a quaint simplicity and naïveté, which gave them +a fresh charm for her; and under this new aspect of things, +she brightened up, began to lose her fits of dreaminess, to +chatter as in old times, and cheered many an hour of the +musician's solitary life. The American artist, too, left +Florence about this time for a visit to Rome; and during his +absence the _atelier_ was closed, and wandering through churches +and picture galleries were exchanged for long excursions into +the country with her father; by degrees dreams, fancies, +visions floated away, and Madelon became herself again. + +She had gone through a phase, and one not altogether natural +to her, and which readily passed away with the abnormal +conditions that had occasioned it. She was by no means one of +those dreamy, thoughtful, often melancholy children who +startle us by the precocious grasp of their intellect, by +their intuitive perception of truths which we had deemed far +above their comprehension. Madelon's precocity was of quite +another order. In her quick, impulsive, energetic little mind +there was much that was sensitive and excitable, little that +was morbid or unhealthy. One might see that, with her, action +would always willingly take the place of reflection; that her +impulses would have the strength of inspirations; that she +would be more ready to receive impressions than to reason upon +them. Meditation, comparison, introspection, were wholly +foreign to this little, eager, impetuous nature, however they +might be forced upon it in the course of years and events; and +with her keen sense of enjoyment in all glad outward +influences, one might have feared that the realities of life +present to her would too readily preclude any contemplation of +its hidden possibilities, but for a lively, susceptible +imagination, which would surely intervene to prevent any such +tendency being carried out to its too prosaic end. It was +through appeals to her imagination and affection, rather than +to her reason and intellect, that Madeleine could be +influenced; and whatever large sympathies with humanity she +might acquire through life, whatever aspirations after a high +and noble ideal, whatever gleams of inspiration from the great +beyond that lies below the widest, as well as the narrowest +horizon, might visit her--all these would come to her, we may +fancy, through the exercise of pure instincts and a sensitive +imagination, rather than through the power of logical +deduction from given causes. + +From our small, ten-year-old Madelon, however, all this still +lay hidden; for the present, the outward pressure, which had +weighed too heavily on her little mind and brain, removed, she +returned with a glad reaction to her old habits of thought and +speech. Not entirely indeed; the education she had received, +remained and worked; the "obstinate questionings," an answer +to which she had twice vainly sought, were unforgotten, and +still awaited their reply. This little Madelon, to whom the +golden gates had been opened, though ever so slightly--to whom +the divine, lying all about her and within her, had been +revealed, though ever so dimly--could never be quite the same +as the little Madelon who, careless and unthinking, had +strayed into the great church that summer morning six months +ago; but the child herself was as yet hardly conscious of +this, and neither, we may be sure, was M. Linders, as with +renewed cheerfulness, and spirits, and chatter, she danced +along by his side under the new budding trees, under the fair +blue skies. + +It was soon after this, when the delicious promise of an early +spring was brightening the streets and gardens of Florence, +filling them with sunshine and flowers, that another shadow +fell upon the brightness of Madelon's life, and one so dark +and real, as to make all others seem faint and illusory by +comparison. Her father had a serious illness. He had not been +well all the winter; and one day, Madelon, coming down from +the violinist's room, had been frightened almost out of her +small wits at finding him lying back unconscious in a chair in +their little _salon_. She called the old woman who acted as +their servant to her assistance, and between them they had +soon succeeded in restoring him to consciousness, when he had +made light of it, saying it was merely a fit of giddiness, +which would have passed off. He had refused to be alarmed, or +to send for a doctor, even after a second and third attack of +the same kind; but then a fever, which in the mild spring +weather was lurking about, lying in wait of victims, seized +him, and laid him fairly prostrate. + +His illness never took a really dangerous turn, but it kept +him weak and helpless for some weary weeks, during which +Madelon learnt to be a most efficient little nurse, taking +turns with the old servant and with the violinist, who +willingly came down from his upper regions to do all he could +to help his little favourite. In some respects she, perhaps, +made the best nurse of all, with her small skilful fingers, +and entire devotion to her father. She had a curious courage, +too, for such an inexperienced child, and the sense of an +emergency was quite sufficient to make her conquer the +horrible pang it gave her loving little heart to see her +father lying racked with pain, unconscious, and sometimes +delirious. She never failed to be ready when wanted; the +doctor complimented her, and said jokingly that the little +Signorina would make a capital doctor's assistant. Her German +friend nodded approval, and, best of all, it was always to his +Madelon that M. Linders turned in his most weary moments--from +her that he liked to receive drinks and medicine; and she it +was who, as he declared, arranged his pillows and coverings +more comfortably than anyone else. In delirium he asked for +her continually; his eyes sought her when she was not in the +room, and lighted up when she came with her little noiseless +step to his bedside. The old German, who had had a strong +dislike to, and prejudice against this man, took almost a +liking to him, as he noted the great love existing between him +and his little daughter. + +The American did not return till M. Linders was nearly well +again, and thinking of departure. Madelon was in despair at +the idea of leaving Florence; it had been more like home to +her than any place she had yet known, and it almost broke her +heart to think of parting with her old German friend; but M. +Linders was impatient to be gone. He wanted change of air, he +said, after his illness; but, indeed, had other reasons which +he proclaimed less openly, but which were far more imperative, +and made him anxious to pay an earlier visit to Germany this +year than was usual with him. Certain speculations, on the +success of which he had counted, had failed, so that a grand +_coup_ at Homburg or Baden seemed no less necessary than +desirable to set him straight again with the world, and he +accordingly fixed on a day towards the end of April for their +departure. + +The American made a festive little supper the evening before +in his _atelier_, but it was generally felt to be a melancholy +failure, for not even the artist's rather forced gaiety, nor +M. Linders' real indifference, could enliven it. As for the +old German, he sat there, saying little, eating less, and +smoking a great deal; and Madelon at his side was speechless, +only rousing herself later in the evening to coax him into +playing once more all her favourite tunes. Everyone, except, +perhaps, M. Linders, felt more or less sorry at the breaking +up of a pleasant little society which had lasted for some +months, and the violinist almost felt as if he were being +separated from his own child. Madelon wished him good-bye that +night, but she ran upstairs very early the next morning to see +him once more before starting. + +The old man was greatly moved; he was standing looking sadly +out of the window when she came in, and when he saw her in her +little travelling cloak, the tears began to run down his +rugged old cheeks. + +"God bless thee, my little one!" he said. "I shall miss thee +sorely--but thou wilt not forget me?" + +"Never, never!" cries Madelon, with a little sob, and +squeezing the kind hands that held hers so tightly. + +"And if I should never see thee again," said the German, in +broken accents, "if--if--remember, I----" He hesitated and +stammered, and M. Linders' voice was heard calling Madelon. + +"I must go," she said, "papa is calling me; but I will never +forget you--never; ah! you have been so good, so kind to me. +See here," she said, unclosing one of her hands which she had +kept tightly shut, and showing the little green and gold fish +Horace Graham had given her years before, "I promised never to +part with this, but I have nothing else--and--and I love you so +much--will you have it?" + +"No, no," said the old man, smiling and shaking his head, +"keep thy promise, and thy treasure, my child; I do not +require that to remind me of thee. Farewell!" + +He put her gently out of the door as her father's step was +heard coming upstairs, and closed it after her. She never did +see him again, for he died in less than two years after their +parting. + +M. Linders went to Homburg, to Baden, to Wiesbaden, but he was +no longer the man he had been before his illness; he won +largely, indeed, at times, but he lost as largely at others, +playing with a sort of reckless, feverish impatience, instead +of with the steady coolness that had distinguished him +formerly. Old acquaintance who met him said that M. Linders +was a broken man, and that his best days were over: men who +had been accustomed to bet on his success, shrugged their +shoulders, and sought for some steadier and luckier player to +back; he himself, impatient of ill-luck, and of continual +defeat in the scenes of his former triumphs, grew restless and +irritable, wandered from place to place in search of better +fortune and better health, and at length, at the end of a +fortnight's stay at Wiesbaden, after winning a large sum at +_rouge-et-noir_, and losing half of it the next day, announced +abruptly that he was tired of Germany, and should set off at +once for Paris. Madelon had noticed the alteration in her +father less than anyone else perhaps; she was used to changes +of fortune, and whatever he might feel he never showed it in +his manner to her; outwardly, at least, this summer had +appeared to her very similar to any preceding one, and she was +too much accustomed to M. Linders' sudden moves, to find +anything unusual in this one, although, dictated as it was by +a caprice of weariness and disgust, it took them away from the +Germany tables just at the height of the season. Once more, +then, the two set out together, and towards the middle of +August found themselves established in their old quarters in +the Paris Hotel, where Madame Linders had died, and where +Madame Lavaux still reigned head of the establishment. + + +PART II. + + +Chapter I. + +After five Years. + + +One evening, about three weeks after their arrival in Paris, +Madelon was standing at a window at the end of the long +corridor into which M. Linders' apartment opened; the moon was +shining brightly, and she had a book in her hand, which she +was reading by its clear light, stopping, however, every +minute to gaze down into the front courtyard of the hotel, +which lay beneath the window, quiet, almost deserted after the +bustle of the day, and full of white moonlight and black +shadows. Her father was out, and she was watching for his +return, though it was now long past eleven o'clock. + +There was nothing unusual on her part in this late vigil, for +she was quite accustomed to sit up for her father, when he +spent his evenings away from home; but there must have been +something strange and forlorn-looking in the little figure +standing there all alone at such an hour, for a gentleman, who +had come in late from the theatre, paused as he was turning +the key of the door before entering his room, looked at her +once or twice, and, after a moment's hesitation, walked up to +the window. Madelon did not notice him till he was close +behind her, and then turned round with a little start, +dropping her book. + +"I did not think it was you--" she began; then seeing a +stranger, stopped short in the middle of her speech. + +"I am afraid I have startled you," said the gentleman in +English-French, but with a pleasant voice and manner, "and +disappointed you too." + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," she answered, "I thought it was +papa; I have been looking for him so long," and she turned +round to the window again. + +It was five years since Horace Graham and Madeleine had spent +an hour together in the courtyard at Chaudfontaine, so that it +was not surprising that they did not at once recognise each +other at this second unforeseen meeting; the young man, as +well as the child, had then been of an age to which five years +cannot be added without bringing with them most appreciable +changes. For Graham, these years had been precisely that +transition period in which a lad separates himself from the +aggregate mass of youth, and stands forth in the world as a +man of his own right, according to that which is in him. This +tall, thin, brown young army doctor, who has passed brilliant +examinations, who is already beginning to be known favourably +in the profession, whose name has appeared at the end of more +than one approved article in scientific Reviews; who has +travelled, seen something of Italy, Switzerland, Belgium; who +for five years has been studying, thinking, living through +youthful experiences and failures, and out-living some +youthful illusions, cannot fail, one may be sure, to be a +different personage, in many respects, from the fresh-hearted +medical student who had sauntered away an idle Sunday amongst +the woods and valleys round Chaudfontaine, and had looked with +curious, half wondering eyes at the new little world disclosed +to him at the hotel. As for our little Madelon, the small, +round, pinafored child was hardly recognisable in this slim +little girl, in white frock, with brown hair that hung in +short wayward tangling waves, instead of curling in soft +ringlets all over her head; and yet Graham, who rarely forgot +a face, was haunted by a vague remembrance of her eyes, with +the peculiar look, half-startled, half-confiding, with which +they met the first glance of strangers. Madelon's brown eyes +were the greatest charm of a face which was hardly pretty yet, +though it had the promise of beauty in after years; to liken +them to those of some dumb, soft, dark-eyed animal is to use a +trite comparison; and yet there is, perhaps, no other that so +well describes eyes such as these, which seem charged with a +meaning beyond that which their owner is able to express in +words, or is, perhaps, even conscious of. When seen in +children, they seem to contain a whole prophecy of their +future lives, and in Madelon they had probably a large share +in the powers of attraction which she undoubtedly possessed; +few could resist their mute appeal, which, child as she was, +went beyond her own thought, and touched deeper sympathies +than any she could yet have known. + +There was a moment's silence after Madelon had spoken, and +then she once more turned from the window with a disappointed +air. + +"Pardon, Monsieur," she said again, "but can you tell me what +time it is? Is it past eleven?" + +"It is more than half-past," said Graham, looking at his +watch. "Have you been waiting here long?" + +"Since ten o'clock," said Madelon, "papa said he would be in +by ten. I cannot think where he can be." + +"He has probably found something to detain him," suggested +Graham. + +"No," answered Madelon, rejecting this obvious proposition; +"for he had an appointment here; there is some one waiting for +him now." + +"Then he has perhaps come in without your knowing it?" + +"I do not think so," said Madelon, "he would have called me; +and besides, I should have seen him cross the courtyard. I saw +you come in just now, Monsieur." + +Nevertheless she left her station by the window, and moved +slowly along the passage to their apartment; it was just +opposite Graham's, and as she went in, leaving the door open, +Horace, who had followed her without any very definite +purpose, looked in. It was a tolerably large room, with a door +to the left opening into a smaller apartment, Utrecht velvet +chairs and sofa, a mantelpiece also covered with velvet, on +which stood a clock, a tall looking-glass, and two lighted wax +candles; a table in the middle with some packs of cards, and a +liqueur bottle and glasses, and a bed on one side opposite the +fireplace. The window looked on to a side street, noisy with +the incessant rattling of vehicles, and so narrow that the +numerous lighted interiors of the houses opposite were visible +to the most casual observer. A smell of smoking pervaded the +room, explained by the presence of a young man, who held a +cigar in one hand, whilst he leaned half out of the window, +over the low iron balcony in front, shouting to some one in +the street below. He looked round as Madelon came in, and +slowly drew himself back into the room, exhibiting a lean, +yellow face, surrounded with dishevelled hair, and ornamented +by black unkempt beard and moustache. + +"_Monsieur votre père_ does not arrive apparently, +Mademoiselle," he said. + +"I have not seen him come in, Monsieur," answered Madelon; "I +thought he was perhaps here." + +"Not at all, I have seen nothing of him this evening. But this +is perhaps a trick that Monsieur le Papa is playing me; he +fears to give me his little revenge of which he spoke, and +wishes to keep out of my way. What do you say to that, +Mademoiselle?" + +"I am quite sure it is not so," answered Madelon, with a +little defiant air. "I heard papa say it was quite by chance +he had lost all that money to you, for you did not understand +the first principles of the game." + +"Ah! he said that? But it is lucky for us other poor devils +that we have these chances sometimes! You will at least admit +that, Mademoiselle?" + +"Papa plays better than anyone," says Madelon, retreating from +argument to the safer ground of assertion, and still standing +in the middle of the room in her defiant attitude, with her +hands clasped behind her. + +"Without a doubt, Mademoiselle; but then, as he says, we also +have our chances. Well, I cannot wait for mine this evening, +for it is nearly midnight, and I have another appointment. +These gentlemen will wonder what has become of me. +Mademoiselle, I have the honour to wish you good evening." + +He made a profound bow, and left the room. + +Madelon gave a great sigh, and then came out into the passage +again where Horace was standing. He had been a somewhat +bewildered spectator of this queer little interview, but the +child evidently saw nothing out of the way in it, for she made +no remark upon it, and only said rather piteously, + +"I cannot imagine where papa can be; I do wish he would come +back." + +"Does he often stay out so late as this?" asked Graham. + +"Oh! yes, often, but not when he says he is coming in early, +or when he is expecting anyone." + +"And do you know where he is gone?" + +"No, not at all. He said he was going to dine with some +gentlemen, but I don't know where! Oh! do you think anything-- +anything can have happened?" cried Madelon, her hidden anxiety +suddenly finding utterance. + +"Indeed I do not," answered Graham, in his kindest voice. "His +friends have persuaded him to stay late, I have no doubt; you +must not be so uneasy--these things often happen, you know. Let +us go and look out of the window again; perhaps we shall see +him just coming in." + +They went to the end of the corridor accordingly; but no one +was to be seen, except the man who had just left M. Linders' +apartment walking briskly across the moonlight space below, +the great doors of the _porte-cochère_ closing after him with a +clang that resounded through the silent courtyard. Graham had +nothing further to say in the way of consolation; he could +think of no more possible contingencies to suggest, and, +indeed, it was useless to go on reasoning concerning perfectly +unknown conditions. Madelon, however, seemed a little +reassured by his confident tone, and he changed the subject by +asking her whether the gentleman who had just left was a +friend of hers. + +"Who? Monsieur Legros?" Madelon answered. "No, I don't know +him much, and I do not like him at all; he comes sometimes to +play with papa." + +"To play with him?" + +"Yes, at cards, you know--at _écarté_, or _piquet_, or one of those +games." + +"And it was with him that your father had an appointment?" + +"Yes," said Madelon; "he came last night, and papa told him to +be here again this evening at ten, and that is why I cannot +think why he does not come." + +She turned again disconsolately to the window, and there was +another pause. Madelon relapsed into the silence habitual to +her with strangers, and Graham hardly knew how to continue the +conversation; yet he was unwilling to leave the child alone +with her anxiety at that late hour: and besides, he was +haunted by vague, floating memories that refused to shape +themselves definitely. Some time--somewhere--he had heard or +seen, or dreamt of some one--he could not catch the connecting +link which would serve to unite some remote, foregone +experience with his present sensations. + +He moved a little away from the window, and in so doing his +foot struck against the book which Madelon had dropped on +first seeing him, and he stooped to pick it up. It was a +German story-book, full of bright coloured pictures; so he saw +as he opened it and turned over the leaves, scarcely thinking +of what he did, when his eye was suddenly arrested by the +inscription on the fly-leaf. The book had been given to +Madelon only the year before by a German lady she had met at +Chaudfontaine, and there was her name, "Madeleine Linders," +that of the donor, the date, and below, "Hôtel des Bains, +Chaudfontaine." It was a revelation to Horace. Of course he +understood it all now. Here was the clue to his confused +recollections, to the strange little scene he had just +witnessed. Another moonlit courtyard came to his remembrance, +a gleaming, rushing river, a background of shadowy hills, and +a little coy, wilful, chattering girl, with curly hair and +great brown eyes--those very eyes that had been perplexing him +not ten minutes ago. + +"I think you and I have met before," he said to Madelon, +smiling; "but I daresay you don't remember much about it, +though I recollect you very well now." + +"We have met before?" said Madelon. "Pardon, Monsieur, but I +do not very well recall it." + +"At Chaudfontaine, five years ago, when you were quite a +little girl. You are Madeleine Linders, are you not?" + +"Yes, I am Madeleine Linders," she answered. "I have often +been at Chaudfontaine; did you stay at the hotel there?" + +"Only for one night," said Graham; "but you and I had a long +talk together in the courtyard that evening. Let me see, how +can I recall it to you? Ah! there was a little green and gold +fish----" + +"Was that you?" cried Madelon, her face suddenly brightening +with a flush of intelligence and pleasure. "I have it still, +that little fish. Ah! how glad I am now that I did not give it +away! That gentleman was so kind to me, I shall never forget +him. But it was you!" she added, with a sudden recognition of +Graham's identity. + +"It was indeed," he said laughing. "So you have thought of me +sometimes since then? But I am afraid you would not have +remembered me if I had not told you who I was." + +"I was such a little girl then," said Madelon colouring. "Five +years ago--why I was not six years old; but I remember you very +well now," she added, smiling up at him. "I have often thought +of you, Monsieur, and I am so glad to see you again." + +She said it with a little naïve air of frankness and sincerity +which was very engaging, giving him her hand as she spoke. + +"I am glad you have not quite forgotten me," said Graham, +sitting down by her on the window seat; "but indeed you have +grown so much, I am not sure I should have recollected you, if +I had not seen your name here. What have you been doing ever +since? Have you ever been to Chaudfontaine again?" + +"Oh, very often," said Madelon. "We go there almost every year +for a little while--not this year though, for we were at +Wiesbaden till three weeks ago, and then papa had to come to +Paris at once." + +"And do you still go about everywhere with your papa, or do +you go to school sometimes?" + +"To school? oh no, never," said Madelon, not without some +wonder at the idea. "Papa would not send me to school. I +should not like it at all, and neither would he. I know he +would not get on at all well without me, and I love travelling +about with him. Last winter we were in Italy." + +"And you never come to England?" + +"No, never. I asked papa once if he would not go there, and he +said no, that we should not like it at all, it was so cold and +_triste_ there, one never amused one's-self." + +"But I thought you had some relations there," said Graham. +"Surely I saw an uncle with you who was English?" + +"Oh yes, Uncle Charles; but he never went to England either, +and he died a long time ago. I don't know of any other +relations." + +"So you never talk English now, I suppose? Do you remember +telling me to speak English, because I spoke French so +funnily?" + +"No," said Madelon, colouring and laughing. "How is it +possible I can have been so rude, Monsieur? I think you speak +it very well. But I have not forgotten my English, for I have +some books, and often we meet English or American gentlemen, +so that I still talk it sometimes." + +"And German too," said Horace, looking at her book. + +"Yes, and Italian; I learnt that last winter at Florence. We +meet a great many different people, you know, so I don't +forget." + +"And you are always travelling about?" + +"Yes, always; I should not like to live in one place, I think, +and papa would not like it either, he says. Do you remember +papa, Monsieur?" + +"Very well," said Graham; and indeed he recalled perfectly the +little scene in the salle-à-manger of the Chaudfontaine hotel-- +the long dimly lighted room, the two men playing at cards, and +the little child nestling close up to the fair one whom she +called papa. "Yes, I remember him very well," he added, after +a moment's pause. + +"How strange that you should see us here again!" said Madelon. +"Did you know we were staying in the hotel, Monsieur?" + +"Not at all," answered Horace, smiling. "I only arrived +yesterday, and had no notion that I should find an old +acquaintance to welcome me." + +"How fortunate that I was waiting here, and that you saw my +name in that book," said Madelon, evidently looking on the +whole as a great event, brought about by a more remarkable +combination of circumstances than everyday life as a rule +afforded. "Without that you would not have known who I was, +perhaps? Papa will be very glad to see you again. Ah, how I +wish he would come!" she added, all her anxieties suddenly +revived. + +"Do you always sit up for him when he is so late?" said +Graham. "Surely it would be wiser for you to go to bed." + +"That is just what I said to Mademoiselle an hour ago," said a +kind, cheery voice behind them, belonging to Madame Lavaux, +the mistress of the hotel. "Of what use, I say, is it for her +to sit up waiting for her papa, who will not come any the +sooner for that." + +"Ah! Madame, I must wait," said Madelon. "Papa will come +soon." + +"But, _ma chère petite_--" began Madame. + +"I must wait," repeated Madelon, piteously; "I always sit up +for him." + +Graham thought he could not do better than leave her in the +hands of the landlady, and with a friendly good-night, and a +promise to come and see her the next day, he went back to his +own room. In a few minutes, he heard Madame pass along the +corridor and go upstairs to bed; but, though tired enough +himself after a day of Paris sight-seeing, he could not make +up his mind to do the same, when, on opening his door, he saw +Madelon standing where he had left her. He could not get rid +of the thought of this lonely little watcher at the end of the +passage, and taking up a book he began to read. From time to +time he looked out, but there was no change in the posture of +affairs; through the half-open door opposite he could see the +lights burning in the still empty room, and the small figure +remained motionless at the moonlit window. All sounds of life +and movement were hushed in the hotel, all the clocks had long +since struck midnight, and he was considering whether he +should not go and speak to Madelon again, when he heard a +faint cry, and then a rush of light feet along the passage and +down the staircase. + +"So he has come at last," thought Graham, laying down his book +with a sense of relief, not sorry to have his self-imposed +vigil brought to an end. He still sat listening, however; his +door was ajar, and he thought he should hear the father and +child come up together. There was a moment's silence as the +sound of the footsteps died away, and then succeeded a quick +opening and shutting of doors, the tread of hasty feet, a +confusion of many voices speaking at once, a sudden clamour +and stir breaking in on the stillness, and then suddenly +subdued and hushed, as if to suit the prevailing quiet of the +sleeping house. + +"Something must have happened," thought Graham. "That poor +child!--perhaps her father has, after all, met with some +accident!" He left his room and ran quickly downstairs. The +confused murmur of voices grew louder as he approached the +hall, and on turning the last angle of the staircase, he at +once perceived the cause of the disturbance. + +A little group was collected in the middle of the hall, the +night porter, one or two of the servants of the hotel, and +some men in blouses, all gathered round a tall prostrate man, +half lying on a bench placed under the centre lamp, half +supported by two men, who had apparently just carried him in. +He was quite insensible, his head had fallen forward on his +breast, and was bound with a handkerchief that had been tied +round to staunch the blood from a wound in his forehead; his +neckcloth was unfastened and his coat thrown back to give him +more air. The little crowd was increasing every moment, as the +news spread through the house; the _porte-cochère_ stood wide +open, and outside in the street a _fiacre_ could be seen, +standing in the moonlight. + +"A doctor must be fetched at once," someone was saying, just +as Horace came up and recognized, not without difficulty, in +the pale disfigured form before him, the handsome fair-haired +M. Linders he had met at Chaudfontaine five years before. + +"I am a doctor," he said, coming forward. "Perhaps I can be of +some use here." + +No one seemed to notice him at first--a lad had already started +in quest of a surgeon, and jumping into the empty _fiacre_ that +had brought the injured man to the hotel, was driving off; but +Madelon turned round at the sound of Graham's voice, and +looked up in his face with a new expression of hope in her +eyes, instead of the blank, bewildered despair with which she +had been gazing at her father and the strange faces around. To +the poor child it seemed as if she had lived through an +unknown space of terror and misery during the few minutes that +had elapsed since from the passage window she had seen the +_fiacre_ stop, and, with the presentiment of evil which had been +haunting her during these last hours of suspense, intensified +to conviction, had flown downstairs only to meet her father's +insensible form as he was carried in. She was kneeling now by +his side, and was chafing one of his cold hands between her +poor little trembling fingers; but when she saw Graham +standing at the edge of the circle she got up, and went to +him. + +"Will you come to papa?" she said, taking him by both hands +and drawing him forward. + +"Don't be frightened," said Horace, in his kind, cheerful +voice, trying to encourage her, for her face and lips were +colourless, and she was trembling as with a sudden chill. He +put one arm round her, and came forward to look at M. Linders. + +"Allow me," he said; and this time his voice commanded +attention, and imposed a moment's silence on the confusion of +tongues. "I am a doctor, and can perhaps be of some use; but I +must beg of you not to press round in this way. Can anyone +tell me what has happened?" he added, as he bent over M. +Linders. + +"It was an accident, Monsieur," said a man of the working- +class, standing by, "this poor gentleman must have had some +kind of fit, I think. I was crossing the Boulevards with him +about ten o'clock; there were a good many carriages about, but +we were going quietly enough, when suddenly I saw him stop, +put his hand to his head, and fall down in the road. I had to +run just then to get safely across myself, and when I reached +the other side, I saw a great confusion, and heard that a +carriage had driven straight over him." + +There was a moment's pause, and Madelon said in a tremulous +whisper, "Papa used to have vertiges last winter, but he got +quite well again." + +"To be sure," said Graham; "and so we must hope he will now. +That was more than two hours ago," he said, turning to the +man--"what have you been doing ever since?" + +"We carried him into the nearest _café_, Monsieur, and some +proposed taking him to a hospital, but after a time we found a +letter in his pocket addressed to this hotel, and we thought +it best to bring him here, as he might have friends; so we got +a _fiacre_. But it was a long way off, and we were obliged to +come very slowly." + +"A hospital would perhaps have been the better plan," said +Graham; "or you should have found a doctor before moving him. +However, now he must be carried upstairs without further +delay. My poor child," he said, turning to Madelon, "you can +do no good here--you had better go with Madame, who will take +care of you; will you not, Madame?" he added, turning to the +landlady, who, roused from her bed, had just appeared, after a +hasty toilette. + +"Yes, yes, she can come with me," said Madame Lavaux, who was +not in the best of tempers at the disturbance; "but I beg of +you not to make more noise than you can help, Messieurs, or I +shall have the whole house disturbed, and half the people +leaving to-morrow." + +The sad little procession moved quietly enough up the stairs, +and along the corridor to M. Linders' room. Graham had gone on +in front, but Madame Lavaux had held back Madelon when she +would have pressed forward by the side of the men who were +carrying her father, and she had yielded at first in sheer +bewilderment. She had passed through more than one phase of +emotion in the course of the last ten minutes, poor child! The +first overwhelming shock and terror had passed away, when +Graham's reassuring voice and manner had convinced her that +her father was not dead; but she had still felt too stunned +and confused to do more than obey passively, as she watched +him carefully raised, and slowly carried from the hall. By the +time they reached the top of the staircase, however, her +natural energy began to reassert itself; and, as she saw him +disappear within the bedroom, her impatient eagerness to be at +his side again, could not be restrained. His recent illness +was still too fresh a memory for the mere sight of his present +suffering and insensibility to have any of the terrors of +novelty, after the first shock was over, and all her former +experiences went to prove that his first words on recovering +consciousness would be to ask for her. Her one idea was that +she must go at once and nurse him; she had not heeded, nor, +perhaps, even heard Graham's last words, and she was about to +follow the men into the bedroom, when Madame Lavaux interposed +to prevent her. + +"Run upstairs to my room, _petite_," she said; "you will be out +of the way there, and I will come to you presently." + +"No," said Madelon, refusing point-blank, "I am going with +papa." + +"But it is not possible, my child; you will only be in the +way. You heard what M. le Docteur said?" + +"I _will_ go to papa!" cries Madelon, trembling with agitation +and excitement; "he will want me, I know he will, I am never +in his way! You have no right to prevent my going to him, +Madame! Let me pass, I say," for Madame Lavaux was standing +between her and the door of the room into which M. Linders had +been carried. + +"_Allons donc_, we must be reasonable," says Madame. "Your papa +does not want you now, and little girls should do as they are +told. If you had gone to bed an hour ago, as I advised, you +would have known nothing about all this till to-morrow. Eh, +these children! there is no doing anything with them; and +these men," she continued, with a sigh, "the noise they make +with their great boots! and precisely Madame la Comtesse, au +_premier_, had an _attaque des nerfs_ this evening, and said the +house was as noisy as a barrack--but these things always happen +at unfortunate moments!" + +No one answered this little speech, which, in fact, was +addressed to no one in particular. It was, perhaps, not +altogether Madame Lavaux' fault that through long habit her +instincts as the proprietor of a large hotel had ended by +predominating so far over her instincts as a woman as always +to come to hand first. The nice adjustment between the claims +of conscience and the claims of self-interest, between the +demands of her bills and the demands of never-satisfied, +exacting travellers, alone involved a daily recurring +struggle, in which the softer emotions would have been +altogether out of place, we may suppose. In the present +instance she considered it a hard case that her house should +be turned topsy-turvy at such an untimely hour, and its +general propriety endangered thereby; and Madelon's grief, +which at another time would have excited her compassion, had +for the moment taken the unexpected form of determined +opposition, and could only be looked upon as another element +of disturbance. Madelon herself, however, who could hardly be +expected to regard her father's accident with a view to those +wider issues that naturally presented themselves to Madame +Lavaux, simply felt that she was being cruelly ill-used. She +had not attended to a word of this last speech, but +nevertheless she had detected the want of sympathy, and it by +no means increased her desire to accede to Madame's wishes. + +"I _will_ go to papa," she repeated, the sense of antagonism +that had come uppermost gaining strength and vehemence from +the consciousness of the underlying grief and sore trouble +that had aroused it, "or I will stay here if you will not let +me pass; rather than go away I will stand here all night." + +Graham had heard nothing of this little altercation, but now +coming out of the bed-room to speak to Madame Lavaux, he found +a most determined little Madelon standing with her hands +clasped behind her, and her back set firmly against the wall, +absolutely refusing to retreat. + +She sprang forward, however, as soon as she saw him. + +"I may go to papa now, may I not?" she cried. + +"Mademoiselle wants to go to her papa," says Madame, at the +same moment, "I beg of you, Monsieur, to tell her it is +impossible, and that she had better come with me. She asserts +that her father will want her." + +"That is all nonsense," said Graham hastily; "of course she +cannot come in now," then noticing Madelon's poor little face, +alternately white, and flushed with misery and passion, he +said, "Listen to me, Madelon; you can do your father no good +now. He would not know you, my poor child, and you would only +be in the way. But I promise you that by-and-by you shall see +him." + +"By-and-by," said Madelon; "how soon?" + +"As soon as we can possibly manage it." + +Nothing, perhaps, would have induced Madelon at that moment to +have given into Madame Lavaux' unsupported persuasions, but +she yielded at once to Horace; indeed her sudden passion had +already died away at the sight of his face, at the sound of +the kind voice which she had somehow begun to associate with a +sense of help and protection. She did not quite give up her +point even now, however. + +"I need not go upstairs," she said, with trembling lips and +tears in her eyes. "I may go into my own room, may I not?" + +"Your room? Which is that?" asked Graham. + +"This one--next to papa," she said, pointing to the door that +led into the passage. + +"Yes, you can stay there if you like; but don't you think you +would be better with Madame Lavaux, than all by yourself in +there?" + +"No, I would rather stay here," she answered, and then pausing +a moment at the door, "I may come and see him presently?" she +added wistfully, "I always nursed him when he was ill before." + +"I am sure you are a very good little nurse," said Graham +kindly, "and I will tell you when you may come; but it will +not be just yet. So the best thing you can do will be to go to +bed, and then you will be quite ready for to-morrow." + +He had no time to say more, for his services were required. He +gave Madelon a candle, closed the door that communicated +between the two rooms, and she was left alone. + + +CHAPTER II. + +A Farewell Letter. + + +Madelon was left alone to feel giddy, helpless, bewildered in +the reaction from strong excitement and passion. She was quite +tired and worn-out, too, with her long watching and waiting; +too weary to cry even, or to think over all that had happened. + +She did not go to bed, however; that would have been the last +thing she would have thought of doing; for, Graham's last +words notwithstanding, she had a notion that in a few minutes +she would be called to come and watch by her father, as she +had often done in the old days at Florence; so she only put +down her candle on the table, and curled herself up in a big +arm-chair; and in five minutes, in spite of her resolution to +keep wide awake till she should be summoned, she was sound +asleep. + +Low voices were consulting together in the next room, people +coming in and out; the French doctor who had been sent for +arriving; cautious footsteps, and soft movements about the +injured man. But Madelon heard none of them, she slept soundly +on, and only awoke at last to see her candle go out with a +splutter, and the grey light of dawn creeping chilly into the +room. She awoke with a start and shiver of cold, and sat up +wondering to find herself there; then a rush of recollections +came over her of last night, or her father's accident, and she +jumped up quickly, straightening herself, stretching her +little stiff limbs, and pushing back her tumbled hair with +both hands from the sleepy eyes that were hardly fairly open +even now. + +Her first movement was towards the door between the two +bedrooms, but she checked herself, remembering that Monsieur +le Docteur had told her she must not go in there till she was +called. There was another door to her room leading into the +corridor, and just at that moment she heard two people stop +outside of it, talking together in subdued tones. + +"Then I leave the case altogether in your hands," says a +strange man's voice. "I am absolutely obliged to leave Paris +for B---- by the first train this morning, and cannot be back +till to-morrow night; so, as you say, Monsieur, you are in +Paris for some time----" + +"For the next few days, at any rate," answered the other; and +Madelon recognized Graham's voice and English accent, "long +enough to see this case through to the end, I am afraid." + +"If anything can be done, you will do it, I am sure," +interrupted the other with warmth. "You must permit me to say, +Monsieur, as an old man may say to a young _confrère_, that it +is seldom one meets with so much coolness and skill in such a +very critical case. Nothing else could have saved----" + +The voices died away as the speakers walked towards the end of +the passage. Madelon had hardly taken in the sense of the few +sentences she had heard; she was only anxious now to see +Graham and ask if she might go to her father, so she opened +her door softly and crept into the passage, meeting Horace as +he returned towards the sick-room after seeing the French +doctor off. He looked down on the little figure all pale and +ruffled in the cold grey light. + +"Why, I thought you were asleep," he said. "Would you like to +see your father now? You may come in, but you must be very +quiet, for he is dozing." + +"Then he is better?" said Madelon, anxiously. + +Graham did not answer, he opened the door and led her in. The +room looked cheerless with the shaded night-lamp casting long +shadows, which mingles with those that the growing daylight +was chasing away. M. Linders was lying with his head supported +on a heap of pillows: his forehead was bandaged where the deep +cut had been given just above the brow, and he looked deadly +pale; his eyes were closed, he was breathing heavily, and +Madelon thought that, as Graham had told her, he was asleep; +but it was, in fact, rather a kind of stupor, from which +louder noises than the sound of her soft footfall would have +failed to rouse him. She went on tiptoe up to his bedside, and +stood gazing at him for a moment, and then with a swift, +silent movement buried her face in her hands, and burst into +an agony of crying. + +"He is very ill--oh! is he going to die?" was all the answer +she could give in a hoarse whisper to Graham's attempts at +comfort, trying the while to smother her sobs, so that they +might not break out and wake her father. + +"I hope not--I hope not," said Horace, quite grieved at the +sight of her distress; "but you must not cry so, Madelon; how +are you to nurse him and help him to get well again if you +do?" + +She stopped sobbing a little at this, and tried to check her +tears. + +"Do you really think he will get well again?" she said; "he +looks so ill." + +Graham did not at once answer. In truth, he saw no prospect of +M. Linders' ultimate recovery, though he would probably regain +consciousness, and might, perhaps, linger on for a few days. +But there always remained the hope born of a determination not +to despair, and it seemed cruel, at that moment, not to share +it with our poor little Madelon. + +"We must hope so," he said at last, "we must always hope for +the best, you know; but he must be kept very quiet, so you and +I, Madelon, must do our best to watch him, and see that he is +not disturbed." + +"Yes," said Madelon, drying her eyes quite now. "I will take +care of him." + +"Very well, then, if you will sit with him now, I will go and +speak to Madame Lavaux, if she is up; there are several +arrangements I have to make." + +He went away, leaving Madelon contented for the moment, since +she could sit and watch by her father; she remained +motionless, her eyes fixed on his face, her hands clasped +round her knees, her whole mind so absorbed in keeping +perfectly quiet, the one thing she could do for him just then, +that she hardly ventured to breathe. But not even yet did she +understand the full meaning of what had happened, nor clearly +comprehend all that she had to dread. She was not really +afraid that her father would not recover; she knew indeed that +he was very ill, much worse than he had ever been at Florence, +and that it might be a long, long time before he would be well +again, but she did not think that he was going to die. She had +asked the question indeed, prompted by an instinctive terror +that had seized her, but in fact she hardly knew what death +meant, much less had she ever conceived of her father as dead, +or imagined life without him. Nevertheless, the sudden panic +had left a nameless, unrecognized fear lurking somewhere, +which gave an added intensity to her desire that he would wake +up and speak to her once more; and sometimes the beating of +her own heart seemed to deafen her, so that she could not hear +the sound of his heavy irregular breathing, and then nothing +but the dread of disturbing him could have prevented her from +jumping up and going to him to make sure that he was still +sleeping. When would he awaken and look at her and speak to +her again? It appeared so long since she had heard his voice, +and seen him smile at her; since he had wished her good-bye +the evening before, she seemed to have lived through such long +hours of unimagined terror and sorrow, and all without being +able to turn to him for the sure help, for the loving +protection and sympathy that had ever been ready for his +little Madelon; and even now, he did not know how she was +watching him, nor how she was longing to go to him and kiss +him, to put her arms round his neck, and lay her soft little +cheek caressingly against his. This thought was the most +grievous of all to Madelon just then, and the big tears came +into her eyes again, and fell slowly one by one into her lap. + +Graham, however, returning presently, somehow seemed to bring +courage and consolation with him. Madelon brightened up at +once when he sat down by her and told her that he had asked +Madame Lavaux to send them up some coffee, so that they might +have it together there; and then, seeing the tears on her sad +little face, he assured her in his kind way that her father +would wake up presently and speak to her, and that, in the +meantime, she need not sit quite so still, as she would not +disturb him if she moved about quietly; and when, by-and-by, +the _café-au-lait_ arrived, they had their little meal together, +whilst he told her in a low voice how her father had partially +recovered his consciousness in the night and asked for her, +but had been quite satisfied when he heard she had gone to +bed, and had afterwards gone off to sleep as Madelon saw him +now. + +"By-the-by, Madelon," Graham said presently, "tell me if you +have any relations living in Paris, or any friends that you go +and visit sometimes?" + +"No," says Madelon wondering, "I have no relations--only papa." + +"No uncles, or aunts, or cousins?" + +"No," said Madelon again, "only Uncle Charles, who died, you +know." + +"Ah, yes--that was an English uncle; but your papa, has he no +brothers or sisters in Paris, or anywhere else?" + +"I never heard of any," said Madelon, to whom this idea of +possible relations seemed quite a new one. "I never go to +visit anyone." + +"Then you have no friends living in Paris--no little +companions, no ladies who come to see you?" + +"No," answers Madelon, shaking her head, "we don't know anyone +in Paris, except some gentlemen who come to play with papa-- +like Monsieur Legros, you know--only some are nicer than he is; +but I don't know the names of them all. At Wiesbaden I knew a +Russian princess, who used to ask me to go and see her at the +hotel--oh, yes, and a German Countess, and a great many people +that we met at the tables and at the balls, but I daresay I +shall never see them again; we meet so many people, you know." + +"And you have no other friends?" + +"Oh, yes," said Madelon, her eyes shining suddenly, "there was +the American artist, who lived in our house in Florence, and +the old German who taught me to sing and play the violin; I +was very fond of him, he was so good--so good." + +"Who were they?" asked Graham. + +Madelon explained, not in the least understanding the purport +of all these questions, but her explanation did not help +Graham much. In truth, he was revolving some anxious thoughts. +In accepting the charge of this sick man, he felt that he had +incurred a certain responsibility, not only towards M. +Linders, but towards his little girl, and any relations or +friends that he might have. It was on Madelon's account above +all that he felt uneasy; what was to become of her if her +father died--and Graham had little doubt that he was dying--all +friendless and alone in the world as she would apparently be? +Had any arrangements for the future been made, any provision +left for her? What was to become of this poor child, clinging +so closely to her father, and so dependent upon him that she +seemed to have no thoughts nor ideas apart from him? + +Graham had been questioning Madame Lavaux as to what she knew +of M. Linders and his life, and had gained much information on +some points, though very little on others. Madame Lavaux had +readily related the history of Madelon's birth and Madame +Linders' death. It was a story she was fond of telling; it had +been a little romance in the ordinary routine of hotel life, +and one in which, when she had duly set forth M. Linders' +heartlessness and her own exertions, she felt that she must +shine in an exceptionally favourable light; and indeed it was +so pitiful a tale the her hearers could not but share the +indignation and compassion she felt and expressed when she +spoke of _cette pauvre dame_, who so young and so beautiful had +been left alone to give birth to her infant, and, still alone, +to die four months later. But when Graham endeavoured to get +any facts bearing directly upon the present emergency, he +found Madame Lavaux less well-informed. M. Linders had come to +her hotel year after year, she said, and she had always taken +him in, on the little girl's account (who was a _chère petite_, +though troublesome sometimes, as children would be); otherwise +she would have been sorry to have such a _mauvais sujet_ about +the house, in and out at all hours, and queer-looking men +sitting up with him half the night. Had he any relations or +friends? That she did not know, she had never seen or heard of +any, but she did not wonder at that--they did well to keep +clear of him, a bad man, who had broken more hearts than his +wife's, she would answer for it. For the rest, she knew little +about him, she added, with a sudden fit of professional +reticence, induced by the recollection that it might be as +well not to gossip too much about the affairs of her +_clientèle;_ he came and went, paid his bill regularly enough, +generally seemed to have money at his command, and of course +it was not for her to inquire how he got it, though she might +have her suspicions. What was to become of his little girl in +case of his death? Madame had never thought of that: did +Monsieur think he was going to die? In that case how much +better to have taken him to the hospital; a death in the house +was always so inconvenient and disagreeable--not that she had +grudged it to that _pauvre_ Madame Linders, but this was a +different thing altogether; would he certainly die? Monsieur +said he did not know, one must always hope, but the case was a +grave one, and seeing that Madame could give him no help he +left her. + +He had questioned Madeleine in the hope that she would be able +to tell him of some one for whom he could send, or to whom he +could at least write, but here again he was baffled, and he +could only wait now for the moment when M. Linders should +recover consciousness. + +The hotel was all astir by this time with life and movement, +doors opening and shutting, footsteps up and down the +staircases and corridors, voices talking, calling, grumbling, +downstairs eating and drinking going on with much clattering +of plates and dishes, fiacres and omnibuses driving up, +tourists setting off in gay parties for their day's sight- +seeing, luggage being moved, travellers coming, travellers +going, to England, to the north, to the south, to the ends of +the earth--all the busy restless hotel life going on except in +this one silent room, where two people sat very quietly +watching a third, who, as one of them foresaw sadly enough, +would never take part in all this stir and bustle of life +again. Outside was broad sunny daylight now, but within it was +all dim and cool, for the night had been hot, and the window +stood wide open, and now the morning air blew freshly through +the Venetian shutters, that were closed to darken the room and +shut out the sun, which later would shine full upon them. The +morning hours slipped away; there was nothing to be done while +M. Linders remained in this state, and Madelon, by Horace's +advice, took a book, and seated herself on a low stool by the +window to read. Now and then she would stand looking at her +father with a most pitiful yearning in her great brown eyes; +once or twice, M. Linders, in his dull slumber, half torpor, +half sleep, seemed in some sort conscious of her presence; he +moved his head uneasily, said "Madeleine," and then some low +muttered words which she could not catch, but he never quite +roused up, and after each throb of expectation and hope, she +could only return to her book, and her silent watching. + +Graham went in and out, or sat reading and writing at the +table, and at twelve o'clock he made Madelon go downstairs to +breakfast with Madame Lavaux in her own little sitting-room. +Madame, who was really very fond of her, had forgotten all +about the altercation of the night before. Indeed she was both +good-natured and kind-hearted as soon as she could allow her +better impulses to have their own way; but she was a little +apt, as are most people to whom life resolves itself into a +narrow ministering to their personal pains and pleasures, to +look upon untoward occurrences as evidence of the causeless +animosity of some vague impersonality, continually on the +watch to adjust the largest events of life so as to occasion +her particular inconvenience. If half Paris and its environs +had been destroyed by an earthquake, her first impression of +the catastrophe would very possibly have been that it could +not have happened at a worse moment for raising the price of +early asparagus, though the further reflection that the +general want of accommodation would justify her in doubling +her hotel tariff, might in some measure have restored her +faith in the fitness of things. After this, she would have +found time to be overwhelmed with compassion for the +sufferers. M. Linders' accident, she found, had, as yet, been +attended with no evil results, so far as she was concerned; no +one had been disturbed in the night, no one had left, so that, +for the moment, it had been safely transferred to that region +of abstract facts, which she could consider dispassionately, +and judge by the light of her kindly impulses; and it was +under the influence of these that she was now bent on petting +and making much of Madelon, giving her cakes and confitures +and all kinds of good things. On second thoughts she had +rejected the idea that M. Linders was going to die; it would +be so very troublesome and inconvenient, that she found it +pleasanter to persuade herself that he would surely recover; +and now, on the strength of his conviction, and with a kind +wish to console Madelon, she became so encouraging, so certain +he would be well again in a few weeks--in a few weeks did she +say?--in a few days--with this clever English doctor, who, as +she improvised for the occasion, everyone knew was one of the +first doctors in London--with all this Madame so encouraged and +cheered our Madelon, that she came upstairs again at the end +of an hour looking quite bright, and almost expecting to see +some wonderful change for the better in her father. M. +Linders, however still lay as she had left him, and perhaps +the sight of his pale bloodless face chilled her, for she +crept silently to her corner, and took up her book again, +without saying a word of her new hopes. Presently Graham, +looking up from his writing, found that she had done the best +thing possible under the circumstances, for, with her book +lying open upon her lap, and her head resting against the +window-frame, she had fallen fast asleep. He went up to her, +raised her gently in his arms, and carried her into her own +room; so perfectly sound asleep was she, that she hardly +stirred, even when he laid her on her bed; and then, drawing +the curtain round her, he left her to herself. + +If this long morning had passed slowly and sadly for our +sorrowful little Madelon, it had been a time of anxiety and +uneasiness enough for Horace Graham also; who had never, I +daresay, felt more nervous than during these quiet hours when +M. Linders, partly from the effects of his accident, partly +from the opiates that had been given him, lay unconscious. He +was young in his profession, and though clever and skilled +enough in the technical part, he had had little experience in +what may be called the moral part of it, and he positively +shrank form the moment when this man, of whose life and +character he knew something, should wake up, and he should +have to tell him that he was dying. It was so absolutely +necessary, too, that he should know the danger he was in; for +if, as was too probable from his mode of life, his affairs +were in disorder, and his arrangements for his child's future +had still to be made, the time that remained to him was in all +human probability but short. For the rest, Graham felt in +himself small capacity for preaching or exhortation, and +indeed from a professional point of view, he dreaded a +possible outburst of excitement and remorse, as lessening his +last chance of saving his patient's life; and yet to him-- +young, full of energy, and hope, and resolution, though no +nearer perfection and tried wisdom than any other man with +crude beliefs and enthusiasms and untested powers for good or +evil--to him death still appeared one of the most awful facts +in life, and he could not think unmoved of the task of +announcing to such a man as this, that his last chances were +over, and such life as one can live in this world was for him +a thing of the past for ever now. Not a twelvemonth later, +Graham had stood by so many dying men, had listened to so many +dying speeches, had seen death met in so many forms, and with +such strange variety of character, with indifference or +calmness, or resignation, with wild triumph, or wilder +remorse, that he looked back with a sort of wonder on his +present inexperience and perplexity. Not the less, however, +did he now sit framing a dozen speeches one after the other, +dreading the effect of saying too much, and fearing to say too +little, till, about an hour after Madelon had fallen asleep, +M. Linders at length stirred, opened his eyes, and tried to +move. + +Graham was at his side instantly, and the sick man gazed up at +him in silence for a moment. + +"What has happened?" he said at last in a feeble voice: "who +are you? where is Madelon?" + +"Madelon is in the next room asleep," answered Graham; "you +met with an accident last night--I am an English doctor staying +in the hotel--the French one had to leave--do you remember?" + +He paused between each sentence, and M. Linders' eyes, which +were fixed upon him as he spoke, gradually acquired an +expression of intelligence as memory returned to him. He +closed them again and turned away his head. + +"Yes, I remember something about it," he said, "but--_que +diable_--I cannot move a limb; am I much hurt?" + +"A good deal," said Graham, helping him to raise himself a +little. "You had better keep quiet, and take this," giving him +a cordial, as M. Linders sank back exhausted. + +"That is better," he said, after a few minutes of struggling +breathing. "So I am a good deal hurt? Am I--am I going to die +by chance, M. le Docteur?" + +He spoke in his old half-sarcastic, half-cynical way, but a +feeble, gasping voice, that made an effect of contrast, as of +the tragic face espied behind the grinning mask. Somehow it +touched Graham, burdened as he was with the consciousness of +the death-warrant he had to pronounce, and he paused before +answering. M. Linders noticed his hesitation. + +"Bah!" he said, "speak, then; do you think I am afraid--a +coward that fears to know the worst? I shall not be the first +man that has died, nor, in all probability, the last. We ought +to be used to it by this time, _nous autres!_" + +"Perhaps it is always best to be prepared for the worst," says +Graham, recovering himself at this address, and taking refuge +at last in a conventional little speech. "And though we must +always hope for the best, I do not think it right to conceal +from you, Monsieur, that you are very much injured and shaken. +If you have any arrangements to make, anyone you would wish to +send for, or to see, I earnestly advise you to lose no time." + +He watched M. Linders narrowly as he spoke, and saw a sudden +gleam of fear or excitement light up his dull eyes for a +moment, whilst his fingers clutched nervously at the sheet, +but that was all the sign he made. + +"So--I am going to die?" he said, after a pause. "Well--that is +ended, then. Send for anyone? Whom should I send for?" he +added, with some vehemence. "For your priests, I suppose, to +come and light candles, and make prayers over me--is that what +you are thinking of, by chance? I won't have one of them--you +need not think of it, do you hear? --not one." + +"Pardon me," said Graham, "but it was not of priests I was +thinking just then--indeed, it seems to me that, at these +moments, a man can turn nowhere so safely as to his God--but +there are others----" + +He spoke quietly enough, but M. Linders interrupted him with a +fierce, hoarse whisper. "I can arrange my own affairs. I have +no one to send to--no one I wish to see. Let me die in peace." + +In spite of his assumed indifference, his whole soul was +filled and shaken with a sudden dread terror; for the moment +he had forgotten even his child. Graham saw it, but could not +urge him further just then; he only passed his arm under the +pillow, so as to raise his head a little, and then said, with +such professional cheerfulness as he could muster, + +"_Allons_, Monsieur, you must have courage. Calm yourself; you +are not going to die yet, and we must hope for the best. You +may live to see many people yet." + +M. Linders appeared scarcely to hear what he was saying; but +in a few moments his face relaxed, and a new expression came +into it, which seemed to soften the grey, ghastly look. + +"My poor little girl!" he said, with a sort of groan--"my +little Madelon!--to leave thee all alone, _pauvre petite!_" + +"It was precisely of her that I wished to speak," said Graham. +"I am afraid, in any case, you must look forward to a long +illness, and, on her account, is there no friend, no relation +you would wish to send for?" + +"I have no friends--no relations," said M. Linders, +impatiently. "A long illness? Bah! M. le Docteur, I know, and +you know that I am going to die--to-day, to-morrow, who knows?-- +and she will be left alone. She has no one in the world but +me, and she has been foolish enough to love me--my little one!" + +He paused for a moment, and then went on, with a vehemence +that struggled for utterance, with his hoarse feeble voice and +failing breath. + +"If this cursed accident had happened but one day sooner or +later, I could have left her a fortune--but a superb fortune; +only one day sooner--I had it two days ago--or to-morrow--I +should have had my revenge last night of that _scélérat_--that +devil--that Legros, and won back the money he cheated me of, +he--he--of all men, a mere beginner, a smatterer--ah! if I had +been the man I once was, it would have been a different +account to settle----" + +He lay back panting, but began again before Graham could +speak. + +"I only want time--give me a little time, and my little +Madeleine shall have such a fortune as shall make her +independent of every one; or stay, why not send for him now? I +will give you his address--yes, now--now at once, before it is +too late!" + +"That is quite impossible, Monsieur," Graham answered with +decision; "and if you agitate yourself in this way, I must +refuse to listen to another word. You are doing all you can to +lessen your chances of recovery." + +"You do not play, Monsieur?" said M. Linders, struck with a +new idea, and not in the least attending to what Graham was +saying. + +"Do you want to win my money?" said the young man, half +smiling. "No, I do not play, nor, if I did, have I any money +to lose. Leave all these notions alone, I entreat of you; calm +yourself; you need not trouble yourself to speak much, but +just tell me what your wishes are concerning your little girl-- +in any case it is always best to be prepared. Have you made +any will? Is there any one to whose care you would wish to +entrust her in the event of your death?" + +M. Linders had exhausted his strength and his passion for the +moment, and answered quietly enough. No, he had made no will, +he said--of what use? Everything he had was hers, of course-- +little enough too, as matters stood. He owned he did not know +what was to become of her; he had made no arrangements--he had +never thought of its coming to this, and then he had always +counted on leaving her a fortune. He had sometimes thought of +letting her be brought up for the stage; that might be +arranged now, if he could see S----, the manager of the Théâtre +----. Could he be sent for at once? + +"Certainly, if you really wish it," answered Graham with some +hesitation, and then added frankly, "I have no sort of right +to offer an opinion, but will you not consider a moment before +fixing on such a fate for your child? She is surely very young +to be thrown amongst strangers, on such a doubtful career, +especially without you at hand to protect her." + +"It is true I shall not be there," said the father with a +groan; "I had forgotten that. And I shall never see my little +one grown up. Ah! what is to become of her?" + +"Has she no relations?" said Graham, "in England for instance----" + +"In England!" cried M. Linders fiercely, "what could make you +fancy that?" + +"I had understood that her mother was English----" began Graham. + +"You are right, Monsieur; her mother was English, but she has +no English relations, or, if she has, they are nothing to her, +and she shall never know them. No," he said slowly, after a +pause, "I suppose there is only one thing to be done, and yet +I would almost rather she lay here dead by my side, that we +might be buried together in one grave; it would perhaps be +happier for her, poor little one! Ah, what a fate! but it must +be--you are right, I cannot send her out alone and friendless +into the world, she must go to her aunt." + +"She has an aunt, then?" said Graham, with some surprise. + +"Yes, Monsieur, she has an aunt, my sister Thérèse, with whom +I quarrelled five and twenty years ago, and whom I have +cordially hated ever since; and if ever woman deserved to be +hated, she does;" and indeed, though he had not mentioned his +sister's name for years, the very sound of it seemed to revive +the old enmity in all its fresh bitterness. "She lives near +Liége," he went on presently. "She is the Superior of a +convent there, having risen to that eminence through her +superior piety and manifold good works, doubtless. Mon Dieu!" +he cried, with another of his sudden impotent bursts of +passion and tenderness, "that it should have come to this, +that I should shut up my little one in a convent! And she will +be miserable--she will blame me, she will think me cruel; but +what can I do? what can I do?" + +"But it seems to me the best thing possible," said Graham, +who, in truth, was not a little relieved by this sudden and +unexpected solution of all difficulties. "So many children are +educated in convent, and are very happy there; she will be +certainly well taught and cared for, and you must trust to +your sister for the future." + +"Never!" he said, half raising himself on his elbow with a +mighty effort. "Well taught!--yes, I know the sort of teaching +she will get there; she will be taught to hate and despise me, +and then they will make her a nun--they will try to do it, but +that shall never be! I will make Madelon promise me that. My +little one a nun!--I will not have it! Ah! I risk too much; she +shall not go!" + +He fell back on the pillow gasping, panting, almost sobbing, +all pretence and semblance of cynicism and indifference gone +in the miserable moment of weakness and despair. Was it for +this, then, that he had taught his child to love him--that he +had watched and guarded and cherished her--that he should place +her now in the hands of his enemy, and that she should learn +to hate his memory when he was dead? Ah! he was dying, and +from the grave there would be no return--no hand could be +stretched out from thence to claim her--no voice make itself +heard to appeal to her old love for him, to remind her of +happy bygone days when she had believed in him, and to bid her +to be faithful to him still. Those others would be able to +work their will then, while he lay silent for evermore, and +his little one would too surely learn what manner of father +she had had, perhaps--who knows?--learn to rejoice in the day +that had set her free from his influence. + +Graham very likely understood something of what was passing in +M. Linders' mind, revealed, as it had been, by those few +broken words, for he said in a kind voice, + +"I think you may surely trust to your child's love for you, M. +Linders, for she seems to have found all her happiness in it +hitherto, and it is so strong and true that I do not think it +will be easily shaken, nor can I fancy anyone will be cruel +enough to attempt it." And then, seeing how little capable M. +Linders seemed at that moment of judging wisely, he went on to +urge the necessity of Madelon's being sent to her aunt as her +natural guardian, representing the impossibility of leaving +her without money or friends in the midst of strangers. + +"There is a little money," said M. Linders, "a few thousand +francs--I do not know how much exactly; you will find it in +that desk. It would start her for the stage; she has talent-- +she would rise. S---- heard her sing once; if he were here now, +we might arrange----" + +He was rambling off in a low broken voice, hardly conscious, +perhaps, of what he was saying. Graham once more interposed. + +"No, no," he said, "you must not think of it. Let her go to +her aunt. Don't be uneasy about her getting there safely; I +will take charge of her." + +"You will?" said M. Linders, fixing his dim eyes on Graham, +and with some resumption of his old manner. "Pardon, Monsieur, +but who are you, that you take such an interest in my +affairs?" + +"Anyone must take an interest in your little girl," said +Graham warmly, and in the kind, frank voice that somehow +always carried with it the conviction of his sincerity and +good faith, "and I am truly glad that the chance that brought +me to this hotel has put it in my power to be of use to you +and to her. For the rest, my name is Graham, and I am an army +surgeon. I don't suppose you recollect the circumstance, +Monsieur, but I very well remember meeting you at +Chaudfontaine some years ago." + +"No, I don't remember," said M. Linders faintly, "but I think +I may trust you. You will see that Madelon reaches Liége +safely?" + +"I will take her there myself," answered Graham. "Would you +like to send any message to your sister?" + +"I will write," said M. Linders, "or rather you shall write +for me; but presently--I cannot talk any more now--it must do +presently." + +Indeed he was faint from exhaustion, and Graham could only do +all that was possible to revive him, and then remain by his +side till he should have recovered his strength a little; and +as he sat there, silently watching, I daresay he preached a +little sermon to himself, but in no unfriendly spirit to his +patient, we may be sure. This, then, was what life might come +to--this might be the end of all its glorious possibilities, of +all its boundless hopes and aims. To this man, as to another, +had the great problem been presented, and he had solved it-- +thus; and to Graham, in the fulness of his youth, and +strength, and energy, the solution seemed stranger than the +problem. To most of us, perhaps, as years go on, life comes to +be represented by its failures rather than its successes, by +its regrets rather than its hopes; enthusiasms die out, +illusions vanish, belief in the perfectibility of ourselves +and of others fades, as we learn to realize the shortness of +life, the waywardness of human nature, the baffling power of +circumstances, too easily allowed; but in their place, a +humble faith in a more perfect and satisfying hereafter, which +shall be the complement of our existence here, the fulfilment +of our unfinished efforts, our many shortcomings, springs up, +let us trust, to encourage us to new strivings, to ever-fresh +beginnings, which shall perhaps be completed and bear fruit in +another world; perhaps be left on earth to work into the grand +economy of progress--not wholly useless in any case. But at +four or five and twenty, in spite of some failures and +disappointments, the treasure of existence to an honest, frank +heart, still seems inexhaustible as it is inestimable. The +contrast between the future Graham looked forward to, full of +hopes and ambitions, and this past whose history he could +guess at, and whose results he contemplated, forced itself +upon him, and an immense compassion filled the young man's +heart at the sight of this wasted life, of this wayward mind, +lighted up with the sudden, passionate gleams of tenderness +for his child, the one pure affection perhaps that survived to +witness to what had been--a great compassion, an honest, +wondering pity for this man who had thus recklessly squandered +his share of the common birth right. Ah! which of us, standing +on safe shores, and seeing, as all must see at times, the sad +wreck of some shattered life cast up by the troubled waves at +our feet, does not ask himself, in no supercilious spirit, +surely, but with an awe-struck humility, "Who or what hath +made thee to differ?" + +Perhaps, as M. Linders lay there, he also preached to himself +a little sermon, after his own peculiar fashion, for when, at +the end of half an hour, he once more aroused himself, all +signs of agitation had disappeared, and it was with a perfect +calmness that he continued the conversation. Graham could not +but admire this composure in the man whom but just now he had +seen shaken with passion and exhausted with conflicting +emotions; whom indeed he had had to help, and judge for, and +support in his hour of weakness and suffering; whilst now M. +Linders had resumed his air of calm superiority as the man of +the world, which seemed at once to repel and forbid support +and sympathy from the youth and inexperience at his side. + +"You are right, Monsieur," he said, breaking the silence +abruptly, and speaking in a clear, though feeble voice, +"Madelon must go her aunt. Did I understand you to say you +would take charge of her to Liége?" + +"I will certainly," said Graham; "if----" + +"I am exceedingly indebted to you," said M. Linders, "but I am +afraid such a journey may interfere with your own plans." + +"Not in the least," replied Graham. "I am only travelling for +amusement, and have no one to consult but myself." + +"Ah--well, I shall not interfere with your amusement long; and +in the meantime, believe me, I am sensible of your goodness. +It may make matters easier if you take a letter from me to my +sister. I am afraid I cannot write myself, but I could +dictate--if it be not troubling you too much--there are a pen +and ink somewhere there; and if you could give me anything--I +still feel rather faint." + +Graham rose, gave him another cordial, drew a small table to +the bedside, and sat down to write. M. Linders considered for +a moment, and then began to dictate. + + +"Ma soeur,--We parted five and twenty years ago, with a mutual +determination never to see each other again--a resolution which +has been perfectly well kept, and which there is no danger of +our breaking now, as I shall be in my grave before you read +this letter; and you will have the further consolation of +reflecting that, as we have never met again in this world, +neither is there any probability of our doing so in another----" + + +"Pardon me," said Graham, laying down his pen, as M. Linders +dictated these last words, "but you are about to recommend +your child to your sister's care; of what use can it be to +begin with words that can only embitter any ill-feeling there +may have been between you?" + +"But it is a great consolation I am offering her there," says +M. Linders, in his feeble voice. "However, as you will-- +_recommençons;_ but no more interruptions, Monsieur, for my +strength is not inexhaustible." + + +"Ma soeur,--It is now five and twenty years since we parted, +with the determination never to see each other again. Whether +we have done well to keep this resolution or not, matters +little now; we shall, at any rate, have no temptation in the +future to break it, for I shall be in my grave before your +receive this letter. I am dying, a fact which may possess some +faint interest for you even now--or may not--that is not to the +purpose either. It is not of myself that I would speak, but of +my child. I am sending her to you, Thérèse, as to the only +relative she has in the world; look on her, if you prefer it, +as your mother's only grandchild; we had a mother once who +loved me, and whom you professed to love--for her sake be kind +to Madelon. I am not rich, and without money I cannot leave +her amongst strangers, otherwise I would have found some other +means of providing for her; at the same time, I do not send +her to you absolutely penniless--she will take to you the sum +of three thousand francs, which will provide her board for the +next two or three years, at any rate; I do not cast her on +your charity. I have two requests to make, and if your +religion teaches you to have any regard for the wishes of a +dying man, I trust you will hold them sacred as such. In the +first place, I demand of you that you should not bring her up +to be a nun; she has not, and never will have, the slightest +vocation--is not that the right word?--for such a life. My wish +is that she should be educated for the stage, but I do not +absolutely desire it; circumstances must in some measure +decide, and something must be left to your discretion, but a +nun she shall not be. In the second place, respect my memory, +so far as my little Madeleine is concerned. Keep your powers +of abusing me, if they be not already exhausted, for the +benefit of others; she has never been separated from me since +she was an infant, and the little fool has actually learnt to +love me, and to believe in me. It is an innocent delusion, and +has made her happy--do not disturb it. I tell you, my sister, +it will be the worst work you have yet wrought upon earth, and +an evil day for you, if, even when I am in my grave, you try +to come between me and my daughter. + +"Your brother, + +"Adolphe Linders." + + +"I will sign it," said the sick man, holding out his hand for +the pen. He had dictated the letter with some pauses and gasps +for breath, but in the uniform indifferent voice that he had +adopted since the beginning of the conversation. He dropped +the pen, when he had scrawled the signature with almost +powerless fingers, and his hand fell heavily on the bed again. +"That is done," he said, and, after a pause, continued: +"Monsieur, circumstances have compelled me to place a +confidence in you, with which, at another time, I should have +hesitated to burden you, fearing to cause you inconvenience." + +"You cause me no inconvenience, and I shall do my best to +carry out your wishes," said Horace. "In return, I must beg of +you to keep yourself quiet now." + +"One moment, Monsieur--my money you will find in that desk, as +I have said; after paying my funeral and other expenses, you +will, I think, find there is still the sum left that I have +named in my letter. I must beg of you to hand it over to my +sister. I can trust her so far, I believe; and I will not have +my child a pauper on her hands, dependent on her charity for +food and clothing; otherwise it might have been wiser--however, +it is too late now, and in two of three years much may happen. +One word more, and I have done. I have no sort of claim on +your kindness, Monsieur, but you have proved yourself a +friend, and as such I would ask you not to lose sight of +Madelon entirely. She will be but a friendless little one when +I am gone, and I have not much confidence in her aunt's tender +mercies." + +"You may depend upon it that I will not," said Graham +earnestly, and hardly thinking of the sort of responsibility +he was accepting. + +"Thank you; then that is all. And now, Monsieur le Docteur, +how long do you give me?" + +"How long?" said Graham. + +"Ah! how long to live?--to-day, to-night, to-morrow? How long, +in short?" + +Then Graham spoke plainly at last, without further reticence +or concealment, so useless in the face of this indifference +and levity, real or affected. + +"M. Linders," he said, "the chance on which your recovery +hangs is so slight, that I do not think it probable, hardly +possible, that you can live over to-morrow. Will you not try +to understand this?" + +There was something so wistful and kind and honest in Graham's +expression as he stood there, looking down on his patient, +that M. Linders was touched, perhaps, for he held out his hand +with a little friendly gesture; but even then he could not, or +would not abandon his latest pose of dying _en philosophe_. + +"I understand well enough," he answered; "a man does not +arrive at my age, _mon ami_, without having faced death more +than once. You think, perhaps, it has terrors for me?--not at +all; to speak frankly, pain has, but I do not suffer so much +now. That is a bad sign, perhaps. Well, never mind, you have +done your best for me, I know, and I thank you. Except for +that little regret that you know of as regards Legros and--and +Madelon, I am content that life should come to an end--it is +not too delightful in any case, and those that I cared for +most did their best to spoil mine for me. For people who +believe in a hereafter, and choose to contemplate a doubtful +future, adorned with flames and largely peopled with devils, I +can imagine death to have its unpleasant side; but I look upon +all such notions as unphilosophical in the extreme. And now, +Monsieur, I think I could sleep a little. By-and-by, when +Madelon awakes, I should like to see her." + +He turned his head away, and presently fell into a light dose. +Did he mean, or did he persuade himself that he meant half of +what he said? Graham could not decide; and, in truth, he had +uttered his little speech with an air of dignity and +resignation that half imposed upon the younger man, and +impressed him, in spite of his better judgment. An heroic soul +going forth with an unfeigned stoicism to meet its fate? Or an +unhappy man, striving to hide a shivering consciousness from +himself and others, with an assumption of philosophical +scepticism? Ah! who was Graham, that he should judge or weigh +the secrets of another man's heart at such an hour as this? He +left the bedside, and went back once more to his writing. + +A few minutes afterwards, Madame Lavaux knocked softly, and +looked into the room. Graham went out into the passage to +speak to her, closing the door after him. + +"How is he now, the poor Monsieur?" asks Madame. + +"He is sleeping now," Graham answered; "there is nothing to be +done but to keep him as quiet as possible." + +"And will he recover, do you think?" + +"Hardly. One must always hope; but he is very ill." + +"Ah! well," said the landlady, resigning herself; "but, after +all," she added, "it is sad to see a man die like that; and +then there is the child. Otherwise the world will be none the +worse for wanting him. But what is to become of the little +girl?" + +"That is all arranged," replied Graham, "she is to go to an +aunt, a sister of her father's, who, it appears, is Superior +of a convent near Liége. But can you tell me, Madame, had +Madame Linders quarrelled with her English relations? When she +was dying alone here, had she no friends of her own that she +could have sent for to be with her?" + +"She would not have them, Monsieur; you see, she was devoted +to her husband in spite of all, this poor Madame, and _he_ had +quarrelled with her relations, I believe; at any rate, she +would not send for them. 'Adolphe will come,' she would always +say, 'and it would vex him to find anyone here,' and so she +died alone, for he never arrived till the next morning. +However," continues Madame, "it was not of that I came to +speak now, it was to know if Monsieur would not wish to have a +nurse to-night to attend the poor gentleman? It is what we +must have had if you had not been here, and there is no reason +why you should knock yourself up with nursing him." + +"It certainly might be better," said Graham considering, "I +had thought of it, but--however, you are quite right, Madame, a +nurse we will have; where can I get one?" + +Madame said he had better apply to the Soeurs de Charité, and +gave him an address, adding that if he would like to go +himself she could spare half an hour to sit with Monsieur +there. + +"I will go at once," replied Graham, "whilst he is sleeping; +he is not likely to rouse again just a present; don't let him +talk or move if he should awake, but it is not probable that +he will." + +So it was arranged, and Madame Lavaux established herself with +her knitting in the dim, silent room, whilst Graham departed +on his errand, satisfied that his patient was in safe hands. +Not ten minutes had elapsed, however, when a knock came at the +door of the sick-room, and a summons--could Madame come at +once? Madame cast a look at her charge; he was perfectly still +and quiet, sleeping profoundly apparently; there could be no +harm in leaving him for a moment. She went, intending to +return immediately; but, alas! for human intentions, +downstairs she found a commotion that drove M. Linders, M. le +Docteur, and everything else out of her head for the time +being. Madame la Comtesse _au premier_ had lost her diamond +ring--her ring, worth six thousand francs, an heirloom, an +inestimable treasure; lost it? it had been stolen--she knew it, +felt convinced of it; she had left it for five minutes on her +dressing-table whilst she went to speak to some dressmaker or +milliner, and on her return it had vanished. Unpardonable +carelessness on her part, she admitted, but that did not alter +the fact; it had been stolen, and must be found; house, +servants, visitors, luggage, all must be searched and +ransacked. Where were the gendarmes? let all these people be +taken into custody at once, pointing to the group of startled, +wondering, servants,--let everyone be taken into custody. +Madame Lavaux had enough to do and to think of for the next +hour, we may be sure, and though, at the end of that time, +Madame la Comtesse found the ring safe in the corner of her +pocket, whither it had slipped off her finger, and the +disturbance was at an end, not so were the consequences of +that disturbance. + +For in the meantime a very different scene was being acted out +upstairs. + + +CHAPTER III. + +Madam's Vigil. + + +Five minutes after Madame Lavaux had left the room, Madelon, +just awakened from her sound sleep, came creeping gently in. +It was almost dark by this time, for it was late in the +afternoon, and the Venetian shutters were still closed that +had kept out the heat and glare all day; but now she threw +them back, and let in the tepid evening breeze, and the faded +light of the dying day; carriages and carts were rattling in +the street below, shrill voices came from the opposite houses +where lights were appearing here and there; high up in the +serene grey-blue sky a few reddened clouds had caught the last +gleams of the setting sun. + +"Madelon," said M. Linders, roused by the noise she had made +in opening the shutters. + +A sudden throb of joy came over her as she heard his voice +again, and she went swiftly and stood by his bedside. + +"Are you better, papa?" she said, putting her two little cool +hands into one of his, hot with fever. + +"We are alone, are we not?" he answered, looking feebly +around. "Come and sit up here by me. Can you jump up? That is +right," as she climbed up and nestled close to him, her feet +tucked under the sheet; "here, _petite_, let me put my arm round +you." + +He raised himself with an effort, and passed his arm round +her, so that she could lay her head on his shoulder; and then +in answer to her question,-- + +"No, I am not better," he said, "and I do not suppose I ever +shall be better now. But never mind that," as she raised her +head suddenly, and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, +"let us talk a little, Madelon. We have always been happy +together; have we not, my child?" + +"Ah! yes, papa." + +"And later, when you are grown into a woman--as you will be, +you know, by-and-by--and you think of the years when you were +when you were a little girl, you will like to recall them; +will you not, Madelon? You will remember that they were +happy?" + +"Yes, papa, I have been happy, ah, so happy!" says Madelon, +half crying, and nestling closer to him; "but why do you talk +so? What do you mean?" + +"You will think of all our travels together, what pretty +placed we have visited, all the _fête_ days we have spent; and +you will remember that, whatever else I may or may not have +done, I have always tried to make you happy, and to be a good +papa to my little one. Promise me that, Madelon." + +"I promise it, papa," she said. "How could I forget? Why +should I not remember? Why do you talk to me in this way, +papa? Are you very ill?" + +"Very ill," he replied, holding her tighter to him, "so ill +that all those happy days are come to an end for me, and for +you, too, _ma petite;_ we shall never go about again together. +You--you--" his voice broke with a sort of groan, but he went on +again directly, "I wonder what my little Madelon will be like +when she grows into a great girl? I should have liked to have +seen you, my little one. I wonder if you will be tall--I dare +say you will--for your mother was tall, and your face is very +like hers." + +"Am I like her, papa?" + +"Very," he said, stroking her wavy hair, with his feeble +fingers; "your eyes--yes, you have eyes that resemble hers +exactly, and sometimes I have thought that when you grew up it +would be almost like seeing her over again--for you know I did +love her," he added, in a lower tone, turning his head +restlessly on the pillow, "though they said I did not. I never +meant her to die alone; they might have known that. I wish-- +Bah! I am forgetting----" + +"What did you say, papa?" + +"Nothing," he answered; "I think I was forgetting where I was. +How dark it is growing! you must light the candles soon. I +must look at you again; you know I want to see your eyes, and +smile, and pretty hair once more. And you, my little one, you +will not forget my face? Don't cry, don't cry," he said, with +a sudden pain in his voice; "I cannot bear it. I have never +made you cry before: have I, my child?" + +"Never, never," she said, stifling her tears desperately. + +"You must think of me sometimes when you are grown up," he +went on in his feeble voice, harping still on the same +subject. "You will have no money, my poor little one--if it had +not been for that devil Legros--but it is too late to think of +that now. Well, I think you will have beauty, and that will go +far even if you have no _dot_, and I should like you to marry +well. But when you have a husband, and are rich, perhaps, you +must still think sometimes of the days when you were a little +girl, and had a papa who loved no one in the world so much as +his little Madelon." + +"Papa, I want no money, nor husband, nor anything else," cried +Madelon, in a burst of tears, and throwing both her arms round +his neck. "I want nobody but you, and I love you, and always +shall love you better than any one else in the world. Papa, +are you going to die and leave me?" + +"So it seems," he said bitterly. "It is not my choice, +Madelon, but one cannot arrange these little matters for +oneself, you see. Now listen, my child; I am not going to +leave you quite alone. I have a sister, who is your aunt +Thérèse; I have never spoken to you about her before, for she +became a nun, and we have not always been very good friends, +but I think she will give you a home. She is the Superior of a +convent near Liége, and that English gentleman--the doctor, you +know--will take you to her; do you understand?" + +"Yes, papa." + +"Well, you must stay with her for the present. It is not just +what I could have wished for you, _ma petite_, but I have no +choice, as it happens; and if ever you are dull or unhappy +there, you will not blame me, or think I was unkind in sending +you, will you, my child? for indeed I could not help it, and +you will be a good little girl, I know. By-and-by, as I said, +perhaps you will marry--I cannot arrange all these matters +beforehand. I used to think sometimes that perhaps you might +have come out on the stage a few years hence. Would you have +liked that, Madelon?" + +"Yes--no--oh, I don't know, papa--I want you--I want you!" + +"Yes--you will want me, _pauvre petite_. Good Heavens! that a +child so small, so young should be left without me to take +care of her! Bah, I must not think of it. Madelon, there is +one thing more you must promise me--never to become a nun." + +"A nun, papa?" + +"Yes, a nun," he repeated, in his feeble vehement way, "a nun +like your aunt Thérèse. Do you know what it means? To grow +pious, and narrow-minded, and sour, to live for ever shut up +between four walls from which there is no escape, to think +yourself better than all the world. Madelon, promise me never +to become a nun; if I thought that were the future in store +for you--promise me, I say." + +"I promise, papa," she said, quite solemnly, putting her hands +together with a quaint little gesture; "indeed I should not +like it at all." + +"If I could only foresee--if I could only arrange," he said +piteously. "God knows I have done what I think is best for +you, my child, and yet--who knows what may come of it? +Madelon," he went on in a faint, pleading, broken voice, "you +will not let them make you think ill of me, and blame and +despise me when I am dead? They will try perhaps, but you must +always love me, my darling, as you do now; it must not be all +in vain--all that I have been striving for--ah, don't cry--there-- +we won't talk any more now--another time." + +There was a minute's silence in the darkening twilight; +Madelon's face was hidden in her father's shoulder, as he lay +there with his arm still round her and his eyes closed, faint +and exhausted. All of a sudden he roused himself with a start. + +"Ah, I am dying!" he cried, with a hoarse voice, "and it is +all dark! Light the candles, Madelon--light them quickly, I +must see you once more before I die!" + +Startled, awe-struck, only half realizing the meaning of his +words, Madelon slid off the bed and prepared to obey. At that +moment there came a tremendous knocking at the door of the +room, and a voice half chanting, half shouting,-- + +"Are you here, my friend? Are you within to-night? Can one +enter? Open quick; it is I, it is your friend! Are you ready +for your little revenge? I am ready, for my part; I will give +it to you--yes, with pleasure--yes, with an open heart!" + +"It is Legros!" cried M. Linders from his bed, in a sudden +spasm of rage, "it is that villain, that _misérable!_ Yes, yes, +come in; Madelon, light the candles quickly; where are the +cards? Ah--I will have my revenge yet!" + +The door burst open, and Legros entered, just as Madelon had +succeeded in lighting the candles. He stopped short in his +uproarious entrance, suddenly sobered by the appearance of M. +Linders, as he lay propped up with pillows, his white face and +bandaged head, and eyes gleaming with fever and rage. + +"Papa is very ill," says Madelon. "Monsieur, do not stay to- +night, I beg of you!" + +"What are you saying, Madelon?" cried her father; "I forbid +you to say that again; bring me the cards. Legros, I am ready +for you; ah, there is then one more chance in life!" + +"You are not fit to play, Monsieur," said the young man, +stepping back; "I will come again to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" answered M. Linders, with a sort of laugh, "have +you then so many to-morrows that you can talk of them +recklessly? Well, then, I will tell you--I have not--not one; +but I have to-night, and that I will not lose. Ah! you think +to cheat me in that way? you will put me off till to-morrow? +you will say then--Ah, this M. Linders can never have his +revenge now, he is quiet enough, I can keep his money in my +pocket? You shall not say that, Monsieur; Madelon, bring the +cards, and the lights, close to me, here, I cannot see well, +it is so dark." + +He seized the cards, and began to deal them out on the +coverlet with his trembling hands. Madelon placed a small +table at his side, put one candle on it, and with the other in +her hand stood close to his pillow white and motionless. +Legros slowly and reluctantly drew a chair to the bedside, and +sat down opposite. There was a moment's pause, whilst M. +Linders shifted and sorted his cards, and then, "A vous, +Monsieur," he cried, with a sort of fierce impatience; but at +the same instant his hold relaxed, the cards tumbled all in a +heap on the floor, his head fell back. Madelon screamed and +started forward, upsetting the table and the candle; Legros +sprang up. It was at that moment that the door opened, and +Graham, followed by a Soeur de Charité, entered the room. + +Never, to the last day of his life, one may fancy, would +Graham forget the little scene before him, which, indeed, +always returned to his memory with an impression as vivid as +that made upon him now--the overturned table, the scattered +cards, Madelon in her white frock, her pale scared face, her +wavy hair, her great brown eyes illuminated by the candle she +still held, the terrified Legros, the ghastly look of the +dying man--he saw it all at a glance, as he entered the room he +had left so dim and silent but half an hour ago. It was to +Legros he first addressed himself in a tone of strong +indignation. + +"Monsieur," he said, "you can have no business to transact +with a dying man, and your presence is not desired here. Might +I request you to leave me alone with my patient?" + +"On my honour, Monsieur," cries the other, pale and +stammering; "it was no doing of mine--he would have it so." + +Graham, very likely, did not hear what he said; he was already +at M. Linders' side. He raised his head, he felt his pulse and +heart. + +"It is nearly over," he said to the Soeur de Charité; "will you +take the little girl into the next room?" And Madelon, +frightened and trembling, offered no resistance as the Soeur +took her by the hand and led her away. + +It was as Graham said; all was nearly over. The feeble life, +that with careful tending and cherishing might have flickered +and lingered on yet a little longer, was all but quenched in +this last supreme passion and effort. M. Linders never spoke +again, and died in less than two hours, quietly at last, as +men do for the most part die, it is said. + +"That poor child!" said Graham, "who will tell her?" + +"I will," said the brave, cheery little Soeur Angélique, and +went. + + +* * * * * * + + +It was nearly midnight when the sad little bustle that had +been going on in the chamber of death was hushed at last, and +the Soeur de Charité prepared to depart. She had offered indeed +to stay all night, but when Graham assured her that there was +no occasion for any one to remain, as his room was just +opposite, and he should be on the watch to see that all was +quiet, she owned that she should be glad to go, as there was +much illness about, and her services might be required +elsewhere. She stood talking to Graham for a few moments +before leaving. + +"That poor little one," she said, "I should like to have one +look at her, just to see that she is quiet; I don't think she +half understood, or took in, what I said to her." + +"Madame Lavaux told me she was in bed," Graham answered, "but +we will see if she is asleep. Poor child, she will understand +it all soon enough." + +He opened the door gently between the two rooms, and they +looked in. All was dark and silent, but they could just +distinguish a little head laid on the white pillow, and could +hear Madelon's soft, regular breathing. + +"That is all right," said Graham, "we will not go in and +disturb her; she will sleep till the morning, I daresay, for +she was up almost all last night." He closed the door again as +he spoke, and so they left her. + +It was true that Madelon was asleep, but she was not exactly +in bed. When the Sister had come in to tell her of her +father's death, she had found her seated on the ground close +to the door, with her hands clasped round her knees, her head +leaning against the doorway; some one had bought in some +supper on a tray, but it stood on the table untouched, though +she had eaten nothing since the morning. She did not move when +Soeur Angélique came in, but she looked up with an expression +of dumb, helpless misery that went to the Sister's heart; she +sat down beside her on the floor, put her arm round her, and +told her the sad news in her gentle, quiet tones, which had +acquired a ring of sympathy and tenderness in a thousand +mournful scenes of sorrow and despair; but, as she had said to +Horace, she hardly knew whether the child understood her, or +took in what she was saying. Madelon did not speak nor cry; +she only sat gazing at the little Sister with a look of +perplexed terror dilating her brown eyes, that never changed +as Soeur Angélique went on with her pious, gentle maxims and +consolations, which fell blankly enough we may be sure on our +small Madelon's bewildered mind; and presently, hearing +herself called, and seeing indeed that she was making no +impression with her kind little speeches, the Sister rose to +go, saying as she did so, "You will go to bed now, _chère +petite_, will you not?" and then thinking that a familiar face +and voice might perhaps have a kindlier influence than her own +just then, she added, "and I will ask Madame Lavaux to come to +you." + +"No, no," cried Madelon, suddenly rousing, and starting up at +these last words. She had comprehended what the Sister had +told her well enough so far as words went, but she was too +stunned and confused to take in their full meaning; and in +truth her presence there at all had only been another +unfamiliar element in this bewildering whirl of events, +imparting an additional sense of unreality. But when she +mentioned Madame Lavaux, the name linked itself at once with +recent memories and emotions, and its accustomed association +with her every-day life made it a rallying point, as it were, +for her scattered ideas. Madame Lavaux had been cross and +unkind to her the night before; Madame had buoyed her up with +false hopes of her father's recovery only that morning; +Madelon did not want her, would not see her. She stood still +for a few minutes after the Soeur de Charité had left the room, +all her sorrows and doubts and certainties resolved for the +moment into a dull, unreasoning dread of seeing Madame Lavaux +come in; and then, suddenly fancying she heard footsteps +approaching the door, she hastily blew out her candle, and all +dressed as she was, crept under the coverlet of the bed. She +would pretend to be asleep, she thought, and then no one would +disturb her. The footsteps passed on, but presently the door +did open, and some one looked in: it was Madame Lavaux, who, +seeing that Madelon made no sign, concluded that she was +asleep, and went away softly, with a kind pity in her heart +for the desolate child. As for Madelon, the pretence of +slumber soon passed into reality, for, after lying awake for a +while listening to the low voices and rustling movements in +the next room, fatigue and her own enforced tranquillity +overcame her, and she fell sound asleep. + +It must have been long past midnight when she awoke again with +a sudden feeling of fright and strangeness, for which she +could not account, but which made her spring off the bed and +listen if she could hear any one moving. All was very still; +not a sound came from the adjoining apartment; her own room +was quite dark, for the windows and outside shutters were +closed. Madelon felt scared, lonely, desolate, without knowing +why; and then, all at once, she remembered the reason. All +that the Sister had said came back with fresh meaning and +distinctness to her senses restored by sleep; and, sitting +down on the floor just where she was, she began to cry with a +low moaning, sobbing sound, as a child cries when it is sorry +and not naughty. + +No one heard her, no one came near her; she was all alone, and +in a few minutes she stopped crying, half frightened at her +own voice in the silence and darkness. And then she began to +wonder if her father were still in the next room, or whether +they had taken him away anywhere; if not, he was all alone in +there, as she was in here. It would be some comfort to be with +him, she thought. Madelon knew that he was dead, but death was +an unfamiliar experience with her; and she could not perhaps +clearly separate this hour from all other hours when she had +been hurt, or sorrowful, or frightened, and had run to her +father to be comforted. + +She got up, and, opening the door, stole softly into the other +room. It was not quite so dark in there: the windows and +Venetian shutters were wide open, and a lamp in the street +below gave an uncertain light, by which she could just +distinguish the gleam of the mirror, the table in the centre +of the room, and the bed, where the outline of a silent form +was vaguely defined under the white covering sheet. Madelon +had had some half-formed idea of getting on to the bed, and +nestling down by her father, as she had done only the evening +before, when he had put his arm round her, and they had talked +together; but now a chill dread crept over her--a sense of +change, of separation; she had not even the courage to raise +the sheet and look upon his face. She stood gazing for a +moment, afraid to go back into the darkness of her own room; +and then, with a sudden movement, as though urged by some +terror, she turned quickly away, and went swiftly to the open +window. She looked down into the narrow, dark street, dimly +illuminated by an occasional lamp; she looked up to the +starlit space of sky visible above the house-roofs and +chimneys, and neither above nor below did she find any +comfort; for a sudden awful realization of death had come to +her in the darkness and silence, almost too keen and terrible +for our poor little Madelon to bear--each realization, too, a +fresh shock, as with an instinctive shrinking from this new +consciousness of an intolerable weight her mind slipped away +into some more familiar channel, only to be brought rudely +back to this fact, so unfamiliar, and yet the only one for her +now, in this sudden shattering of all her small world of hopes +and joys and affections. And is it not, in truth, terrible, +this _strength_ of facts, when we are, as it were, brought face +to face with them, and held there till we recognise them? No +means of evasion, no hope of appeal from what is, in its very +nature, fixed, unalterable, irrevocable; the sin is committed, +the loved one gone, the friendship broken and dead, and for us +remains the realization in remorse, and heart-breaking, and +despair. + +Which of us is strong enough to wrestle with facts such as +these? which one of us can look them long in the face and +live? In the desperate recoil, some of us find ourselves +recklessly striving to forget and ignore them, and some find a +surer refuge in facts that are stronger still than they; but +to one and all, in kindly compassion to human weakness, each +new emotion, each passing interest and trivial incident, +combines to interpose a barrier between us and the terrible +moment that overwhelmed us; and time which, in later years, +seems to drag out the slow hours and days into long ages of +dreary grief, can deal swiftly and mercifully with a little +child. Hardly had Madelon grasped the true measure of her +grievous loss, or tasted its full bitterness, when the +reaction came with a great burst of tears, and crouching down +in the corner by the window where she had spent so many hours +of the previous day, she sobbed away half the terror and awe +that were oppressing her poor little heart. Presently she +began to grow sorry for herself in a vague, half-conscious +sort of way--poor little Madelon, sitting there all alone +crying, no one to help her, no one to comfort her--then the +sobs came at longer and longer intervals as she gradually lost +consciousness of where she was, or why she was there; and with +the tears still wet on her cheek, she was nearly asleep again, +when she was roused by some one bringing a light into the +room; it was Graham, who had come to fetch something he had +left on the table, and to see that all was quiet. + +Madelon was too much accustomed to late expectant vigils to be +startled; and, indeed, in her drowsy state, her first +impression was only the familiar one of a welcome arrival. "Me +voici, papa!" she cried, jumping up promptly; and then she saw +the young man coming towards her, and with a suddenly revived +consciousness of the still, white-sheeted form on the bed, she +sank down on her low seat again, the sensation of blank misery +all revived. + +Graham, on his side, was not a little surprised at the small +figure that had started up to meet him; he had fancied her in +bed hours ago. He came up to where she was sitting, a most +sad, disconsolate little Madelon, all huddled together, her +hands clasped round her knees, her eyes shining through a +short wavy tangle of brown hair, all rough and disordered. + +"Don't you think you would be better in bed?" says Horace, in +his kind, cheery voice. + +"No," she answered abruptly; she was so miserable, so sore at +heart with the sudden disappointment, poor child, and Graham +had been the cause of it. + +"But I am afraid you will be ill to-morrow if you sit there +all night," said Graham; "do you know what time it is?" + +"No," she said again; and then, as he came a step nearer, she +gave a stamp on the floor, and turned her back on him. "Ah, do +leave me alone!" she cried, in a miserable little broken +voice, covering her face with her hand. + +Graham saw that she was utterly wretched and worn out. He +could guess pretty well how it had all happened, and +reproached himself for not having foreseen and provided +against the chance of her waking up and finding herself alone; +and now he hardly knew what to do--to speak to her, or to urge +her any more just then, would only make matters worse. At last +he said quietly,-- + +"I have some writing to do, and I am going to bring it in +here; you will not mind that, I daresay?" + +No answer; Horace left the room, but in a moment he returned, +sat down at the table and began to write. + +A stillness which the rapid scratching of the pen upon the +paper, and the vague, ceaseless hum of the great city coming +through the open window, only seemed to render apparent; +occasionally the clang of a church clock, the sudden rattle of +wheels rising like hollow thunder and dying away into remote +distance, a far-off cry, and then a silence more profound by +contrast. Madelon, sitting in her dark corner, began to +recover herself; in truth, it was the greatest possible relief +to have Graham in the room with her, bringing light and the +warm sense of a living presence into the chill, unnatural +silence and darkness of death; and presently she began to +awake to a half-penitent consciousness that she had been +cross, rude, not at all raisonnable in fact; little by little +she shifted her position, and at length turned quite round to +look at M. le Docteur. + +Monsieur le Docteur was not looking at her, nor thinking of +her apparently, for he never raised his eyes from his writing; +the candle light shone on his rough brown hair, on his +pleasant, clever face, with keen profile, well defined against +a shadowy background. Madelon sat watching him as though +fascinated; there was something in the absorbed attention he +was giving to his writing, which subdued and attracted her far +more than any words he could have spoken to her, or notice he +could have taken of her just then. He had apparently forgotten +her, this kind Monsieur le Docteur, who had evidently more +important things to think about than her and her pettish +little speeches; or she had perhaps made him angry, and he +would not take any more notice of her at all? There was a +certain amount of probability in this last idea to the self- +convicted little Madelon, that urged her to some sort of +action; she sat still for a few moments longer, then got up +and stole softly across the room to where Graham was sitting. + +"I did not mean to be cross, Monsieur," she said, in her +little trembling voice, standing with her hands clasped behind +her back, and tears in her eyes. Perhaps Graham _had_ forgotten +her for the moment, for he gave a little start as he looked +round. + +"I am sure you did not," he said quite earnestly, as he laid +down his pen, "but you are so tired to-night, and unhappy too; +are you not?" + +"Ah, yes," she answered, with a little sob, "I am very +unhappy!" + +He put his arm round her, as she stood beside him, and took +one of her little hands in his; he was so sorry for the poor +little girl, and yet he hardly knew what to say to console +her. She gave two or three more little sobs, rubbing her eyes +with her other hand to keep back the tears; presently she +looked up into his face, and said: + +"Do you really think I had better go to bed?" + +"Indeed I do," replied Horace, much relieved by the practical +turn her thoughts were taking; "I am really afraid you will be +ill to-morrow if you do not, and you know I must take care of +you now." + +"I thought papa was all alone in here, and I was alone too," +said Madelon, "it was so dark and lonely in my room." + +"Well," said Horace, "I am going to stay in here for a little +while, and presently I will open your door, and then it will +be almost as if you were in the same room; won't that do?" + +"Yes, thank you," said Madelon, who indeed was so tired that +she could hardly speak. Graham lighted a candle for her, and +opened the door leading into the inner room; she paused a +moment as she took the light; and gazed up into the kind face +looking down upon her; then she put her hand into his, and +saying, "Good-night, Monsieur," went into her own room. Graham +closed the door, and returned to his writing. That was all +that passed between them, but from that time Madelon's feeling +for Horace Graham approached adoration. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Madelon's Promise. + + +A week later, and Madelon was again, as on the day of her +father's death, standing at a long open window, looking out on +the fading glories of another evening sky. But instead of the +narrow Paris street, with its noisy rattle of vehicles, and +high white houses limiting the view of earth and heaven, +before her lay the small garden of a Liége hotel, and beyond, +the steep slope of a hill, where, mingled with trees, roof +rose above roof, to where two churches crowning the ridge, +showed their grey masses outlined against the clear pale blue. + +Madelon had left Paris with Horace Graham the day before, and +they had arrived at Liége that afternoon. The young doctor, +bent on fulfilling the promise he had made to M. Linders, had +altered all his plans, remaining in Paris till his little +charge's affairs were settled, and then bringing her to Liége, +with the intention of leaving her in her aunt's hands, and +then proceeding to Switzerland for the accomplishment of as +much of his proposed tour as should still be practicable. He +willingly forfeited these days out of his brief holiday, for +he had come to regard the child so unexpectedly thrown upon +his care, with a very sincere interest, an affection not +unmixed with wonder. Madelon was not at all like any other +little girl he had ever had anything to do with, or rather--for +his experience on this point was limited--unlike his +preconceived notions of little girls in general. We, who know +what Madelon's education had been, cannot feel surprised at +her total ignorance of all sorts of elementary matters, her +perfect unconsciousness of the most ordinary modes of thought +current in the world, and of the most generally received +standards of right and wrong, combined with a detailed +experience in a variety of subjects with which children in +general have no acquaintance. But for Graham, there was much +that could only be matter for conjecture, much that he could +only learn from inference, and to him there was something at +once strange and pitiable in the simplicity with which she +talked to him of her past life, dwelling on little episodes +that only served to exhibit more and more clearly the real +character of M. Linders and his associates. Not for the world +would he have touched the child's innocent faith, or revealed +to our simple Madelon that her father was not the perfection +she dreamed him; but he began to understand better the meaning +of M. Linders' last words in his letter to his sister, and +they gained a pathetic significance and force as he learnt to +appreciate the affection that had subsisted between the father +and child, and foresaw too plainly that the time must come +when some rude shock would shatter all Madelon's early +beliefs, and desecrate, as it were, her tenderest memories. +There was something so sad in this certain retribution that +must fall upon her innocent head, as the child of such a +father, something so touching in her anomalous position, left +all friendless and lonely in the midst of such a hard, +relentless world, that Horace felt all his tenderest feelings +stirred with compassion, and he could have wished to have +shielded her for ever from what, he could not but fear, too +surely awaited her sooner or later. + +What he could do, he did, and it was more than he thought. +Madelon's sudden devotion to him, of which indeed he knew and +suspected nothing, was of infinite service to her in her first +bitterness of her grief, by giving a new current to her ideas, +whilst it did away with the sense of lonely desolation that +had nearly overpowered her in that first dark hour. In her +ardent little nature there was a necessity for loving, even +stronger perhaps than for being loved, a certain enthusiasm, a +capacity for devotion that had opportunely found an object in +the time of extreme need. For a short hour it had seemed to +her as if life itself had come to an end with her father's +death; the darkness and vagueness of the future had crushed +her down, all the more that she had scarcely comprehended what +was the weight that so oppressed her--and then a moment had +changed it all; a kind word spoken, a kind face looking down +upon her, a friendly hand stretched out, and the vague terrors +had vanished. From that time Horace Graham's presence was +bliss to our Madelon; when she was unhappy, she dried her +tears if he consoled her; if he was out, she sat listening for +his returning footsteps; if he was busy, she was content to +remain for hours with her book on her knee, her chin propped +on her hands, her wistful eyes following his every movement. +Monsieur Horace, as it pleased Madelon to call him, knew +nothing of all this, we may be sure; but he was very good and +tender to the little girl, and did all he could to cheer and +console her in the sudden overpowering fits of grief that came +upon her from time to time. Finding that she liked to talk of +the past, he encouraged her to do so, being anxious, indeed, +to learn all he could of her former life, and to ascertain, +if, after all, there were indeed no friends to whom he could +apply, in the event of his mission to her Aunt Thérèse +proving, from any cause, unsuccessful. But as before, on this +point he obtained no sort of satisfaction. Madelon never got +much beyond the Florence artists, and her German countess, and +Russian princess. M. Linders, it was evident, had had no +friends beyond the acquaintance he had made at the different +places at which he had been wont to tarry from time to time; +and these, for the most part, Graham inferred to have been of +so doubtful a character that he could only rejoice for +Madelon's sake that all further chance of connection was +broken off. Madelon dwelt at great length on their last winter +at Florence; she loved Italy, she said; she liked it better +than France or Belgium, and Florence was such a beautiful +place; had Monsieur Horace ever been there? There were such +splendid churches, and palaces and galleries, with such grand +pictures and statues; the American used to take her to see +them. Papa had several friends there who knew a great deal +about pictures, who were artists indeed; she used to go to +their studios sometimes, and she liked hearing them talk. And +then there were the fêtes and processions, and the country +people in such gay dresses, and all with such a blue sky and +such bright sunshine; and then the Sundays! very often she and +papa would go out into the country to some inn where they +would breakfast and dine; ah! it had been so pleasant. "I +shall never be so happy again," sighs Madelon. + +The warm, glowing, picturesque Italian life had, as we know, +forcibly seized her imagination, her eyes shone with delight +as she recalled it, and, almost involuntarily in describing +it, she made use of the soft words and phrases of the Italian +tongue, which with the ready talent she possessed for +languages, she had caught up, and spoke fluently. + +"Where did you go when you left Florence?" asked Graham. + +"We came north across the Alps and through Switzerland to +Baden, and then we stayed a little while at Homburg, and then +we were at Wiesbaden for six weeks: do you know Wiesbaden, +Monsieur Horace?" + +"I was there once for two days," answered Graham; "were you +happy there too?" + +"Ah yes, I was always happy with papa, but I like Wiesbaden +very much. It is so pretty and gay; do you remember the +Kursaal gardens? I used to walk there and listen to the band, +and sometimes we sat and had coffee at the little round +tables, and looked at all the people passing. And then in the +evening there were the balls; last summer I used sometimes to +go to them with the Russian Princess." + +"And who was the Russian Princess?" Graham inquired. + +"She was a Russian lady papa knew there, and she was very kind +to me; I used to walk with her, and sit by her at the tables, +and prick her cards for her; she said I brought her luck." + +"Prick her cards!" cried Graham. + +"Yes--don't you know? at rouge-et-noir," says Madelon in +explanation, "one has little cards to prick, and then one +remembers how many times each colour has won; otherwise one +would not know at all what to do." + +"I see," said Graham; "and so your Russian Princess played at +rouge-et-noir--did she win much?" + +"Yes, a great deal," cried Madelon, spreading out her hands, +"she always had _chance_ and was very rich; she wore such +beautiful toilettes at the balls; she knew a great many +gentlemen, and when I went with her they all danced with me." + +And so on, _da capo_; it was always the same story, and Graham +soon found that he had reached the limits of Madelon's +experiences in that direction. As a last resource, he wrote to +her American and German friends at Florence, the most +respectable apparently of M. Linders' many doubtful +acquaintance, and indeed the only ones with whose address +Madelon could furnish him. From the old German he received a +prompt reply. The American was absent from Florence, he said +on a visit to his own country, which was to be regretted, as +it was he who had been M. Linders' friend, and who could have +given more information concerning him than it was in his power +to do. Indeed, for himself, he knew little about him; he had +spent the last winter at Florence, but his society and +associates were not such as he, the German, affected. M. +Linders had once been an artist, he believed; he had spent +much of his time in painting, but he knew nothing of his early +life. That he was a notorious gambler he was well aware, and +had heard more than one story about him that certainly placed +his character in no very favourable light; more than this he +could not say. Of Madelon he spoke with the warmest affection, +and there was a little note enclosed to her in Graham's +letter, which she placed, and carefully preserved, we may be +sure, amongst her most precious treasures. + +These letters written, and M. Linders' few papers, which were +of little interest or importance, examined, Graham had +exhausted his sources of possible information, and could only +trust no obstacle would intervene to prevent his little charge +being at once received at the convent, and placed under her +aunt's guardianship and care. So, with as little delay as +possible, they had packed up, and set off on their journey: +and now, as Madelon stands at the window of the little hotel +salon, Paris lies many a league behind them, beyond the great +northern levels, across which they have been speeding for so +many hours. And behind her, too, already separated from her by +a distance more impassable than that which can be counted by +leagues, lies Madelon's old life, to which many and many a +time, with passionate outcries, perhaps, with tender +unspeakable yearnings, she will look back across an ever- +widening space, only to see it recede more hopelessly into a +remoter past. + +She does not understand all this yet, however, with the new +life scarcely a week old. She is thinking of Monsieur Horace, +as she stands there looking out at the sunset sky; they have +just dined, and behind her a deft waiter is removing the +cloth; and in a minute she turns round gladly, as Monsieur +Horace himself comes into the room. + +"Shall we take a walk, Madelon?" he says, "or are you too +tired?" + +"I am not at all tired," Madelon answered. "I should like to +have a walk; may we go and look at the convent where Aunt +Thérèse lives? I should like to see it." + +"That is a good idea," said Horace. "I will inquire +whereabouts it is, and we will go and have a look at it." + +The convent, they were told, stood on the outskirts of Liége, +about a quarter of a mile outside the town, and a little off +the great highroad leading through Chaudfontaine and its +adjacent villages to Pepinster and Spa. It was at some +distance from the hotel; but Madelon repeated that she was not +at all tired, and would like a long walk, so they set off +together in the mild September evening. To their left lay the +old town with its picturesque churches, its quaint old +Bishop's palace, its tall chimneys and busy quays, and +wharves, and warehouses, stretching along the river banks; but +all this they left on one side as they went along the wide, +tree-planted boulevards, where carriages were rolling, and +lamps lighting, and people walking about in the ruddy glow; +and presently these too were passed by, and they came out on +the dusty high-road. A few scattered houses were still to +their right hand and to their left; but the city, with its +cloud of smoke, its kindling lights and ceaseless movement, +was behind them now. Of all its restless stir no sound reached +them through the soft twilight but the chime of bells from its +many towers, which rang out the evening angelus just as they +saw, standing on the summit of a gentle slope to their left, a +building with steep grey slate roofs and belfry, rising above +low white surrounding walls, and knew that they had reached +their destination. + +The carriage-road up to the convent made a circuit, and swept +round to the other side of the little declivity: but in front, +separated from the highroad by a hedge, there was only the +slope of a ploughed field, with a gate at the lower end, +opening on to a narrow path that led straight through it up +the hill; and this path Graham and Madelon followed, to where +it joined a weed-grown footway skirting the outer wall of the +building. There was a garden inside apparently, for trees were +waving their topmost branches overhead, and vines, and +westeria, and Virginia creeper hung down in long, many- +coloured tangled shoots and tendrils over the angle of the +wall outside. A little beyond was a side-door, with a bench +placed beside it; and above, surmounted by a crucifix under a +little pent-house, a narrow shelf on which stood an empty bowl +and spoon, just placed there probably by some wandering +pensioner, who had come there, not in vain, to seek his +evening meal. + +"Shall we sit down for a minute and rest?" said Graham. + +Madelon seated herself at his side without speaking; she had +been talking fast enough, and not without cheerfulness, during +the early part of her walk; but since they had come within +sight of the convent, her chatter had died away into silence. +Perhaps she was tired, for she sat quite still now, and showed +no wish to resume the conversation. The sound of the city +chimes died away; the little bell in the belfry close by kept +up its sharp monotone for a minute longer, and then it too was +hushed; the trees whispered and rustled, the grasshoppers +chirped shrilly all around, but a great stillness seemed to +fall upon the darkling earth as the grey evening came down, +and enfolded it in its soft mists. Grey fields stretched away +on either hand, grey clouds that had been rosy-red half an +hour ago, floated overhead; only the trees looked dark against +the tender grey sky, the encircling hills of Liége against the +lingering twilight glow. + +The silent influence of the hour made itself felt on these two +also, perhaps, for neither of them spoke at first; indeed, +Graham's thoughts had wandered far beyond the horizon before +him, when he was aroused by the sound of a little sob, and +turning round, he saw that Madelon was crying. + +"What is it, Madelon?" he said; "are you tired? What is the +matter?" + +She did not answer at once, she was struggling with her tears; +at last out came the grief. + +"It--it all looks so sad, and gloomy, and _triste_," she said. "I +do not want to come here and be shut up in the convent; oh, +take me away, take me away!" + +She clung to Graham as if she were to be parted from him that +moment, whilst he soothed her as best he could. + +"We will go away at once if you like," he said; "I think we +did wrong to come at this time of the evening; everything +looks grey and cheerless now--you will see to-morrow how much +brighter it will all appear." + +"It is not only that," said Madelon, striving to check her +sobs; "but just now, when we were sitting here, somehow I had +forgotten all about where I was, and everything; and I thought +I was out walking with papa, as I used to be, and I was +planning what we would do to-morrow--and then all at once I +remembered--and to-morrow I shall be in there, and I shall +never see him again, and you will be gone too--oh, papa, papa----" + +She was shaking all over with one of her sudden bursts of +passionate crying. What could he do to console her? What could +he say to comfort her? Not much, perhaps, but then much was +not needed; only a few words commonplace enough, I daresay--but +then, as we have said, Monsieur Horace's voice and words +always had a wonderful influence with our little Madelon. How +is it, indeed, that amidst a hundred tones that fret and jar +on our ears, there is one kind voice that has power to calm +and soothe us--amid a hundred alien forms, one hand to which we +cling for help and support? Graham did not say much, and yet, +as Madelon listened, her sobs grew less violent, her tears +ceased, she began to control herself again. "Listen," said +Graham, presently, "is not that singing that we hear? I think +it must be the nuns." + +Madelon raised her head and held her breath to listen; and +sure enough, from within the convent came the sound of the +voices of the nuns at their evening prayers. She listened +breathlessly, a change came over her face, a light into her +eyes, and she tightened her grasp of Graham's hand. The +melancholy voices rising and falling in unison, seemed a +pathetic, melodious interpretation of the inarticulate +harmonies of the evening hour. + +"I like that," said Madelon, relaxing her hold as they ceased +at last; "do you think they sing like that every evening, +Monsieur Horace?" + +"I have no doubt of it," he answered, "it is their evening +service; see, that must be the chapel where the windows are +lighted up." + +"Perhaps they will let me sing too," said Madelon. "Ah, I +shall like that--I love singing so much; do you think they +will?" + +"I think it very likely," said Horace; "but now, Madelon, we +must be going towards home; it is almost quite dark, and we +have a long walk before us." + +Madelon was almost cheerful again now. She so readily seized +the brighter side of any prospect, that it was only when the +dark side was too forcibly presented to her that she would +consent to dwell on it; and now the sound of the nuns singing +had, unconsciously to herself, idealised the life that had +appeared so dull and cheerless when viewed in connexion with +the grey twilight, and had changed its whole aspect. When they +reached the boulevards, where the lamps were all lighted now, +and the people still walking up and down, it was she who +proposed that they should sit down on one of the benches for a +while. + +"This is the last walk I shall have with you," she said, "for +such a long, long time." + +"Not so very long," said Graham, "you know I am to come and +see you on my way back from Germany, and then if I can manage +it, we will have another walk together." + +"That will be very nice," said Madelon; and then, after a +pause, she added, "Monsieur Horace, supposing Aunt Thérèse +says she will not have me, what shall I do then?" + +This very same question had, as we know, presented itself to +Graham before now, and he had felt the full force of the +possible difficulty that had now occurred to our unthinking +Madelon for the first time. + +"Indeed I do not know, Madelon," he answered, half laughing, +"but I don't think we need be afraid; your aunt is not likely +to turn you away." + +"But if she did," persisted Madelon, "what should I do? Would +you take me away to live with you?" + +"With me?" said Graham, smiling, "I don't think that would +quite do, Madelon; you know I am a soldiers' doctor, and have +to go where they go, and could not have you following the +regiment." + +"Then you cannot come and go about as you please," said +Madelon; "I thought you always went where you liked; you are +not with the regiment now." + +"No, I have a holiday just now; but that will come to an end +in two or three weeks, and then I must do as I am bid, and go +where I am told." + +"And you have no home then? Ah, take me with you, Monsieur +Horace, I should like to see the world--let me go with you." + +"Would you like to put on a little red coat, and shoulder a +musket and stand to be shot at?" says Graham, laughing at her. +"I hope to see more of the world than you would quite like, I +fancy, Madelon, that is, if we have any luck and get ordered +out to the Crimea." + +For indeed it was just the moment of the Crimean war, and +while the events recorded in this little story were going on, +the world was all astir with the great game in which kingdoms +are staked, and a nation's destinies decided; treaties were +being torn, alliances formed, armies marching, all Europe +arming and standing at arms to prepare for the mighty +struggle, and Graham, like many another young fellow, was +watching anxiously to see whether, in the great tide rolling +eastward, some wave would not reach to where he stood, and +sweep him away to the scene of action. + +Madelon had not heard much about the Crimea, and did not very +well know what Horace meant; but she understood the first part +of his speech, and she, too, laughed at this picture of +herself in a little red coat. Presently, however, she recurred +to her original question. + +"If you were not marching about, would you let me come and +live with you?" she asked again. + +"Indeed, I do not say that I would," said Graham, laughing, +"and I don't mean to settle down for a long time yet; I have +to make my fortune, you know." + +"To make your fortune!" cries Madelon, pricking up her ears at +the sound of the words, for indeed they had a most familiar +ring in them; "why, I could do that for you," she added after +a moment's pause. + +"Could you?" said Graham absently; he did not follow out her +thought in the least, and, in fact, hardly heard what she +said, for the words were suggestive to him also, and carried +with them their own train of ideas. + +"Yes, and I will too," says Madelon, in one brief moment +conceiving, weighing, and forming a great resolution. "Ah, I +know how to do it--I know, and I will; I promise you, and I +always keep my promises, you know. I promised papa that I +would never become a nun, and I never will." + +"Indeed, I cannot fancy you a nun at all," said Graham, +rousing himself, and getting up. "Don't you think we had +better be going back to the hotel now? It is getting quite +late." + +"And when your fortune is made, may I come and live with you?" +said Madelon, without moving. + +"We shall see about that afterwards," he answered, smiling, +"there is time enough to think about it, you may be sure. +Come, Madelon, we must be going." + +"Ah, you do not know, and I will not tell you," said Madelon, +jumping up as she spoke. + +"What do I not know?" asked Graham, taking her hand in his, as +they walked off together. + +"What I will do--it is my secret, but you will see--yes, you +will see, I promise you that." + +She almost danced with glee as she walked along at Graham's +side. He did not understand what she was talking about; he had +missed the first sentence that might have given him the clue, +and merely supposed that it was some childish mystery with +which she was amusing herself. + +But Madelon understood full well, and her busy little brain +was full of plans and projects as she walked along. Make a +fortune! how many fortunes had she not seen made in a day--in +an hour! "Give me only ten francs, _et je ferai fortune!_" The +old speech that she had quoted years ago to Horace Graham-- +though, indeed, she had no remembrance of having done so--was +familiar to her now as then. Ah! she knew how fortunes were +made, and Monsieur Horace did not--that was strange, but it was +evident to her--and she would not tell him. Her superior +knowledge on this point was a hidden treasure, for a great +ambition had suddenly fired our ten-year-old Madelon. Not only +in maturer years are great plans laid, great campaigns +imagined, great victories fought for; within the narrow walls +of many a nursery, on the green lawns of many a garden, the +mimic fort is raised, the siege-train laid, the fortress +stormed; and in many a tiny head the germs of the passions and +ambitions and virtues of later years are already working out +for themselves such paths as surrounding circumstances will +allow them to find. But Madelon's childhood had known neither +nursery nor sheltered home-garden. Her earliest experiences +had been amidst the larger ventures of life, the deeper +interests that gather round advancing years; her playground +had been the salons of the gayest watering-places in Europe, +her playthings the roulette-board and the little gold and +silver pieces that had passed so freely backwards and forwards +on the long green tables where desperate stakes were ventured, +and fortunes won and lost in a night; and it was amongst these +that she now proposed to try her own little game of +enterprise, and prepare this grand surprise for Monsieur +Horace. The idea was an inspiration to her. Her whole soul was +bound up in Horace Graham; I think she would willingly have +laid down her life for him, and have thought little of the +offering; a sort of _furore_ of gratitude and devotion possessed +her, and here at length was an opportunity for doing something +for him--something he did not know how to do for himself, great +and wise though he was, and this idea added not a little zest +to the plan, in Madelon's opinion, one may be sure. Ah, yes, +she knew what to do, she would go to the gambling-tables, as +she had seen her father and his associates go scores of times; +she would win money for him, she would make his fortune! + +So Madelon schemed as she walked along by Graham's side, +whilst he, for his part, had already forgotten her little +speech, if indeed he had ever heard it. + +So it is often--a few careless words between two people, +quickly spoken, soon forgotten, by at least one of them--and +yet, perhaps, destined to alter the course of two lives. +Before they had reached the hotel Madelon had arranged not +only the outline, but the details of her scheme. Spa was, as +she well knew, but a short distance from Liége; she would at +once beg her aunt to allow her to go over there for a day, or +two days, if one were not enough, and then--why, once there, +everything would be easy, and perhaps, even before Monsieur +Horace came back from Germany, as he had said he would, all +might be done, the promise redeemed, the fortune made! A most +childish and childlike plan, founded so entirely on deductions +drawn from experiences in the past, so wholly without +reference to the probabilities of the future, and yet not the +less the result of a fixed resolution in Madelon's mind, which +no subsequent change in the mere details of carrying it out +could affect. For, in her small undeveloped character lay +latent an integrity and strength of will, a tenacity of +purpose, which were already beginning to work, unconsciously, +and by instinct as it were, for she could assuredly never have +learnt from her father, who regarded honesty and integrity as +merely inconvenient weaknesses incidental to human nature +under certain conditions. But to Madelon they were precisely +those sacred truths which lie hidden in our inmost hearts, and +which, when once revealed to us, we cling to as our most +steadfast law, and which to deny were to denounce our best and +purest self. Not to every one are the same truths revealed +with the same force; for the most part it is only through a +searching experience that we can come clearly to understand +one or another, which is to our neighbour as his most unerring +instinct; and such must have been this integrity of purpose in +Madelon, who, in affirming that she always kept her promises, +had uttered no idle vaunt, nor even the proved result of such +experience as her short life had afforded, but had simply +given expression to what she instinctively knew to be the +strongest truth in her nature. + +That evening, after Madelon had gone up to bed, she stood long +at her open window looking out into the night. Her bedroom was +high up in the hotel, and overlooked a large public place; +just opposite was a big, lighted theatre, and from where she +stood she could catch the sound of the music, and could fancy +the bright interior, the gay dresses, the balcony, the great +chandeliers, the actors, the stage. It was her farewell for +many a long day to the scenes and pleasures of her past life, +but she did not know it. The sound of the music stirred within +her a sort of vague excitement, an indefinite longing, and she +was busy peopling the future--a child's future, it is true, not +extending beyond two or three weeks, but yet sufficient to +make her forget the past for the moment. She must have stood +there for nearly an hour; any one looking up might have +wondered to see the little head popped out of window, the +little figure so still and motionless. Up above the stars +twinkled unheeded; down below other stars seemed to be dancing +across the wide Place, but they were only the lamps of the +carriages as they drove to and fro from the theatre. And +yonder, on the outskirts of this busy town, with its lights +and crowds and gay bustle, sleeping under the silent, slow- +moving constellations, surrounded by the dark rustling trees, +stands the still convent, where a narrow room awaits this +dreaming eager little watcher. Our poor little Madelon! Not +more difference between this gay, familiar music to which all +her life has been set hitherto, and the melancholy chant of +the nuns, whose echoes have already passed from her memory, +than between the future she is picturing to herself and the +one preparing for her--but she does not know it. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Mademoiselle Linders. + + +Immediately after breakfast the next morning Graham once more +started for the convent, this time, however, leaving Madelon +at the hotel. He had written from Paris to the Superior +immediately after her brother's death, but had received no +reply. M. Linders' letter he had kept by him to deliver in +person when he should have reached Liége. + +Madelon was watching for his return, and ran to meet him with +a most eager face. + +"Have you seen my aunt?" she said. "Am I to go?" + +"Yes, you are to go, Madelon," he said, looking down on her, +and taking her hands in his. "I have seen your aunt, and we +have agreed that it is best I should take you there this +afternoon." + +He sat down and gave her some little account of the interview +he had had with her father's sister; not the whole, however, +for he said nothing of his own feeling of disappointment in +the turn that it had taken, nor of the compassion that he felt +for his little charge. + +The fact of M. Linders having quarrelled with his sister had, +on the whole, tended to prejudice the latter in his favour +rather than otherwise, for M. Linders unfortunately seemed to +have had a talent for quarrelling with every respectable +friend and relation that he possessed; and it was with a +strong hope of finding a good and kind guardian for Madelon in +her aunt, that he had started for the convent. He wrote a few +words of explanation on his card, and this, with M. Linders' +letter, he sent in to the Lady Superior, and in return was +requested to wait in the parlour till she should come to him. +A key was handed to him, and he let himself into a large, +square room, furnished with a table, a piano, and some straw +chairs; a wooden grating shut off one end, within which were +another table and more chairs; one or two prints of sacred +subjects were on the walls, two large windows high up showed +the tops of green trees in a sunny inner courtyard,--Graham had +time to take in all these details before a door on the other +side of the grating opened and the Lady Superior appeared. + +Mademoiselle Linders had doubtless displayed a wise judgment +in her choice of life; she could never under any circumstances +have shone in society, but there was something imposing in her +tall figure in its straight black draperies, and the ease and +dignity to which she could never have attained in a Paris +salon, she had acquired without difficulty in her convent +parlour. She had worked hard to obtain her present position, +and she filled it with a certain propriety of air and +demeanour. But her features were harsh, and her thin, worn +face, so far as could be distinguished beneath the half- +concealing black veil, wore a stern, discontented expression. +Somehow, Graham already felt very sorry for little Madelon, as +holding M. Linders' letter in one hand, the Superior +approached the grating, and sitting down on the inner side, +invited him by action, rather than words, to resume his chair +on the other. + +"If I am not mistaken, Monsieur," she began in a constrained, +formal voice, "it was from you that I received a letter last +week, announcing my brother's death?" Graham bowed. + +"I thought it unnecessary to answer it," continued the +Superior, "as you stated that you proposed coming to Liége +almost immediately. If I understand rightly, you attended my +brother in his last illness?" + +"I did, Madame--it was a short one, as you are aware----" + +"Yes, yes, an accident--I understood as much from your letter," +says Madame, dismissing that part of the subject with a wave +of her hand; "and the little girl?" + +"She is here--in Liége that is--we arrived last night." + +"In this letter," says the Superior, slowly unfolding the +paper, "with the contents of which you are doubtless +acquainted, Monsieur----" + +"I wrote it at M. Linders' dictation, Madame." + +"Ah, exactly--in this letter then, I see that my brother wishes +me to take charge of his child. I confess that, after all that +has passed between us, I am at a loss to imagine on what +grounds he can found such a request." + +"But--pardon me, Madame--" said Graham, "as your brother's only +surviving relative--so at least I understood him to say--you +surely become the natural guardian of his child." + +"My brother and I renounced each other, and parted years ago, +Monsieur; were you at all intimate with him?" + +"Not in the least," replied Graham; "I knew nothing, or next +to nothing, of him, till I attended him in his last illness; +it was by the merest accident that I became, in any way, mixed +up in his affairs." + +"Then you are probably unaware of the character he bore," +Thérèse Linders said, suddenly exchanging her air of cold +constraint for a voice and manner expressive of the bitterest +scorn; "he was a gambler by profession, a man of the most +reckless and dissipated life; he plunged by choice into the +lowest society he could find; he broke his mother's heart +before he was one-and-twenty; he neglected, and all but +deserted his wife; he ruined the lives of all who came in his +way--he was a man without principle or feeling, without +affection for any living being." + +"Pardon me, Madame," Graham said again, "he was devotedly +attached to his little daughter, and--and he is dead; to the +dead much may surely be forgiven," for indeed at that moment +his sympathies were rather with the man by whose death-bed he +had watched than with the bitter woman before him. + +"There is no question of forgiveness here," says Madame the +Superior, with a slight change of manner; "I bear my brother +no malice; it was not I that he injured, though he would +doubtless have done so had it been in his power. In separating +myself from him, I felt that I was only doing my duty; but I +have kept myself informed as to his career, and had I seen +many change or hope of amendment, I might have made some steps +towards reconciliation." + +"And that step, Madame," Graham ventured to say, "was taken by +your brother on his death-bed----" + +"Are you alluding to this letter, Monsieur?" she inquired, +crushing it in her hand as she spoke, "you have forgotten its +contents strangely, if you imagine that I consider that as a +step towards reconciliation. My brother expresses no wish of +the kind; he was no hypocrite at least, and he says with +sufficient plainness, that he only turns to me as a last +resource." + +And, in fact, the letter was, as we know, couched in no very +pleasant or conciliatory terms, and Graham was silenced for +the moment. At last, ---- + +"He appeals to your mother's memory on behalf of his child," +he said. + +"He does well to allude to our mother!" cried the Superior. +"Yes, I recognise him here. He does well to speak of her, when +he knows that he broke her heart. She adored him, Monsieur. He +was her one thought in life, when there were others who--who +perhaps--but all that signifies little now. But in appealing to +my mother's memory he suggests the strongest reason why, even +now that he is dead, I should refuse to be reconciled to his +memory." + +Graham was confounded by her vehemence. What argument had he +to oppose to this torrent of bitter words? Or how reason with +such a woman as this--one with a show of right, too, on her +side, as he was bound to own? He did not attempt it, but gave +up the point at once, turning to a more practical +consideration. + +"If you are not disposed to take charge of your little niece, +Madame," he said, "can you at least suggest any one in whose +care she can be left? I promised her father to place her in +your hands, but you must see it is impossible for me to take +any further responsibility on myself. Even if I had the will, +I have not at present the power." + +"I never said I would not take charge of my niece, Monsieur," +said the Superior. + +And to what end then, wonders Graham, this grand tirade, this +fine display of what to him could not but appear very like +hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness? To what end indeed? +And yet, perhaps, not wholly unnatural. After five-and-twenty +years of convent life, Thérèse Linders still clung to the +memory of the closing scenes of her worldly career, as the +most eventful in the dead level of a grey monotonous life, +still held to the remembrance of her mother's death, and of +her fierce quarrel with her brother, as the period when all +her keenest emotions had been most actively called into play. +And indeed what memories are so precious to us, which, in our +profound egotism, do we cherish so closely, as those of the +times which stirred our strongest passions to their depth, and +which, gathering up, as it were, all lesser experiences into +one supreme moment, revealed to us the intensest life of which +we are capable? There are women who would willingly barter +months of placid existence for one such moment, though it be a +bitter one; and though Mademoiselle Linders was not one of +these, or she would never have discovered that her vocation +lay within the walls of a convent, she was, nevertheless, a +woman capable of strong feelings, of vehement passions; and +these had, perhaps, found their widest scope in the love, +though it had been a wayward one, that she had felt for her +mother, and in her intense jealousy of her brother. For a +quarter of a century these passions had lain dormant, crushed +beneath the slow routine of daily duties; but these, in their +unvarying monotony, had, on the other hand, made that lapse of +years appear but as a few weeks, and kept the memory of those +stormy scenes fresher than that of the events that, one by +one, had crept into the convent life, and slowly modified its +dull course. The news of her brother's death had affected her +but little; but the sight of the familiar handwriting, the +very framing of the sentences and choice of words, which had +seemed to her like a fresh challenge even from his grave, had +revived a thousand passions, jealousies, enmities, which one +might have thought dead and buried for ever. What ghosts from +old years that Graham could not see, what memories from her +childhood and girlhood, what shadows from the old Paris life, +were thronging round Thérèse Linders, as with changed name and +dress she sat there in her convent parlour! Old familiar forms +flitting to and fro, old voices ringing in her ears, her +brother young, handsome, and indulged, herself plain, +unprepossessing, neglected, and a mother whom she had held to +and watched till the last, yet turning from her to the son who +had scorned her wishes and broken her heart. It had all +happened twenty-five years ago, but to the Superior it seemed +but as yesterday. The old hatred blazed up again, in the form, +as it doubtless appeared to her, of an anger righteous even +against the dead. Nor was the revival without its charms, with +all its old associations of strife and antagonism--like a +breeze blowing freshly from the outer world, and suddenly +stirring the slow, creeping current of her daily life. + +"I never said I would not take charge of my niece," she said; +"on the contrary, I have every intention of so doing. I only +wish to make it clearly understood that my brother had no sort +of claim upon me, and that I consider every line of this +letter an insult." + +"His child, at least, is innocent," began Graham. + +"I am not likely to hold her responsible for her father's +misdeeds," says Madame, drawing herself up. "I repeat that I +am willing to receive my niece at once, though I cannot +suppose that with the education and training she has received, +she is likely to be anything but a burden and a care; however, +that can be looked to and corrected!" + +"Indeed you will find her a most innocent and loveable child," +pleaded Graham eagerly, and not without an inward dismay at +the idea of our little unconscious Madelon being looked to, +and corrected by this grim woman; "she thinks her father was +perfection, it is true, but it is through her total want of +comprehension of his real character, and of the nature of his +pursuits; and--believe me, Madame, it would be cruel to disturb +that ignorance." + +"She has nothing to fear from me in that respect," said the +Superior coldly; "my brother might have spared the threats +with which he insults me; his child will never hear his name +mentioned by me. From the time she enters this house her past +life is at an end; she must lean to forget it, and prepare for +the future she will spend here." + +"Not as a nun!" cried Graham involuntarily. + +"And why not as a nun, Monsieur?" + +"It was her father's last wish, his dying request that she +should never become a nun: it was the fear of some such design +on your part that made him hesitate about sending her to you, +Madame. You must surely understand from his letter how anxious +he is on that point." + +"I see that he proposes an alternative that I cannot +contemplate for a moment; it is not to train actresses that we +receive pupils at the convent, Monsieur; and I have too much +regard for my niece's welfare not to prepare her for that life +which on earth is the most peaceful and blessed, and which +will win for its followers so rich a reward hereafter. But +pardon me--I cannot expect you to agree with me on this point, +and it is one that it is useless for us to discuss." + +She rose as she spoke, and Graham rose also; there was nothing +more to be said. + +"Then it only remains for me to bring Madelon here," he said, +"and hand over to you the sum of money which M. Linders left +for her use." + +"That is all," replied the Superior; "if you can bring her +this afternoon I shall be ready to receive her. You must +accept my thanks, Monsieur, for your kindness to her, and for +the trouble you have taken." + +Graham, as he walked back to the hotel, was ready to vow that +nothing should induce him to hand Madelon over to the care of +her grim aunt. He understood now M. Linders' reluctance to +send her to his sister, and sympathised with it fully. Poor +little Madelon, with her pretty, impulsive ways, her naïve +ignorance,--Madelon, so used to be petted and indulged, she to +be shut up within those dull walls, with that horrible, harsh, +unforgiving woman, to be taught, and drilled, and turned into +a nun--he hated to think of it! He would take her away with +him, he would hide her somewhere, he would send her to his +sister who had half a dozen children of her own to look after, +he would make his aunt adopt her--his aunt, who would as soon +have thought of adopting the Great Mogul. A thousand +impossible schemes and notions flitted through the foolish +young fellow's brain as he walked along, chafed and irritated +with his interview--all ending, as we have seen, in his coming +into the hotel and telling Madelon she was to go to the +convent that very afternoon. One thing indeed he determined +upon, that against her own will she should never become a nun, +if it were in his power to prevent it. He had promised her +father not to lose sight of her, and, as far as he was able, +he would keep his engagement. + +He did not witness the meeting between his little charge and +her aunt. He bade farewell to a tearful, half-frightened +little Madelon at the door of the parlour, he saw it close +upon her, and it was with quite a heavy heart that he turned +away, leaving behind him the little girl who had occupied so +large a share of his thoughts and anxieties during the last +ten days. He had nothing to detain him in Liége now, and he +left it the next morning, with the intention of carrying out +as much of his proposed tour as he should find practicable. +His original intention had been to proceed from Paris to +Strasbourg, and so into Switzerland, and over the Alps to the +Italian lakes. So much of his holiday was already gone, +however, that he gave up the idea of the lakes; but +Switzerland might still be accomplished, and Strasbourg at any +rate must be in his first point, as it was there that, on +leaving England, he had directed his letters to be sent in the +first instance, and he expected to find them lying awaiting +them. + +He did find them, and their contents were such as to drive all +thoughts of his tour out of his head. It was with a wild throb +of excitement and exultation, such as he had never known +before, that, on opening the first that came to hand, one that +had been lying there for nearly a week, he read that the +regiment to which he was attached was under immediate orders +for the Crimea, and that he must return, without loss of time, +to England. Even then, however, he did not forget little +Madelon. He knew that she would be counting on his promised +return, and could not bear the idea of going away without +seeing her again, and wishing her good-bye. He calculated that +he had still half a day to spare, and, notwithstanding his +hurry, resolved to return by Brussels rather than Paris, +choosing those trains that would allow him to spend a couple +of hours in Liége, and pay a visit to the convent. + +It was only three days since he had last seen the white walls +and grey roofs that were growing quite familiar to him now, +and yet how life seemed to have changed its whole aspect to +him--and not to him only, perhaps, but to somebody else too, +who within those walls had been spending three of the saddest, +dreariest days her small life had ever known. + +When Graham asked for Madelon, he was shown, not into the +parlour, but into a corridor leading to it from the outer +door; straw chairs were placed here also, on either side of +the grating that divided it down the middle, and on the inner +side was a window looking into another and smaller courtyard. +As Graham sat there waiting, an inner door opened and a number +of children came trooping out; they were the _externes_, +children of the bourgeois class for the most part, who came to +school twice a-day at the convent; indeed they were the only +pupils, the building not being large enough to accommodate +boarders. + +The children, laughing and chattering, vanished through the +front door to disperse to their different homes, and then, in +a minute, the inner door opened again, and a small figure +appeared; a nun followed, but she remained in the background, +whilst Madelon came forward with a look of eager expectation +on the mignonne face that seemed to have grown thinner and +paler since Graham had last seen it only three days ago. His +return, so much sooner than she had expected, had filled her +with a sudden joy, and raised in her a vague hope, that she +stood sadly in need of just then, poor child! + +"So you see I have come back sooner than I expected, Madelon," +said Graham, taking the little hands that were stretched out +to him so eagerly through the grating, "but I don't know what +you will say to me, for I shall not have time for the walk I +promised you, when I thought I should stay two or three days +in Liége. I must go away this afternoon, but I was determined +not to leave without wishing you good-bye." + +"Go away this afternoon!" faltered Madelon, "then you are +going away quite--and I shall never see you again!" + +"Yes, yes, some day, I hope," said Horace; "why, you don't +think I am going to forget you? My poor little Madelon, I am +sorry to have startled you, but I will explain how it is," and +then he told her how there was a great war going on, and he +had been called away to join his regiment which was ordered +out to the Crimea; "you know," he said smiling at her, "I told +you it would never do for you to come marching about with me, +and running the chance of being shot at." + +He tried to speak cheerfully, but indeed it was not easy with +that sad little face before him. Madelon did not answer; she +only leant her head against the wooden bars of the grating, +and sobbed in the most miserable, heart-broken way. It made +Graham quite unhappy to see her. + +"Don't cry so, Madelon," he kept on saying, almost as much +distressed as she was, "I cannot bear to see you cry." And +indeed he could not, for the kind-hearted young fellow had a +theory that children and dogs and birds and all such +irresponsible creatures should be happy as the day is long, +and there seemed something too grievous in this overpowering +distress in little Madelon. She checked herself a little +presently, however, drawing back one hand to wipe away her +tears, while she clung to him tightly with the other. He began +to talk to her again as soon as she was able to listen, saying +everything he could to cheer and encourage her, telling her +what he was going to do, and how he would write to her, and +she must write to him, and tell him all about herself, and how +she must be a good little girl, and study very hard, and learn +all sorts of things, and how he would certainly come back some +day and see her. + +"When?" asks Madelon. + +"Ah, that I cannot tell you, but before very long I hope, and +meantime you must make haste and grow tall--let me see how tall +shall I expect you to be? as tall as that----" touching one of +the bars above her head. + +She tried to smile as she answered, "It would take me a long +time to grow as tall as that." + +"Not if you make haste and try very hard," he said; "and by +that time you will have learnt such a number of things, music, +and geography, and sewing, and--what is it little girls learn?" +So he went on talking; but she scarcely answered him, only +held his hands tighter and tighter, as if she was afraid he +would escape from her. Something seemed to have gone from her +in these last few days, something of energy, and spirit, and +hopefulness; Horace had never seen her so utterly forlorn and +downcast before, not even on the night of her father's death. + +At last he looked at his watch. "I must go, Madelon," he said, +"I have to catch the train." + +"No, no, don't go!" she cried, suddenly starting from her +desponding attitude, "don't go and leave me, I cannot stay +here--I cannot--don't go!" + +She was holding him so tightly that he could not move, her +eyes fixed on his face with an intensity of pleading. He was +almost sorry that he had come at all. + +"My poor little Madelon," he said, "I must go--I must, you +know--there--there, good-bye, good-bye." + +He squeezed the little hands that were clinging so desperately +to him, again and again, and then tried gently to unloose +them; suddenly she relaxed her hold, and flung herself away +from him. Graham hastened away without another word, but as he +reached the door he turned round for one more look. Madelon +had thrown herself down upon the low window-seat, her face +buried in her folded arms, her frame shaking with sobs; the +nun had come forward and was trying to comfort her--the bare +grey walls, the black dresses, the despairing little figure +crouching there, and outside the courtyard all aglow in the +afternoon sunshine, with pigeons whirring and perching on the +sloping roofs, spreading their wings against the blue sky--it +was a little picture that long lived in Graham's memory. Poor +little Madelon! + + +CHAPTER VI. + +In the Convent. + + +Not till Monsieur Horace was indeed gone, and there was no +longer any hope of seeing him return, not till the last door +was closed between them, the last link broken with the outer +world, not till then perhaps did our little Madelon begin to +comprehend the change that one brief fortnight had worked in +her whole life. Till now, she had scarcely felt the full +bitterness of her father's death, or understood that the old, +happy, bright, beautiful life was at an end for ever. These +last days had been so full of excitement, she had been so +hurried from one new sensation to another, that she had not +had time to occupy herself exclusively with this great sorrow +that had fallen upon her; but there was nothing to distract +her now. Her father's death, which she had found so hard to +understand in the midst of everyday life and familiar +associations, she realized all too bitterly when such +realization was aided by the blank convent walls and the dull +convent routine; the sorrow that had been diverted for a +moment by another strong predominant feeling, returned with +overwhelming force when on every side she saw none but strange +faces, heard none but unfamiliar voices; liberty, and joy, and +affection seemed suddenly to have taken to themselves wings +and deserted her, and she was left alone with her desolation. + +The child was half-crazed in these first days in the extremity +of her grief; the nuns tried to console her, but she was at +first beyond consolation. She did not know what to do with her +sense of misery, her hopeless yearning, with the sudden +darkness which had fallen upon her bright life, and where she +was left to grope without one hand stretched out by which she +could reach back as it were, into the past, and grasp some +familiar reality that should help her to a comprehension of +this strange new world in which she found herself. We hear +often enough of the short life of childish troubles, quickly +excited, and as quickly forgotten--true enough perhaps of the +griefs isolated, so to speak, in the midst of long days of +happiness. But the grief that is not isolated? The grief over +which the child cries itself to sleep every night, and which +wakes with it in the morning, saddening and darkening with its +own gloom the day which ought to be so joyous? In such a grief +as this, there is, perhaps, for the time it lasts, no sorrow +so sad, so acute, so hopeless, as a child's. For us, who with +our wide experience have lived through so much, and must +expect to live through so much more, a strength has risen up +out of our very extremity, as we have learnt to believe in a +beyond, in a future that must succeed the darkest hour. But a +child, as a rule, has neither past nor future; it lives in the +present. The past lies behind, already half forgotten in to- +day's happiness or trouble; the future is utterly wide, vague, +and impracticable, in nowise modifying or limiting the sorrow +which, to its unpractised imagination, can have no ending. +When a child has learnt to live in the past, or the future, +rather than in the present, it has learnt one of the first and +saddest of life's experiences--a lesson so hard in the +learning, so impossible to unlearn in all the years to come. + +A lesson that our Madelon, too, must soon take to heart, in +the midst of such dreary distasteful surroundings, with a past +so bright to look back upon, with a future which she can fill +with any amount of day-dreams, of whatever hue she pleases--a +lesson therefore, which she is not long in acquiring, but with +the too usual result, a most weary impatience of the present. +The first violence of her grief exhausted itself in time, as +was only natural, and something of her old energy and spirit +began to show itself again; but the change was not much for +the better. She did not mope nor pine, that was not her way; +but she became possessed with a spirit of restless petulance, +which at first, indeed, was only another phase of unhappiness, +but which, not being recognized as such, presently developed +into a most decided wilfulness. She turned impatiently from +the nun's well-meant kindness and efforts to console her, +which somehow were not what she wanted--not that, but something +so different, poor child!--she was cross, peevish, fractious +without intending it, scarcely knowing why; the nuns set her +down as a perverse unamiable child: and so it happened, that +she had not been many weeks in the convent before she came to +be regarded with general disfavour and indifference instead of +with the kindly feeling that had at first been shown to the +forlorn little stranger. + +Graham had indeed wasted some pity on her, in imagining her +under the immediate control of her aunt. The Superior had far +too many things to think about for her to trouble herself with +any direct superintendence of her little niece; Madelon hardly +ever saw her, and in fact, of the convent life in general she +knew but little. Her lessons she soon began to do with the +other children in the class, and for the rest she was placed +under the special care of one of the younger Sisters, Soeur +Lucie by name. + +Like Madelon, Soeur Lucie had been brought, a little ten-year- +old orphan to the convent, to be under the care of one of the +nuns who was her aunt; and it was, perhaps, on this account, +that she was chosen by Mademoiselle Linders as a sort of +_gouvernante_ for her niece. But there was no other resemblance +between this placid, fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked +Flemish girl, whose early recollections were all of farms and +farmyards, of flat grassy meadows watered by slow moving +streams, of red cows feeding tranquilly in rich pastures, of +milking, and cheese-making, and butter-making, of dairies with +shining pots and pans and spotless floors, and our vehement +brown-eyed Madelon, who in her ten years had seen more of the +world than Soeur Lucie was likely to see if she lived to be a +hundred. Soeur Lucie had passed a happy, peaceful childhood in +the convent, and, as she grew up into girlhood, had listened +submissively to the words of exhortation which urged her to +give up the world and its vanities, which she had never known, +and by such voluntary renunciation to pass from a state of +mere negative virtue into that one of superior holiness only +to be attained beneath the nun's veil, and behind the convent +grating. She took the vows as soon as she was old enough, +endowed the convent with her fortune, and was perfectly happy. +She had neither friends nor relations outside this little +world in which she had been brought up, and she desired +nothing beyond what it could afford her. She had, as she well +knew, secured for herself in the next world a sure +compensation for any little sacrifices she might have made in +this--a reflection that often consoled her under a too +prolonged course of prayer and meditation, for which, to say +the truth, she had little aptitude--and for the rest, she was +universally allowed to be the best compote-maker (the nuns +were famous for their compotes, which were in great demand), +the best embroiderer, the best altar-decorator in the convent. +What more could be expected or demanded of life? Soeur Lucie, +at any rate, was quite satisfied with her position, and this +perfectly simple-minded, good-tempered little sister was a +general favourite. Madelon could not have fallen into kinder +hands; Soeur Lucie, if not always very wise, was at least very +good-natured, and if she did not win much respect or +admiration from our little Madelon, who was not long in +discovering that she knew a great deal about a great many +things that the nun had never heard or dreamt of, the poor +child at least learnt to recognize hers as a friendly face, +and to turn to her in these dreary days. + +The convent was neither very large nor very wealthy. The +building itself had formerly been a château-farm, which, with +its sheds and outlying buildings, had, many years ago, been +converted with considerable alterations into its present form; +rooms had been partitioned off, a little chapel had been +built, the hall turned into a refectory, the farmyard and +orchard into a pleasant sunny garden with lawn, and flower- +beds, and shrubs, with vines and fruit-trees alternating with +creepers along the old walls. As for the sisters, few were +from the upper ranks of society, belonging for the most part, +rather to the middle and bourgeois class. Mademoiselle Linders +had gained her present position not less by her superior birth +and education, than by that to which she would more willingly +have attributed her elevation--a certain asceticism of life +which she affected, an extra observance of fasts and vigils, +which the good nuns looked upon with reverence, without caring +to emulate such peculiar sanctity in their own persons. The +rule was not a strict one, nor, though the Superior was +careful to enforce it to its utmost rigour, was the life one +of particular hardship or privation. They were a simple, kind, +good-hearted set, these Sisters, having their little disputes, +and contentions, and jealousies among themselves occasionally, +no doubt, but leading good, peaceable lives on the whole, with +each day and hour well filled with its appointed tasks, +leading through a continual, not useless round of embroidery, +teaching, compote-making, and prayers. + +Perhaps some one looking round on them, with their honest, +homely Belgian faces, would have tried to imagine some history +for them, in accordance with the traditions that cling about +convent walls, and associate themselves with the very mention +of a nun; and most likely they would have been all wrong. None +of these Sisters had had very eventful lives, and they had, +for the most part, dropped into their present mode of +existence quite naturally. With little romance to look back +upon, save such as finds a place in even the homeliest life, +with an imperfect middle-class education that had failed to +elevate the mind, or give it wide conceptions of life, and +religion, and duty, a certain satisfaction at having done with +secular life and its cares, and at having their future here +and hereafter comfortably provided for, was perhaps the +general tone amongst this prosaic, unimaginative community. We +are, indeed, far from affirming that in that little society +there was no higher tone of religious enthusiasm, that there +were not some who not only found their highest religious ideal +in the life they had chosen, but to whom it formed, in fact, +the highest ideal to which they could attain, and calculated, +therefore, to develope in them the best and noblest part of +their natures. To such, the appointed, monotonous round, the +unquestioning submission to the will of another, the obedience +at once voluntary and enforced, would not only bring a +gracious sense of repose after conflict, but, by satisfying +their religious cravings and aspirations, by demanding the +exercise of those virtues which appeared to them at once the +highest and the most attainable, would give peace to souls +which, in the world's active life, would have tossed for ever +to and fro in reckless unquiet warfare, nor have ever once +perceived that in such warfare they might, after all, be +fulfilling the noblest ends. "Peace, and rest, and time for +heavenly meditation," they had cried, stretching out weary +hands to this quiet little harbour of refuge, and perhaps--who +knows?--they had there found them. + +Such, then, was this little world in which our Madelon +suddenly found herself placed to her utter bewilderment at +first, so alien was it to all her former experiences, so +little could she understand of its meaning, its aims, its +spirit and intention; no more than, as it seemed to her, those +around her understood her, or her wants and wishes. To her, +the convent only appeared inexpressibly _triste_ and dreary, a +round of dull tasks, enlivened by duller recreations, day +after day, for ever bounded by those blank, grey walls--no +change, no variety, no escape. The bare, scantily-furnished +rooms, the furniture itself, the food, the nuns' perpetual +black dress, and ungraceful headgear,--Madelon hated them all, +as she gradually recovered from her first desolation, and +became alive again to external impressions; and, as the first +keenness of her sorrow wore off, this vague sense of general +unhappiness and discomfort showed itself in an attitude of +opposition and defiance to every one and everything around +her. From being helplessly wretched and cross, she became +distinctly naughty, and before long our Madelon had drifted +into the hopeless position of a child always refractory, +always in disgrace, a position from which, when once assumed, +it is almost impossible for the small hapless delinquent to +struggle free. + +That Madelon was very naughty cannot be denied, and the fact +surprised no one so much as herself. The nuns, accustomed to +all sorts of children of every variety of temper, of every +shade of docility and wilfulness, of cleverness and stupidity, +found nothing astonishing in one more perverse little +specimen, but Madelon could not understand it at all. She was +not used to feeling naughty, and did not know what it meant at +first. In her life hitherto, when she had been as happy as the +day is long, she had had singularly few opportunities for +exercising the privilege of every child of Adam, and +exhibiting her original waywardness. But it was far otherwise +now, and she could not understand why she always felt cross, +always obstinate, always perverse; she only knew that she was +very miserable, and it was quite a discovery to be told one +day that it was because she was naughty, and that if she were +good, she would be happy. + +"I always am good," said Madelon, firing up, and speaking from +the experience of former days, "and I am not at all happy--I +never shall be here." + +But alas! it was proved too clearly that she was not at all +good, and indeed she began to think so herself, only she did +not see how she could help it. + +Madelon got into great disgrace in the very first weeks after +her arrival at the convent, and this was the occasion of it. +The only room vacant for her was a cell that had been occupied +by a sister who had died a short time previously, a sister of +a devout turn of mind, who had assisted her meditations by the +contemplation of a skull of unusual size and shininess. The +cell was a cheerful, narrow little room, looking out on the +convent garden, and the first pleasant sensation that Madelon +knew in the convent was when she was taken into it, and saw +the afternoon sun shining upon its white-washed walls, and the +late climbing roses nodding in at the open window; but she +became possessed with a perfect horror of the skull. She +discovered it the first evening when she was going to bed, and +was quite glad to pop her head under the bed-clothes, to shut +out all sight and thought of it. But awaking again that first +night in her grief and loneliness, she saw a stray moonbeam +shining in, and lighting it up into ghastly whiteness and +distinctness, as it stood on a little bracket against the wall +beneath a tall wooden crucifix. For the first minute she was +half paralysed with terror; she lay staring at it without +power to move, and then she would assuredly have run to some +one for protection had she known to whom to go, or, indeed, +had she not been too terrified to do more than hide her head +under the counterpane again. From that time it became a +perpetual nightmare to her. By day its terrors were less +apparent, though even then, with her innate love for all +things bright, and joyous, and pleasant, it was a positive +grief to her to have such a grim object before her eyes +whenever she came into the room; but at night no sooner was +she in bed, and the light taken away, than her imagination +conjured up a hundred frightful shapes, that all associated +themselves with the grinning death's-head. In vain she covered +it up, in vain she shut her eyes--sleeping or waking it seemed +always there. At length she could bear it no longer, and +entreated piteously that it might be taken away; but Soeur +Lucie, to whom the little prayer was made, did not view the +matter in at all the same light as Madelon. In the first +place, if formed part of the furniture of the room, and had +always been there, so far as he knew--which, to the nun, whose +life was founded on a series of unquestioned precedents, +allowing of nothing arbitrary but the will of the Superior, +appeared an unanswerable reason why it should always remain; +and, in the next place, with the lack of sympathy that one +sometimes remarks in unimaginative minds, she did not in the +least understand the terror with which it inspired the child, +but assured her, in her good-humoured way, that that was all +nonsense, and the she would get over it in time. So the skull +remained, and Madelon was miserable, till one night, in a +moment of desperation, she jumped out of bed, seized it with +both hands, and flung it with all her might through the window +into the garden below. She was frightened when she heard the +crash of falling glass, for in her excitement she had never +stopped to open the window, but greatly relieved, +notwithstanding, to think that her enemy was gone, and slept +more soundly that night than she had done for a long time +previously. + +Next morning, however, Madelon had a cold, a pane of glass was +found in fragments on the gravel walk beneath the window, a +skull was discovered, lying among the long grass on the lawn; +one can fancy the exclamations, the inquiries, the commotion. +Madelon, though not a little frightened, avowed boldly enough +what she had done, and so far gained her end that the skull +never reappeared, and a safe precedent was established for +Soeur Lucie's future guidance; but she got into great trouble +at the time, and gained moreover the unenviable distinction of +having committed a deed of unparalleled audacity. After this, +what might not be expected of such a child? The nuns at once +formed a bad opinion of her, which they owed it to themselves +to confirm on the occasion of each succeeding offence, by a +reference to this past misdeed which had first taught them of +what enormities she was capable. + +Matters were no better when there came to be a question of +lessons. Madelon did not mind the actual learning, though she +wearied a little of the continued application to which she was +unused; but she resented to the last degree the astonishment +that her ignorance on all sorts of subjects excited both in +the nuns who taught her, and in the other children in the +class, and which was expressed with sufficient distinctness. +"Never studied geography, nor history, nor arithmetic!" cries +Soeur Ursule, who superintended the school; "not know the +principal cities in Europe, nor the kings of France, nor even +your multiplication table!" These speeches, with strongly +implied notes of admiration after each sentence, and +illustrated by the expression on the faces of a small, open- +mouthed audience in the background, roused Madelon's most +indignant feelings; she rebelled alike against the injustice +of being held up to public reprobation for not knowing what +she had never been taught, and against the imputations cast +upon her education hitherto. "I can do a great many things you +cannot," she would answer defiantly, "I can talk English, and +German, and Italian--you can't; I can dance--you can't; I can +sing songs, and--and, oh! a great many things that you cannot +do!" A speech of this sort would bring our poor Madelon into +dire disgrace we may be sure; and then angry, impenitent, she +would go away into some corner, and cry--oh! how sadly--for her +father; for the happy old days, for Monsieur Horace, too, +perhaps, to come back, and take her out of all this misery. + +Behind the convent was a strip of ground, which produced +cabbages and snails on one side, and apple-trees on the other; +a straight walk divided these useful productions from each +other. When Madelon was _en pénitence_ she used sometimes to be +sent to walk here alone during the hour of recreation, and +would wander disconsolately enough among the apple-trees, +counting the apples by way of something to do, and getting +intimately acquainted with the snails and green caterpillars +amongst the cabbages. Our poor little Madelon! I could almost +wish that we had kept her always in that pretty green valley +where we first saw her; but I suppose in every life there come +times when cabbages, or things of no cheerfuller aspect than +cabbages, are the only prospect, and this was one of her +times. She used to feel very unhappy and very lonely as she +paced up and down, thinking of the past--ah, how far that past +already lay behind her, how separate, how different from +anything she did, or saw, or heard in these dull days! She did +not find many friends to console her in her troubles; good- +natured Soeur Lucie did indeed try to comfort her when she +found her crying, and though she was not very successful in +her efforts, Madeleine began to give her almost as much +gratitude as if she had been. Soeur Lucie could not think of +anything to tell her but that she was very naughty, and must +try to be good, which Madelon knew too well already. It would +have been more to the purpose, perhaps, if she had told her +she was not so very bad after all, but Soeur Lucie never +thought of that; perhaps she did not care much about the +child; by this time Madelon was beginning to be established as +the black sheep of the little community, and Soeur Lucie only +expressed the general sense; but being very good-natured, she +said in a kind way what other people said disagreeably. + +Neither from her companions did she meet with much sympathy, +and, indeed, when out of disgrace, Madelon was apt to be +rather ungracious to her schoolfellows, with whom she had +little in common. The children who came daily to the convent +were of two classes--children of the poor and children of a +higher bourgeois grade, shopkeepers for the most part. Madelon +was naturally classed with the latter of these two sets during +the lesson hours, but she stood decidedly aloof from them +afterwards, at first through shyness, and then with a sort of +wondering disdain. She had never been used to children's +society; all her life her father had been careful to keep her +apart from companions of her own age, and, accustomed to +associate continually with grown-up people, she chose to +regard with great contempt the trivial chatter, and squabbles, +and amusements of her small contemporaries. After a time, +indeed, she condescended to astonish their minds with some of +her old stories, and was gratified by the admiration of a +round-eyed, open-mouthed audience, who listened with rapt +attention as she related some of the glories of past days, +balls, and theatres, and kursaals, princes and counts, and +fine dresses; it served in some sort to maintain the sense of +superiority which was sorely tried during the untoward events +of the lesson hours; but this also was destined to come to an +end. One day there was a whispering among the listeners, which +resulted in the smallest of them saying boldly,-- + +"Marie-Louise says your papa must have been a very bad man." + +"What!" cries Madelon, jumping off the high stool on which she +had been seated. This little scene took place during the hour +of recreation, when the children ate their luncheon of bread +and fruit. + +"Ah, yes," says Marie-Louise, a broad-faced, flaxen-haired +damsel, half a head taller than Madelon, and nodding her head +knowingly. "Those are very fine stories that you tell us +there, Mademoiselle, but when I related them at home they said +it was clear your papa must have been a very wicked man." + +Madelon turned quite white and walked up to the girl, her +teeth set, her small fists clenched. "You are wicked!" she +stammered out; "how dare you say such things? I--I will never +speak to you again!" and then she turned, and walked off +without another word. + +The matter did not end here, however, for the children talked +of it among themselves, the nuns heard of it, and, finally, it +reached the ears of Madame la Supérieure herself. Madelon, +summoned into the awful presence of her aunt, received the +strictest orders never again to refer to these past +experiences in any way. "You are my child now," says Madame, +overwhelming the poor little culprit before her with her +severest demeanour, "and must learn to forget all these +follies." If Madelon feared any one, it was her aunt, who had +never cared to win her little niece's love by any show of +affection; the child came before her trembling, and escaped +from her gladly. She had no inclination to draw down further +reprimands by disobedience in this particular, so far as words +went, nor indeed had she any temptation to do so. From this +time she kept more apart from the rest of the children, rarely +joining in their games, and preferring even Soeur Lucie's +society to that of her small companions. So, altogether, +Madelon's first attempts at a convent life were not a success, +and time only brought other sad deficiencies to light. + +Whatever the nuns may have thought or said, concerning her +ignorance of history, geography, and arithmetic, it was a far +more serious matter when there came to be a question of her +religious knowledge. The good sisters were really horrified at +the complete blank they found, and lost no time in putting her +through a course of the most orthodox instruction. Before she +had been a month in the convent, she knew almost as much as +Nanette, had learnt why people go to church and what they do +there, had studied her catechism, could find her places in her +prayer-book, could repeat Ave Marias and Paternosters, and +tell her beads like every one else. And so Madelon's questions +are answered at last, her perplexities solved, her yearnings +satisfied! She apprehended quickly all that she was taught, so +far as in her lay, and vaguely perceived something still +beyond her powers of apprehension, something that still +confusedly connected itself with the great church, with the +violinist's playing, with the pictures and the music of old +days, and which, for the present, in her new life, found its +clearest expression, not in the nuns' teaching, for, kind and +affectionate as it in truth was, it was marred from the first +to Madelon by the inevitable exclamation of wonder and horror +that she should not know all about it already--not in the +questions and answers in her catechism, nor in the religious +dogmas and formulas which she accepted, but could hardly +appreciate--not in all these, but in the little chapel with its +gaudy altars, and twinkling lights, its services, and music, +and incense. Indeed, apart from all higher considerations, the +pictures, the colouring, the singing, all were the happiest +relief to the child, who, used to perpetual change and +brightness, wearied indescribably of the dull, colourless +life, the uniform dress, the want of all artistic beauty in +the convent. Her greatest reward when she had been good was to +be allowed to join in the singing in the chapel--her greatest +punishment, to be banished from the evening services. + +No need, however, to pursue this part of little Madelon's +history further. With the nuns' instruction, and the learning +of her catechism, vanished all that had distinguished her, in +this respect, from other children of her years and station. +She had learnt most of what can be learnt by such teaching, +and for her, as for others, there remained the verifying and +realization of these lessons, according to her capacity and +experience. Only, one may somehow feel sure, that to this +passionate, wilful little nature, religion would hardly +present itself as one simple sublime truth, high, pure, and +serene as the over-arching, all-embracing heaven, through +which the sun shines down on the clashing creeds of men; but +rather as a complex, many-sided problem, too often at variance +with her scheme of life, to be felt after through the medium +of conflicting emotions, to be worked out at last through what +doubts, questionings, with what perplexities, strivings, +yearnings, cries for light--along this in nowise singular path, +no need to follow our little Madelon. + +For the rest, she imbibed readily enough at this time many of +the particular views of religious subjects affected by the +nuns, at first, indeed, not without a certain incredulity that +such things could be, when her father had never spoken to her +about them, nor made her aware of their existence; but +presently, with more confidence, as she remembered that he was +to have told her all about them when she was older. There were +the legends and histories of the saints, for instance, in +which Madelon learnt to take special delight, though it way be +feared that she regarded them rather as pretty romantic +stories, illustrated and glorified by her recollections of the +old pictures in Florence, than as the vehicle of religious +instruction that the nuns would willingly have made them. She +used to beg Soeur Lucie to tell them to her again and again, +and the good little nun, delighted to find at least one pious +disposition in her small rebellious charge, was always ready +to comply with her request, and went over the whole list of +saints and their lives, not sparing one miracle or miraculous +virtue we may be sure, and telling them all in her simple, +matter-of-fact language, with details drawn from her daily +life to give a touch of reality, which invested the mystic old +Eastern and Southern legends with a quaint naïve homeliness +not without its own charm--like the same subjects as +interpreted by some of the old Dutch and Flemish masters, in +contrast with the high-wrought, idealised conceptions of the +earlier Italian schools. But it was through the medium of +these last that Madelon saw them all pass before her--St. +Cecilia, St. Catherine, St. Dorothea, St. Agnes, St. +Elizabeth--she knew them all by name. Soeur Lucie almost changed +her opinion of Madelon when she discovered this--for about a +day and a half that is, till the child's next flagrant +delinquency--and Madelon found a host of recollections in +which she might safely indulge, as she chatted to Soeur Lucie +about the pictures, and galleries, and churches of Florence, +not a little pleased when the nun's exclamations and questions +revealed that she herself had never seen but two churches in +her life, that near her old home and the convent chapel. + +"Oh, I have seen a great many," Madelon would say, "and +palaces too; I daresay you never saw a palace either? but I +like the churches best because of the chapels, and altars, and +tombs, and pictures. At Florence the churches were so big--oh! +as big as the whole convent--but I think the chapel here very +pretty too; will you let me help you to decorate the altar for +the next fête, if I am good?" + +So she chattered on, and these were her happiest hours +perhaps. Sometimes she would be allowed to accompany Soeur +Lucie to the big kitchen, and assist in the grand compote- +making, which seemed to be going on at all seasons of the +year. There, sometimes helping, sometimes perched on her +favourite seat on the corner of the table, Madelon would +forget her sorrows for awhile in the contemplation of the old +farm-kitchen with its rough white-washed walls, decorated with +pots and pans, and shining kettles, its shelves with endless +rows of blue and white crockery, its great black rafters +crossing below the high-pitched ceiling leaving a gloomy +space, full of mystery to Madelon's imagination; and then, +below, the long white wooden table, the piles of fruit, the +busy figures of the nuns as they moved to and fro. Outside in +the courtyard the sun would be shining perhaps, the trees +would wave, and cast flickering shadows on Madelon, as she +sat, the pigeons would come fluttering and perching on the +window-sill, and Soeur Lucie, whilst paring, cutting, boiling, +skimming, would crone out for Madelon's benefit the old tales +she knew so well that she could almost have repeated them in +her sleep. Madelon only begged to be let off the tragical +ending, which she could not bear, at last always stopping her +ears when the critical moment of the sword, or the wheel, or +the fire approached. She took great interest in the history of +Ste. Thérèse, especially in the account of her running away in +her childhood, which seemed to her most worthy of imitation-- +only, thinks Madelon, she would have taken care not to have +been caught, and brought back again. The subsequent history of +the saint she found less edifying; nothing that savoured of +conventual life found favour in Madelon's eyes in these days; +and indeed her whole faith in saints and legends was rudely +shaken one day by a broad and somewhat reckless assertion on +the part of Soeur Lucie, that all the female saints had been +nuns--an assertion certainly unsupported by the facts, whether +legendary or ascertained, but which had somehow become a fixed +idea in Soeur Lucie's mind, and was dear to the heart of the +little nun. + +"They were not nuns like you, then," says Madelon at last, +after some combating of the point, "for they could go out, and +walk about, and do a great many things you must not do--and if +I were a saint, I would never, never become a nun!" + +"But it is the nuns that have become saints," cries Soeur +Lucie, with the happiest conviction; and Madelon, unable to +argue out her own ideas on the subject, contented herself with +repeating, that anyhow they had not all been nuns like Soeur +Lucie, which was indisputable. + +These were, as we have said, Madelon's happiest times, and, +indeed, they hardly repaid the child for long days of +weariness and despondency, for hours of heart-sick longing for +she knew not what, of objectless hoping, of that saddest form +of home-sickness, that knows of no home for which to pine. In +all the future there was but one point on which her mind could +rest--Monsieur Horace's promised return, and that was too +vague, too remote to afford her much comfort. And her own +promise to him, has she forgotten that? She would not have +been the Madelon that we know if she had done so, but we need +hardly say that she had not been two days in the convent, +before she instinctively perceived how futile were all those +poor little schemes with which she had been so busy the +evening before she parted with Graham, how impossible it would +be to ask or obtain her aunt's permission for going to Spa on +such an errand. The convent was to all intents and purposes a +prison to our little Madelon, and she could only wait and +cherish her purpose till a happier moment. + +She heard twice from Graham in the first few months. He wrote +just before leaving England, and once from the Crimae; but +this last letter elicited an icy response from the Superior, +to the effect generally that her niece being now under her +care, and receiving the education that would fit her for the +life that would be hers for the future, she wished all old +connections and associations to be broken off; in short, that +it would be useless for Graham to write any more letters, as +Madelon would not be allowed to see them. Graham received this +letter at Balaklava, at the end of a long day's work, and +laughed out loud as he read the stiff, formal little epistle, +which, to the young man in the midst of the whirl and bustle +of camps and hospitals, seemed like a voice from another +world; there was something too ludicrous in the notion of a +child of eleven years old being forbidden to receive letters, +because she might possibly be a nun nine or ten years hence. + +"As for that, we'll see about it by-and-by, old lady," he said +to himself, "but in the meantime there is no use in writing +letters that are not to be delivered;" and then he thrust +Mademoiselle Linders' letter into his pocket, and thought no +more about it. + +So Madelon heard nothing more of Monsieur Horace, though she +often, often thought of him, and wondered what he was doing. +He was very busy, very hard-worked; an army-surgeon had no +sinecure in the Crimea in those days, as we know, and it was +perhaps well for the child, who cared more for him than for +any one else in the world, that she knew nothing of his life +at this time, of wintry battle-fields and hospital tents, of +camps and trenches, where, day and night, he had to fight in +his own battle with sickness, and wounds, and death. No news +from the war came to Madelon's ears, no whisper from all the +din and clamour that were filling Europe, penetrated to this +quiet, out-of-the-world, little world in which her lot was +cast. The mighty thunder of the guns before Sebastopol rolled, +echoing, to the north, and roused sunny cities basking in the +south, and stirred a million hearts in the far islands of the +west; but it died away before the vine-covered gate, the +white-washed walls of the little Belgian convent. There life +stole on at an even pace, little asked of it, yielding little +in return, and amongst that peaceful Sisterhood, one little +restless spirit, ever seeking and feeling after what she could +not find, looking in the faces of all around her, if so be +some one could help her, and, with a child's instinct, +rejecting each in turn. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + + + + + +_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. + + + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. II. + + + + + + +LEIPZIG + +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ + +1871. + + +_The Right of Translation is reserved_. + + + + + + +PART II. + +(continued.) + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Fever. + + +For more than two uneventful years Madelon remained in the +convent; but early in the third spring after her arrival, a +low fever broke out, which for the time completely disturbed +the peaceful, even current of existence there, and, by its +results, altered, as it happened, the whole course of her own +life. + +She was between twelve and thirteen then, and had grown into a +slim little maiden, rather tall for her age, with a little +pale face as in old days, but with her wavy brown hair all +braided now, and fastened in long plaits round her head. In +these two years she has become somewhat reconciled to her +convent life; not, indeed, as a permanent arrangement--it never +occurred to her to regard it in that light--but as something +that must be endured till a new future should open out before +her. She learns her lessons, sings in the chapel, knows +something of compote-making, and can embroider with skilful +little fingers almost after Soeur Lucie's own heart. She still +holds aloof from her companions, turning to Soeur Lucie for +society, though rather with the feeling of the simple-hearted +little nun being _bon camarade_, than with any deeper sentiment +of friendship or respect. She is rarely _en pénitence_ now; the +vehement little spirit seems laid; and if something of her old +spring and energy have gone with it, if she is sometimes sad, +and almost always quiet, there is no one to note it much, or +to heed the change that has apparently come over her. And yet +Madelon was in truth little altered, and was scarcely less of +a child than when Graham had brought her to the convent. She +had learned a variety of things, it is true; she could have +named all the principal cities in Europe now; and though she +still stumbled over the kings of France, her multiplication- +table was unexceptionable; but her education had been one of +acquisition rather than of development. Her mind had not yet +had time to assimilate itself with those around her, nor to +become reconciled to the life that was so at variance with all +her old traditions; and she maintained a nucleus, as it were, +of independent thought, which no mere extraneous influences or +knowledge could affect. In the total silence imposed upon +herself, and those around her, concerning her past life, there +had been no possibility of modifying her ideas on that +subject, and they were still at the same point as when she +entered the convent. She still clung to her father's memory, +with all the passionate love of which her ardent little soul +was capable; she still believed in his perfection, and held to +her recollections of the old days with a strength and tenacity +only enhanced by the contrast which her present life daily +forced upon her. The past lived in her memory as a bright, +changeful dream, varying from one pleasure to another, with an +ever-shifting background of fair, foreign towns and cities, +Kursaals, palaces, salons, gardens, mountains, and lakes, and +quiet green nooks of country--all, as it seemed to her, with +the power of generalization that seizes on the most salient +points, and takes them as types of the whole, shining in +sunlight that never clouded, under clear blue skies that never +darkened. Madelon knew that that time had gone by for ever; +and yet, in all her dreams for the future, her imagination +never went beyond a repetition of it all--only for her father +she, perhaps, substituted Monsieur Horace: for Monsieur +Horace, we may be sure, was not forgotten, any more than her +promise to him; though, indeed, this last had been so long in +abeyance that she had ceased to think of it as likely to be +speedily fulfilled. She had almost come to regard it as one of +the many things referred to that somewhat vague period when +she should be grown up, and when, in some way--how she did not +know--she would be released from the convent and from Aunt +Thérèse, and be at liberty to come and go as she pleased. In +the meantime she had almost given up hoping for Monsieur +Horace's return. The time when she had last seen him and heard +from him already seemed so remote to her childish memory. No +one ever spoke to her about him, and he never wrote to her. +She did not for a moment think he had forgotten her; she had +too much confidence in him for that; but by degrees a notion, +vague at first, but gradually becoming a fixed idea destined +to have results, established itself in foolish little +Madelon's head, that he was waiting till he should hear from +her that his fortune was made before he would come back to +her. Madelon would get quite unhappy when she thought of this-- +he must think her so faithless and forgetful, yet how could +she help it? That the promise had made as deep an impression +upon him as upon her she never doubted for a moment; and was +it not most possible, and even probable, that he was expecting +to hear of the result, perhaps even in want of this wonderful +fortune, on which he must be counting? It was a sad thought, +this, to our Madelon, but gradually it became a confirmed one +in her mind. + +How long this state of things would have lasted--whether, with +the fading of childish impressions, present abiding influences +might have taken possession of her, whether, some few years +hence, some sudden development of her devotional tendencies +might have roused her latent powers of enthusiasm, and turned +them in a new direction just at the moment when youthful +ardour is most readily kindled, and tender, fervent hearts +most easily touched--whether, in such a case, our little +Madelon, inspired with new beliefs, would have renounced her +old life in the fervour of her acceptance of the new, and, +after all, have taken the nun's vows, and been content to +allow her native energy and earnestness to find scope in the +loftiest aspirations of a convent life--all this can never now +be known. Something there was in her character which, under +certain conditions, might have developed in such a direction. +The time might, indeed, surely would have come, had she +remained in the convent, when a sudden need and hunger for +sympathy, and perhaps excitement, would have risen in her +soul, too keen and imperative to be satisfied with past +memories; and when, in the absence of all support and +friendship in the outer world, she might have seized on +whatever she could find in the narrow circle in which she +moved, to still that imperious craving. Not in vain, then, +might have appeared those old dreams and visions in Florence +long ago. Madelon might have learnt to find in them a new and +deep significance, an interpretation in accordance with her +latest teaching, and through the dim years they might have +come back to her--prophetic warnings, as she might have been +taught to consider them--linking themselves with present +influences, to urge her on to one course. Her father's last +command, her own promises, sacred as she held them now, might +have availed nothing then, against what she might have been +taught to consider a voice from on high, a call of more than +earthly authority. + +Such, we say, might have been the turn things would have taken +with Madelon, had the uninterrupted, monotonous convent life +continued to be hers. But long before her mind was prepared +for any such influences, early in the third year after her +father's death, certain events occurred, which brought this +period of her history to an abrupt close. + +How, or why the fever broke out--whether it was the result of a +damp, unhealthy winter, or through infection brought by one of +the school-children, or from any other obvious cause, we need +not inquire here. It first showed itself about the middle of +February, and within a fortnight half the nuns had taken it, +the school was broken up, and the whole convent turned into a +hospital for the sick and dying. + +Two of the sisters died within the first week or two; one was +very old, so old, indeed, that the fever seemed to be only the +decisive touch needed to extinguish the feeble life, that had +been uncertainly wavering for months previously; the other was +younger, and much beloved. And then came a sense as of some +general great calamity, a sort of awe-struck mourning, with +which real grief had, perhaps, little to do. The Superior +herself had been struck with the fever, and in three days she +was dead. Her vigils, her fastings, the wearying abnegations +of her stern, hard life had left her little strength for +struggling against the disease when it laid hold of her at +last, and so she too died in her cell one cold, bleak March +morning, with a hushed sisterhood gathered round her death- +bed, and gazing on it, as on that of a departing saint. Little +beloved, but much revered, Thérèse Linders also had got that +she had laboured for, and was now gone to prove the worth of +it; that which she had valued most in her narrow world had +been awarded her to the full--much honour, but small affection; +much glorification to her memory as to one of surpassing +sanctity, few tears of tender or regretful recollection. She +had had a strange, loveless life, with a certain pathos in it +too, as in the life of every human being, if looked at aright. +Not always, one may imagine, had such cold, relentless +pietism, such harsh indifference possessed her. She lies there +now, still and silent for evermore on earth, a crucifix +between her hands, tapers burning at her head and feet, with +the hard lines fixed on her cold grey face; and yet she also +had been a little, soft, round child, with yearnings too, like +other children, for a mother's kisses and a mother's love. "Go +away, Adolphe, you are very naughty, and I do not love you; +mamma always kisses you, and she never, never kisses me!" This +little speech, uttered by our poor saintly Superior when she +was but eight years old, may perhaps give the key to much in +her after life; and if we cannot, with an admiring sisterhood, +henceforth count this unhappy, soured woman in our catalogue +of saints, we will at least grant her a place amongst the +great company of "might-have-beens," most inscrutable problems +in this puzzling life of ours, and so bid her a not unkindly +farewell. + +Madelon, meanwhile, knew nothing of these things; she had +taken the fever also, and while death was busy in other parts +of the convent, she lay unconscious in her little cell, +tossing in delirium, or lying in feverish stupor, with Soeur +Lucie coming softly in and out. In this desolated overworked +household, the child had come to be considered as only another +item of trouble, hardly of anxiety; for her life or death just +then was felt to be of the very smallest consequence to any +one. The one tie that had bound her to the convent had been +snapped by her aunt's death; if she lives, think the nuns--if +indeed they find time to think of her at all--she is a burthen +on our hands; if she dies, well then, one more coffin and +another grave. This is perhaps the ebb-tide of Madelon's +importance in the world; never before has been, never again +will be, we may trust, her existence of so little moment to +any human being--that existence which, meanwhile, in spite of +all such indifference, in perfect unconsciousness of it +indeed, is beginning to assert itself again. For though the +Superior had died amidst lamentations, and the places of Soeurs +Eulalie and Marguerite will know them no more, our little +Madelon, over whom there are none to lament or rejoice, will +live. + +One afternoon she awoke, as from a long sleep. The low sun was +shining into the cell, lighting up the wooden crucifix on the +white-washed wall; Soeur Lucie, in her strait coif and long +black veil, was sitting by the bedside reading her book of +hours; through the window could be seen a strip of blue sky +crossed by some budding tree in the convent garden, little +birds were beginning to chirp and twitter amongst the +branches. The spring had come in these last days whilst +Madelon had been lying there, and in the midst of the glad +resurrection of all nature, she too was stirring and awakening +to consciousness, and a new life. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Madelon overhears a Conversation. + + +Amidst the springing flowers, the twitter of pairing birds, +and the bursting of green leaves through the brown, downy +husks, in the bounteous April weather, Madelon began to +recover rapidly. She was nursed with kindness and care, if not +exactly with tenderness, by Soeur Lucie; but tenderness our +little black sheep had long since learnt not to expect in the +convent, and she hardly missed it now. It was in the first +days of her convalescence that she heard of the death of her +aunt Thérèse, through some chance remark of one of the Sisters +who came into her cell. Had it not been for this, they would +have kept it from her longer; but the news scarcely affected +her at all. Her aunt had shown her no affection in these last +two years that they had lived under the same roof, and, on the +few occasions on which Madelon had come in contact with her, +the pale, cold face, and severe manner of the nun had inspired +her niece with a dread, which only lacked opportunity to +become a more active dislike. She heard the news then with +apathy, and was still too languid and weak to think of the +loss in reference to herself, or to realise that, so far as +she knew, she had now no relation in the world. Nor did such +realization come at once, even when she grew stronger; her +aunt had counted for so little in her present mode of life, +that it did not occur to her that her death might bring any +possible change into it; indeed, as we have said, she had +ceased to look for any immediate change. Monsieur Horace had +brought her to the convent, and Soeur Lucie took care of her +there, and so she supposed matters would go on for the +present. + +If, however, the news of her aunt's death affected her but +little, it was quite otherwise with another conversation that +she overheard a few days later, and which, indeed, was not +meant for her ears either. She had awakened one evening from a +long, sound sleep, and was lying quietly in the dusk, dreamily +wondering how soon she should make up her mind to arouse +herself and take the medicine that she knew awaited her as +soon as she should declare herself awake, when Soeur Ursule +entered the room. She had come with some message to Soeur +Lucie, and when it was delivered, stood chatting a few minutes +by the window where Soeur Lucie sat knitting. She was a gaunt, +brisk, elderly woman, who had been governess in a large +school, before an opportune legacy had enabled her to fulfil +her dearest wish and enter the convent, where, with fresh zeal +and energy, she resumed the duties most congenial to her, as +teacher and superintendent of the school. Thoroughly devout +and conscientious, and with a kind heart _au fond_, she +nevertheless brought with her into her new sphere all the +habits and modes of thought acquired during a long struggle +with a very hard, secular world--a practical turn of mind, +verging on hardness, a dictatorial manner, a certain opinion- +activeness, which still showed itself now and then in oddest +contrast with the habitual submission demanded of a nun. + +"She looks better this evening," she said now, nodding towards +the bed where Madelon lay with her eyes still closed. + +"Yes, yes, she is getting on; I shall have her up to-morrow, I +hope," answered Soeur Lucie, with some natural pride in this +specimen of successful nursing. + +"Ah, well--she could have been better spared though, than some +that are gone," answered the other; "but no doubt it is all +for the best. Not but that I am glad that the child is +recovering--still we shall certainly find her a great burthen +on our hands." + +"It is true, then," cried Soeur Lucie, "what I heard Soeur Marie +saying--that our sainted mother had bequeathed her to the care +of the convent, and left directions that she is to take the +veil as soon as she is old enough." + +"Yes, it is true enough, and, as I was saying, all is no doubt +for the best; otherwise it is really a great charge for us to +have a child of that age on our hands to bring up." + +"But that was just my case," replied Soeur Lucie simply. "I +have not been out of the convent for more than six months +since I was ten years old, as you know, Soeur Ursule." + +"You, _ma Soeur!_ That was quite a different matter; every one +knows what a marked vocation you had even in your childhood, +and how willingly you devoted your fortune, and resigned all +worldly hopes--whereas this little one has always been the most +tiresome child in the class, and, moreover, will have to live +at the expense of the convent." + +"That is true," said Soeur Lucie reflecting; "I never heard +that she had any money, and of course people cannot live for +nothing." + +"She has not a sou--you may depend upon it," said Soeur Ursule +emphatically; "she brought nothing with her when she came." + +"Nothing!" cried Soeur Lucie. + +"Or so little, that it must all be gone by this time. I really +do not see how it can be arranged--Soeurs Marie and Catherine +settled it with our late sainted Superior, and I think even +they are beginning to repent a little, for they were talking +only this morning of all the expense we have had lately." + +"Poor child," murmured Soeur Lucie, who had no unkindly +feelings towards her little charge, "there is surely enough +for one more." + +"That is all very well, _ma Soeur_, but an extra person is an +extra person, as we all know. We might keep the child for a +time out of charity, but when there is a question of her +taking the vows, and living here always, it is another matter +altogether. It has not been the custom in our house to receive +sisters without _dots_, and it will never do--never; but of +course our sainted mother knew best, and my opinion was not +asked, though it might have been as well worth having as that +of some others." + +"Poor child," said good little Soeur Lucie again, looking +towards the bed; "and she has improved very much lately, don't +you think so, _ma Soeur?_" + +"Oh, yes, she has improved, no doubt; it would be astonishing +if she had not, after being here more than two years; but that +is not the question. However, I must be going," she added, "I +have a hundred things to do before vespers. And the border for +that altar-cloth will be ready by the end of the month, you +think?" + +"I hope so," answered Soeur Lucie. "Madelon shall help me as +soon as she is strong enough again; she can embroider quite +nicely now." + +"So much the better; she will have to do plenty by-and-by, and +make herself useful if she is to stay here." + +Soeur Ursule left the room as she spoke, and Soeur Lucie, with +her knitting in her lap, sat meditating in the darkness. +Presently a restless movement in the bed roused her. "Are you +awake, Madelon?" she said softly. + +No answer, only another toss, and a sort of long sigh. Soeur +Lucie rose, lighted a candle, measured out some medicine, and +then with the glass in one hand, and the light in the other, +she came to the bedside. Madelon was lying with her back +towards her, her arms flung over her head, her face buried in +the pillow. She did not move, and Soeur Lucie touched her +gently. + +"It is time to take your medicine, mon enfant," she said. + +Madelon turned round then, and taking the glass, drank off the +contents without a word; as she gave it back to the nun, +something in her face or expression, fairly startled the +little sister. + +"Why, whatever is the matter, _mon enfant?_" she cried, "you +must have been dreaming, I think." + +"No, I have not been dreaming," answered Madelon; and then, as +the nun turned away to put the glass and candle on the table, +she caught hold of her gown with all the strength of which her +feeble fingers were capable. + +"Don't go, please don't go, Soeur Lucie," she said, "I want to +speak to you." + +"In a moment; I am not going," answered the sister. "Well, +what is it, _ma petite?_" she added, coming back to the bedside. + +"What--what was it Soeur Ursule was saying to you just now?" +asks Madelon. + +"Just now!" cried Soeur Lucie, taken aback; "why, I thought you +were asleep." + +"No, I was not asleep," Madelon answered, "I only had my eyes +shut." + +"But that is very naughty, _mon enfant_, to pretend to be asleep +when you are awake." + +"I didn't pretend," said Madelon aggrieved, "only I hadn't +opened my eyes, and I could not help hearing what you said." + +"Ah well, if you heard, there is no use in my telling you," +says Soeur Lucie, who was not at all above using that +imperfect, but irrefragable, logic familiar to us from our +nurseries; "so you had better go to sleep again, for I cannot +stop here any longer. Let me smoothe your pillow." + +"No," said Madelon, escaping from her hands with an impatient +toss. "Ah, don't go away yet," she added piteously. "Was it +true what Soeur Ursule said about me?" + +"About you, _mon enfant?_" + +"Yes, about me--that I was to become a nun." + +"Ah!" said Soeur Lucie, with the air of being suddenly +enlightened, "yes--yes, I suppose so, since she said it. Now I +must go, and do you go to sleep." + +"No, no," cried Madelon, raising herself in the bed and +stretching out both arms after Soeur Lucie's retreating figure. +"Ah, Soeur Lucie, don't leave me. I can't be a nun; don't let +them make me a nun!" + +There was something so pitiful and beseeching in her accent, +something so frail-looking in the little, white, imploring +hands, that Soeur Lucie's heart was touched. She came back +again. + +"_Ecoute_, Madelon," she said, "you will be ill again to-morrow +if you talk so much; lie down now, and tell me what it is you +want. No one is going to make you a nun now, you know." + +"No, not now, but by-and-by. Is it true that Aunt Thérèse said +I was to be made one?" + +"Yes, that is true enough, I believe; but there is nothing to +be unhappy about in that," answered Soeur Lucie, who naturally +looked at things from a different point of view than +Madelon's. "There are many girls who would be glad of such a +chance; for you see, _mon enfant_, it is only because nothing +could be refused to our late sainted Superior, that it has +been arranged at all." + +"Soeur Ursule said I should be a burthen," answered Madelon. "I +don't want to be a burthen; I only want to go away. Ah! why do +you keep me? I am miserable here; I always have been, and I +always shall be--always." + +"But that is foolish," replied Soeur Lucie, "for you will be +very happy--far happier than you could ever be out in the +world, _ma petite;_ it is full of snares, and temptations, and +wickedness, that never can come near us here. Look at me; I +was no older than you when I first came here, and never has +girl been happier, I believe. No, no, Madelon," she went on, +with a good-natured wish to make things pleasant, "you will +stay with us, and be our child, and we will take care of you." + +"I don't want you to take care of me!" cries Madelon, the +burning tears starting painfully to her eyes. "I hate +convents, and I hate nuns, and it is wicked and cruel to keep +me here!" + +"Am I cruel and wicked? Do you hate me?" said Soeur Lucie, +rather aggrieved in her turn. + +"No, no," cried Madelon, with compunction, and throwing her +arms round Soeur Lucie's neck; "you are very kind, Soeur Lucie, +and you won't let them make me a nun, will you? You will tell +them all that I should be miserable--ah! I should die, I know I +should!" + +"Well, well, we will not talk about it any more to-night. As +for me, I have nothing to do with it--nothing; but I cannot +have you make yourself ill with chattering; so now let me put +your pillow straight, and then you must go to sleep as fast as +you can." + +With a final shake of the pillow and arrangement of the bed- +clothes, Soeur Lucie went away, leaving Madelon, not to sleep, +but to lie broad awake, framing the most dismal little +pictures of the future. And was this to be the end of it all, +then?--the end of her vague dreams, her undefined hopes, which, +leaping over a dim space of intervening years, had rested on a +future of indefinite brightness lying somewhere outside these +convent walls? Ah, was all indeed at an end? Never to pass +these dull walls again, never to see anything but these dreary +rooms,--all her life to be one unvarying, relentless routine, +day after day, year after year--to be forced to teach stupid +children, like Soeur Ursule, or to make jam and embroider +alter-cloths, like Soeur Lucie, to say such long prayers, and +to wear such ugly dresses, thinks poor Madelon, with a queer +jumble of the duties and obligations of a nun's life. Ah! what +would be the use of getting well and strong again, if that +were all that life had in store for her? "Why did I not die?" +thinks the poor child, tossing restlessly from side to side. +"I wish I was dead! Ah! why did I not die? I wish I had never +been born!" To her, as to all inexperienced minds, life +appeared as a series of arbitrary events, rather than as a +chain of dependent circumstances ceaselessly modifying each +other, and she could not conceive the possibility of any +gradual change of position being brought about in the slow +course of years. The long succession of grey, weary days, +which she had lately taught herself to consider as a path that +must be traversed, but which would still lead ultimately to a +future of most supreme happiness, suddenly seemed to terminate +in a grave black as death itself, from which there could be no +escape. "If papa were here," thinks Madelon, "he would never +allow it; he would never leave me in this horrible place, he +would take me away. Oh! papa, papa, why did you die?" And +burying her face in the pillow, she began to sob and cry in +her weakness and despair. + +But this last thought of her father had suggested a new set of +ideas and memories to Madelon, and by-and-by she stopped +crying, and began to think again, confusedly at first, but +presently with a more definite purpose gradually forming +itself in the darkness of her bewildered thoughts. Has she not +promised her father never to become a nun? Perhaps he had +thought of something like this happening, and that was why he +had made her promise, and of course she must keep her word. +But how is she to do that? wonders Madelon. If Monsieur Horace +were here, indeed, he might help her. Ah, if Monsieur Horace +was but here! Should she write to him, and tell him how +unhappy she was, and ask him to come and take her away? He had +given her his English address, and told her to be sure and let +him know, if she were in any trouble, or wanted any help. "But +then," thinks our foolish little Madelon, with the most +quixotic notions busy in her tired little brain, "I have not +done what I said I would, and he will think, perhaps, I want +to break my word." Alas, must that grand surprise that was to +have been prepared for him, all those fine schemes, and plans, +and projects, must they all fall to the ground? Was she never, +never to show him how much she loved him? And yet, if they +made her a nun, how could she do it all? He would never have +his fortune made then, though she had promised to do it, and +he would think she had forgotten him, and cared nothing about +him. So wearily did Madelon's mind revolve, dwelling most of +all on that promise made so long ago; and as she realized the +possibility of her never being able to fulfil it at all, she +became possessed with a feverish desire to get up that very +moment and set about it. If--if--ah, supposing she were to run +away--Aunt Thérèse is not here now, and she would not be afraid +of the other nuns finding her, she would hide herself too well +for that--supposing she were to run away, go to Spa, make the +fortune, and then write to Monsieur Horace? Would not that be +an idea? + +When Soeur Lucie came in an hour later, to look after Madelon, +she found her fast asleep; the traces of tears were still on +her cheeks, and the pillow and bedclothes were all disarranged +and tossed about again, but she was lying quite quietly now. +Soeur Lucie stood for a moment, looking down upon the child's +white face, that had grown so small and thin. Her hair had +been all cut off during her illness, and curled in soft brown +rings all over her head, as when she was a little child, and +indeed there was something most childlike in the peaceful +little face, which had a look of repose that it seldom wore +when the wistful brown eyes were open, with their expression +of always longing and seeking for something beyond their ken. +Somehow Soeur Lucie was touched with a sudden feeling of +unwonted tenderness for her little charge. "_Pauvre petite_," +she murmured, gently raising one hand that hung over the side +of the bed, and smoothing back a stray lock of hair. Madelon +opened her eyes for a moment; "Monsieur Horace," she said, "I +have not forgotten, I--I will----" and then she turned away and +fell sound asleep again. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +The Red Silk Purse. + + +It was about three weeks later, that Madelon was sitting one +evening at her bed-room window; it was open, and the breeze +blew in pleasantly, bringing with it the faint scent of early +roses and lingering violets. In the garden below, lengthening +shadows fell across the cherished centre square of grass, the +trees were all golden-green in the western sunlight; black- +veiled Sisters were walking about breaking the stillness with +their voices and laughter; along the convent wall the vines +were shooting and spreading their long tender sprays, and on +the opposite side a great westeria was shedding showers of +lilac blossoms with every breath of wind amongst the shrubs +and evergreens below. + +Madelon, sitting forward on her chair, her chin propped on her +hands, her embroidery lying in her lap, saw and heeded none of +these things; her eyes were fixed dreamily on the sky, but her +thoughts were by no means dreamy, very intent rather upon one +idea which she was endeavouring to rescue from the region of +dreams and vagueness, and set before her with a distinctness +that should ensure a practical result. This idea, which indeed +was no new one, but simply that of running away from the +convent, which had first occurred to her three weeks before, +had presented itself with more assurance to her mind during +every day of her convalescence; and now that she was nearly +well again, it was fast becoming an unalterable resolution. +There were difficulties in the way--she was considering them +now--but she knew she should be able to overcome them; we say +advisedly; she _knew_ it, for the child already recognized in +herself an unwavering strength of mind and purpose, which +assured her that no foreseen obstacles could stand between her +and any fixed end that she proposed to herself; as for +unforeseen ones--our small-experienced Madelon did not take +them into account at all. + +It was not that she was a prodigy compounded of nothing but +firmness, and resolution, and obstinacy, this little slender +girl, who sat there in the evening sunlight, puzzling out her +plan; there were plenty of weak points in her character, which +would perhaps make themselves sufficiently apparent in years +to come. But these at least she possessed--a persistency of +purpose in whatever she undertook, on which she could +confidently rely, and a certain courage and independence that +promised to carry her successfully through all difficulties; +and these things are, I think, as the charmed cakes that the +Princess carried to the enchanted castle, and wherewith she +tamed the great lions that tried to oppose her entrance. +Madelon sees before her a very fair enchanted castle, lying +outside these convent walls--even something like a Prince to +rescue--and she will not fail to provide herself with such +charms as lie within her reach, to appease any possible +menagerie that may be lying between her and it. + +She had already sketched out a little scheme whereby she might +redeem the two promises which, lying latent in her mind for +these two years past, had suddenly sprung into such abnormal +activity, and, in the limited circle of her small past, +present and future, monopolized at once her memories, and +energies, and hopes. She must get out of the convent--that was +evidently the first thing to be done; and this safely +accomplished, the path of action seemed tolerably clear. She +would make her way to Spa, which, as she well knew, was not +far off, and go to an hotel there, which her father had +frequented a good deal, and where there was a good-natured +landlady, who had always petted and made much of the little +lonely child, once at Spa-- but here Madelon's plans assumed a +bright and dazzling aspect, which, undimmed by any prophetic +mist, unshaded by any foreboding cloud, almost deprived them +of that distinctness so requisite for their calm and impartial +consideration. All the difficulties seemed to lie on the road +between the convent and the Redoute at Spa; once there, there +could be no doubt but that this fortune, which she was pledged +in her poor little foolish idea to obtain, would be made in no +time at all. She could perfectly figure to herself the piles +of notes and gold that would flow in upon her; and how she +would then write to Monsieur Horace at the address he had +given her; and then Madelon had in her own mind a distinct +little picture of herself, pouring out a bag of gold at +Monsieur Horace's feet, with a little discourse, which there +was still time enough to compose! + +But it could not be denied that there were two formidable +obstacles standing between her and this so brilliant +consummation; first, that she was not yet out of the convent, +and that there was no perfectly obvious means of getting out; +secondly, that she had no money. The former of these +objections did not, however, appear absolutely insurmountable. +Just beneath her window the wall was covered with a tangle of +vines, and jessamine, and climbing roses; to a slim active +child, with an unalterable purpose, the descent of even twenty +feet of wall with so much friendly assistance might have +seemed not unfeasible; but, in fact, Madelon's window was +raised hardly ten feet above the flower-bed below. Once in the +garden, there was, as in most old garden walls, a corner where +certain displaced bricks would afford a sufficient footing, +aided by the wide-spreading branches of the great westeria, +and the tough shoots of clinging ivy. The wall was not high; +what might be its aspect on the other side she was not +certain, though she had an unpleasant haunting memory of a +smooth, white-washed surface; but once on the top, it would be +hard indeed if she could not get down; and then, as she knew, +there was only a field to be crossed, and she would find +herself in the highroad leading from Liége to Chaudfontaine, +and so through Pepinster to Spa. No, getting out of the +convent was not the difficulty. It would be easier, certainly, +if one could walk out at the front door; but this being a +possibility not to be calculated upon, two walls should not +stand in the way. The real problem, of which even Madelon's +sanguine mind saw no present solution, was how to get on +without money, or rather how to procure any. She had none, not +even a centime, and she was well aware that her fortune could +in no wise be procured without some small invested capital: +and besides, how was she to get to Spa at all without money? +Could she walk there? Her ideas of the actual distance were +too vague for her to make such a plan with any certainty; and +besides, the chances of her discovery and capture by the nuns +(chances too horribly unpleasing, and involving too many +unknown consequences for Madelon to contemplate them with +anything but a shudder), would be multiplied indefinitely by +so slow a method of proceeding. Certainly this question of +money was a serious one, and it was this that Madelon was +revolving, as she sat gazing at the golden sunset sky, when +she was startled by a sudden rumbling and tumbling in the +corridor; in another moment the door was burst open, and Soeur +Lucie and another sister appeared, dragging between them a +corded trunk, of the most secular appearance, which had +apparently seen many places, for it was pasted all over with +half-effaced addresses and illustrated hotel advertisements. + +Madelon gave a little cry and sprang forward; she knew the box +well, and had brought it with her to Liége, but had never seen +it since then till to-day. It was like a little bit of her +former life suddenly revived, and rescued from the past years +with which so much was buried. + +"This is yours apparently, Madeleine," said Soeur Lucie, her +broad, good-humoured face illumined with a smile at the +child's eagerness; "the sight of it has done you good, I +think; it is long since you have looked so gay." + +"Yes, it is mine," cried Madelon; "where had it been all this +time, Soeur Lucie?" + +"Soeur Marie and I were clearing out a room downstairs, and we +found it pushed away in a corner, so we thought we had better +bring it up for you to see what was in it." + +"I know," said Madelon, "it was a trunk of mamma's; there are +some things of hers put away in it, I think. I never saw them, +for we did not take it about with us everywhere; but I brought +it with me from Paris, and I suppose Aunt Thérèse put it +away." + +"Our sainted Superior doubtless knew best," said Soeur Lucie, +with a ready faith, which was capable, however, of adjusting +itself to meet altered circumstances, "but we are clearing out +that room below, which we think of turning into another store- +room; we have not half space enough for our confitures as it +is, and another large order has arrived to-day. And so, +Madeleine, we had better see of there is anything in the box +you wish to keep, and then it can be sent away. We shall +perhaps find some clothes that can be altered for you." + +"Yes," said Madelon, on whom, in spite of her new schemes and +resolutions, that little sentence about sending the box away +had a chilling effect; it was like cutting off another link +between her and the world. Soeur Lucie went down on her knees +and began to uncord the trunk. + +"Here is the key tied to it," she said; "now we shall see." + +She raised the lid as she spoke, but at that moment a bell +began to ring. + +"That is for vespers," she cried, "we must go; Madeleine, in a +few days you will be able to come to the chapel again; to- +night you can stay and take out these things. Ah, just as I +thought--there are clothes," she added, taking a hurried peep, +and then followed Soeur Marie out of the room. + +Madelon approached the box with a certain awe mixed with her +curiosity. It was quite true that she had never seen what it +contained; she only knew that it had been her mother's, and +that various articles belonging to her had been put away in it +after her death. It had never been opened since, to her +knowledge; her father had once told her that she might have +the contents one day when she was a big girl, but that was all +she knew about it. + +Madelon had no very keen emotion respecting the mother she had +never known; her father had spoken of her so seldom, and +everything in connection with her had so completely dropped +out of sight, that there had been no scope for the +imaginative, shadowy adoration with which children who have +early lost their mother are wont to regard her memory; her +father had been everything to her, and of her mother's brother +she had none but unpleasant recollections. But now, for the +first time, she was brought face to face with something that +had actually been her mother's, and it was with a sort of +instinctive reverence that she went up to the box and took out +one thing after another. There was some faint scent pervading +them all, which ever afterwards associated itself in Madelon's +mind with that hour in the narrow room and gathering twilight. + +There was nothing apparently of the smallest value in the +trunk. Any trinkets that Madame Linders might once have +possessed had been parted with long before her death; and +anything else that seemed likely to produce money had been +sold afterwards. Here were nothing but linen clothes, which, +as Soeur Lucie had hinted, might be made available for Madelon; +a shawl, and a cloak of an old-fashioned pattern, a few worn +English books, with the name "Magdalen Moore" written on the +fly-leaf, at which Madelon looked curiously; a half-empty +workbox, and two or three gowns. Amongst these was a well-worn +black silk, lying almost at the bottom of the trunk; and +Madelon, taking it out, unfolded it with some satisfaction at +the thought of seeing it transformed into a garment for +herself. As she did so, she perceived that some things had +been left in the pocket. It had probably been the last gown +worn by Madame Linders, and after her death, in the hurry and +confusion that had attended the packing away of her things, +under Monsieur Linders' superintendence, it had been put away +with the rest without examination. + +A cambric handkerchief was the first thing Madelon pulled out, +and, as she did so, a folded paper fluttered on to the ground. +She picked it up, and took it to the window to examine it. It +was the fragment of a half-burned letter, a half sheet of +foreign paper closely written in a small, clear hand; but only +a fragment, for there was neither beginning nor ending. It was +in English, but Madelon remembered enough of the language to +make out the meaning, and this was what she read in the fading +light. + +It began abruptly thus:-- + +"... cannot come to me, and that I must not come to you, that it +would do no good, and that M. Linders would not like it. Well, +I must admit, I suppose, but if you could imagine, Magdalen, +how I long to see your face, to hear your voice again! It is +hard to be parted for so long, and I weary, oh, how I weary +for you sometimes. To think that you are unhappy, and that I +cannot comfort you; that you also sometimes wish for me, and +that I cannot come to you--all this seems at times very hard to +bear. I think sometimes that to die for those we love would be +too easy a thing; to suffer for them and with them--would not +that be better? And I do suffer with you in my heart--do you +not believe it? But of what good is it? it cannot remove one +pang or lighten your burthen for a single moment. This is +folly, you will say; well, perhaps it is; you know I like to +be sentimental sometimes, and I am in just such a mood to- +night. Is it folly too to say, that after all the years since +we parted, I still miss you? and yet so it is. Sometimes +sitting by the fire of an evening, or looking out at the +twilight garden, I seem to hear a voice and a step, and half +expect to see my pretty Maud--you tell me you are altered, but +I cannot realize it, and yet, of course, you must be; we are +both growing old women now--we two girls will never meet again. +Don't laugh at me if I tell you a dream I had last night; I +dreamt that..." Below these words the page had been destroyed, +but there was more written on the other side, and Madelon read +on: + +"... no doubt tired of all this about my love and regrets and +sympathy, and you have heard it all before, have you not? Only +believe it, Magdalen, for it comes from my heart. I think +sometimes from your letters that you doubt it, that you doubt +me; never do that--trust me when I say that my love for you is +a part of myself, that can only end with life and +consciousness. Well, let us talk of something else. I am so +glad to hear that your baby thrives; it was good of you to +wish to give it my name, but your husband was quite right in +saying it should be called Madeleine after you, and I shall +love it all the better. I already feel as if I had a +possession in it, and if big Maud will not come to me, why +then I shall have to put up with little Maud, and insist on +her coming to pay me a visit some day. But you must come too, +Magdalen; your room is all ready for you, it has been prepared +ever since I came into this house, and if I could see your +baby in the little empty bed in my nursery I think it would +take away some of the heartache that looking at it gives me. I +am writing a dismal letter instead of a cheery one, such as I +ought to send you in your solitude; but the rain it is +raining, and the wind it is blowing, and when all looks so +gray and forlorn outside, one is apt to be haunted by the +sound of small feet and chattering voices; you also, do you +not know what that is? I am alone too, to-day, for Hor..." + +Here the sentence broke off abruptly; the edges of the paper +were all charred and brown; one could fancy that the letter +had been condemned to the flames, and then that this page had +been rescued, as if the possessor could not bear to part with +all the loving words. + +It was like a sigh from the past. Still holding the paper in +her hand, Madelon leant her head against the window-frame and +looked out. The sun had set, the trees were blowing about, +black against the clear pale yellow of the evening sky, +overhead stars were shining faintly here and there, the wind +was sighing and scattering the faint-scented petals of the +over-blown roses. Half unconsciously, Madelon felt that the +scene, the hour, were in harmony with the pathos of the brown, +faded words, like a chord struck in unison with the key-note +of a mournful song. As she gazed, the tears began to gather in +her eyes; she tried to read the letter again, and the big +drops fell on the paper, already stained with other tears that +had been dried ever so many years ago. But it was already too +dark, she could hardly see the words; she laid the paper down +and began to cry. + +It was not the first part of the letter that moved her so +much, though there was something in her that responded to the +devoted, loving words; but she had not the key to their +meaning. She knew nothing of her mother's life, nor of her +causes for unhappiness; and for the moment she did not draw +the inferences that to an older and more experienced person +would have been at once obvious. It was the allusion to +herself that was making Madelon cry with a tender little self- +pity. The child was so weary of the convent, was feeling so +friendless and so homeless just then, that this mention of the +little empty bed that sometime and somewhere had been prepared +and waiting to receive her, awoke in her quite a new longing, +such as she had never had before, for a home and a mother, and +kind protection and care, like other children. When at last +she folded the letter up, it was to put it carefully away in +the little box that contained her few treasures. It belonged +to a life in which she somehow felt she had some part, though +it lay below the horizon of her own memories and +consciousness. + +Only then, as Madelon prepared to put back the things that she +had taken out of the trunk, did it occur to her to look if +anything else remained in the pocket of the black silk gown. +There was not much--only a half-used pencil, a small key, and a +faded red silk netted purse. There was money in this last--at +one end a few sous and about six francs in silver, at the +other twenty francs in gold. + + +CHAPTER X. + +Out of the Convent. + + +"I think you might very well come down to vespers to-night, +_mon enfant_," said Soeur Lucie one evening about a week later. + +"To-night!" said Madelon, starting. + +"Yes; why not? You are quite well and strong enough now, and +we must set to work again. I think you have been idle long +enough, and we can't begin better than by your coming to +chapel this evening." + +Madelon was silent and dismayed. Ever since she had found the +money her project of flight had become a question of time +only, and it was precisely this hour of vespers she had fixed +on as the only one possible for her escape: the nuns would all +be in the chapel, and, once outside the convent, the +increasing darkness would favour her. + +"Ah, not to-night, Soeur Lucie, please," she said, in a +faltering voice; "I--I am tired--I have been in the garden all +the afternoon;--that is, I am not tired; but I don't want to +come down to-night." + +"Well, I will let you off this one evening," said Soeur Lucie, +good-naturedly; "though you used to be fond of coming to +vespers, and certainly I don't think you can be very tired +with sitting in the garden. However, we must begin work +regularly to-morrow; so you had better go to bed at once, and +get well rested. Good night, _ma petite_." + +"Good-night," said Madelon; and then, as Soeur Lucie turned to +leave the room, she felt a sudden pang of self-reproach. She +was deceiving the good-humoured, simple little sister, who had +been kind to her after her own fashion; and she was going +away, and would never see her any more. She thought she would +like to have one more kind word from her, as she could not +wish her good-bye. + +"Do you love me, Soeur Lucie?" she said, flinging her arms +round her neck. + +"To be sure, _mon enfant_," answers Soeur Lucie, with some +astonishment; then, hastening to add the qualifying clause by +which so many worthy people take care to proclaim that their +love is human, and not divine, "that is, when you are good, +you know, and do what you are told." + +"Ah," said Madeleine, relaxing her hold, "then if I were to do +something you thought very naughty, you would not love me any +more?" + +"Indeed, I don't know. You are not going to be naughty, I +hope?" answered the nun; "but I can't wait any longer now. +Make haste, and go to bed quietly." + +She hurried out of the room as she spoke. Madelon listened +till the sound of her footsteps died away; and then, without a +moment's further pause or hesitation, began pulling together a +few things into a small bundle. She had no time to waste in +vain regrets: what she had to do must be done quickly, or not +at all. A dozen windows overlooked the garden, and presently +the nuns would be returning to their cells, and her chances +would be over. Even now it was possible that one or another +might have been detained from the chapel, but that she must +risk; better that, she thought, than to wait till later, when +a prolonged vigil or a wakeful sister might be the cause of +frustrating all her hopes and plans. She had no fear of her +flight being discovered before the morning. Since her illness +she had always gone to bed early, and Soeur Lucie never did +anything more than put her head in at the door, on her way to +her own room, which was in a different part of the building, +to see that all was dark and quiet; and if Madelon did not +speak, would go away at once, satisfied that she was asleep. + +The chapel bell was still ringing as she went swiftly about +her few preparations, but it had ceased by the time the small +bundle was made up, and Madelon, in her hat and cloak, stood +ready to depart. She had laid all her plans in her own mind, +and knew exactly what she meant to do. She had decided that +she would walk to Chaudfontaine; she knew that she had only to +follow the highroad to get there, and the distance she thought +could not be very great, for she remembered having once walked +it with her father years ago. To be sure she had been very +tired, but she had been only a little girl then, and could do +much better now; and it appeared to her this would be simpler +and better than going into Liége to find the railway-station, +of whose situation she had no very distinct idea, and where +she might have to wait all night for a train, thus doubling +her chances of detection. She would rather walk the five or +six miles to Chaudfontaine during the night, and take the +first morning train to Pepinster and Spa; once there, there +could of course be no further difficulties. + +She stood at the window now, ready to take the first step. She +had on the old black silk gown, in which Soeur Lucie's skilful +fingers had already made the necessary alterations, a black +cloth cloak, and a little round hat and veil. She had grown a +good deal during her illness, and the idea of height was aided +by the straight black skirt, which, reaching to her ankles, +gave her a quaint, old-fashioned air. She had her bundle on +her arm, but there was still a moment of irresolution, as she +looked for the last time round the little whitewashed room. It +appeared to her that she was going to do something so +dreadfully naughty. Our Madelon had not lived so long in a +convent atmosphere, without imbibing some of the convent ideas +and opinions, and she was aware that in the eyes of the nuns +there were few offences so heinous as that which she was going +to commit. "But I am not a nun yet," thinks the poor child, +clasping and unclasping her hands in her perplexity, and +struggling with the conscience-stricken sense of naughtiness, +which threatened at this last moment to overpower all her +foregone conclusions, and disconcert her in spite of herself-- +"I am not a nun yet, so it cannot be so very wrong in me; and +then there is Monsieur Horace----" and with the thought of him +all Madelon's courage returned. The rush of associations +linking his name with a hundred aspirations, hopes, plans, +which had become a habit of mind with her, revived in full +force, and with these came a sudden realization of the +imminent nature of the present opportunity, which, if lost, +might never return. + +The next moment she had dropped her bundle on the flower-bed +below, and was scrambling out of the low window, clinging to +the window-sill, catching hold of tough stems and pliant +branches, crashing down through twigs, and leaves, and +flowers, on to the ground beneath. Could these convent-trained +vines and roses have known what daring little culprit was +amongst them, would they have cried aloud for aid, I wonder, +stretching out thorny sprays, and twining tendrils, to catch +and detain her prisoner?--or would they not rather, in their +sweet liberty of air, and dew, and sunshine, have done their +best to help forward this poor little captive in her flight, +aiding her in her descent, and shielding her from all prying +eyes with their leafy branches, their interlacing sprays of +red buds, and soft, faint flowers? + +But they paid no heed one way or the other, and Madelon, with +not a few scratches on her hands, and more that one rent in +her frock, was safely on the ground. It was all the work of a +moment; in another she had caught up her bundle, and was +darting over the lawn, across the twilit garden, as if the +whole sisterhood were in pursuit. Hardly knowing how she did +it, she clambered up the wall, through the big westeria, +reached the top, and slipping, sliding, found herself in the +pathway running round the outside, scratched, bruised, and +breathless, but without the walls, and so far free, at any +rate. Months afterwards she found some withered lilac-blossoms +lodged amongst the ribbons of her hat; how they recalled to +her the moment of that desperate rush and clamber, the faint, +dewy scent of the flowers, which she noticed even then, the +rustle and crash of the branches, which startled her as with +the sound of pursuing footsteps. + +Once outside, she paused for a moment to take breath, and be +certain that no one was following her. All was quiet, and in +the stillness she could hear, as once before, the voices of +the nuns singing in the chapel. Picking up her bundle again, +she walked quickly away, along the little weed-grown path at +the back of the building, down the slope of the ploughed +field, up which she had come with Horace Graham two years and +a half ago. In thinking over her journey beforehand, she had +decided that it would be unwise to be walking along the +highroad whilst there was still any daylight left, and that +she would hide herself somewhere till it should be quite dark, +before setting out on her walk to Chaudfontaine. So, as soon +as she had reached the bottom of the unsheltered slope, she +looked about for a place of refuge. She found it in a clump of +trees and bushes growing by the roadside; and creeping in +amongst them, our Madelon's slim little figure was very well +concealed amongst the shadows from any passer-by. Eight +o'clock had struck as she left the convent. "I will wait till +nine," she resolved. "An hour will not be very long, and it +will be quite dark by that time." And so she did wait, with +the most determined impatient patience, through an hour that +seemed as if it would never end, whilst the darkness fell, and +passing footsteps became more and more rare. At last she heard +the shrill-toned convent clock strike nine, and coming out of +her place of concealment, she began her journey in earnest. + +It was a dark, still, cloudy night. Above was the black mass +of the convent dimly defined against the sullen sky; she took +one glance at it before she bade it farewell; all was silent, +not a light shone from its windows, not a tree waved above the +surrounding walls. Behind her hung the great cloud of smoke +that ever darkens over the city of Liége. Here and there a +sudden glare illuminated the gloom of the surrounding hills; +it came from the furnaces of the great iron-foundries; before +her stretched the dusky road, between hedges and trees and +scattered houses, soon lost in the obscurity beyond. Not a +footstep could be heard, not a leaf rustled as Madelon and her +bundle emerged from their hiding-place; but the child felt no +alarm at the silence and solitude--the darkness and loneliness +of the road could not frighten her. Indeed she was naturally +of so courageous a temperament, and just then, through joy and +hope, of so brave a spirit, that it would have been only a +very real and present danger that could have alarmed her, and +she did not even dream if imaginary ones. She almost danced as +she went along, she felt so free and happy. "How glad I am to +have quitted the convent," she thought to herself; "how _triste_ +it was, how dismal! How can people exist who always, always +live there? They do not live, I think, they seem half dead +already. Aunt Thérèse, how mournful and cold she always +looked; she never smiled, she hardly ever spoke; she was not +alive as other people are. Soeur Lucie told me that she would +be a glorious saint in Heaven, and ten thousand times more +happy than if she had not lived in the convent; how does Soeur +Lucie know, I wonder? If so, she must have been glad to die--it +was, perhaps, for that, that she made herself so miserable, +that she might not dread death when it came; but that seems to +me a very foolish way of spending one's life. And if to be +like Aunt Thérèse was to be a saint, I am sure all the nuns +were not so. How they used to chatter and quarrel sometimes; +Soeur Marie would hardly speak to Soeur Lucie for a week, I +remember, because she said Soeur Lucie had made Aunt Thérèse +give her the best piece of embroidery to do, after it had been +promised to her. I do not believe that; I love Soeur Lucie, she +was always kind to me, and never quarrelled with any one. Oh! +even if I had not made that promise to papa, I could never, +never, have been a nun; I have done well in running away." + +She walked on for a long time, her thoughts running on the +scenes she had left behind, on the last two years of her life; +she had no remorse now, no regrets at their having come to an +end. To our lively, independent, excitable Madelon, they had, +as we know, been years of restraint, of penance, of utter +weariness; and never, perhaps, had she felt them to be so more +keenly than in these first moments of her release. But she +would have found them harder still without the memory of +Monsieur Horace, and her promise to him, to fill her heart and +imagination, and her thoughts reverted to him now; how, when +she had made his fortune, she would take it all to him; how he +would look, what he would say. This was a little picture the +child was never weary of imagining to herself. She filled it +in with a hundred different backgrounds, to suit the fancy of +the moment; she tinted it with the brightest colours. Out in +the vague future, into which no one can venture to look +without some point on which to rest the mind, this little +scene had gradually become at once the end of her present +hopes, the beginning of another life, of which, indeed, she +knew nothing, but that it lay in a sort of luminous haze of +success and happiness. She never doubted she would attain it; +it was not an affair of the imagination only, it was to be a +most certain reality; she had arranged it all in those long +weeks gone by, and now that the beginning was actually made, +she was ready to look at it from the most practical point of +view. Taking out her little purse, she began to count her +money for at least the fiftieth time, as she walked along in +the darkness. + +"I have here twenty-six francs," she said to herself; "out of +these, I must pay my journey to Spa. Why should I not go to +Spa on foot? It cannot be a very long way; I remember that +papa sometimes went backwards and forwards twice in the day +from Chaudfontaine. I have already come a great way, and I am +not in the lest fatigued. If I could do that, I should save a +great deal of money--not that I am afraid I shall not have +plenty without that; ten francs would be sufficient, but it +will be perhaps safer if I can keep fifteen. Let me see; I +must pay for my room at Spa. I wonder whether Madame Bertrand +is still the landlady at the Hôtel de Madrid. Also I must have +some breakfast and some dinner; all this, however, will not +cost me ten francs. I imagine I could still take the train +from Chaudfontaine to Spa. Ah, I am getting very tired; I +wonder if I have much further to go. I think I must rest a +little while." + +Madelon, in fact, but lately recovered from her fever, and for +many months unused to much exercise, was in no sort of +condition for a six or seven miles' walk. She had started with +great courage, but it seemed to her that she had already been +on her journey quite an indefinite length of time, and that +she must be near the end, whilst in fact she had only +accomplished half the distance. She would sit down for a short +time, she thought, and then the rest would soon be +accomplished, and she looked about for a seat of some kind. +The road hitherto could hardly have been called lonely, for +houses had been scattered on either side, and part of the way +had led through a large village, where, from some uncurtained +window, from some café or restaurant, long gleams of light had +shot across the road, revealing for an instant the little +figure passing swiftly along, glad to hide again in the +obscurity beyond. But all this was left behind now, and as far +as she could make out, she was quite in the open country, +though in the darkness she could hardly distinguish objects +three yards off. She found a big stone however, before long, +and sitting down on it, leaning her head against a tree, in +five minutes the child was soundly asleep. + +How long she slept she never knew. Tired out, her repose was +at first profound and unconscious; but presently it began to +be haunted by confused dreams, in which past, present, and +future were mingled together. She dreamt that she was +wandering in some immense vaulted hall, where she had never +been before, and which yet resembled the refectory of the +convent; for long tables were spread as for the evening meal, +and in the twilight, black-robed nuns whose faces she could +never see, were gliding to and fro. And then, how or why she +did not know, they were no longer the deal tables of the +convent, with their coarse white cloths and earthenware +plates, but the long green tables of the Kursaal, with Aunt +Thérèse as croupier, and all the nuns pushing and raking the +piles of money backwards and forwards. She was amongst them, +and it seemed to her she had just won a great heap of gold; +but when she tried to get it, Aunt Thérèse, in the character +of croupier, refused to let her touch it. "It is mine; is it +not, papa?" she cried to somebody standing at her side; and +then looking up, saw it was Monsieur Horace; he did not speak, +but gazing at her for a moment, shook his head, and moved away +slowly into the gloom. And then the nuns and Aunt Thérèse also +seemed to vanish, and she was left alone with the tables and +the money, in the midst of which lay a long figure covered +with a sheet, as she had seen her father the night that he had +died. She did not think of that, however, but ran eagerly up +to the table to take her winnings, when the figure moved, a +hand was put out to seize the gold, and the sheet falling off, +Madelon recognized her dead father's face. + +With a shriek she awoke, and sprang up, shivering and +trembling with cold and fright--all the terrors of the night +suddenly come upon her. She looked round; all was as it had +been when she went to sleep; the lonely road, the dark fields, +the trees and hedges; but a breeze had sprung up before the +dawn, and was rustling the leaves and branches; overhead a +star or two was shining in dark rifts, and in the east a +melancholy waning moon was slowly rising, half obscured by +scattered clouds. With a sudden impulse, born of an urgent +sense of utter loneliness and helplessness, the child fell on +her knees and repeated an Ave Maria; the clouds drifted away, +and the low moon shone out between the trees with a pale glow, +that to our convent-taught Madelon seemed suddenly to +irradiate and transfigure the night with a glory not of earth. +Never in after years did she, in church or picture-gallery, +come across glorified Madonna, or saint floating in ethereal +spaces, without the memory returning to her of a silent road, +dark, rustling trees, a midnight sky swept with clouds; and +then a vision, as it were, of light and hope, giving new +strength and courage to one little terrified heart. + +Madelon started on her journey with renewed energy, but she +hardly knew how she got through the miles that remained. The +moon rose higher and higher, the road bordered with poplar- +trees seemed to stretch before and behind into a never-ending +length, as in some wearying nightmare. Madelon, in her +straight, old-fashioned silk frock, her bundle on her arm, +marching steadily on, looked nothing but a queer little black +speck, casting a long narrow shadow, as she passed from one +moon-lit space to another. Ever afterwards, when she looked +back upon that night, the whole seemed like some perplexed, +struggling dream, of which the waking reality appeared less +vivid than the visions that had haunted her sleep. Perhaps she +would have broken down altogether but for the friendly hints +of the coming day that presently began to show themselves. +There came a moment when the night grew more silent, and the +breeze more chilly, and the surrounding world more dim and +fantastic in the uncertain moonlight; and then the shadows +began to waver and grow confused, long streaks of light showed +themselves in the east, the moon grew fainter in the +brightening sky, the birds began to chirp and twitter in every +tree and bush. The night had vanished, and the horizon was all +aglow with the ruddy light of a new day, when Madelon turned +the last bend of the road, and saw before her the white +cottages, the big hotel, the stream and hills of +Chaudfontaine. + + +CHAPTER XI. + +The Countess G----. + + +No one was yet stirring in the little village, which, scarcely +emerged from the early twilight, lay still and silent, except +for the ceaseless, monotonous clang of the forges. Madelon was +tired out; she knew it was too early for any train to start +for Spa, and nothing better occurred to her than to sit down +and rest once more in a sheltered corner amongst some bushes +under a big hawthorn-tree growing on the bank of the river; +and in a few minutes she was again sound asleep, whilst the +mass of snowy blossoms above her head grew rosy in the +sunlight. + +It was broad daylight when she awoke again, and sat up rubbing +her eyes, and feeling very chilly, and stiff, and sleepy, but +with a quickly succeeding delight in the bright May morning, a +joyous sense of escape and freedom, of all that she had +accomplished already, and was going to accomplish on this day +to which she had looked forward so long. Everything looked +gold and blue in the early sunlight; the river danced and +sparkled, the poplar-trees were now green, now silvery-grey, +as they waved about in the breeze; the country people were +passing along the road, laughing and chattering gaily in their +queer _patois_. The dark night seemed to have vanished into +indefinite remoteness, like some incongruous dream, which, on +waking, one recalls with difficulty and wonder, in the midst +of bright familiar surroundings. The two years of convent +life, too, seemed to be slipping out of little Madelon's +existence, as if they had never been; she could almost fancy +she had been sleeping all these months, and had awakened to +find all the same--ah! no, not quite the same. Madelon had a +sharp little pang of grief as she thought of her father, and +then a glad throb of joy as she thought of Monsieur Horace--and +then she suddenly discovered that she was horribly hungry, +and, jumping up, she began to walk towards the village. + +Not fifty yards from where she had been sleeping stood the +hotel where she had so often stayed, and where she had first +met Horace Graham. There, too, everything was stirring and +awakening into activity--shutters being thrown back, windows +opened, the sunny courtyard swept out. Madelon stood still for +a moment looking on. She wondered whether her old friend, +Mademoiselle Cécile, was still there; she thought it would be +very pleasant to go in and see her, and have some breakfast in +the big _salle-à-manger_, with the pink and yellow paper roses, +and long rows of windows looking out into the courtyard and +garden. But then, she further reflected, breakfasting at an +hotel might probably cost a great deal of money, and she had +so little money to spare; so that on the whole it might be +better to see what she could find in a shop, and she walked +quickly up the village street. Chaudfontaine contains none of +the luxuries, and as few as possible of the necessaries of +life, which are for the most part supplied from Liége; but +sour bread is not unknown there, and Madelon having procured a +great, dark tough hunch for her sous, turned back towards the +hotel. She stood outside the iron railing, eating her bread, +and watching what was going on inside; the stir and small +bustle had a positive fascination for her, after her months of +seclusion in the convent. It brought back her old life with +the strangest vividness, joining on the present with the past +which had been so happy; it was as if she had been suddenly +brought back into air and light after long years of darkness +and silence. Through the open door of the hotel she could see +the shadowy green of the garden beyond. Was the swing in which +she had so often sat for hours still there? The windows of the +salon were open too, and there were the old pictures on the +wall, the piano just where it used to stand, and a short, +stout figure, in skirt and camisole, moving about, who might +be Mademoiselle Cécile herself. Presently some children came +running out into the courtyard, with shining hair and faces, +and clean white pinafores, fresh out of the nurse's hands. +Madelon looked at them with a sudden sense of having grown +much older than she used to be--almost grown up, compared to +these small things. She had been no bigger than that when she +had first seen Monsieur Horace. She tried to recall their +first meeting, but in truth she could not remember much about +it; it was so long ago, and succeeding visits had so nearly +effaced the remembrance of that early time, that it was rather +the shadowy memory of a memory, than the reality itself, that +came back to her mind. + +Madelon had long finished her breakfast, but, busy with these +recollections, was still lingering outside the courtyard, when +a gentleman and lady came out of the hotel and walked down +towards the gate. The gentleman was stout, black-haired, red- +faced, and good-humoured-looking; the lady elderly, thin, and +freckled, with a much tumbled silk gown, and frizzy, sandy +hair, under a black net bonnet, adorned with many artificial +flowers. In all our Madelon's reminiscences of the past, these +two figures assuredly had no place, and yet this was by no +means the first time they had met at this very hotel. The lady +was the Countess G----, with whom one memorable evening Madelon +had had a grand fight over a roulette board; the gentleman was +Horace Graham's _quondam_ fellow-traveller, the Countess's old +admirer, and now her husband. + +They were talking as they came together down the courtyard, +and Madelon caught the last words of their conversation. + +"Adieu, _mon ami_," cried the lady, as they approached the gate; +"I shall rejoin you this afternoon at Liége." + +"And by the earliest train possible, I beg of you," answered +the other. "I may find it necessary to go on to Brussels this +evening." + +"By the earliest train possible, _mon ami_. Adieu, then,--_au +revoir_." + +"_Au revoir, ma chérie_," answered the gentleman, turning back +to the hotel, but pausing before he had taken a dozen steps. + +_"Ma chérie_, you will not forget my business at Madame +Bertrand's?" + +"But no, _mon ami_, it shall be attended to without fail." + +"_Ma chérie_----" + +"_Mon ami_----" + +"You must hasten, or you will miss the train." + +"I go, I go," cried the Countess, waving her parasol in token +of farewell, and hurrying out of the gateway. These last words +aroused Madelon also. In hearing strange voices talking what +seemed some familiar, half-forgotten tongue, she had almost +forgotten the train; but she started up now from where she had +been half standing, half leaning, and followed the Countess +across the bridge into the railway station. Indeed she had +only just time to take her ticket, before the train for Spa +came rushing up with slackening speed into the station. There +were few passengers either coming or going at this early hour, +but Madelon's heart gave a great jump as she saw two black- +robed figures get out of one of the carriages and come towards +her. In another moment she saw they were Soeurs de Charité, +with a dress quite different from that worn by the nuns; but +the imaginary alarm suggested very real causes of fear, which +somehow had almost slipped from her mind since the first hours +of her escape from the convent. In her new, glad sense of +freedom, she had quite forgotten that the hour had long since +arrived when her flight must most certainly be discovered, and +that there were, after all, still only six miles of road +between her and her old life; and it was with quite a newly +awakened dread that even now unfriendly eyes might be watching +her from some one of the carriage-windows, that she jumped +hastily into the nearest compartment she could find. It was +not empty, however, for the Countess, who had preceded her +across the bridge had already taken her place, and was +arranging her flounces in one corner. She looked up, astounded +at Madelon's somewhat precipitate entrance; and as the train +moved off, she treated her small companion to a most +unceremonious stare, which took in every detail of her +personal appearance. + +"Are you travelling alone?" she asked, at length, abruptly. + +"Yes, madame," said Madelon, getting rather red. She had +resented the stare, and did not want to be talked to; her one +idea now was to get to Spa unnoticed. But she had ill-chosen +her travelling companion--the Countess was a lady whose +impertinent curiosity was rarely baffled. + +"What! quite alone? Is there nobody at all with you?" + +"No, madame." + +"But that is very extraordinary, and not at all the thing for +a young person of your age. What makes you go about all by +yourself?" + +"I--I have no one to go with me," faltered Madelon, getting +more and more hot and uncomfortable. + +"But that is very strange, and, as one may say, very improper; +have you no friends?" + +"Yes,--no," began Madelon; but at that moment, with a shriek, +the train entered a tunnel, and the sudden noise and darkness +put a stop to the conversation for a time. The Countess began +again presently, however, as they went speeding across the +next valley. + +"Do you live at Chaudfontaine?" was her next inquiry. + +"No," says poor Madelon, looking around despairingly, as for +some means of escape; but that was hopeless, and she could +only shrink further into her corner. + +"And where are you going now, then?" + +"I am going to Spa." + +"To Spa? Ah, indeed--and what are you going to do there? +Perhaps," said the Countess, more graciously, and with another +glance at the shabby frock and poor little bundle, "perhaps +you are going into some situation there?" + +"Situation?" repeated Madelon, bewildered. + +"Yes--you would make a very nice little nursery-maid, I dare +say," said the Countess, with much condescension; "and, +indeed, if you should be wanting any assistance in that way, +you have only to apply to me; and if you can produce good +credentials, I shall be most happy to assist you. I am always +ready to help deserving young people." + +Madelon grew red as fire. "I am not a nursery-maid," she said, +with much indignation; "I don't know what you mean, and you +have no right to ask me so many questions--I will not answer +any more." + +Another shriek and another tunnel; when they once more emerged +into daylight, Madelon had retreated into that corner of the +carriage remotest from the Countess, who, for her part, showed +some wisdom, perhaps, in making no attempt to resume the +conversation. + +At Pepinster, they changed trains; and here Madelon found an +empty carriage, where, without disturbance, she might sit and +congratulate herself on having accomplished this first step in +her journey. Indeed, this seemed to her so great a success, +that she felt nothing but hope as she sat curled up in a +corner, only wishing vaguely, from time to time, that her head +would not ache so much, and that she did not feel so very, +very tired. She had a great confidence in the swiftness of the +train, which was every moment increasing the distance between +herself and Liége, and so, as she thought, lessening the +chances of her being discovered in case of pursuit; and yet, +when it stopped at length at the well-remembered Spa station, +she lingered a moment in the carriage, feeling as if it were a +friendly place of refuge she was leaving, to face unknown +dangers in the outer world. + +No one noticed her, however, as she slowly alighted and looked +about her. There were, as we have said, but few passengers at +this early hour, and the platform was already nearly deserted. +At a little distance she could see Madame la Comtesse and her +flounces walking briskly away; on one side was an English +family of the received type, wrangling with porters and +omnibus-drivers in the midst of their luggage; on the other, +an invalid Russian wrapped to the nose in furs, leaning on his +valet's arm; in the foreground, a party of gay Liégeois, come +over for a day's amusement. No one looked at our poor little +Madelon, as, half-bewildered, she stood for a moment on the +platform, her bundle on her arm, her veil pulled down over her +face; one after the other they vanished, and then she too +followed, out into the tree-bordered road, with the familiar +hills on either side, sheltering the little gay white town. +The day had changed within the last hour, the sunshine was +gone, and in its place was a grey, lowering sky. Madelon +shivered as she walked along; her head ached more and more; +she wondered what it was that made her feel so tired and weak, +and then she remembered that she had been ill for a long time, +and that she had been up all night. "I will ask Madame +Bertrand to let me lie down and go to sleep," she thought, +"before I go to the Redoute, and then I shall be all right." +She walked on as fast as she could, so as to arrive sooner at +the hotel; she remembered its situation perfectly, in the +Place Royale, not far from the stand where the band used to +play every evening; and there its was at last, all unchanged +since she had last seen it three years ago, and with "Hôtel de +Madrid" shining in big gold letters above the door. + +Every one who knows Spa, knows the Place Royale, with its +broad walks and rows of trees, leading from the shady avenues +of the Promenade à Sept Heures at the one end, to the winding +street with its gay shops at the other. The Hôtel de Madrid +was situated about half-way down the Place, and, as compared +with the great hotels of Spa, it was small, mean, and third- +rate, little frequented therefore by the better class of +visitors, and with no particular recommendation beyond its +situation on the Place Royale, its cheap terms, and its +excellent landlady. M. Linders, whose means did not always +admit of reckless expenditure, and whose credit was not wholly +unlimited, had gone there two or three times, when visiting +Spa to retrieve fallen fortunes; and the first time he had +taken Madelon with him, she and Madame Bertrand had become +such fast friends, that, for his child's sake, he never +afterwards went anywhere else. Madelon had the most lively, +pleasant recollections of the stout motherly landlady, whose +store of bonbons and confitures had been absolutely endless. +Of all her friends in this class, Madame Bertrand had been the +one to whom she had most attached herself, and now it was +almost with the feeling of finding herself at home that she +saw the hotel before her. + + +The door stood open, and she went into the small hall, or +rather passage, which ran through the house, ending in another +door, which, also open, afforded a green view of many currant +and gooseberry bushes in Madame Bertrand's garden. To the +right was the staircase, to the left the _salle-à-manger_, a low +room with two windows looking on to the Place, and furnished +with half-a-dozen small round tables, for the hotel was of too +unpretentious a nature to aspire to a _table d'hôte_; the floor +lacked polish, and the furniture was shabby, yet the room had +a friendly look to our homeless Madelon, as a frequent +resting-place in such wanderings to and fro as had been hers +in former years. She went in. A man was sitting at one of the +tables, a tall bottle of red wine at his side, and a dish of +cutlets before him, eating his late _déjeuner_, and reading a +newspaper; whilst a waiter moved about, arranging knives and +forks, table-napkins, and _pistolets_, with occasional pauses +for such glimpses of the outer world as could be obtained +through the muslin curtains hanging before the somewhat dingy +windows. + +"Is Madame Bertrand at home?" asked Madelon, coming up to him. + +The man stared down at the shabbily dressed little figure +before him, glanced at the bundle hanging on her arm, and then +answered civilly enough that Madame Bertrand was not at home. +Did Mademoiselle want anything? + +"I wanted to speak to Madame Bertrand," answered Madelon +rather piteously; "will she be back soon, do you think? When +can I see her?" + +"_Eh, je n'en sais rien_," said the man. "If Mademoiselle wants +to see her, she had better call again--or she can leave a +message," and he went on laying the tables. + +Madelon sat down despondingly on a chair near the door, hardly +knowing what to do next. It was the first check in the +carrying out of her little programme, a programme so neatly +arranged, but with this defect, mainly arising from +inexperience, that it had made no sort of allowance for +unforeseen circumstances--and yet of such so many were likely +to arise. She had quite settled in her own mind what she was +going to say to Madame Bertrand, and also what Madame Bertrand +would say to her, but she had not provided for this other +contingency of not finding her at all. She sat and considered +for a minute. Two or three men came in laughing and talking, +and stared in her face as they passed by and called for what +they wanted. She began to feel uncomfortable; she could not +stay there till Madame Bertrand returned; what if she were to +go to the Redoute first, and then return to the hotel? Yes, +that would be the best plan; if only she had not felt so very +tired, with such aching limbs and head; the sight and smell of +the meat and wine made her feel almost faint. However, that +could not be helped, she must do the best she could. She went +up to the waiter again. "I must go now," she said, "but I will +come back presently to see Madame Bertrand; may I leave these +things here?" and she held up her bundle. + +"Mademoiselle wants a room--or is it something for Madame?" +said the man, perplexed at this strange little visitor, who +was wholly out of the range of his experience. + +"No, no, it is mine," said Madelon; "if I might leave it here----" + +The waiter set down the tray he was holding, and left the room +followed by Madelon. "Mademoiselle Henriette!" he cried. + +"Mademoiselle Henriette is in the garden," answered a shrill +voice from above; and at the same moment a trim little figure +appeared from amongst the currant and gooseberry bushes, and +came in at the open door leading into the passage. + +"Does any one want me?" she cried. + +"Pardon, Madame," said Madelon, coming forward to tell her +little story, whilst the waiter returned to his plates and +dishes, "I wanted to see Madame Bertrand, but they say she is +out, and that I must return later; might I leave my things +here for a little while till I come back?" + +"Do you want a room, Mademoiselle?" said the other; "I regret +to say that the hotel is quite full; we have not a single bed +at your disposal." + +"Ah, what shall I do? what do you think would be best?" said +poor Madelon, piteously, suddenly breaking down in the grown- +up part she had been half unconsciously acting, and ready to +burst into tears. Things were not turning out at all as she +had wished or intended. "I did want a room, but I thought I +should have found Madame Bertrand, and she would have helped +me; I don't know what to do now." + +"Do you know my aunt? I am Madame Bertrand's niece," says +Mademoiselle Henriette in explanation. "She will not be in +just yet, but if you like to wait in here a little while, you +can do so, or you can return by-and-by." + +She opened the door of a small parlour as she spoke, and stood +aside for Madelon to enter. A little faded room, with a high +desk standing in the window, gaudy ornaments on the +mantelpiece, a worn Utrecht velvet sofa, and a semicircle of +worsted-work chairs--not much in it all to awaken enthusiasm, +one would think, and yet, as Madelon came in, she forgot +disappointment, and fatigue, and everything else for a moment, +in a glad recognition of well-remembered objects. + +"It is not a bit altered," she cried, quite joyfully, turning +to Mademoiselle Henriette as she spoke. + +"You have been here before then," says Mademoiselle, looking +curiously at the child, and seeing for the first time, in the +clearer light of the room, what a child she was. + +"Yes," answered Madelon, "I used to come here very often; we +liked coming, because Madame Bertrand was so kind. I know she +will be glad to see me again--ah!" she cried, breaking off in +the middle of her sentence, "there is the little china dog I +used to play with, and the bonbonnière with the flowers +painted on the top--ah, and my little glass--do you know, Madame +used always let me drink out of that glass when I had supper +with her--but you were not here, then, Mademoiselle." + +"That is true, I have only been with my aunt about six months; +she is growing old, and wants some one to help her," answered +Mademoiselle Henriette, a most brisk, capable-looking little +personage, "but I daresay she will recollect you. Are you all +alone? Have you come far to-day?" + +"Not very far," said Madelon, colouring up, and suddenly +recalled to the present. "I think, please, I will leave my +things here now, and come back presently." + +"I think you had better stay here quietly and rest; you look +very tired," said Mademoiselle kindly; and indeed as the glow +faded from her cheeks, Madelon showed a most colourless little +face, with heavy eyelids, that seemed as if they could hardly +open. + +"No, I would rather go out now," she answered; "I can rest +afterwards." + +Indeed, tired as she felt, she had changed her mind, thinking +that if she stayed now, it would be hard to set off again by- +and-by, and she was determined to get her business done to- +day--she had a morbid dread, too, of questions from strangers, +after her experience with the Countess. + +"I _must_ go out," she repeated; "but I will come back again, +and then perhaps Madame Bertrand will have come in, and will +tell me where I can sleep to-night." + +Mademoiselle Henriette had neither time nor sufficient +interest in the child to contest the point further; and +Madelon, having safely deposited her bundle in a corner of the +sofa, departed on her errand. + + +CHAPTER XII. + +What Madelon did at the Redoute. + + +And so more than half Madelon's troubles are over, and she is +really approaching the moment so looked and longed for, for +which so much has been dared and risked! Ah, is it so that our +dearest hopes get fulfilled? In after years Madelon always +looked back upon the remainder of that day, as upon the +previous night, as a sort of horrible nightmare, through which +she struggled more and more painfully--to what awakening we +shall presently see. The golden morning had faded into a grey +drizzle; the mist hung upon the hills, hiding their tops, and +there were low heavy clouds, presaging an afternoon of more +decided rain. The golden hope, too, that had so sustained and +cheered our Madelon, seemed to have suddenly faded also; and +in its place was that ever-increasing sense of utter weariness +and aching limbs, which seemed as if it would overpower her +before she had gone a dozen yards from the house. She went on +bravely, however, trying to brace herself with the +consciousness of a great purpose, very near its fulfilment +now; but somehow she seemed almost to have forgotten what it +was, or why she had ever formed it. Her keenest feeling at +that moment was, perhaps, that expressed by the quick, furtive +glance with which she looked round from time to time, as some +following footstep made itself heard behind her. The sudden +alarm at Chaudfontaine had given rise to a haunting dread, +which she was unable to shake off, though even that was rather +a vague sensation than a well-defined, reasonable fear. + +Still she kept on her way, strong in the strength of a +resolution that had so taken possession of all the deepest +feelings and affections of a most ardent little nature, that +nothing but absolute physical inability could have held her +back from keeping to it now. It was perhaps well for her, +however, that with her childish pleasure in planning every +detail, she had arranged everything beforehand with such +minuteness, that she had no need to reflect now as to what she +had to do. She had only to go on mechanically, and indeed she +seemed to have no power of reflection left in her at all, as +she walked slowly up the street, past the gay shops, where, a +happy, chattering little girl, she had so often lingered with +her father, to choose some pretty trifle. Almost without +thinking, so familiar was the road, did she enter the Redoute, +and ascend the wide staircase; and then at last she feels a +thrill as she sees before her the big salons that she has so +often re-visited in her dreams, with their gilding, and +mirrors, and velvet, that she loves so well, and with which +some of her happiest hours are associated--sees, too, the long +green tables, where Monsieur Horace's fortune is to be made, +and Madelon's promise redeemed at last. + +Nothing seemed so strange to our inexperienced Madelon, as +that everything should be unchanged; only yesterday she had +been sitting quietly in the convent garden, with long years +separating her from the old life--and now it seemed but +yesterday that she had been here. She went straight up to the +_rouge-et-noir_ table. She was familiar with both it and +roulette, but of the two games _rouge-et-noir_ was that which M. +Linders had always most affected; and without thinking much +about it, Madelon had fixed upon it as the one at which she +would try her fortune. It was still early, and the tables had +not long been opened, yet there was already a crowd two or +three deep round them; and Madelon, hovering on the outside, +had to wait some time for an opening that would enable her to +approach near enough to lay down her money. It seemed so +natural to be standing there watching the play--the expectant +silence, the clink of the coin, the monotonous drone of the +croupier, were all so familiar, that for a minute she quite +forgot that she had any special object in view; and then, with +one of those starts of realization with which from time to +time she seemed to waken up out of some confused dream, she +remembered why she was there, and what she had to do. It was +only then, that on taking out her purse with its cherished +contents, so as to be ready when her turn should come, it +flashed across her mind that she had intended to ask Madame +Bertrand to change the two ten-franc pieces that formed her +capital, into pieces of five francs, which would have given +her two chances more. Well--it could not be helped now, and, +after all, had she not more than enough? "_Dix francs, et je +ferai fortune--dix francs, et je ferai fortune_--" The old words +seemed to set themselves to a tune in Madelon's head, chiming +in with the croupier's perpetual "_Rouge gagne et la couleur_," +"_Rouge perd et la couleur_," whilst the two precious coins grew +warm in the little hand that was clasped so tightly over them. +She had half relapsed into her dreamy state, when a woman who +had been standing in front of her came pushing through the +crowd. Madelon instinctively stepped forward to take her +place, and roused up on finding that she was near enough to +the table to lay down her money. The croupier was counting out +the cards for the next stakes. Madelon waited till that turn +was over, and then, leaning across the back of the chair +before her, threw one of her little gold pieces on the table. + +It was on the red she had staked. There was a pause as the +other players made their game; Madelon's languid pulses began +to flutter with a sudden interest, increasing to breathless +excitement as the croupier began to deal out the cards. "_Rouge +perd et la couleur_," and the poor little piece was swept away. +Madelon's heart sank with a sudden pang, and then it beat +faster, and her cheeks flushed, as, with a quick impulse, +without a moment's hesitation, she threw her remaining ten +francs on to the same spot. Another pause--another deal. "_Rouge +perd et la couleur!_" She had lost again, and her last chance +was gone. + +Surely at the gambling-tables of Spa that day there was no +more pitiful little tragedy played out than that represented +by these two warm little gold coins, raked away by an +indifferent croupier into a great careless heap, and carrying +with them how many hopes, and ambitions, and longings--all +crushed and scattered in one brief moment. Madelon half +uttered a stifled cry, half made an involuntary movement +forward; then, recollecting herself, shrank back, disengaging +herself from the crowd. The gap was immediately filled up; no +one remarked, or cared for, the poor, despairing child. The +brave little spirit almost gave way, as Madelon, with a sudden +sick feeling of faintness and giddiness, was obliged to sit +down on the nearest sofa--but not quite even then. All was +lost--nothing now remained for her to do in those _salons_, and +she must not stay there, she knew; so in a minute she got up +again, and made her way out of the room and down the +staircase, clinging to the balustrade, blindly groping her +way, as it were, till she was once more in the street. + +Here the fresh air revived her a little, and she was able to +consider what she should do next. Ah! what, indeed, was she to +do, with a programme so rudely disarranged, with all her +little plans and projects so shattered to fragments, that to +restore them to anything like their former shape seemed +hopeless? Madelon could think of nothing better to do than to +go back to the hotel from which she had come. She had left all +her small possessions there, and perhaps Madame Bertrand would +have come in, and would be able to help her. In all the world +our despairing Madelon could turn her thoughts nowhere at this +crisis but to the good, unconscious Madame Bertrand, the one +friend to whom she could apply, and who might perhaps be +willing to assist her. + +It seemed a long time before she found herself at the hotel +again, and yet, in fact, it was scarcely more than half an +hour since she had left it. Through the open door to the left +she might have seen the waiter still busy over his plates and +glasses, while the gentleman who had been breakfasting had +only just finished his newspaper. But Madelon never thought of +them, nor looked in that direction, indeed; with dazed eyes +she was making her way along the semi-darkness of the passage +to the parlour at the end, when she ran right up against some +one who was coming towards her--a stout old lady, with grey +hair, and a little grey moustache, a very gay shawl, and a +large bonnet, with primrose-coloured ribbons. Madelon +recognised her in an instant. "Oh! Madame Bertrand!" she +cried, flinging her arms round her, "don't you know me? I am +Madeleine Linders." + +Madame Bertrand stepped back, a little overwhelmed by this +vehement salutation, and then,-- + +"Madeleine Linders?" she cried. "What! little Mademoiselle +Madelon, who used to come here so often with her papa?" + +"Yes, I am little Madelon," she answered; and indeed the sight +of the kind old face, the sound of the cheery, familiar voice, +made her feel quite a small Madelon again. "You have not +forgotten me, have you, Madame Bertrand?" + +"Indeed I have not, though you have grown into such a tall +young lady. But why have you not been here for such a long +time? Where is your papa?" + +"Ah! Madame," says Madelon, her sense of utter discouragement +gaining ground again, as the first flush of pleasure at the +sight of her old friend died away, "I am very unhappy. Papa +died nearly three years ago, and I have been in a convent ever +since, with Aunt Thérèse; but Aunt Thérèse is dead too; and +they said that I was to be a nun, so I ran away." + +"To be a nun!--a child like you? How could they think of such a +thing?" cried the good old woman. "And you look tired out. +Come in here and tell me all about it." + +She drew her into the little parlour as she spoke. +Mademoiselle Henriette was sitting at the high desk in the +window looking on the garden, and some one else was there too, +fanning herself in one of the worsted-work chairs. It was +Madame la Comtesse, who had come there to settle her husband's +business with Madame Bertrand. Both looked up as the landlady +came into the room, half carrying, half dragging Madelon. + +"_Pauvre petite! pauvre petite!_" she kept on saying, shaking +and nodding her kind old head the while. + +She made the child lie down on the sofa, pulled a cushion +under her head, and then introduced her generally with "They +wanted to make her a nun, and so she has run away from the +convent." + +"Run away!" cried Mademoiselle Henriette, turning quite round. +"Well, I thought there was something very queer----" + +"Run away!" cried the Countess. "Dear me, but that is very +naughty!" + +These little speeches, coming in the midst of Madame +Bertrand's effusive benevolence, seemed quite irrelevant to +the matter in hand, but nevertheless imparted a sudden chill. + +"Not at all naughty," said Madame, at last, rallying, and +still busy about the sofa, where Madelon had passively and +wearily laid back her aching little head. "It was the very +best thing she could do. Nun, indeed! I have no great opinion +of convents, nor nuns either, myself; an idle pack--the best of +them only say more prayers than their neighbours, and there is +nothing very clever in that. I could do it myself, if I had +the time." + +"But it is very singular," said the Countess, getting up. +"That is certainly the same little girl I travelled with from +Chaudfontaine this morning. I thought there was something odd +about her; she would not answer any of my questions. But there +is no convent at Chaudfontaine. Are you sure she is telling +you the truth?" + +"Of course she is, Madame--I have known her since--since she was +that high," replied Madame Bertrand, with some indignation; a +reply so conclusive to herself, that its want of apparent +logic may be pardoned. "Tell me, _mon enfant_, where is your +convent that you speak of." + +"At Liége," said Madelon, rousing and trying to sit up. "Aunt +Thérèse was the Superior, but she is dead. I walked to +Chaudfontaine in the night--and--oh, Madame Bertrand, don't let +them come and take me back!" She gave a terrified glance round +the room, and caught hold of Madame Bertrand. + +"No one shall take you away; don't be afraid, _chère petite_; +but tell us all bout it. Walked to Chaudfontaine in the night! +Why, you must be half dead, poor little one! And what have you +come to Spa for--have you any friends here?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I thought you would help me, and let me +stay here for a little while." + +"And so you shall--for as long as you like," said Madame; "but +what have you come here for? Have you no friends to go to?" + +"Yes--I--I--ah, I forgot!" cried Madelon, burying her face in her +hands. All of a sudden she remembered how she had intended +writing to Monsieur Horace, all that she had meant to say to +him, and how she would have asked him to come and help her--and +now all that was at an end. As to telling Madame Bertrand or +any one else of her cherished plans--never; that was her own +secret, which she would never, never part with, except to +Monsieur Horace himself. "I forgot," she cried, "I have no +one--ah? what shall I do, what shall I do?" + +"Do!" said the Countess, interposing with much prompt energy, +"it is not difficult to know what you must do; you must go +back to the convent, of course. I never heard of anything so +improper as your running away." + +"No, no, no," cried Madelon; "I cannot go back there--never; +they would kill me." She flung herself down on the sofa again, +while old Madame Bertrand tried to comfort her. No one should +make her go back; she was her _chère petite_, she would take +care of her--and was she not very hungry? would she like some +soup, or some cakes, or some bread and _confiture?_ + +Meanwhile the Countess was saying to Mademoiselle Henriette, +"This is a most extraordinary affair. If we do not take care, +your excellent aunt will be imposed upon; but I am going back +to Liége in an hour, and can perfectly well take the little +girl with me, and leave her at the convent." + +"Indeed, Madame, we should be much indebted to you," said +mademoiselle Henriette, briskly; "it is evident that she has +no friends, and has come to my aunt simply because she was in +some way acquainted with her formerly. As you say, if we do +not take care we shall certainly have her on our hands; my +aunt is quite capable of it." + +"Then that is easily settled," said the Countess; "I will take +charge of her. No thanks, Mademoiselle, I am only doing my +duty. I really do not know what young people of the present +day will come to. Does any one know what her name is, or +anything about her?" + +Madame Bertrand, who had been vainly endeavouring to extract +from our desponding little Madelon any decided expression of +opinion on the subject of cakes or confitures, overheard this +last question. "Poor little one, I know her very well," she +said, lowering her voice confidentially, "her name is Linders; +her father was Monsieur Linders, a famous gambler--it was long +before you came here, Henriette, and Madame will not have +heard of him probably; but here in Spa he was well known, and +he used often to come to our hotel." + +"Linders!" cried the Countess--"M. Linders--yes, certainly I +remember him perfectly, and the little girl too. M. Linders?-- +of course, every one knew him." + +"Ah! Madame, did you know my father?" said Madelon, raising +her head at these last words, and clasping her hands +imploringly; "be good to me then, I entreat of you; do not +speak of sending me back to the convent. I cannot go!" + +There was something pitiful in the child's voice and gesture, +something pathetic in the little appeal to her father's +memory, that might have touched any one less animated by a +stern sense of duty than the Countess. As it was, she was not +in the least affected. + +"On the contrary, _mon enfant_," she answered, "I shall be doing +you the greatest kindness, and no more than my duty, in taking +you back there; and we have agreed that you shall return with +me at once." + +"I will not go!" cried Madelon, wildly; "I cannot, I will +not!--I will not! Do you hear? What right have you to take me? +I am not your child!--I will not go with you!" + +She got up as she spoke, confronting the Countess, and trying +to throw all the energy of which she was capable into her +vehement words. But even in her own ears her voice sounded +shrill and weak, and seemed to die away as if she were talking +in her sleep; the very strength of her emotion appeared +unreal, and failing her when she most needed it: her words +seemed to have no meaning, and as she finished speaking, she +dropped down on her seat again with a little sob, feeling that +she was conquered, for she had no power of resistance left in +her. + +So she lay upon the sofa in a sot of doze, while a tribunal of +three sat upon, condemned, and sentenced this poor little +criminal, who knew nothing of what they were saying after she +had made her own ineffectual little protest. Madame Bertrand, +indeed, good old soul, with the softest and kindest of hearts, +would not at first hear of her being sent away; she was fond +of the child, she said; she had known her for years, and felt +sure there was something in her story that they did not yet +understand. But Madame Bertrand was old--moreover, she was not +a little in awe of the niece whom she had called in to assist +her failing powers; moreover, she had perhaps a lurking idea +that they might after all be right, and that there was +something exceptionally heinous in running away from a +convent; so she was soon overruled by the other two, who +settled the matter in a very summary way--Madelon must return +to the convent with Madame la Comtesse that very day. + +She was roused up presently, and made to drink some wine by +Madame Bertrand, who was in despair because she could eat none +of the good things she had provided, and felt nothing but and +old traitress, as Madelon stood up at last, looking about her +with dazed eyes; and then, without further opposition, +submissively put on her hat, took up her bundle, and prepared +to follow the Countess. Indeed, had Madame Bertrand known how +recently the child had recovered from a long illness, nothing, +I think, would have induced her to let her go; but she only +supposed she was over-tired with her strange night journey; +and, in fact, the wine and the rest together had so far +revived Madelon that she appeared quite capable of walking +down to the station with the Countess. Madame Bertrand gave +her great hug as she wished her good-bye, and was perhaps a +little aggrieved at the passive way in which Madelon received +it. + +"If ever you want help, come back to me--will you not, _mon +enfant?_--and I will help you, if I can." + +"Yes," said Madelon; "but they will not let me run away again; +will they?" + +"Let you run away, _ma petite?_" + +"Yes--Aunt Thérèse, you know. She won't let me do it again." + +"Your aunt? You told me she was dead;" cried Madame. + +"Yes, so she is," said Madelon. "I was forgetting, I think. +Good-bye, Madame Bertrand. You will let me stay next time, +will you not? But I must go now?" And she followed the +Countess out of the house without another word. + +Madame la Comtesse, having got her own way, was kind enough to +the child who had so unwittingly strayed across her path. When +they reached the station she gave her her ticket, made her sit +down in the waiting-room, and even offered her refreshment in +the interval before the train started. Indeed, we should err +if we attributed to the Countess, whom this little episode in +our Madelon's history has brought for the second, and we may +trust for the last, time before us--we should err, I say, in +attributing to her any feeling of ill-will towards Madelon, or +any special interest in her conduct or fate. Neither need it +be imagined that she was actuated by any large views of duty +towards the world in general: she was not at all benevolent, +but neither was she particularly ill-natured; she was merely a +shallow-minded, frivolous woman, who, having long since +lowered her standard of perfection to suit her own +attainments, saw fit to measure every one else by her own +narrow ideal, and to set them right where they proved +themselves wanting--a convenient process, which enabled her to +satisfy her vague sense of duty, and right and wrong, without +any reference to her own possible shortcomings. In capturing +our little stray Madelon, and taking her back to the convent, +she felt she was doing a deed that would afford her matter for +self-congratulation for days to come; and she was gracious and +affable accordingly, speaking to Madelon in a tone of +condescending good-nature, which was quite lost upon the +child, who was beyond caring for kindness or unkindness just +then. She was only conscious of some terrible burden, which +she could not define nor reason upon, but which seemed to +oppress and weigh her down, making her incapable of thought, +or speech, or motion. When they got into the railway-carriage +she could only lean back in the corner, with a general sense +that something dreadful had happened, or was going to happen; +but that her head ached too much, and felt too confused, for +her to remember what it was all about. + +They changed carriages at Pepinster, and, still in the same +dream of misery, Madelon followed the Countess from one train +to another. They set off again, but presently, as the +slackening speed showed that they were approaching another +station, she suddenly woke up to the keenest perception of her +situation, with a quickening of her numbed senses to the most +vivid realization of all she had lost, of all she might have +to endure. Ah! it was all true, and no dream--she had run away +from the convent to make Monsieur Horace's fortune; and she +had not done it, and now all was over, and she was being taken +back to the convent--and there would be no more chance of +escape for her--never more. In the agony of this thought she +turned towards the Countess, with a half-formed intention of +throwing herself at her feet, and imploring, in such voice and +accents as should admit of no refusal, to be allowed to go +away--anyhow, anywhere, only as far as possible from Liége. But +she checked herself as she saw that the Countess, with a +handkerchief thrown over her face, had comfortably composed +herself to sleep in one corner, and a new idea suggested +itself as the train stopped at a little village station. The +child glanced towards the woman; she still slept, or appeared +to do so, and the next moment Madelon had opened the door, +and, taking up her bundle, had slid swiftly and silently out +of the carriage. + +The train moved on, and a drowsy Countess might presently +awake to find with astonishment that she was alone in the +compartment; but our little Madelon, left standing on the +platform, had slipped out of her sight and knowledge for ever. + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +The Restaurant at Le Trooz. + + +The train disappeared, and our forlorn little Madelon remained +standing alone on the platform. Forlorn, indeed! It was +raining hard now, a thick, persistent drizzle, through which +everything looked dim and blurred, and which was almost as +dense as the low-hanging mists that hid the tops of the hills. +Madelon stood still and shivered for a minute, clutching her +little bundle under her cloak, and trying to collect her +ideas. + +Not a hundred yards off was the village, lying between the +hills in the next valley to Chaudfontaine, and not more than +three miles from that place, but shut out from it by a barrier +of rocky, wooded hill, round which there was only just space +for the road and stream to wind; an amphibious little village, +half in and half out of the water apparently, for it stood +just where the stream spread out in wide shallows, round low +islands, on and amongst which the houses were clustered and +scattered. Madelon instinctively turned towards it; she had +the very vaguest idea in her poor, bewildered little brain as +to where she was, or what she was going to do, only one thing +obvious in the surrounding uncertainties--that she could not +remain standing on the platform in the pouring rain. She gave +up her ticket mechanically, passed through the gate, and +followed the muddy road leading to the cottages. She was very +tired, she had never felt quite so tired before, and her knees +trembled as they had done that day when the fever came on at +the convent; she was so dizzy too, that she had to stop now +and then, to grasp the one fact of her being where she was and +not somewhere else altogether; her single idea was to go on +walking until--until when? That was a question she could not +have answered, only somewhere she must go, where she would be +out of the way of countess or nuns, or any other enemy who +might be lying in wait to pounce upon her. This was all she +thought about as she passed along the village street, which +was dull and deserted-looking enough on this wet, grey +afternoon, till the sight of a church with an open door, +suggested something quite different, and which was a positive +relief after that nightmare motion of walking perpetually with +failing limbs, and a sense of pursuit behind. She would go in +there, and sit down and rest for a little while. By-and-by, +when the giddiness and trembling had gone off, she would be +better able to think of what she should do; she would be out +of the rain, too, there--the cold rain, which had already +drenched her cloak and skirt. + +She went in; it was a village church of the simplest +description, very small, with plain wooden benches and +confessionals, and a high altar with inexpensive decorations, +in nowise remarkable. But hardly was Madelon inside the door, +when she stood suddenly motionless, transfixed by a horrible +terror that, weak and exhausted as she was, wholly seized and +gained possession of her; for, raised in the middle of the +aisle, covered with a black velvet pall and with a row of tall +candles on either side, stood a coffin, with white embroidery +of death's heads on the pall, and little banners with painted +death's heads decorating every candle. To the terrified, +speechless child, the skulls seemed to become animated--to +grin; they seemed to move; the whole air was suddenly full of +them, chattering, dancing, swarming round her; she tried to +scream, but could not; she turned to fly from the dreadful, +haunted spot, but with the first step she made, strength and +consciousness gave way altogether, and she sank senseless to +the ground. + +Ten minutes later, a woman of the village, coming in to see +the preparations for the funeral of Monsieur N----, lately one +of the great proprietors of the neighbourhood, nearly stumbled +over Madelon's prostrate form. She started back, half uttering +an exclamation of surprise and alarm; then, seeing that it was +a child who was lying so still upon the stone floor, she knelt +down by her, laid her head in her lap, and began rubbing her +hands. Madelon was not quite unconscious, apparently, for she +moved her head uneasily, and uttered a low moan. "She is not +dead, at any rate," muttered the woman, still chafing the cold +little hands, while she studied the small white face, the +short rings of hair just appearing under the hat all crushed +in her fall, the bundle lying at her side, and the worn frock +and cloak soaked with rain. "I wonder if she is alone?" added +the woman to herself. She glances round the empty church, then +gently laying Madelon on the floor again, with a cushion to +support her head, she went to the door, and peered out into +the rain for a few moments; then, returning, without calling +for help, or summoning any one, she stooped down, took Madelon +in her arms--which, indeed, she was well able to do, for she +was a tall, strong woman, between thirty and forty, and the +child was very slight and thin after her recent illness--and +carried her out of the church, down the street, towards the +end of the village. No one was stirring in the pouring rain, +or seemed to notice her, except one or two boys, who ran after +her shouting and singing--"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, Jeanne-Marie--what +have you got to-day, Jeanne-Marie?" And to them she gave no +sort of heed, walking steadily and swiftly on, without even +turning her head, till she paused before a low, white-washed +cottage, standing a little apart from the village, between the +poplars that bordered the road. In front was a bench, and on +one side a vine, all dripping and forlorn, was trained over a +trellis that sloped from the roof, and, with wooden supports, +made a shelter for a row of bee-hives placed on a plank +beneath; under the front gable was a wicker contrivance for +pigeons, and below it, in large gold letters on a blue board, +the words, "Café et Restaurant." The door opened at once into +the little public room of the humblest pretentions, furnished +with a cupboard containing a store of bottles and glasses, a +stove in one corner, above it some bright copper tea-kettles, +a dozen chairs, and a deal table pushed near the one small +window that looked out on the road and the stream beyond, and +then across fields, and meadows, and trees, to the hills. A +man, with a heavy, loutish face and figure, was sitting with +his arms on the table, twirling a glass about in his fingers, +a bottle half full of vine before him. He turned round as +Jeanne-Marie entered with Madelon in her arms, and rising +slowly went towards them. + +"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, what have you got there?" he said. + +"Does that concern you?" answered the woman sharply enough; +"drink your wine, Jacques Monnier, and do not trouble yourself +with other people's affairs." + +"_Est-elle morte, la petite?_" asked Jacques, recoiling at the +sight of Madelon's white face. + +"_Est-elle morte?_" repeated Jeanne-Marie, "and with her eyes as +wide open as yours! _Allons, mon enfant, du courage_," she +added, as Madelon opened her eyes for a moment; but she closed +them again, and the woman looking round, said, "There will be +no peace here, with you men coming in and out. Open that door +for me, Jacques," pointing to one nearly opposite the +entrance. + +The man obeyed. It opened at the bottom of the ladder-like +staircase, a gleam of light from above, showing where another +door at the top step led into a small bed-room. Jeanne-Marie +carried Madelon upstairs like a baby, took off her hat and +damp cloak, laid her on the bed, and then ran downstairs again +for a glass of cordial. + +Madelon, however, was already reviving, and when Jeanne-Marie +went up to her again, she raised herself on the bed, resting +on one elbow, and fixed her large eyes upon the woman, first +with a look of blank unconsciousness, and then with a sudden +light of terror in them, as of some wild hunted thing just +caught by its pursuers. + +"Don't take me back to the convent!" she cried in sharp, +piteous accents; "don't take me back; I can't go, I can't--no, +no, no!" + +"No one shall take you back," said Jeanne-Marie, trying to +soothe her. But she paid no heed. + +"Indeed I can't go. Ah, Madame, you said you knew papa; have +pity upon me! I promised him I would never be a nun. He died, +you know, and sent me to the convent at Liége to be with Aunt +Thérèse; but he made me promise before he died. I can't go +back--I should die too. Ah, Madame, have pity on me!" + +She was kneeling on the bed now, her hands clasped with her +pitiful little imploring gesture. Jeanne-Marie came close to +her, and smoothed back her hair caressingly with her rough +work-a-day fingers. + +"_Soyez tranquille, mon enfant_," she said, "you shall not be +taken back to the convent, and no one shall make you a nun." + +"You promise?" said Madelon, catching hold of her arm, and +looking into her face with eager, suspicious eyes; "you +promise not to take me back?" + +"Yes, I promise," said the woman; "fear nothing, _ma petite_." + +"And you won't tell Aunt Thérèse that I ran away? For she +would be so angry, you know; she wanted to make me a nun like +herself; you won't tell her--you won't, you won't?" + +"No, no," said Jeanne-Marie. "I will tell nothing, you are +quite safe here; now lie down and be quiet, and I will give +you something nice to drink." + +But Madelon's eyes wandered; the terrified look came again, +and she clung tighter and tighter to Jeanne-Marie. + +"Please ask Aunt Thérèse to go away!" she cried; "she is +standing there in the corner of the room, staring at me; she +will not move--there--there she is, don't you see? Oh, tell her +to go away--she stares at me so, and oh! there is a coffin at +her side, it is all over death's heads; Aunt Thérèse has a +death's head--oh! take me away, take me away!" + +With a shriek of terror the child threw herself back on the +bed, covering her eyes with her hands, burying her face in the +pillow. + +Jeanne-Marie went to the top of the stairs and called "Jacques +Monnier!" + +"_Hein?_" said the man, coming slowly to the door below, and +standing with his broad figure framed in it. + +"Jacques," said Jeanne-Marie, "go at once for the doctor, and +tell him to come here, for some one is very ill." + +"_Hein?_" said Jacques again, "does that concern me? I must +attend to my own affairs, and finish my wine, Jeanne-Marie." + +"If you do not go this moment," said the woman, with a little +stamp of her foot, "you shall never taste my wine again, with +or without payment, Jacques, _et je tiens parole, moi!_" + +"There is other wine to be had in Le Trooz," answered the man +sulkily, but moving nevertheless towards the entrance, when +she was recalled by Jeanne-Marie. + +"Jacques," she said, coming two or three steps down the +stairs, "if Monsieur le Docteur inquires who is ill, you will +say it is my niece." + +"But she is then your niece, _la petite_," said Jacques, +scratching his head as an outward expression of some inward +perplexity. + +"You will tell Monsieur le Docteur what I say," repeated +Jeanne-Marie imperiously, "and make haste;" and she went +upstairs again, and closed the bed-room with a certain +emphasis, as though to prevent further discussion. + +Madelon was still lying on the bed, with her face buried in +the pillow; a violent shivering of cold or of fear had seized +her, but she resisted Jeanne-Marie's efforts to raise her with +the obstinacy of a strong will acted on by intense physical +alarm. But at length the woman's persuasive words appeared to +have a soothing effect, though she seemed scarcely to take in +their meaning, for she allowed herself to be undressed and put +into bed, and after taking some warm drink, fell into a +restless, starting sleep. + +Jeanne-Marie drew a curtain across the small window, so as to +shut out the slanting sunbeams, which were pouring into the +room, on to the patchwork quilt and white pillow where the +little feverish head lay so uneasily; then, taking up her +knitting, she sat down by the bedside, and as she mechanically +added row after row to the blue worsted stocking, she +reflected. From Madelon's few distracted words, she imagined +that she knew the state of the case very well; it was one not +unprecedented, and presented no difficulties to either +comprehension of belief. "They wanted to bring her up as a +nun, and so she ran away. Well, thou hast done wisely, little +one; I also know something of convents and nuns, and if it +depends on me to protect thee, they shall not touch thee, _mon +enfant_." This was her final resolution as she sat knitting and +reflecting, with a great sympathy with, and tenderness for, +the poor little terrified, hunted girl, lying there at her +mercy. + +Such tenderness, and power of sympathy with distress, were +indeed amongst Jeanne-Marie's strongest characteristics, +hidden though they were under a harsh, imperious manner and +exterior. For she too had had a strange, sad, troublous life, +with tragedy and sorrow enough in it, which it does not +concern us to relate here, and which were yet of no small +concern to our little Madelon, as she lay there, dependent on +this one woman for freedom, shelter, and even existence. For +if, as is surely the case, in our life of to-day lies a whole +prophecy of our life in the future, if in our most trivial +actions is hidden the germ of our greatest deeds, then our +most momentous decision in some sudden emergency, is but the +sure consummation and fruition of each unnoticed detail, our +action of to-day but the inevitable result of a whole precious +lifetime of preparation for some unforeseen crisis. So, too, +from a present habit of thought, much may be surmised as to +what has been done and suffered in the past; and though little +was known about Jeanne-Marie, some inferences might have been +drawn concerning her former life, had any of her neighbours +been skilled in the inductive method, or been sufficiently +interested in the woman to study her character closely. But in +fact they cared very little about her. It is true that when +she had first come into the village, there had been many +conjectures about her set afloat. She did not belong to that +part of the country, she could not even speak the Liége +_patois_, and never took the trouble to learn it, invariably +using the French language. She had no belongings, and never +spoke of her former life; so that it was not long before a +vague, open-mouthed curiosity, seizing upon a thousand +untested hints and rumours to satisfy itself withal, led the +villagers to whisper among themselves that some strange +history was attached to her; and woe to that woman who, in a +small village, is accredited with a strange history that no +one knows anything about! But Jeanne-Marie had outlived all +this; her secrets, if she had any, were never revealed either +then or later, and in time people had ceased to trouble +themselves about her. She led a silent, solitary life, +resenting perhaps the suspicion with which she had at first +been received, and holding aloof from her neighbours as they +held aloof from her. Her restaurant was well attended, for she +gave the best wine in the village, was liberal, and of an +honesty above suspicion; but even the men who were her most +constant customers did not like her, and were half afraid of +her. She held imperious rule among them, issuing imperative +commands which she expected to be obeyed, and enforcing strict +order and regularity in her house. To the women of the village +her manners were cold, abrupt, and reserved; she never stopped +to gossip or chatter; she would come and go about her business +without an unnecessary word, and the women, looking after her, +had ceased to do more than shrug their shoulders, and resume +the flow of talk her silent presence had checked. + +But it was, after all, only the gay, and prosperous, and happy +that she shunned. The poor, the friendless, the erring, the +rejected of this world, were certain to find in Jeanne-Marie a +friend who never failed, one who looked out for the sorrowful +and broken-hearted, and never passed by on the other side. +Even the village children knew to whom to run when hurt, or +unhappy, or in disgrace, sure of getting consolation and +sugar-plums from the sad, lonely woman, though equally sure of +being sent away as soon as their tears were dried, and their +troubles forgotten. If the poor, abused Ugly Duckling of Hans +Andersen's tale had strayed on a wintry day to her door, she +would have taken it in, and nourished, and cherished it all +through the cold, dark weather; but when the summer was come, +and the duckling grown into a swan, spread its broad white +wings against the blue sky, she would have watched it fly away +without word or sign to detain it; she would have had nothing +in common with it then. + +So to Jeanne-Marie it seemed the simplest thing in the world, +that, having found Madelon in need of help, she should help +her at the cost of any trouble to herself; that she should +take in, and cherish this poor little stray girl without +inquiry, without hope, or thought of reward. At Madelon, +happy, successful, contented, Jeanne-Marie would not have +looked a second time; but for Madelon, forsaken, shelterless, +dependent on her, she would have been ready almost to lay down +her life. + +In about half an hour, Jacques Monnier returned with the +doctor. He knew Jeanne-Marie well, as he knew everyone in the +village, and went at once upstairs to the little bedroom where +Madelon was lying. + +"Your niece, I think Jacques Monnier told me?" he said, after +watching Madelon for a minute as she lay in her uneasy sleep. + +"Yes," said Jeanne-Marie with a certain sullenness of manner, +which she was apt to display towards her superiors in station. + +"Has she been here long?" said the doctor, feeling Madelon's +pulse, but looking steadily at the woman; "when was she taken +ill? How is it you have not called me in before?" + +"Look here, Monsieur le Docteur," answered Jeanne-Marie with a +sort of stolid defiance, "I called you in to tell me what to +do for the child, not to put me through a catechism. She +fainted away this morning, and when she came to herself again, +she began to rave and talk nonsense, so I sent for you. Now +tell me what is to be done." + +Just then Madelon opened her eyes. + +"Do you not know me, Madame?" she said. "I am Madeleine +Linders, and papa is dead; he sent me to be with Aunt Thérèse, +but she is dead too--Oh, save me, save me!" she cried, +springing up with all the old terror upon her; "don't let them +take me, papa, you made me promise that I would not stay +there. Tell Aunt Thérèse to go away, papa; papa, save me!" and +she clung to the doctor's arm. "Besides, you know," she went +on, speaking fast and eagerly, "I promised him--Monsieur +Horace, you know--and I must keep it, I must keep my promise to +Monsieur Horace,--I must, I must!" + +"You hear?" said Jeanne-Marie, as Madelon fell back on the +pillow again muttering to herself. + +"I hear," answered the doctor, "and I see that she is in a +high fever, and it may go hard with her, poor child! It is +fortunate she is with you, Jeanne-Marie," he went on, kindly, +"for you are a capital nurse, I know; but I am afraid it will +be a long business." + +"That is no matter," she answered. + +"If you would like to have her removed to the hospital at +Liége," continued the doctor, doubtfully, "it might still be +done. It may injure your business to have her here. Still, as +you say she is your niece----" + +"As I say she is my niece," returned Jeanne-Marie, abruptly, +"it is not likely I should turn her out of the house, and that +is enough. My business will take care of itself. And now tell +me what I am to do, doctor?" + +He prescribed for Madelon, said he would call again, and left +the house, pondering on the woman who kept so apart from her +neighbours, and on her small visitor, who he knew well enough +was not her niece, for had not Jacques Monnier told him how +Jeanne-Marie had suddenly come in out of the rain, carrying +the girl in her arms, and had taken her upstairs without a +word of explanation? + +"There is a mystery somewhere," thought the doctor; "but it is +no concern of mine." And so he went his way to visit his next +patient. + +Jeanne-Marie had no fears concerning the doctor's discretion; +he was a man too busy in his scattered district to have much +time or inclination for gossip. But she had far less +confidence in Jacques Monnier's wisdom, and thought it not +inexpedient to go downstairs, after the doctor's departure, +and give her customer a word of exhortation. He was seated at +the table as before, twirling the glass in his fingers, and +gazing vacantly out of window. + +"Well, Jacques," said Jeanne-Marie, "and what did you tell the +doctor?" + +"I told him what you told me," said the man, in a surly voice. + +"What was that?" + +"That your niece was ill, and that he was to come and see +her." + +"Was that all?" + +No answer. + +"Was that all?" repeated Jeanne-Marie. "_Allons_, Jacques, don't +keep me waiting. I will know what you said to the doctor." + +Jacques, who under other circumstances might have met this +imperative mode of questioning by dogged silence, or an +evasive answer, was too uncertain as to what the doctor +himself might have repeated to Jeanne-Marie, to attempt +equivocation. + +"I told him," he said, slowly and reluctantly, "that it was a +queer thing you should have picked up your niece in the +street, and that I didn't believe she was your niece at all; +and no more I do, Jeanne-Marie," he added, gaining courage as +he spoke. + +"Ah! you told him that?" said the woman. "Well, look you, +Jacques, if I find you saying any such thing again, this is +the very last time you cross my door-step, and that account of +yours will have to be paid in full next week. You understand?" + +"Oh! yes, I understand well enough," he answered sulkily; "but +if I hold my tongue the neighbours will talk; I am not the +only person who saw you come through the street, I will answer +for it." + +"Who said I came through the village at all? And what does it +matter to you what the neighbours say?" retorted Jeanne-Marie, +"attend to what I say--that is enough for you, Jacques--and if +you do hear anyone say anything about the child upstairs, tell +them it is my niece come on a visit, and not a word more; +otherwise you understand----" + +"Oh! yes, I understand," he repeated grumbling, "but what do I +care? Yours is not the only wine to be had in Le Trooz----" + +"Bah!" was Jeanne-Marie's only answer, as she left the room. +She knew her customer too well to be in the least afraid of +his carrying his implied threat into execution. Indeed, +Jacques Monnier, who had no mind to be ousted from the +convenient little restaurant, where he got good wine and long +credit, acted upon the hints he had received, and stuck +manfully to Jeanne-Marie's version of her adventure. And so it +happened, that although for a day or two a few rumours were +afloat in the village, they soon died away; and it was +received as an established fact by those who cared to interest +themselves in Jeanne-Marie's affairs, that it was her niece +whom the doctor went to see so regularly. And so much apart +did Jeanne-Marie keep from her neighbours, that the subject +was soon half-forgotten, and Madelon's very existence seemed +problematic, as she lay in the little upstairs room, and the +woman who sheltered her, appeared to come and go about her +business much the same as usual. + +As for Jeanne-Marie, as soon as the house was quiet, on the +evening of that day so eventful for our little Madelon, she +sat down and wrote two letters: one she put into a large +envelope, which she directed to a street in Paris; the other, +inclosed in the first, was addressed to the Superior of the +Convent at Liége, and the letters, with their Paris direction, +were put into the post that very night. + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Madelon's Convalescence. + + +Madelon, if she had but known it, had small reason to +apprehend any very vigorous pursuit on the part of the nuns. +There was, it is true, no small commotion in the convent, when +Soeur Lucie, entering Madelon's cell the morning after her +flight, found the empty room, the unslept-on bed. She did not +indeed realize at first that the child had run away; but when, +after inquiry and search through the whole convent, she found +that nothing had been seen or heard of her, since she herself +had quitted the cell the previous evening, then the whole +truth became apparent, and a general sense of consternation +pervaded the sisterhood. It was the enormity of the offence +that struck them aghast, the boldness of the attempt, and its +complete success. It was altogether a new idea to them that +any one should wish to escape from those walls; an appalling +one that any one should make such an attempt, and succeed. +Soeur Lucie, held responsible for Madelon, was summoned before +the Superior, questioned, cross-questioned, and, amid tears +and sobs, could only repeat that she had left her charge as +usual, the evening before; and that, in the morning, going to +her cell, had discovered that she had vanished; how, or when, +or whither, she could not imagine. How she had escaped was +indeed at first a mystery, which could not fail to rouse an +eager curiosity in the sisters, and a not unpleasing +excitement succeeded the first indignation, as, with one +accord, they ran to examine Madelon's room. The window stood +wide open, the branches of the climbing rose-trees were broken +here and there, small footsteps could be traced on the flower- +bed below. It was all that was needed to make their +supposition a certainty--Madelon had run away. + +This point settled, a calmer feeling began to prevail, and, as +their first consternation subsided, the nuns began to reflect +that after all worse things might have happened. If it had +been one of themselves indeed, that would have been a very +different matter; such a sin, such a scandal could not even be +thought of without horror. But this little stray girl, who +belonged to nobody, whom nobody had cared for, who had been a +trouble ever since she had come, and who had been left a +burthen and a responsibility on their hands--why should they +concern themselves so much about her flight? No doubt she had +made her escape to some friends she had known before she was +brought to the convent, from no one knew where, two or three +years ago. The nuns were not more averse than other people to +the drawing of convenient conclusions from insufficient +premises, and this theory of Madelon's having run away to her +friends once started, every one was ready to add their mite of +evidence in aid of its confirmation. Some thought she had +possibly started for England--it was an Englishman who had +brought her to the convent; others that she had friends in +Paris--it certainly was from Paris she had come; one suggested +one thing, and one another, and in the meantime, though +inquiries were made, the search was neither very energetic nor +very determined. When the evening came, it was generally felt +to be rather a relief than otherwise that nothing had been +heard of the small runaway. What could they do with her if she +came back? No one felt disposed to put in a claim for her-- +least of all Soeur Lucie, whom she had brought into terrible +disgrace, and who had yet been really fond of the child, and +who for months after had a pang in her kind little heart +whenever she thought of her wayward charge. And so, when, two +days later, a letter, with neither date nor signature, but +bearing a Paris post-mark, arrived for the Superior, +announcing that Mademoiselle Madeleine Linders was with +friends, and that it was useless for any one to attempt to +find her or reclaim her, for they had her in safe keeping, and +would never consent to part with her, every one felt that the +matter was arranged in the most satisfactory manner possible, +and troubled themselves no more. + +As for the Countess G----, there had been a flatness about the +termination of her share in Madelon's adventures that +effectually put a stop to any desire on her part to pursue the +matter further; and finding, on her arrival at Liége, that her +husband was obliged to start for Brussels that very afternoon, +she found it convenient altogether to dismiss the subject from +her mind. With her departure from Liége, we also gladly +dismiss her from these pages for ever. + +So Madelon, tossing and moaning on her bed of sickness, is +once more all alone in the world, except for Jeanne-Marie, to +whom, before two days were over, she had somehow become the +one absorbing interest in life. The lonely woman, whose +sympathies and affections had, as one might guess, been all +bruised, and warped, and crushed in some desperate struggle, +or in some long agony, found a new channel for them in an +indescribable, yearning love for the little pale girl whom she +had rescued, and by whose side she sat hour after hour, +wondering, as she listened to her wild broken talk about her +father and Monsieur Horace, Aunt Thérèse, and Soeur Lucie, what +the child's past life could have been, and by what strange +chances she had come to be in such evil straits. A new world +of hopes and fears, of interests and anxieties, seemed to have +suddenly opened for Jeanne-Marie, as she sat in the little +upper chamber; whilst in the public room downstairs the rough +men, in obedience to her word, sat silently drinking and +smoking, or talking in subdued voices, so that no disturbing +sound might reach the sick child above. + +Madelon's second attack of fever was far worse than the first. +Weakened as she was by her former illness, it was an almost +hopeless fight with death that was carried on for days; and +when the crisis came at last, the doctor himself declared that +it was scarcely possible that she should rally, and be +restored to life and reason. But the crisis passed, and +Madelon was once more safe. She awoke about midnight to the +confused consciousness of a strange room, perplexing her with +unfamiliar surroundings. A dim light burned before the +coloured picture of a saint that hung on the rough white- +washed wall, and by its uncertain gleams she could distinguish +the rude furniture, the patchwork quilt, the heavy rafters +that crossed above her head. The window stood wide open, +letting in the night scents of the flowers in the garden +below; she could see a space of dark, star-lit sky; and hear +the rustling of the trees, the whispering of the breeze among +the vine-leaves that clustered about the window. Her eyes +wandered round with vague bewilderment, the flickering light +and long shadows only seeming to confuse her more, as she +tried to reconcile her broken, shadowy memories with the +present realities, which seemed more dreamlike still. + +The door opened, and Jeanne-Marie came in, holding another +candle, which she shaded with her hand, as she stood by the +bed for a moment, looking down upon Madelon. + +"You are better," she said at last, setting down the candle on +the table behind her, and smoothing the pillow and coverlet. +Her voice was like her face, harsh and melancholy, but with a +tender, pathetic ring in it at times. + +"Am I?" said Madelon. "Have I been ill again? Where is Soeur +Lucie? This is not the convent--where am I?" + +"You are not at the convent now," answered Jeanne-Marie. "I am +taking care of you, and you must lie very still, and go to +sleep again when you have taken this." + +Madelon drank off her medicine, but she was not satisfied, and +in a moment her brain was at work again. + +"I can't make out where I am," she said, looking up at Jeanne- +Marie with the old wistful look in her eyes--"is it in an +hotel? --is papa coming? I thought I was at the convent with +Aunt Thérèse. Ah! do help me!" + +"I will tell you nothing unless you lie still," said Jeanne- +Marie, as Madelon made a most futile attempt to raise herself +in bed. She considered a moment, and then said--"Don't you +remember, _ma petite?_ Your papa is dead, and you are not at the +convent any more, and need not go back there unless you like. +You are with me, Jeanne-Marie, at Le Trooz, and I will take +care of you till you are well. Now you are not to talk any +more." + +Madelon lay silent for a minute. "Yes, I remember," she said +at last, slowly. "Papa is dead, and Monsieur Horace--he is not +here?" she cried, with startling eagerness. + +"No, no," said Jeanne-Marie, "no one is here but me." + +"Because you know," Madelon went on, "I cannot see him yet--I +cannot--it would not do to see him, you know, till--till--ah! you +do not know about that----" She stopped suddenly, and Jeanne- +Marie smoothed the pillow again with her rough, kindly hands. + +"I know that you must go to sleep now, and that I shall not +say a word more to you to-night," she said; and then, without +heeding Madelon's further questions, she put out the light, +and sat silently by the bedside till the child was once more +asleep. + +Madelon did not recover readily from this second attack. Even +when she was pronounced wholly out of danger, there were the +weariest days to be passed, relapses, weakness, languor. +Flowers bloomed and faded in the garden below, the scent of +the roses perfumed the air, the red-tipped vine-shoots growing +upwards narrowed the space of blue sky seen through the little +window, till the sun shone in softened by a screen of glowing +green leaves; and all through these lengthening summer days +our pale little Madelon lay on her sick bed, very still, and +patient, and uncomplaining, and so gentle and grateful to +Jeanne-Marie, who nursed and watched her unceasingly with her +harsh tenderness, that a passionate affection seized the hard, +lonely woman, for the forlorn little stranger who was so +dependent upon her, and who owed everything to her compassion +and care. + +It was not long before a recollection of the past came back to +Madelon, sufficiently clear, until the moment of her jumping +out of the train at Le Trooz; after that she could remember +nothing distinctly, only a general sense of misery, and pain, +and terror. She asked Jeanne-Marie numberless questions, as to +how and where she had found her, and what she had said. + +"How did you know that I had run away from the convent?" she +asked. + +"You said so," answered Jeanne-Marie. "You were afraid that +your aunt would come and take you back." + +"Aunt Thérèse is dead," said Madelon. "I remember it all very +well now. Did I tell you that? And did I tell you about papa, +too? How strange that I should not remember having said so +many things," she added, as the woman replied in the +affirmative. + +"Not at all strange," replied Jeanne-Marie. "People often talk +like that when ill, and recollect nothing of it afterwards." + +"Still, it is very odd," said Madelon, musing; and then she +added, suddenly, "Did I talk of any one else?" + +"Of plenty of people," replied Jeanne-Marie. "Soeur Lucie, and +Soeur Françoise, and numbers of others." + +"Ah! yes; but I don't mean in the convent!--any one out of the +convent, I mean? Did I talk of--Monsieur Horace?" + +"Sometimes," said Jeanne-Marie, counting her stitches +composedly. + +"What did I say about him?" asked Madelon, anxiously. "Please +will you tell me? I can't remember, you know." + +Jeanne-Marie looked at her for a moment, and then said, rather +bluntly,-- + +"Nothing that anybody could understand. You called to him, and +then you told him not to come; that was all, and not common +sense either." + +"Ah, that is all right," said Madelon, satisfied; her secret +at least was safe, and never, never, should it be revealed +till she had accomplished her task. As she once more mentally +recorded this little vow, she looked at Jeanne-Marie, who was +still sitting by her bedside knitting. + +"Jeanne-Marie," she said in her tired, feeble little voice, +and putting out one of her small thin hands, "you are very, +very good to me; I can't think how any one can be so kind as +you are; I shall love you all my life. What would have become +of me if you had not found me and taken such care of me?" + +"What will become of you if you don't leave off talking, and +do as the doctor bids you?" said Jeanne-Marie, stopping her +little speech; "he said you were to be quite quiet, and here +have you been chattering this half-hour; now I am going to get +your dinner." + +As she became stronger, Madelon would sometimes have long +conversations with Jeanne-Marie--in which she would tell her +much about her past life, of her father, of how happy she had +been as a little child, of how miserable she had been in the +convent, and of how she had hated the life there. But more +often she would lie still for hours, almost perfectly silent, +thinking, brooding over something--Jeanne-Marie would wonder +what. Madelon never told her; she had begun to love and cling +to the woman, almost the only friend she had in the world, but +not even in her would she confide; she had made the resolution +to tell no one of her plans and hopes, to trust no one, lest +her purpose should in any way be frustrated; and she kept to +it, though at the cost of some pain and trouble, so natural is +it to seek for help and sympathy. + +Madelon's fixed idea had returned to her with redoubled force +since her illness. Her one failure had only added intensity to +her purpose since her first sense of discouragement had passed +away; there was something in the child's nature that refused +to acknowledge defeat as such, and she was only eager to begin +again. Our poor little Madelon, with her strange experiences +and inexperiences, her untutored faiths and instincts, shaking +off all rule, ignorant of all conventionalities, only bent, +amidst difficulties, and obstacles, and delays, on steadily +working towards one fixed and well-defined end--surely, tried +by any of the received laws of polite society, concerning +correct, well-educated young ladies of thirteen, she would be +found sadly wanting. Shall we blame her? or shall we not +rather, with a kindly compassion, try for a while to +understand from what point of view she had learnt to look at +life, and to arrive at some comprehension of, and sympathy +with her. + +In the meantime, though it was evident she could do nothing +till she was well again, an old perplexity was beginning to +trouble Madelon; what was she to do without money? Once, a +strange chance--which, with a touch of convent superstition +that had been grafted on her mind, she was half disposed to +look upon as miraculous--had provided the requisite sum, but +the most sanguine hopes could hardly point to the repetition +of such a miracle or chance, and during long hours, when +Jeanne-Marie was attending to her customers below, or sitting +at her side, knitting, Madelon's brain was for ever working on +this old problem that had proved so hard before, when she sat +thinking it out in the convent cell. But at any rate she was +free here; she might come and go without scaling walls, or +fear of pursuing nuns; and then could she not earn some money? +The thought was an inspiration to Madelon--yes, when she was +strong and well enough, she would work day and night till she +had gained it. If she were only well. + +It was about this time that Jeanne-Marie perceived a change in +her patient, hitherto so still and resigned, a certain uneasy +restlessness and longing to be up and about again. + +"Jeanne-Marie, do you think I shall soon be well?" she would +ask again and again; "do you think the doctor will soon let me +get up?" + +"You will never be well if you toss about like that," Jeanne- +Marie said grimly, one evening; "lie still, and I will tell +you some stories." + +She sat down by her, and, as she knitted, told her one story +after another, fairy-tales for the most part, old stories that +Madelon knew by heart from her early studies in the German +picture-books and similar works. But Jeanne-Marie told them +well, and somehow they seemed invested with a new interest for +Madelon, as she half unconsciously contrasted her own +experiences with those of the heroes and heroines, and found +in their adventures some far-fetched parallel to her own. But +then their experiences were so much wider and more varied in +that old charmed, sunny, fairy life; the knot of their +difficulties was so readily cut, by a simple reference to some +Fortunatus' purse, or the arrival in the very nick of time of +some friendly fairy. Madelon did not draw the parallel quite +far enough, or it might have occurred to her that benevolence +did not become wholly extinct with the disappearance of +fairies, and that friendly interference is not quite unknown +even in these more prosaic days. The Fortunatus' purse, it is +true, might awake a sense of comparison, but who could have +looked at Jeanne-Marie's homely features, and have dreamed of +her in connexion with a fairy? In truth, it requires a larger +and deeper experience than any that Madelon could have +acquired, or reasoned out, to recognise how much of the charm +of these tales of our childhood can be traced to the eternal +truths that lie hidden in them, or to perceive that the +shining fairy concealed beneath the frequent guise of some +crabbed old woman, is no mere freak of fancy, but the symbol +of a reality, less exceptional perhaps amongst us poor +mortals, than amongst the fairies themselves, who, finding +their presence no longer needed, vanished from our earth so +many centuries ago. + +It was the next morning, that, after the doctor's visit was +over, Jeanne-Marie returned to the bedroom, with the air of +having tidings to impart. + +"You will be satisfied now, I hope," she said, as she met the +gaze of the restless brown eyes. "M. le Docteur says you may +get up for an hour this afternoon." + +"Does he?" cried Madelon, eagerly; "then he thinks I am +better--that I shall soon be well." + +"Of course you are better," said Jeanne-Marie--"you are getting +stronger every day; you will soon be quite well again." + +"And how soon shall I be able to go out?--to go on a journey, +for instance?" + +"You are, then, very anxious to get away?" asked Jeanne-Marie. + +"But yes," said Madelon naïvely, "I must go as soon as +possible." + +"Ah, well," said the woman, stifling a sigh, "that is only +natural; but there is no hurry, you will not be able to go +yet." + +"No," said Madelon, sadly, "I shall not be able to go yet." + +She did not remark Jeanne-Marie's sad voice, nor the unwonted +tears that filled her eyes; the woman felt half heart-broken +at what she imagined to be her charge's indifference. Madelon +was not indifferent or ungrateful, but her mind was filled +just then with her one idea, and she had no room for any +other; it wrought in her what seemed a supreme selfishness, +and yet she had no thought of self in the matter. + +She lay quite still for a few minutes, her pale little face +glowing with her renewed hopes. Then she said,-- + +"Jeanne-Marie, would you mind putting out my things where I +can see them?--my frock and all. Then I shall believe I am to +get up." + +Jeanne-Marie acquiesced silently. Madelon's scanty wardrobe +had all been mended and put in order, and now it was spread +out before her; but somehow the sight of the old black silk +frock brought a sudden chill with it; the very last time she +had put it on had been on the morning of the day she had +escaped from the convent. Since then what had she not gone +through! what disappointment, terror, sickness nearly to +death! Might she not indeed have been dead by this time, or a +prisoner for ever within the convent walls, had it not been +for Jeanne-Marie? Her eyes filled with tears at the thought. +She longed to tell Jeanne-Marie once more how much she loved +her; but the woman had left the room, and Madelon could only +lie patiently, and think of all she was going to do, when she +should be well again. + + +CHAPTER XV. + +A Summer with Jeanne-Marie. + + +At the back of Jeanne-Marie's house lay the garden, sheltered +by the steep rocky hill that rose just beyond. All through the +long summer evenings the voices of the men, as they sat +smoking and drinking in its vine-covered arbours, might be +heard; but during the day it was comparatively deserted, and +Jeanne-Marie had no difficulty in finding a quiet, shady +corner where Madelon might sit as long as she pleased without +being disturbed. An outside wooden staircase led from her room +to the garden below, so that she could come and go without +passing through the lower rooms of the house; and we may be +sure that it was considered a golden day by both her and +Jeanne-Marie, when she first made this little expedition. The +child, still almost too weak to stand or walk, was carried by +her strong, kind hostess down the flight of steps, and once +more found herself under the blue heavens, with a world of +sweet summer sights and sounds around her, as she lay on her +little improvised couch amongst the flowers and sweet-smelling +herbs. + +"There," said Jeanne-Marie, contemplating her with much +satisfaction, "now you have nothing to do but to get well +again as fast as you can." + +"Ah, I shall soon be well now!" cried Madelon, joyfully. The +colour came into her pale cheeks, her eyes shone with a new +light. Mists, and rain, and darkness seemed to have fled from +her life, and in their place a full tide of summer sunshine, +in which the birds sang gladly, and the flowers seemed to +spring up and open unconsciously, was crowning and glorifying +the day. + +That she had nothing to do but to get well, was not at all +Madelon's idea, however. A few evenings later, as she lay +awake in her bed, watching Jeanne-Marie moving about in the +twilight, arranging things for the night, she said,-- + +"Jeanne-Marie, I want to earn some money." + +"Some money, little one! What is that for?" + +"Ah, that I cannot tell you; but I want some, very much--thirty +francs at least. See here, I have been thinking--I can +embroider--Soeur Lucie said I could do it almost as well as she +could; do you think you could get me some to do? Ah, please +help me. I should like to earn some money." + +Two days afterwards, Jeanne-Marie produced two strips of +cloth, such as are used for purposes of church decoration, +with patterns and materials for embroidery. + +"Is that the sort of thing?" she said. "If you could do these, +you would get thirty francs for them, I daresay; I will see +that they are disposed of." + +"I will try," said Madelon. "Jeanne-Marie, how good you are to +me!--whatever I want, you do for me!" + +"That is nothing," said the woman, and went abruptly away to +attend to her customers. + +So, all the long summer days, Madelon sat through hot +noontides in the shady garden below, through golden sunsets at +the open window of her room above, stitching with silks and +gold and silver thread, till her weak little fingers ached, +and the task seemed as if it would never be done. Down in the +homely neglected little garden, all a sweet tangle of flowers +and weeds, she would seat herself; the birds would twitter +overhead, the bees would come humming round her amongst the +unpruned vines and roses that clambered everywhere, while the +embroidery pattern slowly grew beneath her fingers. She worked +steadily and well, but she could not work very fast; and she +wearied, oh! how she wearied of it sometimes; but she never +wavered in her purpose. "It is for Monsieur Horace," she would +say, and begin again with fresh zeal. Through the open window +of the little kitchen, which looked upon the garden, she could +see Jeanne-Marie coming and going, chopping herbs, shelling +peas and beans; and sometimes, when Madelon was too tired of +her work, she would gladly throw it down, that she might help +in these employments. "May I make an omelette, Jeanne-Marie?" +she would say; "I know how to do it, if you will let me try." +And the sight of Madelon flitting about the kitchen, busy +among the pots and pans, seemed to stir some long-forgotten +emotion in Jeanne-Marie's sad heart--too long-forgotten to be +learnt anew without pain, for her eyes would fill with tears +as she watched her. The child never went into the village, or, +indeed, stirred beyond the garden; that was all the world to +her just now, peopled by Jeanne-Marie, her hopes, and her +embroidery. + +Is it most strange or most natural, one wonders, that there +are times when one small nook of earth shuts out, as it were, +the whole universe from our eyes, when one personal interest +occupies us to the exclusion of the whole world of action, and +progress, and speculation, and thought? Thrones may topple +over, nationalities be effaced, revolutions in politics, in +religion, in science be effected, and all pass unheeded while +we sit counting our own private loss and gain in love or +friendship, in grief or joy. Whilst Madelon has been wearying +out her little heart and brain in the pursuit of her self- +imposed task, the world has not been, and is not, standing +still, we may be sure, and her small wheel of life is somehow +kept in motion by the great revolving circle of events, +however little she may think of, or heed them. Sebastopol has +fallen in these last months, the Crimean war is at an end, and +all the world that was discussing battles and sieges when +Horace Graham last parted with Madelon one September +afternoon, is talking of treaties and peace now, as the allied +armies move homewards from the East. And--which indeed would +have had more interest for Madelon could she have known it-- +Graham himself, after more than two years' hard work, had been +wounded in one of the last skirmishes; and with this wound, +and the accompanying fever, had lain for weeks very near to +death in the Scutari hospital, to be sent home at last, +invalided to England. While Madelon had been slowly recovering +from her fever in her little out-of-the-world refuge at Le +Trooz, Graham had been gaining health and strength in a +pleasant English home, with a sister to nurse and pet him, +nephews and nieces to make much of him, and the rosiest cheeks +and bluest eyes in the world to fall in love with, as he lay +idly on the lawn through the summer days. It was at the house +of his sister, who was married to a country doctor in Kent, +that this double process of love-making and convalescence went +on, with the greatest success and satisfaction to all parties; +and it was Miss Maria Leslie, the ward of his brother-in-law, +Dr. Vavasour, who was the owner of those bluest eyes and +rosiest cheeks. + +Meanwhile Madelon, stitching, stitching away at her work, +thought vaguely of Monsieur Horace as being still in that far- +off country from which he had last written to her, and +wondered a little how soon a letter written to the English +address he had given her would reach him. What would he say +and think when he received it? And when, ah! when would she be +able to write it? She worked on steadily, and yet it was +already September when the last stitch was put in, and she +could give the work to Jeanne-Marie. A few days afterwards the +woman put thirty francs into her hands. + +"There is your money," she said; "now what are you going to do +with it?" + +"I am going away," answered Madelon. + +"Yes?" said Jeanne-Marie, without any apparent emotion, "and +where are you going?" + +"I am going to Spa. Ah! Jeanne-Marie, do not ask me what I am +going to do; it is my secret, I cannot tell any one, but you +shall know some day." + +Jeanne-Marie was silent for a moment, then, "Look here, _ma +petite_," she said; "I don't want to know what you are going to +do; it is no concern of mine, and I cannot keep you if you +want to go away; but who are you going to in Spa? I cannot let +you go off without knowing where you are, and whether you are +safe. You might have the fever again, or some one might try to +take you back to the convent, and I should know nothing about +it. Where are you going? Have you any friends at Spa?" + +"There is only Madame Bertrand at the Hôtel de Madrid," +replied Madelon, rather disconsolately; "I would not mind +going to her again, she is so kind; she wanted me to stay with +her the last time I was there--but then there is Mademoiselle +Henriette--it was she who wished to send me back to the +convent; if she were not there, I should not be afraid." + +"And is there no other hotel you could go to?" + +"I should not like to go to another," said Madelon, "they +would be all strange; I would rather go to Madame Bertrand, +and I should not have to stay there long." + +"And then what are you going to do?" + +"I don't know--I am not sure," answered Madelon, rather +embarrassed. "I shall write to a friend I have--Monsieur +Horace, you know--and he will tell me what to do." + +"And why do you not write to him at once, _mon enfant?_" + +"I cannot," was all Madelon's answer, nor could Jeanne-Marie +ever extract any further explanation on that point. The next +day Jeanne-Marie was missing from the restaurant for some +hours; but she reappeared in the afternoon, and presently came +out into the garden, where Madelon, seated in her favourite +corner, was nursing a big cat, and sorting out herbs for +drying. + +"What a long time you have been away!" she said, as Jeanne- +Marie came up to her. "See, I have done all these; I think +there are enough to last you all the winter." + +"Not quite," answered the woman; "bur never mind them now. Do +you want to know where I have been? I have been to Spa, and +seen Madame Bertrand." + +"Have you?" cried Madelon; "did you tell her about me? Was +Mademoiselle Henriette there?" + +"Mademoiselle Henriette is gone; she and her aunt had a grand +quarrel, and she left, and so Madame Bertrand is alone again. +I told her all about you: she said she was glad you had not +gone back to the convent, and that you could go to her +whenever you wished, for she would take care of you. So as +your work is done," Jeanne-Marie added with a sigh, "there is +nothing to keep you, and you may go as soon as you like." + +"May I" cried Madelon; "to-morrow, next day? Ah! Jeanne-Marie, +how happy you have made me; you will know why, you will +understand some day--tell me when I shall go." + +"We will say the day after to-morrow. I will get your things +ready," answered Jeanne-Marie. She stood gazing at the child +for a moment, as if she would have said something more, then +turned away quickly and entered the house. + +Madelon never thought of connecting Jeanne-Marie's sad looks +and ways with her own departure; and indeed, hardly noticed +them, in her joy at having accomplished her task, and earned +the longed-for thirty francs. She did not understand nor +suspect the woman's passionate longing for her affection; no +child can comprehend that strange, pathetic yearning that +older people have for a child's love--a love so pure, and +fresh, and ingenuous, that when it is freely and frankly +given, it is surely the most flattering and precious in the +world. Madelon gave Jeanne-Marie all the love she had to +bestow, but the first place in her heart was already taken; +and perhaps the woman had discovered that it was so, and was +half jealous of this unknown Monsieur Horace, whom she divined +to be at the bottom of all Madelon's plans and ideas. But if +it were so, she never spoke of it, nor of any of the half- +formed hopes and projects she may have had; and Madelon never +could have guessed them, as her kind, sad hostess silently +made up her small wardrobe into a bundle, and patched the old +black silk frock once more, sighing over it the while. And had +Madelon then no regrets at leaving the little cottage, where +she had been tended with such motherly care? Some, perhaps; +for as she sat that last evening watching Jeanne-Marie at her +work, she, too, sighed a little; and at last, clasping her +arms round the woman's neck, she cried, "Jeanne-Marie, I will +love you always--always!--I will never forget you!" + +"That is as may be," says melancholy Jeanne-Marie, disengaging +herself. + +"Ah! you will not believe me," said Madelon; "but I tell you I +never forget, and you have been so good, so kind to me! +Sometimes I think I should like to stay with you always--would +you let me?" + +"Would I let you?" said Jeanne-Marie, dropping her work +suddenly, and looking at the child. "No, I would not let you," +she said, after a moment's pause, "unless you had nowhere else +to go; but you have other friends, it appears, and it is well +for you. No, I would not let you, for it would be as bad a +thing for you as could be. Ask any of the neighbours what they +would think of it--ask them if they think you would get good or +bad from me, and see what they would say!" She gave a little +scornful laugh. + +"I don't know what you mean," said Madelon, fixing her great +eyes on her with a puzzled look--"I don't care what they would +say. You are one of the best people I ever knew, and I love +you with all my heart; but I _must_ go away." + +"Why must you?" asks Jeanne-Marie, stitching away at the black +frock. + +"That is what I cannot tell you," said Madelon. "No, I will +not tell any one, though I should like to tell you, too," +added the poor child, gazing wistfully at almost the only +friend she had in the world. + +"Well, well," said Jeanne-Marie, "I do not want to hear your +secrets, as you know, unless you like to tell them; but I am +not going to lose sight of you altogether till I hear you are +safe with your friends. You must write me a letter from Spa, +and if I do not hear or see anything of you in a week's time, +I shall come and look after you." + +"Yes, I will write," said Madelon; "and I wish--I wish I was +not going away; I have been so happy here." And then she hid +her face on Jeanne-Marie's shoulder, while the sky was all +rosy with the sunset of the last of these peaceful summer days +that our Madelon was to spend at Le Trooz. + +Jeanne-Marie could not spare time to go again to Spa the next +day, but she went with Madelon to the station, and waited till +the train that bore her away was out of sight, and then, all +lonely, she walked back to her empty house. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +How Madelon kept her Promise. + + +Madelon was standing in a little upper bedroom of the Hôtel de +Madrid, a room so high up that from the window one looked over +the tops of the trees in the Place Royale below, to the +opposite hills. It was already dusk, but there was sufficient +light to enable her to count over the little piles of gold +that lay on the table before her, and which, as she counted, +she put into a small canvas bag. It was the third evening +after her arrival in Spa; she was preparing for her third +visit to the Redoute, and this was what her capital of thirty +francs had already produced. + +The last ten-franc piece disappeared within the bag, and +Madelon, taking her hat and cloak, began to put them on +slowly, pausing as she did so to reflect. + +"If I have the same luck this evening," she thinks, "to-morrow +I shall be able to write to Monsieur Horace--if only I have--and +why not? I have scarcely lost once these last two nights. +Certainly it is better to play in the evening than in the +daytime. I remember now that papa once said so, and to-night I +feel certain--yes, I feel certain that I shall win--and then to- +morrow----" + +She clasped her hands in ecstasy; she looked up at the evening +sky. It was a raw, grey September evening, with gusts of wind +and showers of rain at intervals. But Madelon cared nothing +for the weather; her heart was all glowing with hope, and joy, +and exultation. She put on her hat and veil, took up her +money, and locking her door after her, ran downstairs. She +hung the key up in Madame Bertrand's room, but Madame Bertrand +was not there. On Madelon's arrival at the hotel she had found +the excellent old woman ill, and unable to leave her room, and +it was in her bed that she had given the child the warmest of +welcomes, and from thence that she had issued various orders +for her comfort and welfare. Her attack still kept her +confined to her room, and thus it happened that our Madelon, +quite independent, found herself at liberty to come and go +just as she pleased. + +She hung up her key, in the deserted little parlour, and, +unchallenged, left the hotel, and went out into the tree- +planted Place, where the band was playing, and people walking +up and down under the chill grey skies. She felt very hopeful +and joyous, so different from the first time she had started +on the same errand, and the fact inspired her with ever- +increasing confidence. She had failed then, and yet here she +was, successful in her last attempts, ready to make another +crowning trial, and with how many more chances in her favour! +Surely she could not fail now!--and yet if she should! She was +turning towards the Redoute, when an idea suddenly occurred to +her--an idea most natural, arising, as it did, from that +instinctive cry for more than human help, that awakes in every +heart on great emergencies, and appealing, moreover, to that +particular class of religious sentiment which in our little +orphaned Madelon had most readily responded to convent +teaching. What if it had been the Holy Virgin Mother who had +been her protector in all these troubles, who had raised her +up friends, and had brought her from death, as it were, to +life again, to fulfil her promise? And if it were so,--which +seemed most probable to Madelon,--would it not be well to +invite her further protection, and even by some small offering +to give emphasis to her prayers? Madelon's notions, it will be +perceived, were not in strict accordance with convent +orthodoxy, which would scarcely have been willing to recognize +the Virgin's help in a successful escape from the convent +itself; but orthodox notions were the last things with which +it was to be expected our Madelon would trouble herself. +Without other thought than that here might be another and sure +way of furthering her one object, she made her way into a +church, and expending two sous in a lighted taper, carried it +to a little side chapel, where, above a flower-decorated +altar, a beneficent Madonna seemed to welcome all sad orphans +in the world to her all-protecting embrace. + +To me there is something infinitely touching in these shrines +to the Virgin, with all their associations of suffering and +prayer, in their little ex-voto pictures, and flowers, and +lighted tapers. I do not envy those who can see in them +nothing but the expression of a pitiable superstition; to my +mind they appeal to far wider sympathies, as one thinks of the +sick and weary hearts who have come there to seek consolation +and help. Everywhere one comes across these shrines--in the +gloom of some great Cathedral, in some homely village church, +in some humble wayside chapel, where, amidst sunny fields and +pastures, amidst mountains, streams, and lakes, one reads the +little heart-broken scrawls affixed to the grating, praying an +Ave-Maria or Paternoster from the passer-by, for a sick +person, for a mother watching beside her dying child, for a +woman forsaken of the world. A whole atmosphere of consecrated +suffering seems to float round these spots sacred to sorrow, +the sorrow that humbly appeals, as it best knows how, to the +love, wide enough to embrace and comfort all desolate, and +yearning, and heavy-laden souls. + +One can fancy Madelon as she walks along the dim church; one +or two lights twinkle here and there in the darkness, the +taper she holds shines on her little pale face, and her brown +eyes are lighted up with a sudden glow of enthusiasm, +devotion, supplication, as she kneels for a moment before the +Virgin's altar, with an Ave-Maria on her lips, and an unspoken +prayer in her heart. + +Half an hour later, Madelon, in the midst of the blaze of +light in the big gambling salon of the Redoute, is thinking of +nothing in the world but rouge-et-noir and the chances of the +game before her. For the first time she has ventured to push +her way through the crowd and take a seat at the table; and +for the moment she has forgotten her object, forgotten why she +is there even, in the excitement of watching whether black or +red will win. It matters little, it seems; whatever she stakes +on, comes up; her small capital is being doubled an trebled. +She had taken off her veil, which hitherto she had carefully +kept down, and the little flushed face, with the eager eyes +that sparkle with impatience at every pause in the game, is +noticed by several people round the table. Her invariable +luck, too, is remarked upon. "Stake for me, _mon enfant_," +whispered a voice in her ear, and a little pile of five-franc +pieces was put in front of her. Madelon, hardly thinking of +what she did, staked the stranger's money along with her own +on the red. It won. "Thank you, my child; it is the first time +I have won to-night," said the voice again, as a long hand +covered with rings swept up the money. Madelon turned round +quickly: behind her stood a woman with rouged cheeks, a low +evening dress half concealed by a black lace shawl, beads and +bracelets on her neck and arms--a common figure enough--there +were half-a-dozen more such in the room--and she took no more +notice of Madelon, but went on pricking her card without +speaking to her again. But to the child there came a quick +revulsion of feeling, that she could not have explained, as +she shrank away from her gaudily-attired neighbour. All at +once the game seemed somehow to have lost its interest and +excitement; the crowds, the heat, the light, suddenly +oppressed her; for the first time her heart gave way. She felt +scared, friendless, lonely. There came to her mind a thought +of the peaceful faces of the black-robed sisters, a sound as +of the tinkling bell ringing above the old cabbage-ground, a +breath sweet with the scent of fresh roses in Jeanne-Marie's +little garden; she had a momentary impulse to go, to fly +somewhere, anywhere--ah! but whither? Whither in all the wide +world could she go? Back to the convent to be made a nun? Back +to Jeanne-Marie with her promise unfulfilled? "I will keep my +promise, I will not be frightened," thinks the poor child, +bravely; "I will fancy that papa is in the room, and that he +will take care of me." And all these thoughts pass through he +head while the croupier is crying, "_Faites votre jeu, +Messieurs, faites votre jeu!_" and in, and on she goes again. + +And while she is intent on making Monsieur Horace's fortune, +Monsieur Horace himself, not five hundred yards off, is +walking up and down the Place Royale, listening to the band, +and troubling his head not at all about fortune-making, but +very much about Madelon. On his recovery from his illness, he +had come to Spa to drink the waters, and had been there nearly +a month, during which time he had twice been over to Liége to +make inquiries about Madelon. His dismay had been great, when, +on his first visit to the convent, he had learnt that +Mademoiselle Linders was dead, that her little niece had +disappeared three or four months before, and that nothing had +been heard of her since, with the exception of the vague, +anonymous letter from Paris. He wrote off at once to Madame +Lavaux, the only person with whom he could imagine Madeleine +to have taken refuge; but, as we know, Madame Lavaux had +neither seen her nor heard anything about her. He had then, in +his perplexity, written to her old friends in Florence, +thinking it just possible they might be able to give him some +information, but with no more success. He received an answer +from the American artist, in which he mentioned the death of +the old violinist, lamented Madelon's disappearance, but, as +may be supposed, gave no news of her. + +Graham was greatly annoyed and perplexed. What could have +become of the child? To whom could she have gone? She had had +no friend but himself when he had last parted from her, and +she could hardly, he imagined, have made any outside the +convent walls. And why had she run away? Had she been unkindly +treated? Why had she not written to him if she were in +trouble? These and a hundred other questions he asked himself, +reproaching himself the while for not having kept up some kind +of communication with her, or with Mademoiselle Linders. He +had a real interest in, and affection for, the child, whom he +had befriended in her hour of need; and held himself besides +in some sort responsible for her welfare, after the promise he +had made to her father on his death-bed. What was he to do if +all traces of her were indeed lost? This very day he had again +been over to Liége, had paid a second visit to the convent, +and had made inquiries of every person who probably or +improbably might have had news of her, but with no more result +than before; and now, as he walked up and down the Place +Royale, he was debating in his own mind whether he could take +any further steps in the matter, or whether it must not rather +now be left to time and chance to discover her hiding-place. + +A shower of rain came on, dispersing the few people who had +cared to linger in the open air in this raw, chilly evening; +and Horace, leaving the Place, went up the street, which, with +its lights and shops, looked cheerfully by comparison, and, +like the rest of the world, turned into the Redoute, more than +usually full, for it was the race-week, and numbers of +strangers had come into the town. The ball-room, where dancing +was going on, was crowded; and Graham, who, attracted by the +music, had looked in, had soon had enough of the heat and +noise. In a few minutes he had made his way into the gambling +salon, and had joined one of the silent groups standing round +the tables. + +Meanwhile, Madelon, once more absorbed in the game, is +meditating her grand _coup_. Hitherto she has been playing +cautiously, her capital accumulating gradually, but surely, +till she has quite a heap of gold and notes before her. It is +already a fortune in her eyes, and she thinks, if she could +only double this all at once, then indeed would the great task +be accomplished; she might go then, she might write to +Monsieur Horace, she would see him again--ah! what joy, what +happiness! Should she venture? Surely it would be very rash to +risk all that at once--and yet if she were to win--and she has +been so lucky this evening-- her heart leaps up again--she +hesitates a moment, then pushes the whole on to the black, +reserving only one ten-franc piece, and sits pale, breathless, +incapable of moving, during what seemed to her the longest +minute in her life. It was only a minute--the croupier dealt +the cards--"_Rouge perd, et couleur_," he cried, paid the smaller +stakes, and then, counting out gold and notes, pushed over to +her what was, in fact, a sufficiently large sum, and which, to +her inexperienced eyes, seemed enormous. "Who is she?" asked +one or two of the bystanders of each other. "She has been +winning all the evening." They shrugged their shoulders; +nobody knew. As for Madelon, she heard none of their remarks-- +she had won, she might go now, go and find Monsieur Horace; +and as this thought crossed her mind, she gathered up her +winnings, thrust them into her bag, and rose to depart. As she +turned round, she faced Monsieur Horace himself, who had been +standing behind her chair, little dreaming whose play it was +he had been watching. + +She recognised him in a moment, though he had grown thinner +and browner since she had last seen him. "Monsieur Horace!-- +Monsieur Horace!" she cried. + +He was still watching the game, but turned at the sound of her +voice, and looked down on the excited little face before him. +"Madelon!" he exclaimed--"Madelon here!--no, impossible! +Madelon!" + +"Yes, yes," she said, half laughing, half crying at the same +time, "I am Madelon. Ah! come this way--let me show you. I have +something to show you this time--you will see, you will see!" + +She seized both his hands as she spoke, and pulled him through +the crowd into the adjoining reading-room. It was all lighted +up, the table strewn with books and papers; but no one was +there. Madelon was in a state of wild excitement and triumph. + +"Look here," she cried; "I promised to make your fortune, did +I not, Monsieur Horace?--and I have done it! Ah! you will be +rich now--see here!" she poured the contents of her bag on the +table before him. "Are you glad?" she said. + +"Glad!--what on earth are you talking about? Where did you get +this money, Madelon?" + +"Where?--why, there, at the tables, to be sure--where else?" she +answered, getting frightened at his manner. + +"But--gracious powers! are you out of your senses, child?" +cried Graham. "Whatever possessed you to come here? What +business have you in a place like this? Are you alone?" + +"Yes, I am alone. I came to make your fortune," answered +Madelon, dismayed. + +"My fortune!" he repeated. "What can have put such a notion +into your head? As for that money, the sooner you get rid of +it the better. What the devil--good heavens! a baby like you!-- +here, give it to me!" + +"What are you going to do?" cried Madelon, struck with sudden +fear, as he swept it up in his hand. + +"Take it back, of course," he answered, striding into the next +room. + +"Ah! you shall not!" she cried passionately, running after +him, and seizing his hand; "it is mine, it is mine, you shall +not have it!" + +"Hush, Madelon," he said, turning round sharply, "don't make a +disturbance here." + +She made no answer, but clung with her whole weight to his arm +as he approached the table. She dragged his hand back, she +held it tight between hers; her face was quite pale, her teeth +set in her childish passion. + +"Madelon, let go!" said Graham; "do you hear what I say? Let +go!" + +"Give me my money back!" she cried, in a passionate whisper; +"you have no right to take it; it is my own." + +"Let go," he repeated, freeing his hand as he spoke. She +seized it again, but it was too late; he had placed the money +on the table, and with the other hand pushed it into the +middle. A horrible pause, while Madelon clung tighter and +tighter, watching breathlessly till she saw the croupier rake +in the whole. All was lost, then; she flung Horace's hand +away, and rushed out of the room. "Madelon!" he cried, and +followed her. Down the lighted staircase, out into the lighted +street, he could see the swift little figure darting along the +Place Royale, where he had been walking not half an hour ago, +all quiet and dark now; the music gone, the people dispersed, +the rain falling heavily. Still she ran on, into the avenue of +the Promenade à Sept Heures. It was darker still there, only a +rare lamp slanting here and there a long gleam of light across +the wet path. Horace began to be afraid that he should lose +her altogether, but she suddenly stumbled and fell, and when +he came up to her, she was sitting all in a heap on the ground +at the foot of a tree, her face buried in her hands, her frame +shaking with sobs. + +"Madelon," said Horace, stooping down, and trying to take her +hands; "my little Madelon, my poor little child!" + +She jumped up when she heard his voice, and started away from +him. + +"_Ne me touchez pas, je vous le défends_," she cried, "_ne me +touchez pas, je vous déteste--vous êtes un cruel--un perfide!_" + +She began to sob again, and dropped down once more upon the +ground, crouched upon the damp earth, strewn with dead fallen +leaves. Her hat had fallen off, and the rain came down upon +her uncovered head, wetting the short hair as it was blown +about by the wind, drenching her thin little cloak and old +black silk frock. A very pitiful sight as she sat there, a +desolate, homeless child, on this dark, wet autumn night, deaf +in her excess of childish rage to Horace's words, shaking him +off with wilful, passionate gestures whenever he touched her--a +very perplexing sight to the young man, who stood and watched +her, uncertain what to say or do next. + +At last she grew a little quieter, and then he spoke to her in +a tone of authority:-- + +"You must get up, Madelon; you will get quite wet if you stay +here." + +He took hold of her hand, and held it firmly when she tried to +loosen it, and at last she got up slowly. As she rose, she +became conscious of the wet and cold, and was completely +sobered as she stood shivering at Horace's side. + +"My poor little Madelon!" he said, in the kind voice she +remembered from old times. "You are quite wet and so cold, we +must not stay here; tell me where you are going?" + +"I don't know," said Madelon, beginning to cry again. Only an +hour ago she had been so full of joy and hope, with such a +bright future before her; and now the rain and wind were +beating in her face, above her the black sky, darkness all +around; where indeed was she going? + +"But you have some friends here?" said Horace--"you are not +staying here all alone?" + +"Yes, I am all alone," said Madelon, sobbing. "Oh! what shall +I do?--what shall I do?" + +"Don't cry so, Madelon," said Graham, "my poor child, don't be +frightened. I will take care of you, but I want you to tell me +all about this. Do you mean you are all alone in Spa?" + +"Yes, I am all alone; I came here three days ago. I had been +ill at Le Trooz, and a woman there--Jeanne-Marie--took care of +me; but as soon as I was well and had money enough, I came to +Spa, and went to the Hôtel de Madrid. Papa and I used to go +there, and I knew Madame Bertrand who keeps it." + +"So you slept there last night," said Horace, not a little +mystified at the story, but trying to elucidate some fact +sufficiently plain to act upon. + +"Yes, last light, and before. I left my things there, and +meant to have gone back to-night, but I have no money now. +What is to be done?" That grand question of money, so +incomprehensible to children to whom all things seem to come +by nature, had long ago been faced by Madelon, but had never +before, perhaps, presented itself as a problem so incapable of +solution--as a question to be asked of such a very dreary, +black, voiceless world, from which no answer could reasonably +be expected. But, in truth, the answer was not far off. + +"I will take care of all that," said Horace; "so now, come +with me. Stay, here is your hat; we must not go without that." + +He arranged her disordered hair and crushed hat, and then, +taking her hand, led her back towards the town, Madelon very +subdued, and miserable, and cold, Horace greatly perplexed as +to the meaning of it all, but quite resolved not to lose sight +of his charge any more. + +Arrived at the Hôtel de Madrid, he left Madelon for a moment +in the shabby little coffee-room, while he asked to speak to +Madame Bertrand. Madame Bertrand, as we know, was ill and in +bed, but the maid brought down Madelon's bundle of things. +Graham asked her a few questions, but the girl evidently knew +nothing about the child. "Madame knew--she had dined in +Madame's private room the last two days," but she could not +tell anything more about her, and did not even know her name. + +When Graham came back to the room, he found Madelon standing +listlessly as he had left her; she had not moved. "Well," he +said cheerily, "that is settled; now you are my property for +the present; you shall sleep at my hotel to-night." + +"At your hotel?" she said, looking up at him. + +"Yes, where I am staying. Your friend here is not well. I +think I shall look after you better. You do not mind coming +with me?" + +"No, no!" she cried, beginning to cling to him in her old way-- +"I will go anywhere with you. Indeed I did not mean what I +said, but I am very unhappy." + +"You are tired and wet," answered Graham, "but we will soon +set that to rights; you will see to-morrow, you will not be +unhappy at all. Old friends like you and me, Madelon, should +not cry at seeing each other again; should they?" + +Talking to her in his kind, cheerful way, they walked briskly +along till they arrived at the hotel. Madelon was tired out, +and he at once ordered a room, fire, and supper for her, and +handed her over to the care of a good-natured chambermaid. + +"Good night, Madelon. I will come and see after you to-morrow +morning," he said smiling, as he left her. + +She looked up at him for a moment with a most pitiful, eager +longing in her eyes; then suddenly seizing his hands in her +wild excited way--"Oh, Monsieur Horace, Monsieur Horace, if I +could only tell you!" she cried; and then, as he left the +room, and closed the door, she flung herself upon the floor in +quite another passion of tears than that she had given way to +in the Promenade à Sept Heures. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The old Letter. + + +When Horace went to see after Madelon the next morning, he +found her already up and dressed. She opened her bedroom door +in answer to his knock, and stood before him, her eyes cast +down, her wavy hair all smooth and shining, even the old black +silk frock arranged and neat--a very different little Madelon +from the passionate, despairing, weeping child of the evening +before. + +"Good morning, Madelon," said Graham, taking her hand and +looking at her with a smile and a gleam in his kind eyes; "how +are you to-day? Did you sleep well?" + +"I am very well, Monsieur," says Madelon, with her downcast +eyes. "I have been up a long time. I have been thinking of +what I shall do; I do not know, will you help me?" + +"We will talk of that presently," said Graham, "but first we +must have some breakfast; come downstairs with me now." + +"Monsieur Horace," said Madelon, drawing back, "please I +wanted to tell you, I know I was very naughty last night, and +I am very sorry;" and she looked up with her eyes full of +tears. + +"I don't think we either of us quite knew what we were doing +last night," said Graham, squeezing her little hand in his; +"let us agree to forget it, for the present at all events; I +want you to come with me now; there is a lady downstairs who +very much wishes to see you." + +"To see me?" said Madelon, shrinking back again. + +"Yes, don't be frightened, it is only my aunt. She wants to +know you, and I think will be very fond of you. Will you come +with me?" And then, as they went along the passage and +downstairs, he explained to her that he was not alone at the +hotel, but that his aunt, Mrs. Treherne, was also there, and +that he had been telling her what old friends he and Madelon +were, and how unexpectedly they had met last night. + +He opened the door of a sitting-room on the _premier_; a wood- +fire was crackling, breakfast was on the table, and before the +coffee-pot stood a lady dressed in black. + +"Here is Madelon, Aunt Barbara," said Graham; and Mrs. +Treherne came forward, a tall, gracious, fair woman, with +stately manners, and a beautiful sad face. + +"My dear," she said, taking Madelon's hand, "Horace has been +telling me about you, and from what he says, I think you and I +must become better acquainted. He tells me your name is +Madeleine Linders." + +"Yes, Madame," says Madelon, rather shyly, and glancing up at +the beautiful face, which, with blue eyes and golden hair +still undimmed, might have been that of some fair saint or +Madonna, but for a certain chilling expression of cold +sadness. + +"I knew something of a Monsieur Linders once," said Mrs. +Treherne, "and I think he must have been your father, my dear. +Your mother was English, was she not? Can you tell me what her +name was before she married?" + +"I--I don't know," said Madelon; "she died when I was quite a +baby." + +"Nearly thirteen years ago, that would be? Yes, that is as I +thought; but have you never heard her English name, never seen +it written? Have you nothing that once belonged to her?" + +"Yes, Madame," answered Madelon; "there is a box at the +convent that was full of things, clothes, and some books. +There was a name written in them--ah! I cannot remember it--it +was English." + +"Moore?" asked Mrs. Treherne. "Stay, I will write it. Magdalen +Moore--was that it?" + +"Yes," said Madelon; "I think it was--yes, I know it was. I +remember the letters now. But I have something of hers here, +too," she added--"a letter, that I found in the pocket of this +dress--this was mamma's once, and it was in the trunk. Shall I +fetch it?--it is upstairs." + +"Yes, I should like to see it, my dear. You will wonder at all +these questions, but, if I am not mistaken, your mother was a +very dear friend of mine." + +Madelon left the room, and Mrs. Treherne, sitting down at the +table, began to arrange her breakfast-cups. Horace was +standing with one arm on the mantel-piece, gazing into the +fire; he had been silent during this short interview, but as +Madelon disappeared,-- + +"Is she at all like her mother?" he inquired. + +"She is like--yes, certainly she is like; her eyes remind me of +Magdalen's--and yet she is unlike, too." + +"You must be prepared," said Horace, after a moment's pause, +"to find her devoted to her father's memory; and not without +reason, I must say, for he was devoted to her, after his own +fashion. She thinks him absolute perfection; and, in fact, I +believe this escapade of hers to have been entirely founded on +precedents furnished by him." + +"I think it is the most dreadful thing I ever heard of," said +Mrs. Treherne--"a child of that age alone in such a place!" + +"Well, I really don't know," answered Graham, half laughing. +"I don't suppose it has done her much mischief; and of this I +am quite sure, that she had no idea of there being any more +harm in going to a gambling-table than in going for a walk." + +"That appears to me the worst part of it, that a child should +have been brought up in such ignorance of right and wrong. +However, she can be taught differently." + +"Certainly; but don't you think the teaching had better come +gradually?--it would break her heart, to begin with, to be told +her father was not everything she imagines--if indeed she could +be made to understand it just yet, which I doubt." + +"Of course it would be cruel to shake a child's faith in her +father," answered Mrs. Treherne; "but she must learn it in +time. Monsieur Linders was one of the most worthless men that +ever lived, and Charles Moore was as bad, if not worse. I +wonder--good heavens, Horace, how one wonders at such things!--I +wonder what Magdalen had done that she should be left to the +mercy of two such men as those." + +"Well, it is no fault of Madelon's, at any rate," Horace +began; and then stopped, as the door opened, and Madelon came +in. In her hand she carried a queer little bundle of +treasures, that she had brought away with her from the +convent--the old German's letter, the two that Horace had sent +her, and one or two other things, all tied together with a +silk thread. + +"This is the letter," she said, selecting one from the packet, +and giving it to Mrs. Treherne. It was the one she had read in +the evening twilight in her convent cell last May. "I am +afraid there is no name on it, for there is no beginning nor +ending. I think it must have been burnt." + +"Why, that is your writing, Aunt Barbara!" said Graham, who +had come forward to inspect these relics. + +"Yes, it is mine," said Mrs. Treherne. "It was written by me +many years ago." + +She glanced at the letter as she spoke, then crushed it up +quickly in her hand, and with a sudden flush on her pale cheek +turned to Madelon. + +"My dear," she said, putting one arm round the child's waist, +and caressing her hair with the other hand, "I knew you mother +very well; she was my cousin, and the very dearest friend I +ever had. I think you must come and live with me, and be my +child, as there is no one else who has any claim on you." + +"Did you know mamma, Madame?" said Madelon. "And papa--did you +know him?" + +"No, my dear, I never knew your father," said Mrs. Treherne, +with a change in her voice, and relaxing her hold of the +child. + +"You forget, Madelon," said Graham, coming to the rescue, +"your father never went to England, so he did not make +acquaintance with your mother's friends. But that is not the +question now; my aunt wants to know if you will not come and +live with her in England, and be her little girl? That would +be pleasanter than the convent, would it not?" + +"Yes, thank you. I should like to go and live in England very +much," said Madelon, her eyes wandering wistfully from Mrs. +Treherne to Graham. "And with you too, Monsieur Horace?" she +added, quickly. + +"Not with me, exactly," he answered, taking her hand in his; +"for I am going off to America in a month or two; and you know +we agreed that you and I could not go about the world +together; but I shall often hear of you, and from you, and be +quite sure that you are happy; and that will be a great thing, +will it not?" + +"Yes, thank you," she said again. Her eyes filled with sudden +tears, but they did not fall. It was a very puzzling world in +which she found herself, and events, which only yesterday she +had thought to guide after her own fashion, had escaped quite +beyond the control of her small hand. + +Perhaps Mrs. Treherne saw how bewildered she was, for she drew +her towards her again, and kissed her, and told her that she +was her child now, and that she would take care of her, and +love her for her mother's sake. + +"Now let us have some breakfast," she said. "After that we +will see what we have to do, for I am going to leave Spa to- +morrow." + + +Late in the afternoon of the same day, Horace, who had been +out since the morning, coming into the sitting-room, found +Madelon there alone. It was growing dark, and she was sitting +in a big arm-chair by the fire, her eyes fixed on the +crackling wood, her hands lying listlessly in her lap. She +hardly looked up, or stirred as Graham came in, and drew a +chair to her side. + +"Well, Madelon," he said, cheerfully, "so we start for England +to-morrow?" + +"Yes," she said; but there was no animation in her manner. + +"Has my aunt told you?" he went on. "We are going to sleep at +Liége, so that she may go to the convent, and settle matters +there finally, and let the nuns know they are not to expect +you back again." + +"Yes, I know," said Madelon. "Monsieur Horace, do you think we +might stop for just a little while--for half-an-hour--at Le +Trooz, to see Jeanne-Marie? She would not like me to go away +without wishing her good-bye." + +"Of course we will. It was Jeanne-Marie who took care of you +when you were ill, was it not? Tell me the whole story, +Madelon. What made you run away from Liége?" + +"There was a fever in the convent; I caught it, and Aunt +Thérèse died; and when I was getting well I heard the nuns +talking about it, and saying I was to live in the convent +always, and be made a nun--and I could not, oh! I could not-- +papa said I was never to be a nun, and it would have been so +dreadful; and I could not have kept my promise to you, +either." + +"What was this promise, Madelon? I can't remember your making +me one, or anything about it." + +"Yes, don't you know? That evening at Liége, the night before +I went into the convent, when we were taking a walk. You said +you wanted to make your fortune, and I said I would do it for +you. I knew how, and I thought you did not. I meant to do it +at once, but I could not, and I was afraid you would think I +had forgotten my promise, and would want the money, so I got +out of the window and came to Spa. But I lost all my money the +first time I went to the tables, and there was a lady who +wanted to take me back to the convent; but she went to sleep +in the train, and I got out at Le Trooz. I don't remember much +after that, for the fever came on again; but Jeanne-Marie, who +keeps a restaurant in the village, found me in the church, she +says, and took me home, and nursed me till I was well." + +"And how long ago was all this?" + +"It was last May that I ran away from the convent, and I was +with Jeanne-Marie all the summer; but as soon as I was well +again, and had enough money, I came back here--that was four +days ago; and last night I had the money, and to-day I should +have written to you to tell you that I had kept my promise, +and made your fortune." + +"And so it was all for me," said Graham, with a sudden pang of +tenderness and remorse. "My poor little Madelon, you must have +thought me very cruel and unkind last night." + +"Never mind," she answered, "you did not understand; I thought +you knew I had promised;" but she turned away her head as she +spoke, and Graham saw that she was crying. + +"Indeed I don't remember anything about it," he said; "why, my +poor child, I should never have thought of such a thing. Well, +never mind, Madelon, you shall come to England with us. Do you +know you are a sort of cousin of mine?" + +"Am I?" she answered, "did you know mamma as well as Mrs. ---- +as Madame _votre Tante?_" + +"Well, no; the fact is, I never even heard her married name, +though I knew we had some relations named Moore, for she was +my mother's cousin, also. But she went abroad and married when +I was quite a child, and died a few years afterwards, and that +is how it happened that I never heard of, or saw her." + +"Ah! well, you knew papa," said Madelon; and then there was +silence between them for a minute, till a flame leaping up +showed Madelon's face all tearful and woe-begone. + +"You are not happy, Madelon," said Graham. "What is it? Can I +help you in any way? Is there anything I can do for you?" + +She fairly burst into sobs as he spoke. + +"Monsieur Horace," she answered, "I--I wanted to make your +fortune; I had looked forward to it for such a long time, and +I was so happy when I had done it, and I thought you would be +so pleased and glad, too, and now it is all at an end----" + +How was Graham to console her? How explain it all to her? +"Listen to me, Madelon," he said at last; "I think you were a +dear little girl to have such a kind thought for me, and I +don't know how to thank you enough for it; but it was all a +mistake, and you must not fret about it now. I don't think I +care so very much about having a fortune; and anyhow, I like +working hard and getting money that way for myself." + +"But mine is the best and quickest way," said Madelon, +unconvinced; "it was what papa always did." + +"Yes, but you know everybody does not set to work the same +way, and I think I like mine best for myself." + +"Do you?" she said, looking at him wistfully; "and may I not +go and try again, then?" + +"No, no," he answered kindly; "that would not do at all, +Madelon; it does not do for little girls to run about the +world making fortunes. Your father used to take you to those +rooms, but he would not have liked to have seen you there +alone last night, and you must never go again." + +He tried to speak lightly, but the words aroused some new +consciousness in the child, and she coloured scarlet. + +"I--I did not know--" she began; and then stopped suddenly, and +never again spoke of making Monsieur Horace's fortune. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +Partings. + + +So it was something like the end of a fairy tale after all; +for a carriage stopped before the restaurant at Le Trooz, and +out of it came a gentleman, and a lady beautiful enough to be +a fairy godmother, and the little wandering Princess herself, +no other than our Madelon, who ran up to Jeanne-Marie as she +came to the door, and clasping her round the neck, clung to +her more tightly than she had ever clung before, till the +woman, disengaging herself, turned to speak to her other +visitors. Mrs. Treherne came into the little public room, +which happened to be empty just then, and siting down on one +of the wooden chairs, began to talk to Jeanne-Marie; whilst +Madelon, escaping, made her way to the garden at the back, +where she had spent so many peaceful hours. It was not a week +since she had been there and it looked all unchanged; the sun +was shining again after the last few days, and filling the air +with summer heat and radiance; the grapes were ripening on the +wall; the bees humming among the flowers; Jeanne-Marie's pots +and pans stood in the kitchen window. How quiet, and sunny, +and familiar it looked! Madelon half expected to find her +chair set in the old shady corner, to see Jeanne-Marie's face +appearing through the screen of vine-leaves at the open +window, to hear her voice calling to her to leave her work, +and come and help her make the soup! Ah no, it was not all +unchanged; was there indeed anything the same as in the old +days that already seemed such ages distant, the old time gone +for ever? With a sudden pang, Madelon turned away, and went +quickly up the outside staircase, all overgrown with unpruned +sprays and tendrils, into the room she had occupied for so +many weeks. How happy she had been there! what dreams she had +dreamed! what hopes she had cherished! what visions she had +indulged in! Where were they all now? Where was that golden +future to which she had so confidently looked forward, for +which she had worked, and striven, and ventured all? She knelt +down by the bed, flinging her arms out over the coarse blue +counterpane. Ah, if she had but died there, died while she was +all unconscious, before this cruel grief and disappointment +had come upon her! + +And meanwhile, Jeanne-Marie, in the room below, had been +hardening her heart against the child after her own fashion. +She had answered Mrs. Treherne's questions curtly, rejected +the faintest suggestion of money as an insult, and stood +eyeing Graham defiantly while the talk went on. "Madelon has +grand new friends now," she was thinking all the time very +likely, "and will go away and be happy, and forget all about +me; well, let her go--what does it matter?" And then presently, +going upstairs to look for this happy, triumphant Madelon, she +found her crouching on the floor, trying to stifle the sound +of her despairing sobs. + +"Oh, Jeanne-Marie, Jeanne-Marie!" she cried, as soon as she +could speak, "I wish I might stay with you, I wish I had never +gone away; what was the use of it all? I thought I was going +to be so happy, and now I am to go to England, and Monsieur +Horace is to go to America, and I shall never, never, be happy +again!" + +"What was the use of what?" says Jeanne-Marie, taking the +child into her kind arms; "why will you never be happy again? +Are they unkind to you? Is that gentleman downstairs Monsieur +Horace that you used to talk about?" + +"Yes, that is Monsieur Horace. Ah, no, he is not unkind, he is +kinder than any one--you do not understand, Jeanne-Marie, and I +cannot tell you, but I am very unhappy." She put her arms +round the woman's neck, and hid her face on her shoulder. In +truth, Jeanne-Marie did not understand what all this terrible +grief and despair were about. Madelon, as we know, had never +confided her hopes, and plans, and wishes to her; but she knew +that the child whom she loved better than all the world was in +trouble, and that she must send her away without being able to +say a word to comfort her, and that seemed hard to bear. + +So they sat silent for awhile; and then Jeanne-Marie got up. + +"You must go, _ma petite_," she said; "Madame is waiting, and I +came to fetch you." She walked to the door, and then turned +round suddenly. "_Ecoutez, mon enfant_," she said, placing her +two hands on Madelon's shoulders, and looking down into her +face, "you will not forget me? I--I should not like to think +you will go away, and forget me." + +"Never!" cried Madelon; "how could I? I will never forget you, +Jeanne-Marie, and some day, if I can, I will come back and see +you." + +So they parted, and, of the two, it was the brave, faithful +heart of the woman that suffered the sharper pang, though she +went about her daily work without saying a word or shedding a +tear. + +Mrs. Treherne had large estates in Cornwall, on which, since +her husband's death, she had almost constantly resided; and +thither, with Madelon, she proceeded, a few days after their +arrival in London. Graham did not go with them. He had been +appointed to accompany a government exploring party into +Central America, and his time was fully occupied with business +to settle, arrangements to make, outfit to purchase, and, +moreover, with running down to his sister's house in the +country as often as possible, so as to devote every spare hour +to Miss Leslie. The summer love-making had ended in an +engagement before he started for Spa--an engagement which-- +neither he nor Miss Leslie having any money to speak of-- +promised to be of quite indefinite length. In the midst of all +his bustle, however, Graham contrived to take Madelon to as +many sights as could be crowded into the three or four days +that they stayed at the London hotel; and in a thousand kind +ways tried to encourage and cheer the child, who never said a +word about her grief, but drooped more and more as the moment +for separation drew near. Graham went to see her and his aunt +off at the Great Western terminus, and it was amidst all the +noise, and hurry, and confusion of a railway-station that they +parted at last. It was all over in a minute, and as Graham +stood on the platform, watching the train move slowly out of +the station, a little white face appeared at a carriage- +window, two brown eyes gazed wistfully after him, a little +hand waved one more farewell. It was his last glimpse of our +small Madelon. + + +PART III. + + +CHAPTER I. + +Letters. + + +For five years Horace Graham was a wanderer on the other side +of the Atlantic. He had left England with the intention of +remaining abroad for two years only; but at the end of that +time, when the exploring party to which he belonged was +returning home, he did not find it difficult to make excuses +for remaining behind. He had only begun to see the country, he +said in his letters to England; he knew two men who were going +further south, to Paraguay, to La Plata, to Patagonia, +perhaps; and he meant to accompany them, and see what was to +be seen; time enough to think of coming home afterwards; of +what use would it be for him to return just then? "We are both +young," he wrote to his future wife, Maria Leslie, "and can +well afford to wait a year or two before settling down into +sober married life. You, my dear Maria, who so often said this +to me when, in the first days of our engagement, I urged a +speedy marriage, will, I know, agree with me. I see now that +in those days you were right and I was wrong. We are not rich +enough to marry. I should do wrong to make you submit to all +the trials and hardships which struggling poverty entails; +though indeed, in all the world, I know of no one so well +fitted to meet them as my dearest Molly. How often we used to +picture to ourselves some little snuggery where you could knit +and darn stockings, and I could smoke my pipe! Is not that the +correct division of labour between man and woman? Well, some +day we will have some such dear little hole, and I will smoke +my pipe; but you shall not be condemned to stitching--you shall +do--let me see--what shall you do?--anything in the world you +like best, my dear girl; for I mean to be a rich man in those +days, which I often picture to myself as the good time coming, +to which some of us are looking forward. When I hear of an +opening in England, I shall return--perhaps sooner, if it is +very long in coming; unless, indeed, you would like to join me +out here. What do you think of that proposal? We could settle +down comfortably in Peru or Mexico, and you could make friends +among the Spanish ladies, and learn from them to sleep all day +and dance all night, unless you would prefer to accompany my +pipe with your cigarette; for, of course, you too would smoke, +like every one else. And from time to time we could go on long +expeditions--such as I am making now--day and night in an open +boat, on some river flowing through trackless forests, great +trees dipping down into the water, strange flowers blooming +overhead, strange beasts that one never saw before, hopping +and rushing about; and mosquitoes, of which one has seen +plenty, eating one up alive at every opportunity. My poor +Molly! I can see your face of dismay. No, don't be afraid; you +shall not be asked to leave your own comfortable home till I +can return and take you to as good a one; and then I mean to +write a book about my adventures, and you shall do nothing +worse than shudder over them at your leisure at our own +fireside." + +To which Maria replied:--"I think, my dear Horace, you are +quite right not to hurry home. As you say, we are both young, +and have life before us; and do not trouble yourself about me, +for as long as I hear that you are well and happy, I can and +ought to desire nothing further. The idea of coming out to you +made me shiver indeed; you will say I am very unenterprising, +but I don't think I should ever care about leaving England; +one is so happy here, what more can one desire? What can I +tell you in return for your long letter? Georgie will have +given you all the village news, no doubt; has she told you +that we have a new curate--Mr. Morris? He preached last Sunday, +and is a great improvement on Mr. Saunders, who was the +dullest man I ever heard. The school gets on nicely; I have +two more pupils, and receive many compliments, I assure you, +on the way in which I manage my class. I sometimes wonder if +it could not be arranged some day, that you should enter into +partnership with Dr. Vavasour, who is growing old, and gets +tired with his day's work? I often think of this, and of how +pleasant it would be, but, as you may suppose, have never even +hinted at it to your sister. Is it such a very wild castle in +the air? It is a very pleasant one, and I sometimes sit and +think it all over. We should never have to leave Ashurst then; +there is a pretty little house lately built at the end of the +village, which would just suit us, I think; you could write +your book, and when it was done, read it to me, as you know I +do not much care about reading. You should smoke your pipe as +much as you please, and I would sit and work, for there is +nothing I like doing better, and I should find it very +uncomfortable to sit with my hands before me. Do you think I +mean to grow idle in my old age? No, not if we have a hundred +thousand a-year, for I am sure there must be always something +for every one to do," and so on; a little moral sentiment +closed the letter. + +When Graham received it, he read it over twice, and sighed a +little as he folded it up, and put it away. He was relieved +that Maria should take such a calm view of the subject, for he +had felt his own letter to be somewhat egotistical, and yet-- +well, right or wrong, he could not help it; he _could_ not give +up his travels and researches just then. The spirit of +adventure was upon him, driving him, as it has driven many a +man before, further and further into the wilderness, heedless +of danger, and hardships, and discomfort; almost heedless, +too, of home, and friends, and love--all that, he would have +time to think of at some future day, when he should find +himself obliged to return to England. Maria's suggestion of +the country partnership as the goal of his ambition and his +hopes, her picture of the new house at the end of the village, +rose before his mind, but in no such tempting light as before +hers. "She is a dear, good girl," he thought, "but she does +not understand. Well, I suppose it will come to that, or +something like that, at least; what better can one look +forward to? one cannot roam about the world for ever--at least, +I cannot, bound as I am; not that I repent that;" and then it +was that he sighed. Nevertheless he did roam about for three +years longer; and then his health giving way, he was obliged +to return to England, and arrived at his sister's house, a +bronzed, meagre, bearded traveller, with his youth gone for +ever, and years of life, and adventure, and toil separating +him from the lad who had first seen little Madelon at +Chaudfontaine. + +He had not forgotten her; it would have been strange indeed if +he had, for Mrs. Treherne's letters, which followed him in his +wanderings with tolerable regularity, were apt to be full of +Madeleine; and in them would often be enclosed a sheet, on +which, in her cramped foreign handwriting, Madelon would have +recorded, for Monsieur Horace's benefit, the small experiences +of her every-day life. + +"I am learning very hard," so these little effusions would +run; "and Aunt Barbara says that I advance in my studies, but +that I shall do better when I go to London, for I will have +masters then, and go to classes. I like Cornwall very much; I +have a garden of my own, but the flowers will not grow very +well--the gardener says the wind from the sea will kill them. +It seems to me there is always a wind here, and last week +there was a great storm, and many ships were wrecked. Aunt +Barbara said she was glad you were the other side of the +ocean, and so indeed was I. I never thought the wind and sea +could make so much noise; it is not here as at Nice with the +Mediterranean, which was almost always calm, and tranquil, and +blue like the sky. Here the sea is grey like the sky--that +makes a great difference. Will you soon write to me once more? +I read your letter to me over and over again. I like to hear +all about the strange countries you are in, and I should like +to see them too. We have a book of travels which tells us all +about South America, and I read it very often. I send you one +little primrose that I gathered to-day in my garden." + +Again, nearly a year later. + +"I do not know how people can like to live always in one +place, when there is so much that is beautiful to see in the +world. Aunt Barbara says that she would be content always to +live in Cornwall; and it is very kind of her to come to +London, for it is that I may have masters, she says; but I +cannot help being glad, for I was so tired of the rocks, and +the sea always the same. We arrived last week, and Aunt +Barbara says we shall stay the whole winter, and come back +every year, very likely. I like our house very much; it is in +Westminster, not far from the Abbey, where I went with you; +one side looks on to the street, that is rather dull; but the +other looks on to St. James's Park, where I go to walk with +Aunt Barbara. We went to the Abbey last Sunday; it reminded me +of the churches abroad, and the singing was so beautiful. In +Cornwall there was only a fiddle and a cracked flute, and +everybody sang out of tune; I did not like going to church +there at all. Please write to me soon, Monsieur Horace, and +tell me where you are, and what you are doing; I fancy it all +to myself--the big forests, and the rivers, and the flowers, +and everything." + +Accompanying these would be Mrs. Treherne's reports: + +"Madeleine improves every day, I think. She is much grown, and +resembles her mother more and more, though she will never be +so beautiful, to my mind; she has not, and never will have, +Magdalen's English air and complexion. She gets on well with +her London masters and classes, and has great advantages in +many ways over girls of her own age, especially in her +knowledge of foreign languages. I trust that by degrees the +memory of her disastrous past may fade away; we never speak of +it, and she is so constantly employed, and seems to take so +much interest in her occupation and studies, that I hope she +is ceasing to think of old days, and will grow up the quiet, +English girl I could wish to see Magdalen's daughter. Indeed +she is almost too quiet and wanting in the gaiety and +animation natural to girls of her age; but otherwise I have +not a fault to find with her. She is fond of reading, and gets +hold of every book of travels she can hear of, that will give +her any idea of the country you are exploring. We share your +letters, my dear Horace, and follow you in all your +wanderings, with the greatest interest." + +One more letter. + + +"March 1st, 186--. + +"My dear Monsieur Horace, + +"Aunt Barbara bids me write and welcome you back to England. +We look forward to seeing you very much; but she says, if you +can remain with your sister a week longer, it will be better +than coming down to Cornwall now, as we shall be in London on +Monday next, at the latest. We should have come up to town for +Christmas as usual, if Aunt Barbara had not been so unwell; +and now that she is strong again, she wishes to be there as +soon as possible. It would not be worth while, therefore, for +you to make so long a journey just now. I hope you will come +and see us soon; it seems a long, long time since you went +away--more than five years. + +"Ever your affectionate + +"Madeleine Linders." + + +It was at the end of a dull March day that Horace Graham, just +arrived from Kent, made his way to his aunt's house in +Westminster. He thought more of Madelon than of Mrs. Treherne, +very likely, as the cab rattled along from the station. There +had never been much affection or sympathy between him and his +aunt, although he had always been grateful to her, for her +kindness to him as a boy; but she was not a person who +inspired much warmth of feeling, and his sister's little house +in the village where he had been born, had always appeared to +him more home-like than the great Cornwall house, where, as a +lad, he had been expected to spend the greater part of his +holidays. But he was pleased with the idea of seeing his +little Madelon again. He had not needed letters to remind him +of her during all these years; he had often thought of the +child whom he had twice rescued in moments of desolation and +peril, and who had been the heroine of such a romantic little +episode--thought of her and her doings with a sort of wonder +sometimes, at her daring, her independence, her devotion--and +all for him! When Graham thought of this, he felt very tender +towards his foolish, rash, loving little Madelon; he felt so +now, as he drove along to Westminster; he would not realize +how much she must be altered; she came before him always as +the little pale-faced girl, with short curly hair, in a shabby +black silk frock. It was a picture that, somehow, had made +itself a sure resting-place in Graham's heart. + +"We did not expect you till the late train, sir; it is close +upon dinner-time, and the ladies are upstairs in the drawing- +room, I believe," said the old butler who opened the door. + +"Upstairs? in the drawing-room?" said Graham; "stop, I will +find my way, Burchett, if you will look after my things." + +He ran upstairs; the house was strange to him, but a door +stood open on the first landing, and going in, he found +himself in a drawing-room, where the firelight glowed and +flickered on picture-lined walls, and chintz-covered easy- +chairs and sofas, on an open piano, on flower-stands filled +with hyacinths and crocuses, on the windows looking out on the +dark March night, and the leafless trees in the Park. No one +was there--he saw that at a glance, as he looked round on the +warm, firelit scene; but even as he ascertained the fact, some +one appeared, coming through the curtains that hung over the +folding-doors between the two drawing-rooms--some one who gave +a great start when she saw him, and then came forward blushing +and confused. "My aunt is upstairs,"--she began, then stopped +suddenly, glancing up at this stranger with the lean brown +face, and long rough beard. "Monsieur Horace!" she cried, +springing forward. He saw a tall, slim girl, all in soft +flowing white, he saw two hands stretched out in joyous +welcome, he saw two brown eyes shining with eager gladness and +surprise; and all at once the old picture vanished from his +mind, and he knew that this was Madelon. + + +CHAPTER II. + +Sehnsucht. + + +Graham had numberless engagements in London, and except at +breakfast, or at lunch perhaps, little was seen of him at his +aunt's house during the first days after his arrival in town. +One evening, however, coming home earlier than usual, he found +the two ladies still in the drawing-room, and joining them at +the fireside, he first made Madelon sing to him, and then, +beginning to talk, the conversation went on till long after +midnight, as he sat relating his travels and adventures. +Presently he brought out his journal, and read extracts from +it, filling up the brief, hurried notes with fuller details as +he went on, and describing to them the plan of his book, some +chapters of which were already written, and which he hoped to +bring out before the season was over. Mrs. Treherne was a +perfect listener; she was sufficiently well informed to make +it worth while to tell her more, and she knew how to put +intelligent questions just at the right moment. As for +Madelon, she had been busily engaged on some piece of +embroidery when he first began talking, but gradually her +hands had dropped into her lap, and with her eyes fixed on him +in the frankest unconsciousness, she had become utterly +absorbed in what he was saying. Graham's whole heart was in +his work, past and present, and this rapt naïve interest on +the part of the girl at once flattered and encouraged him. + +"I can trust you two," he said, putting away his papers at +last, "and I am not forestalling my public too much in letting +you hear all this; but you are my first auditors, and my first +critics. You won't betray me, Madelon?" he added, turning to +her with a smile. + +She shook her head, smiling back at him without speaking; and +then, rising, began to fold up her work, while Mrs. Treherne +said,-- + +"I should have thought you would have found your first +audience at Ashurst." + +"I did try it one evening," he said, "but one of the children +began to scream, and Georgie had to go and attend to it; and +the Doctor went to sleep, and Maria, who had been all the +afternoon in a stuffy school-room, looking after a school- +feast or something of the sort, told me not to mind her, and +presently went to sleep too; so I gave it up, after that." + +"It was certainly not encouraging," said Mrs. Treherne; "but +you must surely have fallen upon an unfortunate moment; they +do not go to sleep every evening, I presume?" + +He did not answer; he was looking at Madelon, his eyes +following her as she moved here and there about the room, +putting away her work, closing the piano, setting things in +order for the night. It was a habit he had taken up, this of +watching her whenever they were in the room together, +wondering perhaps how his little Madelon had grown into one of +the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Indeed she was +little Madelon no longer--and yet not wholly altered after all. +She was tall now, above the middle height, and her hair was a +shade darker, and fastened up in long plaits at the back of +her head; but her cheeks were pale as in old days, and a +slight accent, an occasional idiom, something exceptional in +style, and gesture, and manner, showed at once and +unmistakably, her foreign birth and breeding. As Mrs. Treherne +had once said, she had not, and never would have, an English +air and complexion; but her beauty was not the less refined +and rare that the clear, fair cheeks were without a tinge of +colour, that one had to seek it in the pure red lips, the soft +brown hair, the slight eyebrows and dark lashes, the lovely +eyes that had learnt to express the thought they had once only +suggested, but still retained something of the old, childish, +wistful look. And yet Graham watched her with a vague sense of +disappointment. + +"What do you think of Madeleine?" Mrs. Treherne said to him +the following afternoon; he had come in early, and they were +together alone in the drawing-room. "Do you not find her grown +and improved? Do you think her pretty? She is perhaps rather +pale, but----" + +"She has certainly grown, Aunt Barbara, but this is not +astonishing--young ladies generally do grow between the ages of +thirteen and eighteen: and I think her the prettiest girl I +ever saw--not at all too pale. As for being improved--well--I +suppose she is. She wears very nice dresses, I observe, and +holds herself straight, and I daresay knows more geography and +history than when we last parted." + +"You are disappointed in her," said Mrs. Treherne. "Do you +know I suspected as much, Horace, from the way in which you +look at her and speak to her. Tell me in what way--why you are +not satisfied?" + +"But I am satisfied," cried Graham; "why should I not be? +Madelon appears to me to have every accomplishment a young +lady should have; she sings to perfection, I daresay, dances +equally well, and I have no doubt that on examination she +would prove equally proficient in all the ologies. I am +perfectly satisfied, so far as it is any concern of mine, but +I don't see what right I have to be sitting in judgment one +way or the other." + +"You have every right, Horace; I have always looked upon you +as the child's guardian in a way, and in all my plans +concerning her education I have considered myself, to a +certain extent, responsible to you." + +"It was very good of you, Aunt Barbara, to consider me in the +matter. I thought my responsibility had ceased from the moment +you took charge of her; but for her father's sake--does Madelon +ever speak of him, by-the-by?" + +"Never." + +"Never alludes to her past life?" + +"Never--we never speak of it; I have carefully avoided doing +so, in the hope that with time, and a settled home, and new +interests, she could cease to think of it altogether; and I +trust I have succeeded. The memory of it can only be painful +to her now, poor child, for, though I have never referred to +the subject in any way, I feel convinced she must have learnt +by this time to see her father's character in its true light." + +"It is possible," said Graham. "Well, as I was saying; Aunt +Barbara, for the sake of the promise I made her father on his +death-bed, if for no other reason, I shall and must always +take an interest in Madelon." + +"And I for her mother's sake," replied Mrs. Treherne, stiffly. +"If you have no other interest in Madelon than----however, it is +useless to discuss that. I want to know how we have +disappointed you--Madelon and I--for you are disappointed; tell +me, Horace--I am really anxious to know." + +"Dear Aunt Barbara, I am not at all disappointed; or, if I am, +it is not your fault or hers--quite the reverse. Nothing but +the perversity of human nature. Shall I own the truth? All +these years I have kept in my mind a dear little girl in a +shabby old frock which she had outgrown--a dear, affectionate +little soul, with so few ideas on people and things, that she +actually took me for one of the best and wisest of human +beings. See how much vanity there is in it all! I come back, +and find a demure, well-drilled, fashionable young lady. I +might have known how it would be, but it gave me a sort of +shock, I own--my little wild Madelon gone for ever and a day, +and this proper young lady in her place." + +"You are unreasonable, Horace," said Mrs. Treherne, half +laughing, half vexed; "and ungrateful too, when Madeleine has +been working so hard, with the hope, I know, of pleasing and +astonishing you with her doings." + +"But I am pleased," said Graham. "Astonished? No, I cannot be +astonished that Madelon, with you to help her, should +accomplish anything; but I am delighted, charmed. What more +shall I say? So much so, Aunt Barbara, that when I am married-- +as I mean to be shortly, and set up a house of my own--you and +Madelon will have to pay me visits of any length. I _shall_ +always feel that I have a sort of property in her, through +early associations." + +"Are you going to be married shortly?" said Mrs. Treherne; +"have you anything definite to do? Where are you going to +settle?" + +"Do you not know?" he answered. "Dr. Vavasour has offered me a +partnership." + +"And you have accepted it?" + +"Not yet. He has given me six months to think it over; so I +need not hurry my decision; and, in the meantime, I have +plenty to do with my book. In fact, I need the rest." + +"It seems a pity--" began Mrs. Treherne. + +"What seems a pity, Aunt Barbara?" + +"That with your talents you should settle down for life in a +country village. You could surely do something better." + +"I don't know," he answered with a sigh. "There is nothing +else very obvious at present, and I cannot be a rover all my +life. For one thing, my health would not allow of my taking up +that sort of thing again just at present; and then there is +Maria to be considered. She hates the idea of leaving Ashurst, +and it has been her dream for years that this partnership +should be offered me, and that I should accept it. I owe it to +her to settle down into steady married life before long." + +He rose, as he said these last words, and walked to the +window. Mrs. Treherne was called away at the same moment, and +he stood gazing out at the strip of garden before the house, +the Birdcage Walk beyond, the trees in the Park blowing about +against the dull sky. His thoughts were not there; they had +wandered away to the tropics, to the glowing skies, the +strange lands, the wild, free life in which his soul +delighted. He was glad to find himself in England once more, +amongst kindred and friends, but he loathed the thought of +being henceforth tied down to a life from which all freedom +would be banished, which must be spent in the dull routine of +a country parish. Graham was not now the lad who had once +looked on the world as lying at his feet, on all possibilities +as being within his grasp; he had long ceased to be a hero in +his own eyes; he had learnt one of life's sternest lessons, he +had touched the limits of his own powers. But in thus gaining +the knowledge of what he could not do, he had also proved what +he could be--he had recognised the bent of his genius, and he +knew that of all the mistakes of his life he had committed +none more grievous than that of binding himself to a woman who +neither sympathised nor pretended to sympathise with him and +his pursuits; and in compliance with whose wishes he was +preparing to take up the life for which, of all others within +the limits of his profession, he felt himself the least +suited. And she? Did she care for him?--did she love him enough +to make it worth the sacrifice?--was there the least chance of +their ever being happy together? Ah! what lovers' meeting had +that been that had passed between them at his sister's house! +What half-concealed indifference on her side, what +embarrassment on his, what silence falling between them, what +vain efforts to shake off an ever-increasing coldness and +constraint! It was five years since they had parted--was it +only years and distance that had estranged them, or had they +been unsuited to each other from the beginning? Not even now +would Graham acknowledge to himself that it was so, but it was +a conviction he had been struggling against for years. + +"Will you take some tea, Monsieur Horace?" said a voice behind +him. He turned round. The grey daylight was fading into grey +dusk, afternoon tea had been brought in, and Madelon was +standing by him with a cup in her hand. "Aunt Barbara has gone +out, and will not be home till dinner-time," she added, as she +returned to the tea-table and fireside. + +"Then you and I will drink tea together, Madelon," said +Graham, seating himself in an arm-chair opposite to her. +"Where have you been all this afternoon? Have you been out +too?" + +"I have been to a singing-class. I generally go twice a-week +when we are in town." + +"And do you like it?" + +"Yes, I like it very much." + +So much they said, and then a silence ensued. Madelon drank +her tea, and Graham sat looking at her. Yes, a change had +certainly come over her--this Madelon, who came and went so +quietly, with a certain harmonious grace in every movement-- +this Madelon, who sometimes smiled, but rarely laughed, who +spoke little, and then with an air of vague weariness and +indifference--this was not the little impetuous, warm-hearted +Madelon he remembered, who had clung to him in her childish +sorrow, who had turned from him in her childish anger, who in +her very wilfulness, in her very abandonment to the passion of +the moment, had been so winning and loveable. It was not +merely that she was not gay--gaiety was an idea that he had +never associated with Madelon; it had always been a sad little +face that had come before him when he had thought of her; but +in all her sadness, there had been an animation and spring, an +eagerness and effusion in the child, that seemed wholly +wanting in the girl. It was as if a subtle shadow had crept +over her, toning down every characteristic light to its own +grey monotonous tint. + +Madelon had not the smallest suspicion of what was passing in +her companion's mind. During all these years, in whatever +other respects she might have altered, the attitude of her +heart towards him had never changed. What he had always been +to her, he was now; the time that had elapsed since they +parted had but intensified and deepened her old feeling +towards him--that was all. He had been in her thoughts day and +night; in a thousand ways she had worked, she had striven, +that he might find her improved when he came home, less +ignorant, less unworthy, than the little girl he had parted +with. His return had been the one point to which all her hopes +had been directed; and, poor child, with a little unconscious +egotism, she took it for granted that just then she occupied +almost as large a share in Graham's mind as he did in hers. He +had always been so good, so kind to her, he must surely be +glad to see her again, almost as glad as she was to see him. +She, on her side, was ready to go on just where they had left +off; and yet now, when for the first time they were alone +together, a sort of shyness had taken possession of her. + +She was the first to break the silence, however. "Why do you +look at me so?" she said, setting her tea-cup down, and +turning to Horace with a sudden smile and blush. + +"I am trying to adjust my ideas," he answered, smiling too; "I +am trying to reconcile the little Madelon I used to know with +this grand young lady I have found here." + +"Ah, you will never see that little Madelon again," said the +girl, shaking her head rather sorrowfully; "she is gone for +ever." + +"How is that?" said Graham. "You have grown tall, you wear +long gowns, and plait up your hair, I see; but is that a +reason----" + +"Ah, how can one survive one's old life?" said Madelon, +plaintively; "one ought not, ought one? All is so changed with +me, things are so different, the old days are so utterly gone-- +I try not to think of them any more; that is the best; and my +old self is gone with them, I sometimes think--and that is best +too." + +She sat leaning forward, staring at the dull red coals; and +Graham was silent for a moment. + +"Then you have forgotten the old days altogether?" he said at +last. + +"I never speak of them," she answered slowly; "no, I have not +forgotten--it is not in me to forget, I think--but I do not +speak of them; of what use? It is like a dream now, that old +time, and no one cares for one's dreams but oneself." + +"Am I part of the dream too, Madelon? For I think I belong +more to that old time you talk about, which is not so very +remote, after all, than to the present. I had a little friend +Madelon once, but I feel quite a stranger with this +fashionable Miss Linders before me." + +"You are laughing at me," said Madelon, opening her eyes wide. +"I am not at all fashionable, I think. I don't know what you +mean; what should make you think such a thing, Monsieur +Horace?" + +"Well, your general appearance," he answered. "It suggests +balls, fêtes, concerts, operas----" + +Madelon shook her head, laughing. + +"That is a very deceptive appearance," she said. "Aunt Barbara +and I never go anywhere but to classes, and masters, and to a +small tea-party occasionally, and to see pictures sometimes." + +"But how is that?--does Aunt Barbara not approve of society?" + +"Oh, yes, but she thinks I am not old enough," answered +Madelon, demurely. "So I am not out yet, and I have not been +to a ball since I was ten years old." + +"And do you like that sort of thing? It does not sound at all +lively," said Graham. + +"It is rather dull," replied Madelon, "simply; but then I think +everything in England is--is _triste_--I beg your pardon," she +added, quickly, colouring, "I did not mean to complain." + +"No, no, I understand. You need not mind what you say to me, +Madelon; I want to know what you are doing, what sort of life +you are leading, how you get on. So you find England _triste?_ +In what way?" + +"I don't know--not in one way or another--it is everything. +There is no life, no movement, no colour, or sunshine--yes, the +sun shines, of course, but it is different. Ah, Monsieur +Horace, you who have just come back to it, do you not +understand what I mean?" + +"I think I do in a way; but then, you know, coming to England +is coming home to me, Madelon, and that makes a great +difference." + +"Yes, that makes a great difference; England can never be home +to me, I think. I will tell you, Monsieur Horace--yesterday at +that Exhibition I went to with Aunt Barbara, you know, I saw a +picture; it was an Italian scene, quite small, only a white +wall with a vine growing over the top, and a bit of blue sky, +and a beggar-boy asleep in the shade. One has seen the same +thing a hundred times before, but this one looked so bright, +so hot, so sunny, it gave me such a longing--such a longing----" + +She started up, and walked once or twice up and down the room. +In a moment she came back, and went on hurriedly:-- + +"You ask me if I have forgotten the past, Monsieur Horace. I +think of it always--always. I cannot like England, and English +life. Aunt Barbara will not let me speak of it, and I try to +forget it when she is by, but I cannot. Aunt Barbara is very +kind--kinder than you can imagine--it is not that; but I am +weary of it all so. When we walk in the Park, or sit here in +the evening, reading, I am thinking of all the beautiful +places there are in the world; of all the great things to be +done, of all that people are seeing, and doing, and enjoying. +I wish I could get away; I wish I could go anywhere--if I could +run away--I have a voice, I could sing, I could make money +enough to live upon. I think I should have done so, Monsieur +Horace, if I had not known you were coming home. Yes, if I +could run away somewhere, where I could breathe--be free----" + +"You must never do that," cried Graham hastily--he was standing +opposite to her now, with his back to the fire; "you don't +know what you are saying, Madelon. Promise me that you will +not think of it even." + +"I was talking nonsense, I don't suppose I meant it really," +she answered; "I could not do it, you know; but I promise all +the same, as you wish it." + +"And you always keep your promises, I know," said Graham, +smiling at her. + +"Ah, do not," she cried, suddenly covering her face with her +hands, "don't speak of that, Monsieur Horace--I know now--ah, +yes, I understand what you must have thought--but I did not +then; indeed I was only a child then, I did not know what I +was doing." + +"I don't think you are much more than a child now," said +Graham, taking one of her hands in his; "you are not much +altered, after all, Madelon." + +"Am I not?" she said. "But I have tried to improve; I have +worked very hard, I thought it would please you, and that you +would be glad to find me different--and I am different," she +added, with a sudden pathetic change in her voice. "I +understand a great deal now that I never thought of before; I +think of the old life, but it is not all with pleasure, and I +know why Aunt Barbara--and yet I do love it so much, and you +are a part of it, Monsieur Horace--when you speak your vice +seems to bring it back; and you call me Madelon--no one else +calls me Madelon--" Her voice broke down. + +"You are not happy, my dear little girl," said Graham, in his +old kind way, and trying to laugh off her emotion. "I shall +have to prescribe for you. What shall it be?--a course of balls +and theatres? What should Aunt Barbara say to that?" + +"She would not employ you for a doctor again, I think," said +Madelon, smiling. "No, I am not unhappy, Monsieur Horace--only +dull sometimes; and Aunt Barbara would say, that is on account +of my foreign education. I know she thinks all foreigners +frivolous and ill educated; I have heard her say so." + +When Madelon went to her room that night, she sat long over +her fire, pondering, girl-fashion, on her talk with Horace +Graham. The tones of his voice were still ringing in her ears; +she seemed still to see his kind look, to feel the friendly +grasp of his hand; and as she thought of him, her familiar +little bed-room, with its white curtained bed, and pictured +walls, and well-filled bookshelves, seemed to vanish, and she +saw herself again, a desolate child, sitting at the window of +the Paris hotel that hot August night her father died, weeping +behind the convent grating, crouched on the damp earth in the +dark avenues of the Promenade à Sept Heures. He had not +changed in all these years, she thought; he had come back kind +and good as ever, to be her friend and protector, as he had +always been; and he had said she was not altered much either, +and yet she was--ah! so altered from the unconscious, +unthinking, ignorant child he had left. She began to pace up +and down the room, where indeed she had spent many a wakeful +night before now, thinking, reflecting, reasoning, trying to +make out the clue to her old life--striving to reconcile it +with the new life around her--not too successfully on the +whole. How was it she had first discovered the want of harmony +between them? How was it she had first learnt to appreciate +the gulf that separated the experiences of her first years, +from the pure, peaceful life she was leading now? She could +hardly have told; no one had revealed it to her, no one had +spoken of it; but in a thousand unconsidered ways--in talk, in +books, in the unconscious influences of her every-day +surroundings, she had come to understand the true meaning of +her father's life, and to know that the memory of these early +days, that she had found so bright and happy, was something +never to be spoken of, to be hidden away--a disgrace to her, +even, perhaps. Aunt Barbara never would let her talk of them, +would have blotted them out, if possible; she had wondered why +at first--she understood well enough now, and resented the +enforced silence. She only cherished the thought of them, and +of her father the more; she only clung to her old love for him +the more desperately, because it must be in secret; and she +longed at times, with a sad, inexpressible yearning, for +something of the old brightness that had died out one mournful +night nearly eight years ago, when she had talked with her +father for the last time. + +"I think I must be a hundred years old," the girl would say to +herself sometimes, after returning from one of those little +parties of which she had spoken to Graham, where she had spent +the evening in the company of a dozen other young ladies of +her own age, all white muslin and sash-ribbons. "These girls, +how tiresome they all are!--how they chatter and laugh, and +what silly jokes they make! How can it amuse them? But they +are still in the school-room, as Aunt Barbara is always +telling me; and before that, they were all in the nursery, I +suppose; they do not know anything about life; their only +experiences concern nurses and governesses; whilst I--I--ah! is +it possible I am no older than they are?" + +She would lean her arms on the window-sill, and look out on +the midnight sky; the Abbey chimes would ring out over the +great city, overhead the stars would be shining perhaps, but +down below, between the trees in the Park, a great glare would +show where a million lamps were keeping watch till dawn. Shall +we blame our Madelon, if she sometimes looked away from the +stars, and down upon the glare that brightened far up into the +dark sky? All the young blood was throbbing and stirring in +her veins with such energy and vigour; the world was so wide, +so wide, the circle around her so narrow, and in that bright, +misty past, which, after all, she only half understood, were +to be found so many precedents for possibilities that might +still be hidden in the future. Shall we blame her, if, in her +youthful belief in happiness as the chief good, her youthful +impatience of peace, and calm, and rest, she longed with a +great longing for movement, change, excitement? Outside, as it +seemed to her, in her vague young imagination, such a free, +glorious life was going on--and she had no part in it! As she +stood at her window, the distant, ceaseless roar of the street +traffic would sound to her, in the stillness of the night, +like the beat of the great waves of life that for ever broke +and receded, before they could touch the weary spot where she +stood spell-bound in isolation. And through it all she said to +herself, "When Monsieur Horace comes home,"--and now Monsieur +Horace had come, would he do anything to help her? + +Graham, indeed, was willing enough to do what he could do for +her; and before he went to bed that night he wrote the +following letter to his sister, Mrs. Vavasour: + + +"My dear Georgie, + +"The butter and eggs arrived in safety, and Aunt Barbara +declared herself much pleased with your hamper of country +produce; but you will, no doubt, have heard from her before +this. She is looking wonderfully well, and not a day older +than when I left England. As for Madeleine Linders, I hardly +recognised her, she is so grown and so much improved. I find I +have at least a fortnight's business in London, and then I +will run down to you for another visit, if I may. Would it put +you out very much if I brought Madeleine with me for a time? I +should like you and her to know each other, and a change would +do her good. Aunt Barbara seems to have been giving her a +high-pressure education, with no fun to counterbalance it, and +the poor child finds it horribly dull work; and no wonder--I +know I should be sorry to go through it myself. A few weeks +with you and the children would brighten her up, and do her +all the good in the world. Let me know what you think of it. + +"Ever yours, + +"Horace Graham." + + +CHAPTER III. + +At Ashurst. + + +It was two days after Graham's talk with Madelon, that some +people of whom mention has once or twice been made in this +little history, were sitting chatting together as they drank +their afternoon tea in Mrs. Vavasour's drawing room at +Ashurst, a low, dark-panelled, chintz-furnished room, with an +ever-pervading scent of dried rose-leaves, and fresh flowers, +and with long windows opening on to the little lawn, all shut +in with trees and shrubberies. Mrs. Vavasour, who sat by the +fire knitting, was a calm, silent, gentle-looking woman, with +smooth, fair hair under her lace cap, and those pathetic lines +we sometimes see in the faces of those who through +circumstances, or natural temperament, have achieved +contentment through the disappointments of life, rather than +through its fulfilled hopes. She was the mother of many +children, of whom the elder half was already dispersed--one was +married, one dead, one in India, and one at sea; of those +still at home, the eldest, Madge, an honest, sturdy, square- +faced child of eleven or twelve, was in the room now, handing +about tea-cups and bread-and-butter. Dr. Vavasour was a big, +white-haired man, many years older than his wife, who had +married him when she was only seventeen; he was a clever man, +and a popular doctor, and having just come in from a twenty +miles' drive through March winds and rain, was standing with +his back to the mantelpiece, with an air of having thoroughly +earned warmth and repose. He was discussing parish matters +with Mr. Morris the curate, who was sitting at the small round +table where Maria Leslie, a tall, rosy, good-humoured-looking +young woman of five or six-and-twenty, was pouring out the +tea. + +"If the Rector is on your side, Morris," said the Doctor, "of +course I can say nothing; only I can tell you this, you will +lose me. I will have nothing to do with your new-fangled +notions; I have said my prayers after the same fashion for the +last sixty years, and as sure as you begin to sing-song them, +instead of reading them, I give up my pew, and go off to +church at C----, with my wife and family." + +"Not with Miss Leslie, I trust, Doctor," said the Curate; "we +could not get on without Miss Leslie, to lead the singing." + +"Miss Leslie does as she likes, and if she prefers sham +singing to honest reading, that's her concern, not mine. But I +tell you plainly, sir, I am an old-fashioned man, and have no +patience with all these changes. I have a great mind to see if +I can't get made churchwarden, and try the effect of a little +counter-irritation. Madge, my child, bring me a cup of tea." + +"I hope _you_ do not hold these opinions, Miss Leslie," said the +Curate, in an under tone to Maria Leslie; "we could not afford +to lose you from amongst us; you must not desert us." + +"Oh, no, I could not give up my Ashurst Sundays," answers +Maria, fidgeting amongst her cups and saucers; "I have too +many interests here, the schools, and the church--and the +preaching--not that the Rector's sermons are always very +lively; and then I like chanting and intoning." + +"And can you not convert the Doctor?" + +"I think that would be impossible; Dr. Vavasour always held to +his own opinions. Will you have some more tea?" + +"No more, thank you. I should have thought, Miss Leslie, you +might have converted any one; I cannot fancy any arguments you +might use being other than irresistible." + +"Mr. Morris," said Mrs. Vavasour, breaking in upon this little +tête-à-tête, "have you seen those curious spiders that my +brother brought home from South America? You might fetch Uncle +Horace's case, Madge, and show them to Mr. Morris; they are +worth looking at, I assure you." + +An hour later this little party had dispersed. Mr. Morris had +taken leave, Maria had gone to dress for dinner, Madge to her +school-room; Dr. Vavasour and his wife were left alone. + +"I had a letter from Horace this afternoon," she said, taking +it out of her pocket, and giving it to the Doctor to read. +"What do you say to our having Miss Linders here for a time? I +have often thought of asking her, and this will be a good +opportunity. Do you object?" + +"Not in the least, my dear; she is some sort of a cousin of +yours; is she not?" + +"A remote one," said Mrs. Vavasour, smiling. "However, I am +very willing to make her acquaintance, especially if the poor +girl wants a change. I agree with Horace, that a too prolonged +course of Aunt Barbara must be trying." + +"Why, I thought Mrs. Treherne was everything that was perfect +and admirable; she has never troubled us much with her +society, but I am sure I understood from you----" + +"So she is," said his wife, interrupting him; "that is just +it--Aunt Barbara is quite perfect, a kind of ideal gentlewoman +in cultivation, and refinement, and piety, and everything +else; but she is, without exception, the most alarming person +I know." + +"Well, let Miss Linders come by all means," repeated the +Doctor. "Isn't it nearly dinner-time? I am starving. I have +been twenty miles round the country to-day, and when I come in +I find that long-legged fellow Morris philandering away, and +have to listen to his vacuous nonsense for an hour. Whatever +brings him here so often? He ought to have something better to +do with his time than to be idling it away over afternoon tea. +Is he looking after Madge?" + +"Poor little Madge!" answered Mrs. Vavasour, laughing. "No, I +wish I could think Mr. Morris had nothing more serious on +hand: but it is much more likely to be Maria." + +"Maria!" cried the doctor; "is that what the man is up to? But +surely he knows she is engaged to Horace." + +"Indeed I much doubt it," Mrs. Vavasour answered; "the +engagement was to be a secret, and I am not aware that any one +knows of it but ourselves, and Aunt Barbara--and Miss Linders +probably--and if Maria will not enlighten Mr. Morris as to how +matters stand, I do not see what any one else can do." + +"Then Molly is very much to blame; and I have a great mind to +tell her so." + +"I think you had better let things take their own course," +said Mrs. Vavasour. "Maria is quite old enough to know what +she is about, and Horace will be down here in a few days to +look after his own interests." + +"Well, but--bless my soul!" cried the doctor, "I can't make it +out at all. Do you mean that Maria is allowing this fellow +Morris's attention? I thought she and Graham were devoted to +each other, and had been for the last five years?" + +"I think they thought they were, five years ago, when Horace, +fresh home from the Crimea, was all the heroes in the world in +Molly's eyes; and he was just in the mood to fall in love with +the first pretty bright girl he saw. But all that was over +long ago, and in these five years they have grown utterly +apart." + +"Then the sooner they grow together again the better," said +the Doctor. + +"I don't believe it is possible," answered his wife. "I don't +see how they can ever pull together; they have different +tastes, different aims, different ideas on every conceivable +subject. I am very fond of Molly; she is an excellent, good +girl in her way, but it is not the way that will fit her to +become Horace's wife. She will weary him, and he will--not +neglect her, he would never be unkind to a woman--but he will +not be the husband she deserves to have. For my part, I think +it will be a thousand pities if a mistaken sense of honour +makes them hold to their engagement." + +"That may be all very well for Horace," said the Doctor; "but +what about Molly? When a girl has been looking forward to +marrying and having a house of her own, it is not so pleasant +for her to have all her prospects destroyed." + +"Then she can marry Mr. Norris, if she pleases." + +"Indeed! Well, if Maria's mistaken sense of honour does not +stand in the way of a flirtation with Morris, I shall be much +astonished if Horace's does not make itself felt one way or +another. However, it is no concern of mine; manage it your own +way." + +"Indeed I have no intention of interfering," said Mrs. +Vavasour. "I can imagine nothing more useless, especially as +Horace will be here in less than a fortnight. But I will write +to-night to Aunt Barbara about Miss Linders." + +"Oh, yes, ask Miss Linders down here, by all means; and if +Morris would only fall in love with her, that might settle all +difficulties; but I suppose there is not much chance of that." +And so saying, the Doctor went to dress for dinner. + +It was a new world, this, in which our Madelon found herself, +after the still leisure of her home in Cornwall, with its +outlook on rocks, and sea, and sky, after the unbroken +regularity of her London life, with its ever-recurring round +of fixed employments--a new world, this sheltered English +village, lying amongst woods, and fields, and pastures, +divided by trim brown hedges, whose every twig was studded +with red March buds, and beneath which late March primroses +were blowing--and a new world, too, the varied life of this +bright, cheerful house, where people were for ever coming and +going, and where children's footsteps were pattering, and +children's voices and laughter ringing, all day long. + +It was with the children especially that Madelon made friends +in the early days of her visit. From Mrs. Vavasour she had the +kindliest welcome; but the mistress of this busy household had +a thousand things to attend to, that left her but little time +to bestow on her guest. She had deputed Maria Leslie to +entertain Madelon; but Maria also had her own business--school- +teaching, cottage-visiting in the village; nor, in truth, even +when the two were in each other's society, did they find much +to say to each other. It had never been a secret to Madelon +that Graham was engaged to Maria Leslie, and the girl had +looked forward, perhaps, to making friends with the woman who +was accounted worthy of the honour of being Monsieur Horace's +wife; but the very first day she had turned away disappointed. +There was, both instinctively felt, no common ground on which +they could meet and speak a common language intelligible to +both; memories, interests, tastes, all lay too wide apart; and +as for those larger human sympathies which, wider and deeper +than language can express, make themselves felt and understood +without its medium, something forbade their touching upon them +at all. There was, from the first, a certain coolness and +absence of friendliness in Maria's manner, which was quite at +variance with her usual good-humoured amiability, and which +Madelon felt, but did not understand. She could not guess that +it was the expression of a vague jealousy in Maria's mind, +excited by Madelon's beauty and graciousness of air and +manner, and by a knowledge of her past relations with Horace +Graham; Maria would hardly have acknowledge it to herself, but +it raised an impassable barrier between these two. + +As for Graham, no one saw much of him. He was shut up all day +in his brother-in-law's study, writing, copying notes, sorting +and arranging specimens, preparing the book that was to come +out in the course of the next season; and, when he did appear, +at breakfast or dinner, he was apt to be silent and moody, +rarely exchanging more than a few words with any one. Madelon +wondered sometimes at this taciturn Monsieur Horace, so +different from the one she had always known; though, indeed, +in speaking to her the old kindly light would always come back +to his eyes, the old friendly tones to his voice. But, like +every one else, she saw but little of him; and, in fact, +Graham in these days, a grim, melancholy, silent man, brooding +over his own thoughts, his own hopes, plans, disappointments +perhaps, was no very lively addition to a family party. + +There was one small person, however, whom our Madelon at once +inspired with a quite unbounded admiration for her. A few +evenings after her arrival, some one knocked at her bedroom +door as she was dressing for dinner; she opened it, and there +stood Madge in the passage, her hands full of red and white +daisies. + +"I have brought you some flowers, Cousin Madelon," said the +child shyly. + +"They are beautiful," said Madelon, taking them from her; +"won't you come in? I will put some of them in my hair." + +She sat down before the looking-glass, and began arranging +them in her hair, whilst Madge stood and watched her with +wide-open eyes. + +"They are out of my own garden," she said presently. + +"I might have guessed that, they are so pretty," said Madelon, +turning round and smiling at her; it was in the girl's nature +to make these little gracious speeches, which came to her more +readily than ordinary words of thanks. "I like them very +much," she went on; "they remind me of some that grew in the +convent garden." + +"Were you ever in a convent?" asked Madge, with a certain awe. + +"Yes, for two years, when I was about as old as you are." + +"And were there any nuns there?" asked Madge, whose ideas were +not enlarged, and who looked upon a nun as the embodiment of +much romance. + +"To be sure," answered Madelon, rather amused; "they were all +nuns, except some little girls who came every day to be taught +by them." + +"Then you were at school there?" said Madge. + +"Not exactly; my aunt was the--what do you call it?--Lady +Superior of the convent; that was why I went there." + +"And did you like it?" inquired Madge, who was apparently of +opinion that such an opportunity for gaining exceptional +information should not be wasted. + +"I don't know," answered Madelon; "I don't think I did at the +time; I used to find it very dull, and I often longed to be +away. But the nuns were very kind to me; and it is pleasant to +look back upon, so quiet and peaceful. I think we don't always +know when and where we are happy," she added, with a little +sigh. + +She sat leaning against the table, her head resting on her +hand, thinking over the past--as she was for ever thinking of +the past now, poor child! How sad, how weary they had been, +those years in the convent--yes, she knew that she had found +them so--and yet how peaceful, how innocent, how sheltered! +Reading her past life in the new light that every day made its +shadows darker, she knew that those years were the only ones +of her childhood which she could look back upon, without the +sudden pang that would come with the memory of those others +which she had found so happy then, but which she knew now +were--what? Ah, something so different from what she had once +imagined! But as for those days at the convent, they came back +to her, softened by the kindly haze of time, with the +strangest sense of restfulness and security, utterly at +variance, one would say, with the restless longing with which +she looked out on the world of action--and yet not wholly +inconsistent with it perhaps, after all. Did she indeed know +when and where she would be happy? + +Madge, meanwhile, stood and looked at her. She had fairly +fallen in love with this new cousin of hers; her beauty, and +gracious ways, her foreign accent, and now her experiences of +nuns and convents had come like a revelation to the little +English girl in her downright, everyday life. With a comical +incongruity, she could compare her in her own mind to nothing +but an enchanted princess in some fairy tale; and she stood +gazing first at her and then at the glass, where soft wavy +brown hair and red and white daisies were reflected. + +"What are you thinking of?" said Madelon, looking up suddenly. + +"I--I don't know," replied Madge, quite taken aback, colouring +and stammering; and then, as if she could not help it--"Oh! +Cousin Madelon, you are so pretty." + +"It is very pretty of you to say so," said Madelon, laughing +and blushing too a little; then holding out both hands she +drew Madge towards her, and kissed her on her two cheeks. "I +think you and I will be great friends; will we not?" she said. + +"Yes," says unresponsive Madge shortly, looking down and +twisting her fingers in her awkward English fashion. + +"I would like you to be fond of me," continued Madelon, "for I +think I shall love you very much; and I like you to call me +Madelon--nobody else calls me so--except--except your Uncle +Horace." + +"It was Uncle Horace told me to," cried Madge. "I asked him +what I should call you, and he said he thought Cousin Madelon +would do." + +"I think it will do very well," said Madelon, rising. "To- +morrow will you take me to your garden? I should like to see +your daisies growing." + +After this Madge and Madelon became great friends; and when +the former was at her lessons, there was a nurseryfull of +younger children to pet and play with, if Madelon felt so +disposed. Sometimes in the morning, when she was sitting alone +in the drawing-room, little feet would go scampering along the +floor upstairs, shrill little voices would make themselves +heard from above, and then Madelon, throwing down book or +work, would run up to the big nursery, where, whilst the two +elder children were in the school-room with their mother, +three round, rosy children kept up a perpetual uproar. It was +quite a new sensation to our lonely Madelon to have these +small things to caress, and romp with, and fondle, and she +felt that it was a moment of triumph when they had learnt to +greet her entrance with a shout of joy. Down on the floor she +would go, and be surrounded in a moment with petitions for a +game, a story, a ride. + +Graham came up one day in the midst of a most uproarious romp. +"Nurse," he said, putting his head in at the door, "I do wish +you would keep these children quiet--" and stopped as suddenly +as the noise had stopped at his appearance. Madelon, all +blushing and confused, was standing with the youngest boy +riding on her back, whilst the little girls, Lina and Kate, +were holding on to her skirts behind; they had pulled down all +her hair, and it was hanging in loose waves over her +shoulders. + +"I beg your pardon, Madelon," said Graham, coming in, and +smiling at her confusion. "I had no idea that you were here, +and the instigator of all this uproar; where is nurse? I shall +have to ask her to keep you all in order together." + +"Nurse has gone downstairs to do some ironing," says Lina. +"Oh, Uncle Horace, we were having such fun with Cousin +Madelon." + +"Uncle Horace, will you give me a ride? You give better rides +than Cousin Madelon," cries Jack, slipping down on to the +ground. + +"Uncle Horace, Cousin Madelon has been telling us about South +America, and we have been hunting buffaloes." + +"I am sorry," says Madelon; "I quite forgot how busy you are, +Monsieur Horace, and that you could hear all our noise. We +will be quieter for the future, and not hunt buffaloes just +over your head." + +He looked at her without answering; there was a flush on her +pale cheeks under the shadow of the heavy waves of hair, a +smile in her eyes as she looked at him with one of her old, +shy, childish glances, as if not quite sure how he would take +her apology. He could not help smiling in answer, then laughed +outright, and turned away abruptly. + +"Come here, then Jack, and I will give you a ride," he said, +lifting the boy on to his shoulder. "This is the way we hunt +buffaloes." + +Half-an-hour later, Maria, just come in from the village, +looked into the nursery, attracted by the shouts and laughter. +"It is really very odd," she said afterwards to Mrs. Vavasour, +in a somewhat aggrieved tone, "that when Horace always +declares he cannot find time to walk with me, or even to talk +to me, he should spend half his morning romping with the +children in the nursery." And Mrs. Vavasour, who had also gone +upstairs with Madge and Harry when they had finished their +lessons, had not much to say in answer. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Ich kann nicht hin! + + +One day, Madelon said to Mrs. Vavasour, "Please let me have +all the children for a walk this afternoon." + +"What, all! my dear girl," said Mrs. Vavasour; "you don't know +what you are undertaking." + +"Oh, yes, I do," Madelon answered, smiling; "they will be very +good, I know, and Madge will help me." + +So they all set out for their walk, through the garden, and +out at the gate that led at once into the fields which +stretched beyond. They walked one by one along the narrow +track between the springing corn, a little flock of brown- +holland children, and Madelon last of all, in her fresh grey +spring dress. Harry had a drum, and marched on in front, +drubbing with all his might; and Jack followed, brandishing a +sword, and blowing a tin trumpet. Madge would have stopped +this horrible din, which indeed scared away the birds to right +and left, but Madelon only laughed and said she liked it. + +Graham, coming across the fields in another direction, saw the +little procession advancing towards him, and waited on the +other side of a stile till it should come up. The children +tumbled joyfully over into Uncle Horace's arms, and were at +once ready with a hundred plans for profiting by the unwonted +pleasure of having him for a companion in their walk; but he +distinctly declined all their propositions, and sending them +on in front with Madge, walked along at Madelon's side. + +"Why do you plague yourself with all these children," he said, +"instead of taking a peaceable walk in peaceable society?" + +"I like the children," she answered, "and I should have found +no society but my own this afternoon, for Mrs. Vavasour was +going to pay visits, she said, and Maria went out directly +after lunch." + +"And you think your own society would have been less peaceable +than that of these noisy little ruffians?" + +"I don't know," she answered; "I like walking by myself very +much sometimes, but I like the children, too, and Madge and I +are great friends." + +"I think Madge shows her sense--she and I are great friends, +too," said Graham, laughing. + +"Madge thinks there is no one in the world like Uncle Horace-- +she is always talking about you," said Madelon, shyly. + +"That is strange--to me she is always talking about you--she +looks upon you as a sort of fairy princess, I believe, who has +lived in a charmed world as strange to her as any she reads +about in story-books. Madge's experiences are limited, and it +does not take much to set her little brain working. If Maria +and I are abroad next winter, I think I must get Georgie to +spare her to me for a time." + +"Are you going abroad again?" said Madelon; and as she asked +the question, a chill shadow seemed to fall upon the bright +spring landscape. + +"It is possible-- I have heard of an opening." + +He paused for a moment, and then went on,-- + +"I don't know why I should not tell you all about it, Madelon, +though I have said nothing about it to any one yet--but it will +be no secret. I had a letter this morning telling me that +there is an opening for a physician at L----, that small place +on the Mediterranean, you know, that has come so much into +fashion lately as a winter place for invalids. Dr. B----, an old +friend of mine, who is there now, is going to leave it, and he +has written to give me the first offer of being his +successor." + +"And shall you go?" asked Madelon. + +"Well, I should like it well enough for a good many reasons, +for the next two or three years, at any rate. It is a lovely +place, a good climate, and I should not feel myself tied down +if anything else turned up that suited me better; but there +are other considerations--in fact, I cannot decide without +thinking it well over." + +"But at any rate, you would not go there till next winter, +would you?" said Madelon, with a tremor in her voice which she +vainly tried to conceal. + +"Not to stop; but if I accept this offer, I should go out +immediately for a week or two, so as to get introduced to B---- +'s patients before they leave. A good many will be returning +next winter probably, and it would be as well for me, as a +matter of business, to make their acquaintance; you +understand?" + +"Yes, I understand--but then you would have to go at once, +Monsieur Horace, for it is already April, and the weather is +so warm that people will be coming away. I remember how they +used to fly from Nice and Florence--every one that we knew as +soon as it began to get hot." + +"Yes, I have not much time to lose, and if I decide to go at +all, I shall start at once. But it is very doubtful." + +They had reached the end of the field whilst talking; a heavy +gate separated it from a lane beyond, and the children, unable +to open it, had dispersed here and there along the bank, +hunting for primroses. + +"Shall we go on?" said Graham, "or would you like to turn back +now? You look tired." + +Madelon did not answer; what was the use of going on? What did +it matter? Everything came to the same end at last--a sense of +utter discouragement and weariness had seized her, and she +stood leaning against the gate, staring blankly down the road +before her. There were about twenty yards of shady, grassy +lane, and then it was divided by a cross-road, with a cottage +standing at one of the angles. Graham, who was looking at +Madelon, saw her face change suddenly. + +"Why, there are----" she began, and then stopped abruptly, +colouring with confusion. + +Graham looked; two figures had just appeared from one of the +cross-roads, and walking slowly forward, had paused in front +of the cottage; they were Mr. Morris the curate and Maria +Leslie. The clergyman stood with his back to Graham and +Madelon, but they could see Maria with her handkerchief to her +eyes, apparently weeping bitterly. The curate was holding one +of her hands in both his, and so they stood together for a +moment, till he raised it to his lips. Then she pulled it away +vehemently, and burying her face completely in her +handkerchief, hurried off in a direction opposite to that by +which she had come. Mr. Morris stood gazing after her for a +moment, and then he also disappeared within the cottage. + +This little scene passed so rapidly, that the two looking on +had hardly time to realize that they were looking on, before +it was all over. There was a sort of pause. Madelon gave one +glance to Graham, and turned away--then the children came +running up with their primroses. "Here are some for you, Uncle +Horace; Cousin Madelon, please may I put some in your hat?" + +Madelon took off her hat, and stooped down to help Madge +arrange the flowers; she would not try to understand the +meaning of what they had just witnessed, nor to interpret +Monsieur Horace's look. + +"You are going home," said Graham, unfastening the gate +without looking at her; "then we part company here; I have to +go further." And without another word he strode off, leaving +the children disconcerted and rebellious at this abrupt +termination of their walk. + +"Madge," said Madelon, caressing the little square perplexed +face, "you won't mind having a short walk to-day, will you? +Let us go home now, and we will play in the garden till your +tea-time;" and wise little Madge agreed without further demur. + +It was on the evening of the same day that Madelon, coming in +from the garden where she had been wandering alone in the +twilight, found Horace discussing his plans with Mrs. +Vavasour, who was making tea. She would have gone away again, +but Graham called her back, and went on talking to his sister. + +"I must send an answer as soon as possible," he was saying; "I +can't keep B---- waiting for a month while I am making up my +mind; I will speak to Maria this evening." + +"It would be as well," answered Mrs. Vavasour; "she ought to +be told at once. But must an answer be sent immediately? I +think you will see that it will be useless to hurry Maria for +a decision; she will want time for consideration." + +"She shall have any reasonable time," he replied shortly; "but +that is why I shall speak at once--she can think it over." + +"And if you have in a measure made up your mind," continued +her sister, "she will be better pleased, I am sure; she will +wish in some sort to be guided by your wishes." + +"That is just what I am anxious to avoid," he answered +impatiently. "I do not desire to influence her in any way; I +would not for the world that she should make any sacrifice on +my account, and then be miserable for ever after." + +"My dear Horace, you do not suppose Maria----" + +"My dear Georgie, I know what Maria is, and you must allow me +to take my own way." + +He began to stride up and down the room with his hands in his +pockets, Madelon watching him in silence. Presently he began +again:-- + +"I know what Molly is; if she imagined that I wanted to go to +this place, she would say 'Go,' without thinking of herself +for a moment; but ten to one, when we got there, she would be +for ever regretting England, and hating the society, and the +mode of life, and everything, and everybody; and it would be +very natural--she has never been abroad, and knows nothing of +foreign life and manners." + +"Then you do not mean to go?" said Mrs. Vavasour. + +"I have not said so," he answered--"I shall put the matter +calmly before Maria; tell her what I think are the reasons for +and against, and leave her to decide. I suppose she cannot +complain of that." + +"I do not imagine for a moment she will complain," replied +Mrs. Vavasour; "but I think she will want your judgment to +help her." + +He only muttered something in answer to this; and Madelon +asked in a low voice, "Is it about going abroad that Monsieur +Horace is doubting?" + +"Yes, he told you about it, did he not?" said Mrs. Vavasour. +"I hope he may decide to go--it would be the very thing for +him." + +"Do you think so?" said Graham, who had overheard this last +remark; and turning to Madelon with rather a melancholy smile, +"Listen to the description, Madelon, and tell me what you +think of it--a little town on the shores of the Mediterranean, +sheltered on every side by hills, so that all the winter is +spring, and flowers bloom all the year round. The gardens are +full of pomegranate and orange trees, and the hills are +terraced with vineyards, and covered with olives and chestnuts +everywhere else. Do you think that that sounds inviting?" + +"A great deal too good to be true," said Mrs. Vavasour, +laughing. "I never believe thoroughly in these earthly +paradises." But Madelon did not laugh; her eyes lighted up, +her cheeks glowed. + +"Ah!" she cried, "I can imagine all that. I believe in such +places; they exist somewhere in the world, but one cannot get +to them." + +"One can sometimes," said Graham; "for perhaps Maria and I are +going to this one, and then you had better become an invalid +as fast as possible, Madelon, that Aunt Barbara may bring you +there too." + +"And you are really going?" she asked, with a sad sick feeling +at her heart. + +"Perhaps," he said, "we shall see what Maria says. I am afraid +she may not take the same view of it all that you do;" and +Maria coming in at that moment, the conversation dropped. + +After tea they were all sitting, as usual, in the drawing- +room; a wood fire burnt and crackled on the low hearth, but +the evening was warm, and the long windows were open to the +lawn, where Graham was walking up and down, smoking a pipe. +Dr. Vavasour was dozing in an arm-chair, Mrs. Vavasour sat a +the table stitching, Maria in the shade knitting cotton socks, +and Madelon was leaning back in her chair, the lamplight +falling on her brown hair and white dress, a piece of +embroidery between her fingers, but her hands lying in her +lap, and such sad thoughts in her poor little weary head. So +this was the end of it all? Monsieur Horace was going to be +married, and then live abroad--yes, she was certain he would +live abroad--who would stay in England if they could help it?-- +and she would never, never see him again! The one thought +revolved in her brain with a sort of dull weariness, which +prevented her seizing more than half its meaning, but which +only required a touch to startle it into acutest pain. No one +spoke or moved, and this oppressive silence of a room full of +people seemed to perplex her as with a sense of unreality, and +was more distracting for the moment than would have been the +confusion of a dozen tongues around her. + +Presently, however, Graham came in from the garden, and walked +straight up to her. + +"Will you not sing something?" he said. + +She rose at once without speaking or raising her eyes, and +went to the piano. + +"What shall I sing?" she said then, turning over her music. + +"Anything--it does not matter," said Graham, who had followed +her; "never mind your music--sing the first thing that comes +into your head." + +She considered a moment, and then began. + +When Madelon sang, her hearers could not choose but listen; in +other matters she had very sufficient abilities, but in +singing she rose to genius. Gifted by nature with a superb +voice, an exceptional musical talent, these had been carefully +cultivated during the last two or three years, and the result +was an art that was no art, a noble and simple style, which +gave an added intensity to her natural powers of expression, +and forbade every suspicion of affectation. As she sang now, +the Doctor roused up from his doze, and Mrs. Vavasour dropped +her work; only Maria Leslie, sitting in the shadow of the +window-curtain, knitted on with increased assiduity. + +It was a German song, Schumann's "Sehnsucht," that she was +singing; it was the first that had come to her mind at +Graham's bidding, and, still preoccupied, she began it almost +without thought of the words and sentiment; but she had not +sung two lines, when some hidden emotion made itself felt in +her face with a quite irresistible enthusiasm and pathos. +These were the words:-- + + + "Ich blick' im mein Herz, und ich blick' in die Welt, + Bis vom schwimmenden Auge die Thräne mir fällt: + Wohl leuchtet die Ferne mit goldenem Licht, + Doch hält mich der Nord, ich erreiche sie nicht. + O die Schranken so eng, und die Welt so weit! + Und so flüchtig die Zeit, und so flüchtig die Zeit. + + Ich weiss ein Land, wo aus sonnigem Grün + Um versunkene Temple die Trauben blühn, + Wo die purpurne Woge das Ufer besaümt, + Und von kommenden Sängern der Lorbeer träumt; + Fern lockt es und winkt dem verlangenden Sinn, + Und ich kann nicht hin--kann nicht hin!" + + +As Madelon sang these last words she looked up, and her eyes +met Graham's, as he stood leaning against the piano, gazing at +her face. She blushed scarlet, and stopped suddenly. + +"I--I don't think I can sing any more," she said, letting her +hands fall from the keys into her lap. She turned round, and +saw Maria looking at her also, watching her and Graham +perhaps. "How hot it is!" she cried, pushing the hair off her +forehead with a little impatient gesture. "_J'étouffe ici!_" And +she jumped up quickly and ran out of the room. + +Out of the atmosphere of love, and suspicion, and jealousy +that was stifling her, into the hall, up the shallow staircase +to the long matted passage which ran the length of the house, +the bed-rooms opening on to it on either side. Madelon paced +it rapidly for some minutes, then opened a door at the end, +and entered the nursery. Nothing stifling here; a large, cool, +airy room, with white blinds drawn down, subduing the full +moonlight to a soft gloom, in which one could discern two +little beds, each with its small occupant, whose regular +breathing told that they had done, for ever, with the cares +and sorrows of at least that day. + +Madelon stood looking at them, the excitement that had made +her cheeks burn, and her pulses throb, subsiding gradually in +presence of this subdued, unconscious life. She smoothed the +sheets and counterpane of one little sleeper, who, with bare +limbs tossed about, was lying right across the bed, all the +careful tuckings-up wofully disarranged; and then, passing on, +went into an inner room, that opened out of the larger +nursery. The window was open here to the cool, grey sky, the +moonlight shining in on the white curtains, the little white +bed at the further end. + +"Is that you, Cousin Madelon?" says Madge, raising a brown, +shaggy head as Madelon softly opened the door. "Won't you come +in, please? I am not asleep." + +Madelon came in, and went to the window. It looked down upon +the lawn, with the still tree-shadows lying across it, and +some other shadows that were not still--those of two people +walking up and down, talking earnestly. She could distinguish +Monsieur Horace's voice, and then Maria's in answer, and then +Monsieur Horace again, and a sudden pang seemed to seize the +poor child's heart, and hold it tight in its grasp. How happy +they were, those two, talking together down there, whilst she +was all alone up her, looking on! + +"Do come here, Cousin Madelon," said Madge's impatient voice +from the bed. "I want you to tuck me up, and give me a kiss." + +Madelon went up to the bed, and kneeling down by it, laid her +cheek wearily by Madge's on the pillow. The child passed her +arm round her neck, and hugged her tight, and the innocent, +loving caress soothed the girl's sore heart, for the moment, +more than anything else could have done. + +"Little Madge," she said, drawing the child closer to her, as +if the pressure of the little, soft, warm limbs had power to +stop the aching at her heart. "Oh! Madge, I wish I were no +bigger and no older than you. One is happier so." + +"Do you?" said Madge, wondering. "I should like to be grown- +up, as tall and beautiful as you are, and to sing like you. +You were singing just now downstairs; I opened the window, and +could hear you quite plainly. Why did you stop so soon?" + +"It was hot," said Madelon, her face flushing up again at the +recollection; "and one is not always in the mood for singing, +you know, Madge." + +"Ah, but do sing me just one song, now, Cousin Madelon--just +here, before I go to sleep." + +Still kneeling, with Madge's head nestling on her shoulder, +Madelon began to sing a little half-gay, half-melancholy +French romance of many verses. The tune seemed to grow more +and more plaintive as it went on, a pathetic, monotonous +chant, rising and falling. Before it was ended, Madge's hold +had relaxed, her eyes were closed--she was sound asleep for the +night. Madelon rose gently, kissed the honest, rosy, freckled +face; and then, as if drawn by some invincible attraction, +went back to the window. + +Yes; they were still there, those two, not walking up and down +now, but standing under the big tree at the end of the lawn +still talking, as she could see by their gestures. "Ah, how +happy they are!" thinks our Madelon again, forgetting the +scene of the afternoon, her doubts, her half-formed +suspicions--how happy they must be, Monsieur Horace, who loves +Maria, Maria who is loved by Monsieur Horace, whilst she--why, +it is she who loves Monsieur Horace, who has loved him since +he rescued her, a little child, from loneliness and despair-- +she, who for all these years has had but one thought, Monsieur +Horace, one object, Monsieur Horace, and who sees herself now +shut out from such a bright, gleaming paradise, into such +shivering outer darkness. Ah, she loved him--she loved him--she +owned it to herself now, with a sudden burst of passion--and he +was going away; he had no thought of her; his path in life lay +along one road, and hers along another--a road how blank, how +dreary, wrapped in what grey, unswerving mists. + +"Ah, why must I live? Oh! that I could die--if I could only +die!" cries the poor child passionately in her thoughts, +stretching out her hands in her young impatience of life and +suffering. "I love him--is it wrong? How can I help it? I loved +him before I knew what it meant, I never knew till----" + +She stopped suddenly, with a blush that seemed to set her +cheeks all a-flame--she had never known till half-an-hour ago, +when she had looked up and met his eyes for that one moment. +Ah! why had he looked at her so? And she--oh, merciful heavens! +had she betrayed herself? At the very thought Madelon started +as if she had been stung. She turned from the window, she +covered her face with her hands, and escaping swiftly, she +fled to her own room, and throwing herself on the bed, buried +her face in the pillow, to wrestle through her poor little +tragedy of love, and self-consciousness, and despair. + +And while Madelon is crying her heart out upstairs, this is +what has been going on below. There had been an uncomfortable +pause in the sitting-room after her swift retreat; Mrs. +Vavasour neither moved nor spoke, Maria knitted diligently, +and Graham stood gloomily staring down on the music-stool +where Madelon had sat and sung, and looked up at him with that +sudden gleam in her eyes, till, rousing himself, he walked +through the open window, into the garden, across the lawn, to +the shrubbery. He stood leaning over the little gate at the +end of the path, looking over the broad moonlit field, where +the scattered bushes cast strange fantastic shadows, and for +the first time he admitted to himself that he had made a +great, a terrible mistake in life, and he hated himself for +the admission. What indeed were faith, and loyalty, and honour +worth, if they could not keep him true to the girl whose love +he had won five years ago, and to whom he was a thousand times +pledged by every loving promise, every word of affection that +had once passed between them? And yet, was this Maria to whom +he had come back, this Maria so cold and indifferent, so alien +from him in tastes, ideas, sympathies, was she indeed the very +woman who had once won his heart, whom he had chosen as his +life-long companion? How had it all been? He looked back into +the past, to the first days after his return from the Crimea, +when, wounded and helpless, worn out with toil and fever, he +had come back to be tended by Englishwomen in an English home. +A vision rose before him of a blooming girl with blue ribbons +that matched blue eyes, who came and went about him softly +through the long spring and summer days, arranging his +cushions, fetching his books, and reading to him by the hour +in gentle, unvarying tones. Yes, he understood well enough how +it had all come to pass; but those days had gone by, and the +Maria who had brightened them, was not she gone also? or +rather, had she ever existed except in the eyes that had +invested the kind girl-nurse with every perfection? And now +what remained? Graham groaned as he bowed his head upon his +crossed arms, and suddenly another vision flitted before him--a +pale face, a slender form, a pair of brown eyes that seemed to +grow out of the twilight, and look at him with a child's +affection, a woman's passion--Graham was no boy, to be tossed +about on the tempestuous waves of a first love; he had long +held that there were things in life, to which love and +courtship, marrying and giving in marriage, might be looked +upon as quite subordinate--and yet he felt, at that moment, as +if life itself would be a cheap exchange for one touch of the +small hand that had clung so confidingly to his, years ago, +for one more look into the eyes that had met his, scarcely ten +minutes since. + +Such a mood could not long endure in a man of Graham's stamp +and habit of mind; and in a moment he had roused himself, and +begun to walk slowly back towards the house. What he might +feel could have no practical bearing on the matter one way or +another, and feeling might therefore as well be put out of +sight. He was bound to Maria by every tie of honour, and he +was no man to break those ties--if she were disposed to hold by +them. But was she indeed? Graham had not been blind to what +had been going on round him during the last few weeks, and he +felt that some explanation with Maria was due. Well, there +should be an explanation, and if he found that she was still +willing to hold to their engagement--why, then they would be +married. + +He went up to Maria, sitting at the window. + +"It _is_ very warm in-doors," he said; "suppose you come and +take a turn in the garden." + +"As you like," she answered; "I don't find it particularly +warm;" but she laid down her work at once, and joined him in +the garden. + +They took two or three turns up and down the lawn in silence, +till at last Graham, trying to speak cheerfully, said, "I had +a letter this morning, Maria, that I want to consult you +about, as it concerns you as well as me." + +"Does it?" she said indifferently. "Well?" + +"There is an opening for a physician at that winter place for +invalids on the Mediterranean," said Graham, explaining, "and +I have the offer of it; it would suit me very well, for the +next year or two at any rate, and would enable us to marry at +once; but my doubt, Maria, is, whether you would not object to +leaving England." + +"I don't see what that has to do with it," answered Maria, +shortly and coldly. "Of course you will do what you think +best." + +"What I might think best in the abstract, Maria, is not the +point; what I want to ascertain are your wishes in the +matter." + +"I should have thought you might have known already," she +replied; "you are very well aware that, for years, it has been +my wish that you should have this partnership with Dr. +Vavasour." + +"I am aware of it," he said, and paused. "Listen to me, +Maria," he continued in a moment, "let me put the case fairly +before you. If I accept Dr. Vavasour's offer, it closes, so to +speak, my career. I shall be bound down to this country +practice for life probably, for years at any rate, since, +after making the arrangement, I could not feel justified in +altering it again during Dr. Vavasour's lifetime. If, on the +other hand, I go to L----, I shall be bound to no one, and free +to take anything else that might suit me better." + +"Go, then!" cried Maria, hastily, "I will not stand in your +way. I should have thought, Horace, that after all these +years, you would have been glad to look forward to a quiet +home and a settled life; but I see it is different, so go to +L----, and never mind me. If it becomes a question between me +and your career, I should think your choice would not be a +difficult one." + +Her voice began to tremble, but she went on vehemently: "Why +do you ask my opinion at all? It can make no difference to +you; you have gone your own way these five years past without +much regard for my wishes, one way or another; and since your +return home, you have hardly spoken to me, much less consulted +me----" + +It was at that moment that Madelon, kneeling at Madge's +bedside, began to sing, and the sound of her voice ringing +through the open window of her little upper room, Graham +involuntarily stopped, and lost the thread of Maria's speech. +She perceived it at once. + +"Ah! yes, that is it," she cried passionately, hardly knowing +what she said. "Do you think I do not see, that I cannot +understand? Do I not know who it is you care to listen to now, +to talk to, to consult? Ask her what she thinks, ask +Madeleine's advice----" + +"Be silent!" cried Horace, with sudden anger, "I will not have +Madeleine's name mentioned between us in that way. Forgive me, +Maria," he went on, more calmly, "but this sort of talk is +useless; though, if I cared to recriminate, I might perhaps +ask you, how it happens that Mr. Morris comes here so +frequently." + +"Mr. Morris!" faltered Maria; "who told you----" + +Her momentary indignation melted into tears and sobs; she +turned, and put out her hand to Graham, as they stood together +under the big plane-tree. + +"Oh, Horace," she said, "I am very unhappy, and if you blame +me, I cannot help it--I daresay I deserve it." + +"My poor Molly," he answered, taking her hand in his. "Why +should I blame you? and why are you unhappy? Let me help you-- +unless, indeed, I am altogether the cause of it all." + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Vavasour, left all alone in the sitting-room, +stitched away in the lamplight, looking out from time to time +into the dewy garden, where the two figures were pacing up and +down. The murmur of their voices reached her, and presently +she also heard Madelon singing up above, and then the two went +away out of hearing, and she could distinguish nothing in the +silence but the rustling of her own work and the soft, +inarticulate sounds of the early night. She could guess pretty +well what the result of that talk would be. That very +afternoon, going to Maria's room on her return home, she had +found the girl in an agony of weeping, and had learnt from her +that Mr. Morris had just made her an offer, and that she had +been obliged to tell him that she was already engaged--and 'Oh! +what could Mr. Morris think of her, and what would Horace +think?' cried poor Maria, filled with remorse. And Mr. Morris +cared for her so much; he had been so miserable when she had +told him they must part, and said she was the only woman he +had seen that he could care for; and that was the only +reproach he had uttered, though she had treated him so badly. +And Horace did not care for her one bit now--she could see it, +she knew it, he was tired of her, and she was not clever +enough for him, and would never make him a good wife. All this +our little-reticent Maria had sobbed out in answer to Mrs. +Vavasour's sympathising questions, with many entreaties to +know what she had better do next. Mrs. Vavasour could only +advise her to say to Horace just what she had said to her, and +she had sufficient confidence in Maria's courage and good +sense to trust that she would do so now, when matters had +evidently come to a crisis. But it was with the keenest +interest she awaited the end of their conversation. + +She had not to wait very long. In a few minutes she saw Maria +coming quickly across the lawn; she passed through the window +and the room without looking up or speaking, and, with a +little sob, disappeared. Graham followed more slowly, and +sitting down by the table, moodily watched his sister's +fingers moving rapidly to and fro. + +"That is all over," he said at last. + +"What is all over?" inquired Mrs. Vavasour. + +"Everything between Maria and me. We have agreed upon one +thing at last, at any rate." + +"I am sure it is for the best, Horace," said Mrs. Vavasour, +looking at him with her kind, gentle eyes. + +"I don't see how anything should be for the best when one has +behaved like a brute, and knows it," he answered, getting up, +and beginning to walk up and down the room. + +"Is it you who have been behaving like a brute, Horace? I +cannot fancy that." + +"I don't know why not," he answered gloomily; then, pausing in +his walk, "No one knew of our engagement except ourselves and +Aunt Barbara?" he asked. + +"No one else was told." + +"Well, then, no great harm is done, so far as gossip goes. You +had better write to Aunt Barbara. I shall go abroad at once." + +"To this town on the Mediterranean?" + +"Yes, I shall write to-night to B----; and I will start by the +seven o'clock train to-morrow morning for London. No one need +get up; I will tell Jane to let me have some breakfast." + +"We shall hear from you?" + +"Yes, I will write when I am across the water. Good-bye." + +He stooped down and kissed her as he spoke. She laid her hand +on his arm, and detained him for a moment. + +"Horace," she said, "you must not vex yourself to much about +this; you and Maria have only discovered in time what numbers +of people discover when it is too late--that you are not suited +to each other. Believe me, it is far better to find it out +before marriage than after." + +"I daresay you are right," he said. "Don't be afraid, Georgie, +I shall not vex myself too much, but at present the whole +thing appears hateful to me, as far as I am concerned." + +The next morning he was gone before any one of the family was +stirring. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Er, der Herrlischste von Allen. + + +"Ashurst, July, 186--, + +"Dear Uncle Horace,--Mamma has a bad headache, and says I am to +write and ask you whether you have quite forgotten us, and if +you are never coming to see us again. She says, cannot you +come next week, because Lady Lorrimer's great ball is on the +31st. She and cousin Madelon are going, and she would be very +glad if you could escort them, as papa says he will not go. +Cousin Madelon is here still, and Aunt Barbara is coming on +Monday to stay with us for a little while before she goes back +with her to Cornwall. Cousin Madelon has been reading French +with me, and giving me music-lessons. We had a pic-nic in the +woods last week, and my holidays begin to-morrow. I wish you +would come back, Uncle Horace, and then we could have some fun +before Cousin Madelon goes away. I wish she would never go, +but stay here always, as Maria used. I have been reading some +of your book; mamma said I might, and I like it very much. +Mamma sends her love, and I am + +"Your affectionate niece, + +"Madge Vavasour." + + +"Mamma says that she received yesterday the note that I +enclose, and that she sends it to you to read." + + +The note was from Maria Leslie, and was dated from a country- +town whither she had gone to stay with some friends, shortly +after Graham's departure from Ashurst. + + +"Dearest Georgie, + +"I feel that you are the first person to whom I should write +the news that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Norris. He has +just had the offer of a living in the north, and lost no time +in coming to tell me of his prospects, and to invite me to +share them. To you, who know him so well, I need say nothing +of my own great happiness. I only fear that, after all that +has passed, you may think I have been a little precipitate; +but I could not but feel that something was due to Mr. Morris, +and that it would be wrong to keep him in suspense. Send me +you good wishes and congratulations, dear Georgie, for I +cannot feel that my happiness is complete without them. + +"Ever your affectionate, + +"Maria Leslie." + + +Graham arrived by the last available train on the evening of +the 31st, and was told by Madge, who came running into the +hall to meet him, that Mamma and Cousin Madelon were dressing, +and would Uncle Horace have some dinner, or go and dress too? +Uncle Horace said he had dined already, and would dress at +once, and so disappeared upstairs with his portmanteau. + +When he came down to the drawing-room, he found Mrs. Treherne +sitting alone in the summer twilight at the open window. + +"Is that you, Horace?" she said, putting out her hand; "you +are quite a stranger here, I understand. Georgie says she has +been jealous of my seeing so much of you in London." + +"I think Georgie has no right to complain of me," he answered; +"if there is a thing on earth I hate it's a ball--are you +going, too, Aunt Barbara?" + +"Indeed, no--I think you will have enough to do with two +ladies; here comes one of them." + +A tall, slender figure, moving through the dusk with her soft +trailing draperies, and water-lilies in her brown hair. Graham +had not seen her since that evening, more than three months +ago, when she had looked up at him, and escaped in the midst +of her unfinished song. They took each other's hands in +silence now; a sudden consciousness and embarrassment seemed +to oppress them both, and make the utterance of a word +impossible. + +Madelon was the first to speak; she went up to Mrs. Treherne. + +"Can you see my flowers, Aunt Barbara?" she said; "are they +not pretty? Madge walked three miles to-day to the sedge +ponds, on purpose to get them for me." + +"Is Madge still your devoted friend?" Horace asked. + +"Oh! yes, Madge and I are always great friends. I must not +expect all her attentions though, now that you are come back, +Monsieur Horace." + +The old childish name seemed to break the spell, and to bring +back the old familiarity. + +"And so you are going to a ball at last, Madelon," Graham +said. "For the first time in my life I am sorry I cannot +dance, for I shall be deprived of the pleasure of having you +for a partner." + +"Thank you," she said, "I should have liked to have danced +with you very much; but, after all, it is in the intention +that is the greatest compliment, so I will not mind too much. +I think I will be very happy even if I do not dance at all." + +She looked up at him for the first time, and even in the dusk +he seemed to see the light in her eyes, the smile on her lips, +the colour flushing in her cheeks. It was not of the ball she +was thinking--it was of him; she had felt the grasp of his kind +hand, his voice was sounding in her hears, he has come back at +last--at last. + +"You have been away a long time, Monsieur Horace," she said +softly, "but we have heard of you often; we have read your +book, and the critiques upon it; it has been a great success, +has it not? And then we have seen your name in the papers--at +dinners, at scientific meetings----" + +"Yes," said Graham, "I have been doing plenty of hard work +lately; but I have come down into the country to be idle, and +have some fun, as Madge would say. We will take our holidays +together, will we not, Madge?" he added, as the child, +followed by her mother, came into the room. + +Lady Lorrimer's ball was the culminating point of a series of +festivities given in honour of the coming of age of an eldest +son. To ordinary eyes, I suppose, it was very like any other +ball, to insure whose success no accessory is wanting that +wealth and good taste can supply; but to our Madelon there was +something almost bewildering in this scene at once familiar +and so strange; in these big, lighted, crowded rooms; in this +music, whose every beat seemed to rouse a thousand memories +and associations, liking the present with the so remote past. +As for Madelon herself, she made a success, ideal almost, as +if she had indeed been the enchanted Princess of little +Madge's fairy tale. Something rare in the style of her beauty-- +something in her foreign air and appearance, distinguished her +at once in the crowd of girls; she was sought after from the +moment she entered the room, and the biggest personages +present begged for an introduction to Miss Linders. The girl +was not insensible to her triumphs; her cheeks flushed, her +eyes brightened with excitement and pleasure. Once, in a pause +of the waltz, she was standing with her partner close to where +Graham was leaning against a wall. He had an air of being +horribly bored, as indeed he was; but Madelon's eye caught +his, and he was obliged to smile in answer to her look of +radiant pleasure. + +"You are enjoying yourself, I see, Madelon," he said. + +"I never was so happy!" she cried. "Ah! if you knew how I love +dancing!--and it is so many years since I have had a waltz!" + +Later on in the evening, Lady Lorrimer, the fashionable, gay, +kind-hearted hostess, came up to her. + +"Miss Linders," she said, "I have a favour to ask of you. My +aunt, Lady Adelaide Spencer, is passionately fond of music, +and Mrs. Vavasour has been telling us how beautifully you +sing. Would it be too much to ask you for one song? It is not +fair, I know, in the midst of a ball, but the next dance is +only a quadrille, I see----" + +"I shall be most happy," says Madelon, blushing up, and +following Lady Lorrimer down a long corridor into a music- +room. There were not above a dozen people present when she +began to sing, but the room was quite full before she rose +from the piano. She sang one song after another, as it was +asked for--French, German, English. The excitement of the +moment, the sense of triumph and success, seemed to fill her +with a sort of exaltation; never had her voice been so true +and powerful, her accent so pure, her expression so grand and +pathetic; she sang as if inspired by the very genius of song. + +"We must not be unconscionable, and deprive Miss Linders of +all her dancing," said Lady Lorrimer at last--"you would like +to go back to the ball-room now, would you not? But first let +me introduce you to my aunt; she will thank you better than I +can for your singing." + +Lady Adelaide Spencer, the great lady of the neighbourhood, a +short, stout, good-natured old woman in black velvet, and a +grizzled front, gave Madelon a most flattering reception. + +"Sit down and talk to me a little," she said. "I want to thank +you again for your lovely voice and singing. It is not every +young lady who would give up her dancing just for an old +woman's caprice." + +"Indeed I like singing as much as dancing," says Madelon. + +"And you do both equally well, my dear; you may believe me +when I tell you so, for I know what good dancing is, and I +have been watching you all the evening. You must come and see +me and sing to me again. You live with your aunt, Mrs. +Treherne, Mrs. Vavasour tells me." + +"Yes," replied Madelon. + +"I knew Mrs. Treherne well years ago; tell her from me when +you go home, that an old woman has fallen in love with her +pretty niece, and ask her to bring you to see me. She is +staying at Ashurst, I believe?" + +"Yes," said Madelon, "we are both at Dr. Vavasour's house. I +have been there all the spring and summer, and Aunt Barbara +has come for a few weeks before we go home to Cornwall." + +"Do you live always in Cornwall?" asked Lady Adelaide. "Have +you never been abroad? Your French and German in singing were +quite perfect, but you seem to me to speak English with a +foreign accent, and a very pretty one too." + +"I was born abroad," answered Madelon--"I spent all the first +part of my life on the Continent. I have been in England only +five years." + +"Ah, that accounts for it all, then. What part of the +Continent do you come from?" + +"I was born in Paris," says unthinking Madelon, "but we--I +travelled about a great deal; one winter I was in Florence, +and another in Nice, but I know Germany and Belgium best. I +was often at Wiesbaden, and Homburg, and Spa." + +"Very pretty places, all of them," said Lady Adelaide, "but so +shockingly wicked! It is dreadful to think of the company one +meets there. Did you ever see the gambling tables, my dear? +But I dare say not; you would of course be too young to be +taken into such places." + +"Yes, I have seen them," said Madelon, suddenly scarlet. + +"My health obliges me to go to these baths from time to time," +continued the old lady; "but the thought of what goes on in +those Kursaals quite takes away any pleasure I might otherwise +have; and the people who frequent the tables--the women and the +men who go there night after night! I assure you my blood has +run cold sometimes when one of those notorious gamblers has +been pointed out to me, and I think of the young lives he may +have ruined, the young souls he may have tempted to +destruction. I myself have known some sad cases--I am sure you +sympathise with me, Miss Linders?" + +"Lady Adelaide," said a portly gentleman, coming up, "will you +allow me to take you into supper?" + +"You will not forget to come and see me, my dear," cried Lady +Adelaide, with a parting wave of her fan as she moved away, +leaving the girl sitting there, silent and motionless. People +brushed by her as they left the room, but she paid no heed. +Mrs. Vavasour spoke to her as she passed on her way to supper, +but Madelon did not answer. All at once she sprang up, looking +round as if longing to escape; as she did so, her eyes met +Graham's; he was standing close to her, behind her chair, and +something in his expression, something of sympathy, of +compassion perhaps, made her cheeks flame, and her eyes fill +with sudden tears of resentment and humiliation. He had heard +them, he had heard every word that had been said, and he was +pitying her! What right had he, what did she want with his +compassion? She met his glance with one of defiance, and then +turned her back upon him; she must remain where she was, she +could not go out of the room alone, but, at any rate, he +should not have the opportunity of letting her see that he +pitied her. + +Horace, however, who had in fact heard every word of the +conversation, and perhaps understood Madelon's looks well +enough, came up to her, as she stood alone, watching the +people stream by her out of the room. + +"There is supper going on somewhere," he said; "will you come +and have some, or shall I bring you an ice here?" + +"Neither," she answered, quickly. "I--I don't want anything, +and I would rather stay here." + +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "We shall have the room to +ourselves in a minute, and then it will be cooler." + +In fact, the room was nearly deserted--almost every one had +gone away to supper. Madelon stood leaning against the window, +half hidden by the curtain; the sudden gleam of defiance, of +resentment against Horace, had faded; it had vanished at the +sound of his kind voice, which she loved better than any other +in the world. But there were tears of passion still in her +eyes; her little moment of joyousness and triumph had been so +cruelly dashed from her; she felt hurt, humiliated, almost +exasperated. + +"How hot it is!" she said, glancing round impatiently. "Where +is every one gone? Cannot we go too? No, not in to supper. +What is going on in that little room? I have not been there." + +"It leads into the garden, I think," answered Graham. "Shall +we see? Wait a moment. I will fetch you a shawl, and then, if +you like, we can go out." + +He strode off quickly. There was vexation and perplexity in +his kind heart too. He understood well enough how the girl had +been wounded--his little Madelon, for whom it would have seemed +a small thing to give his right hand, could such a sacrifice +have availed her aught. And he could do nothing. His +compassion insulted her, his interference she would have +resented; no, he could do nothing to protect his little girl. +So he thought as he made his way into the cloak-room to +extract a shawl. He was going his way in the world, and she +hers, and she might be suffering, lonely, unprotected, for +aught that he could do, unless--unless---- + +"Those cloaks belong to Lady Adelaide's party," cried the +maid, as Graham recklessly seized hold of one in a bundle. +"You must not take those, sir; Lady Adelaide will be going +immediately." + +"Confound the cloaks, and Lady Adelaide too!" cried Graham, +impatiently. "Here, give me something--anything. Where is Miss +Linders' shawl? Which are Mrs. Vavasour's things?" + +Madelon had stood still for a moment after Horace had left +her, and then, as he did not immediately return, she left her +station behind the window-curtain, and began walking up and +down the room. "How tired I am!" she thought wearily. "Will +this evening never end? Oh! I wish I have never come. I wish I +were going away somewhere, anywhere, so that I should never +see or hear again of anybody, that knows anything about me. +Why cannot we go home? It must be very late. I wonder what +time it is? Perhaps there is a clock in here." + +The door of the room which Graham had said led into the garden +stood ajar; she pushed it open, and went in. It was a small +room, with a glass door at the further end, and on this +evening had been arranged for cards, so that Madelon, on +entering, suddenly found herself in the midst of green-baize- +covered tables, lighted candles, packs of cards, and a dozen +or so of silent, absorbed gentlemen, intent upon the trumps +and honours, points and odd tricks. The girl, already excited, +and morbidly susceptible, stopped short at this spectacle, as +one struck with a sudden blow. Not for years, not since that +evening the memory of which ever came upon her with a sudden +sting, when she had met Monsieur Horace at the gambling-tables +of Spa, had Madelon seen a card; Mrs. Treherne never had them +in her house; in those little parties of which mention has +been made as her only dissipation, they had formed no part of +the entertainment, and the sight of them now roused a thousand +tumultuous emotions of pain and pleasure. A thousand +associations attached themselves to those little bits of +pasteboard, whose black and red figures seemed to dance before +her eyes--recollections of those early years with their for- +ever-gone happiness, of her father, of happy evenings that +she, an innocent, unconscious child, had passed at his side, +building houses with old packs of cards, or spinning the +little gold pieces that passed backwards and forwards so +freely. She was happy then, happier than she could ever be +again, she thought despairingly, now that she had been taught +so sore a knowledge of good and evil. The last evening of her +father's life came suddenly before her; she seemed to hear +again his last words to herself, to see the scene with Legros, +the cards tumbling in a heap on the floor, his dying face. A +kind of terror seized her, and she stood gazing as though +fascinated at the dozen respectable gentlemen dealing their +cards and marking their games, till Graham's step and voice +aroused her. + +"Here is your shawl, Madelon," he said, putting it round her +shoulders; "did you think I was ever coming? That woman----" + +He stopped short in his speech; she turned round and looked at +him with her white, scared face, her wide-open, brown eyes, as +if she had seen a ghost. Ghosts enough, indeed, our poor +Madelon had seen during these last five minutes; but they were +not visible to Graham, who stood sufficiently astonished and +alarmed, as she turned abruptly away again, and disappeared +through the glass door into the garden. + +"Stay, Madelon!" he cried and followed her out into the night. + +It was raining, he found, as soon as he got outside. The +garden had been prettily illuminated with coloured lamps hung +along the verandah, and amongst the trees and shrubs, but they +were nearly all extinguished now. It was a bleak mournful +night, summer time though it was, the wind moaning and +sighing, the rain falling steadily. Graham, as he passed +quickly along the sodden path, had a curious sensation of +having been through all this before; another sad, rainy night +came to his mind, a lighted street, a dark avenue, and a +little passionate figure flying before him, instead of the +tall, white one who moved swiftly on now, and finally +disappeared beneath the long shoots of climbing plants that +overhung a sort of summer-house at the end of a walk. The +lamps were not all extinguished here; the wet leaves glistened +as the wind swept the branches to and fro, and Horace, as he +entered, could see Madelon sitting by the little table, +trembling and shivering, her hair all blown about and shining +in the uncertain light. What had suddenly come over her? +Graham was fairly perplexed. + +"Madelon," he said, going up to her, "what is the matter? has +anything happened, or any one vexed you?" + +"_Non, non_," she cried, jumping up impatiently, and speaking in +French as she sometimes did when excited, "_je n'ai rien--rien du +tout;_ leave me, Monsieur Horace, I beg of you! How you weary +me with your questions! I was rather hot, and came here for a +little fresh air. That was all." + +"You are cooler now," said graham, as she stood drawing her +shawl round her, her teeth chattering. + +"Yes," she said, with a little shiver, "it is rather cold +here, and damp; it is raining, is it not? Let us go back and +dance. I adore dancing; it was papa who first taught it to me; +do you know, Monsieur Horace? He taught me a great many +things." + +"You had better not dance any more," said Graham, taking her +little burning hand in his. "You are overheated already, and +will catch cold." + +She snatched away her hand impatiently. + +"Ah! do not touch me!" she cried. "Let us go--why do we stay +here? I do not want your prescriptions, Monsieur Horace. I +_will_ go and dance." + +"Wait a minute," said Graham; "let me wrap your shawl closer +round you, or you will be wet through: it is pouring with +rain." + +The friendly voice and action went to her heart, and seemed to +reproach her for her harsh, careless words. They walked back +in silence to the house; but when they reached the empty +music-room again, she put both hands on his arm with an +imploring gesture, as if to detain him. + +"Don't go--don't leave me!" she said; "I am very wicked, +Monsieur Horace, but--" + +And then she dropped down on to a seat in the deep recess +formed by the window. + +The sight of her unhappiness touched Graham's heart with a +sharper pang than anything else had power to do. He loved her +so--this poor child--he would have warded off all unhappiness, +all trouble from her life; and there she sat miserable before +him, and it seemed to him he could not raise a finger to help +her. + +"You are not happy, Madelon," he said, at length. "Can I do +nothing to help you?" + +She raised her head and looked at him. + +"Nothing, nothing!" she cried. "Ah, forgive me, Monsieur +Horace, for speaking so to you; but you do not know, you +cannot understand how unhappy I am." + +"Buy why, Madelon? What is it? Has any one spoken unkindly to +you?" + +"No, no, it is not that. You do not understand. Why do you +come to me here? Why am I here at all? If people knew who and +what I am, would they talk to me as they do? Supposing I had +told Lady Adelaide just now--yes, you heard every word of that +conversation--she would have despised me, as you pitied me, +Monsieur Horace. Yes, you pitied me; I saw it in your eyes." + +"My pity is not such as you need resent, Madelon," said +Graham, with a sigh. + +"I do not resent it," she answered hastily. "You are kind, you +are good; you do well to pity me. What al I? The daughter of +a--a--yes, I know well enough now--I did not once, but I do now-- +and I am here in your society, amongst you all, on +sufferance." + +"You are wrong," answered Graham quickly, scarcely thinking of +what he said. "In the first place, it can make no difference +to any one that knows you who your father was; and then you +are here as Mrs. Treherne's niece----" + +"I am my father's daughter!" cried Madelon, blazing up, "and I +must not own it. Yes, yes, I understand it all. As Mrs. +Treherne's niece I may be received; but not as---- Oh, papa, +papa!" her voice suddenly breaking down, "why did you die? why +did you leave me all alone?" + +Graham stood silent. He felt so keenly for her; he had so +dreaded for her the time when this knowledge of her father's +true character must come home to her. In his wide sympathy +with everything connected with her, he had regrets of that +poor father also, dead years ago, who in his last hours had so +plainly foreseen some such moment as this, and yet not quite, +either. + +"Monsieur Horace," Madelon went on wildly, "I did so love +papa, and he loved me--ah, you cannot imagine how much! When I +think of it now, when I see other fathers with their children, +how little they seem to care for them in comparison, I wonder +at his love for me. He nursed me, he played with me, he took +such care of me, he made me so happy. I think sometimes if I +could only hear his voice once more, and see him smiling at me +as he used to smile--and I must not speak of him, I must not +even mention him. It is unjust, it is cruel. I do not want to +live with people who will not let me think of my father." + +"You may speak of him to me, Madelon----" + +"To you?" she said, interrupting him; "ah, you knew him--you +know how he loved me. But Aunt Barbara--she will not let me +even mention his name." + +"Then she is very wrong and very foolish," Graham answered +hastily. "Listen to me, Madelon. You are making yourself +miserable for nothing. To begin with, if everybody in the room +to-night knew who your father was, and all about him, I don't +suppose it would make the least difference; and as for the +rest, you have no occasion to concern or distress yourself +about anything in your father's life, except what relates to +yourself. Whatever he may have been to others, he was the +kindest and most loving of fathers to you, and that is all you +need think about." + +"But Aunt Barbara----" + +"Never mind Aunt Barbara. If she chooses to do what you and I +think foolish we will not follow her example. You may talk to +me, Madelon, as much as ever you please. I should like to hear +about your father, for I know how often you think of him. Now, +will you go back to the ball-room? I give you leave to dance +now," he added, smiling. + +She did not move nor answer, but she looked up at him with a +sudden change in her face, and he saw that she was trembling. + +"What is it now, Madelon?" he said. + +"You are so good," she said. "When I am unhappy, you always +comfort me--it has always been so----" + +"Do I comfort you?" said Graham--"why, that is good news, +Madelon." + +"Ah! yes," she cried, in her impulsive way, "you have always +been good to me--how can I forget it? That night when papa +died, and I was so unhappy all alone--and since then, how +often--" + +Graham turned away, and walked twice up and down the room. +There was a distant sound of music, and footsteps, and voices, +but people had drifted away into the ball-room again, and they +were alone. He came back to where Madelon was sitting. + +"If you think so, indeed, Madelon," he said, "will you not let +it be so always? Do you think you can trust me enough to let +me always take care of you? I can ask for nothing dearer in +life." + +"What do you mean?" she cried, glancing up at him startled. + +"Do you not understand?" he said, looking at her, and taking +one her little hands in his--"do you not understand that one +may have a secret hidden away for years, and never suspected +even by oneself, perhaps, till all at once one discovers it? I +think I must have had some such secret, Madelon, and that I +never guessed at it till a few months since, when I found a +little girl that I knew years ago, grown up into somebody that +I love better than all the world----" + +"Ah! stop!" she cried, jumping up, and pulling her hand away. +"You are good and kind, but it is not possible that you--ah! +Monsieur Horace, I am not worthy!" + +"Not worthy! Good heavens, Madelon, you not worthy!" He paused +for a moment. "What is not possible?" he went on. "Perhaps I +am asking too much. I am but a battered old fellow in these +days, I know, and if, indeed, you cannot care enough for me----" + +He held out his hand again with a very kind smile. She looked +up at him. + +"Monsieur Horace," she said, "I--I do--" + +And then she put both hands into his with her old, childish +gesture, and I daresay the little weary spirit thought it had +found its rest at last. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Mrs. Treherne's Forgiveness. + + +Mrs. Treherne was sitting in the drawing-room of her London +house. The window was open to the hot dusty street, long +shadows lay upon the deserted pavement, the opposite houses +were all closed, and no sound disturbed the stillness of the +September evening but the shouts of the children, as they +played up and down the steps, and under the porticoes of the +houses, and the bells of the Westminster clocks chiming one +quarter after another. Through the half-drawn curtains that +hung between the two drawing-rooms she could see Graham and +Madelon sitting together, looking out upon the Park, as they +talked in low tones, and a sudden sadness filled her heart. +They were to be married next week, and go abroad at once, +whilst she returned to Cornwall; and the even current of a +lonely life, that had been stirred and altered in its course +five years ago, would return to its original channel, to be +disturbed, perhaps, no more. + +It was of these five years that Mrs. Treherne was thinking +now, and of others, perhaps, beyond them again, when she too +had been young, and beloved, and happy. There are some lives +which, in their even tenour of mild happiness, seem to glide +smoothly from one scattered sorrow to another, so that to the +very end some of the hopefulness and buoyancy of youth are +retained; but there are others in which are concentrated in +one brief space those keen joys and keener sorrows that no one +quite survives, which, in passing over us take from us our +strongest vitality, our young capacity for happiness and +suffering alike. Such a life had been Mrs. Treherne's. She had +been a woman of deep affections and passions, and they all lay +buried in those early years that had taken from her husband, +and children, and friend, and it was only a dim shadow of her +former self that moved, and spoke, and lived in these latter +days. + +It was an old story with her now, however. She did not envy +these two happy people who were talking together in the next +room. It was of Madelon she was thinking most, thinking sadly +enough that in all these years she had not been able to win +the girl's heart. When she had first seen the child of the +friend who in all the world had been most dear to her, she had +promised herself that, for Magdalen's sake, she would take her +home and bring her up as her own daughter; and she had kept +her promise, but she had failed in making her happy. She knew +it now, when she contrasted the Madelon of to-day, going about +with the light in her eyes, and the glad ring in her voice, +with the Madelon of six months ago. She had not been able to +make her happy, and she would leave her without a regret; and +the thought gave Mrs. Treherne a sharper pang than she had +felt for many a day. + +And meanwhile this was what Madelon was saying,-- + +"In another month, Madelon," Graham had said to her, "we shall +be at L----, and you will be looking out on the blue skies that +you have so often longed for." + +"Yes," she replied, "and then perhaps I shall be thinking of +the grey ones I have left behind; I shall be sorry to leave +England after all. I will pay your country so much of a +compliment as that, Monsieur Horace, or rather I shall be +sorry to leave some of the English people--Aunt Barbara, I do +not like to think of her alone; she will miss me, she says." + +"I should not wonder if she did, Madelon." + +"I do not know why she should; I think I have been ungrateful +to her; she has been so good, so kind to me, why have I not +been able to love her more? Where should I have been if she +had not taken care of me? and such care! If I lived to be a +hundred I could never repay all she has done, and now I am +going away to be happy, and she will be lonely and sad." + +"We will ask her to come and see us, some day, at L----. I saw a +house when I was there, that would suit us exactly, and it has +a room, which shall be sometimes for Aunt Barbara, sometimes +for Madge. It has an open gallery, and an outside staircase +leading down to the garden, which will delight Madge's small +mind." + +"Like my room at Le Trooz," cried Madelon. "Ah! how glad I am +that you can go there first, and that I shall see Jeanne-Marie +again; if only we do not find her ill--it is so long since I +have heard from her, and she used to write so regularly." + +"For my part," said Graham, "I wish to see the hotel at +Chaudfontaine, where I first met a small person who was very +rude to me, I remember." + +"And your wish will not be gratified, sir, for the season will +be over by next month and the hotel closed for the winter. I +am sorry for that, but I wonder you can wish to see a place +where any one was rude to you--now with me of course it is +different." + +"In what way, Madelon?" + +"Ah! that I will not tell you--but we will go to the convent at +Liége, Monsieur Horace; I would like to see Soeur Lucie again. +Poor Soeur Lucie--but it is sad to think that she is always +there making her confitures--there are so many other things to +be done in the world." + +"For example?" + +"Joining a marching regiment," she said, looking at him half- +laughing, half-shyly. "Monsieur Horace, where will you go when +you are tired of L----? You will be tired of it some day, I +know, and so shall I. Where will you go next?" + +"I don't know," he answered; "you see, Madelon, in taking a +wife, I undertake a certain responsibility; I can't go +marching about the world as if I were a single man." + +"You don't mean that!" she cried, "if I thought you meant +that, I--I--ah, why do you tease me?" she added, as Graham could +not help laughing, "you know you promised me I should go with +you everywhere. I am very strong, I love travelling, I want to +see the world. Where will you go? To America again? I will +adopt the customs and manners of any country; I will dress in +furs with a seal-skin cap, and eat blubber like an Esquimau, +or turn myself into an Indian squaw; would you like to have me +for a squaw, Monsieur Horace? I would lean all their duties; I +believe they carry their husband's game, and never speak till +they are spoken to. My ideas are very vague. But I would +learn--ah, yes, I could learn anything." + +Mrs. Treherne was still sitting, thinking her sad thoughts +when she felt an arm passed round her neck, and turning round, +saw Madelon kneeling at her side. "Horace has gone out," she +said; "we have been talking over our plans, Aunt Barbara; we +have settled quite now that we will first go to Liége and Le +Trooz, and see Jeanne-Marie, and then go on to the south. It +is good of Monsieur Horace to go to Liége, for it is all to +please me, and it is quite out of his way." + +"And you go on to L---- afterwards? You will be glad to find +yourself abroad again, Madeleine." + +"Yes," she said, hesitating; "but I shall be sorry to leave +you, Aunt Barbara." + +"Will you, my dear? I am afraid, Madeleine, that I have not +made you very happy, though I have only found it out in these +last few weeks." + +"Aunt Barbara, how can you say such a thing?" cried Madelon. +"What have you not done for me? Why, I could never, never +thank you for it all; it is for that--because it is so much-- +that I cannot say more. One cannot use the same words that one +does for ordinary things." + +"I know, my dear," said Mrs. Treherne, smoothing the girl's +hair, "but nevertheless I have not made you happy, and I now +know the reason why. Yes, I have been talking to Horace, and I +understand your feeling; and if it were all to come again, +perhaps I might act differently; but it is too late now, and +it matters little, since you are happy at last." + +"Aunt Barbara, I have been happy----" + +"You see, Madeleine, your mother was my very dearest friend; +all your love has been for your father, and that is only +natural; but some day, perhaps, you will understand what a +mother might have been to you, and then, my dear, you will +care for me also a little, knowing how dearly I loved yours." + +"I know," said Madelon, "and I do love you, Aunt Barbara, but +I must always care for papa most of all." + +"I know, my dear; it is only natural, and from what Horace +tells me, he must have deserved your love." And with those +words, Mrs. Treherne in some sort forgave the man who had been +the one hatred of her life, and won the heart of the girl +beside her. + +"Aunt Barbara," she cried again, "I do love you." And this +time Mrs. Treherne believed her. + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Conclusion. + + +The hotel at Chaudfontaine was closed for the winter. Every +window in the big white building was shuttered, every door +barred; the courtyard was empty; not a footstep, nor a voice +was resounded. Nevertheless, an open carriage from Liége +stopped in front of the gate, and two people getting out, +proceeded to look through the iron bars of the railing. + +"Was I not right?" said Madelon. "I told you, Horace, it would +be closed for the winter, and so it is." + +"I don't care in the least," he replied. "If it affords me any +gratification, Madelon, to look through the railings into that +courtyard, I don't see why I should not have it." + +"Oh! by all means," she answered; "but it is just a little +tame, is it not?--for a sentimental visit, to be looking +through these iron bars." + +"That is the very place where I sat," said Graham, not heeding +her, "and took you on my knee." + +"I don't remember anything about it, Monsieur Horace----" + +"Nothing, Madelon?" + +"Well, perhaps--you gave me a fish, I remember--it was the fish +that won my heart; and I have it still, you see." + +"Oh! then, your heart was won?" + +"A little," she answered, glancing up at him for a moment; and +then, moving on, she said, "See here, Horace, this is the +hawthorn bush under which I slept that morning after I had run +away from the convent. How happy I was to have escaped! I +remember standing at this gate afterwards eating my bread, and +that dreadful woman came out of the hotel." + +"Is there no way of getting in?" said Graham, shaking the +gate. + +"None, I am afraid," Madelon answered. "Stay, there used to be +a path that led round at the back across a little bridge into +the garden. Perhaps we might get in that way." + +They were again disappointed; they found the path, and the +wooden bridge that crossed the stream, but another closed gate +prevented their entering the garden. + +"This, however, becomes more and more interesting," said +Graham, after looking at the spot attentively. "Yes, this is +the very place, Madelon, where I first saw you with a doll in +your arms." + +"Really!" she said. + +"Yes, really; and then some one--your father, I think--called +you away." + +They were silent for a minute, looking at the trees, the +shrubs, the grass growing all rough and tangled in the +deserted garden. + +"We must go," Graham said at last; "it is getting late, +Madelon, and we have to drive back to Liége, remember, after +we have seen Jeanne-Marie." + +They got into the carriage again, and drove on towards Le +Trooz, along the valley under the hills, all red and brown +with October woods, beside the river, gleaming between green +pastures in the low afternoon sun. They had arrived at Liége +the day before, and that morning was to have been devoted to +visiting the convent; but the convent was gone. On inquiry, +they learnt that the nuns had removed to another house ten +miles distant from Liége, and on the hills where the old farm- +house, the white, low-roofed convent had once stood so +peacefully, a great iron-foundry was smoking and spouting fire +day and night, covering field and garden with heaps of black +smouldering ashes. + +"How places and things change!" said Madelon, as they drove +along; "we have had two disappointments to-day--shall we have a +third, I wonder? Supposing Jeanne-Marie should have gone to +live in another house? Ah! how glad I shall be to see her +again!--and she will be pleased to see me, I know." + +As she spoke, the scattered houses, the church, the white +cottages of Le Trooz came in sight. Madelon checked the driver +as they approached the little restaurant, the first house in +the village, and she and Graham got out of the carriage. The +bench still stood before the door, the pigeons were flying +about, and the bee-hives were on their stand, but the blue +board was gone from the white wall, and the place had a +deserted look. + +"It is strange," said Madelon. She pushed open the door that +stood ajar, and went into the little public room; it was +empty; the table shoved away into one corner, the chairs +placed against the wall--no signs of the old life and +occupation. + +"Can Jeanne-Marie have gone away, do you think?" said Madelon, +almost piteously. "I am sure she cannot be here." + +"I will inquire," said Graham. + +He went out into the road, and stopped a little girl of ten or +twelve years, who was walking towards the village with a +pitcher of water. + +"Do you know whether the woman who lived in this house has +left?" he asked. "Jeanne-Marie she was called, I think?" + +The child stared up at the strange gentleman with the foreign +accent: + +"Jeanne-Marie that used to live here?" she said. "She is +dead." + +"Dead?" cried Madelon. The tears came rushing into her eyes. +"Ah! why did I not know? I would have come if I had known. +When did she die?" + +"More than a month ago," the girl answered; "she died here in +this house." + +"And who lives here now?" inquired Graham. + +"Jacques Monnier--he that works at the factory now. He is out +all day; but his wife should be here." + +And in fact, at the sound of the voices, the door leading into +the kitchen opened, and a young woman appeared. + +"Pardon," said Madelon, going forward; "we came here to +inquire for Jeanne-Marie; but she--she is dead, we hear." + +"Yes, she is dead," the woman replied; then, in answer to +further questions, told how Jeanne-Marie, when she was taken +ill, had refused to let any one be written to, or sent for; +and had died alone at last with no one near her but a hired +nurse. "She left enough money for her burial, and to have a +wooden cross put on her grave," said the woman, "and asked M. +le Curé to see that all her things were sold, and the money +given to the poor." + +"Is she buried here?" said Madelon. "Horace, I should like to +see her grave." + +"Louise, there, can show it to you," says Madame Monnier, +pointing to the child; "run home with your water, _ma petite_, +and then come back and show Monsieur and Madame the road to +the churchyard." + +"And I have a favour to beg," said Madelon, turning to the +woman again. "I knew Jeanne-Marie well; she was very kind to +me at one time. Might I see the room in which she died? It is +upstairs, is it not, with the window opening on to the steps +leading into the garden?" + +The woman consented civilly enough, concealing any +astonishment she might feel at this tall, beautiful lady, who +had come to inquire after Jeanne-Marie; and Madelon left +Graham below, and went up alone to the little bed-room, where +she had spent so many hours. It was hardly altered. The bed +stood in the old place; the vines clustered round the window. +Madelon's heart was full of sorrow; she had loved Jeanne-Marie +so much, and more and more perhaps, as years went on, and she +had learnt to understand better all that the woman had done +for her--and she had died alone--she who had saved her life. + +When she came down again Louise had reappeared, and was +waiting to conduct them to the churchyard. The child went on +in front, and they followed her in silence down the village +street. It was already evening, the sun had sunk behind the +hills; the men were returning from their work; the children +were playing and shouting, and the women stood gossiping +before their doors. All was life and animation in the little +village, where a strange, silent woman had once passed to and +fro, with deeds and words of kindness for the suffering and +sorrowful, but who would be seen there no more. + +"There is the grave," says Louise, pointing it out to them. It +was in a corner of the little graveyard; the earth was still +fresh over it, and the black cross at its head was one of the +newest amongst the hundred similar ones round about. Graham +dismissed the child with a gratuity, and he and Madelon went +up to the grave. There was no name, only the initials J. M. R. +painted on the cross beneath the three white tears, and the +customary "_Priez pour elle!_" Some one had hung up a wreath of +immortelles, and a rose-tree, twined round a neighbouring +cross, had shed its petals above Jeanne-Marie's head. + +Madelon knelt down and began to pull out some weeds that had +sprung up, whilst Graham stood looking on. Long afterwards, +one might fancy, would that hour still live in his memory--the +peaceful stillness brooding over the little graveyard, the +sunset sky, the sheltering hills, the scent of the falling +roses, and Madelon, in her dark dress, kneeling by the grave. +Her task was soon accomplished, but she knelt on motionless. +Who shall say of what she was thinking? Something perhaps of +the real meaning of life, of its great underlying sadness, +ennobled by patient suffering, by unselfish devotion, for +presently she turned round to Graham. + +"Oh, Horace," she said, "help me to be good; I am not, you +know, but I would like to be----and you will help me." + +"My little Madelon!" he raised her up, he took her in his +arms. "We will both try to be good, with God's help. The world +is all before us, to work in, and do our best--we will do what +we can; with God's help, I say, we will do what we can." + +They drove swiftly back towards Liége; the air blew freshly in +their faces, the sunset colours faded, the stars came out one +by one. As they vanish from our sight, they seem to fade into +the mysterious twilight land. For them, as for us, other suns +will rise, other days will dawn, but we shall have no part in +them; between them and us falls the darkness of eternal +separation. + + +THE END. + + + + +PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. + + + + + + +Typographical errors silently corrected by the transcriber : + +Part 1 chapter 3 : =Ou est-il donc, ce petit drôle?= silently +corrected as =Où est-il donc, ce petit drôle?= + +Part 1 chapter 3 : =ton père nous attends= silently corrected as +=ton père nous attend= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =large porte-cochères at intervals= silently +corrected as =large portes-cochères at intervals= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =went to the grande messe= silently corrected +as =went to the grand' messe= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =for a late déjeûner= silently corrected as +=for a late déjeuner= + +Part 2 chapter 4 : =bursts of passionate crying?= silently +corrected as =bursts of passionate crying.= + +Part 2 chapter 8 : =Ecoutes, Madelon= silently corrected as +=Ecoute, Madelon= + +Part 2 chapter 11 : =his late déjeûner= silently corrected as +=his late déjeuner= + +Part 2 chapter 12 : =quite irrevelant= silently corrected as +=quite irrelevant= + +Part 2 chapter 14 : =said so many things;= silently corrected as +=said so many things,= + +Part 3 chapter 2 : =he said, but one of the children= silently +corrected as =he said, "but one of the children= + +Part 3 chapter 3 : =but she is; without exception= silently +corrected as =but she is, without exception= + +Part 3 chapter 4 : =je m'étouffe ici= silently corrected as +=j'étouffe ici= + +Part 3 chapter 5 : =aret hey not pretty= silently corrected as +="are they not pretty= + +Part 3 chapter 5 : ="Yes, you pitied me= silently corrected as +=Yes, you pitied me= + +Part 3 chapter 6 : =like an Esquimaux= silently corrected as =like an +Esquimau= + +Part 3 chapter 7 : =lived in this house has left!= silently +corrected as =lived in this house has left?= + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's My Little Lady, by Eleanor Frances Poynter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LITTLE LADY *** + +***** This file should be named 16788-8.txt or 16788-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/8/16788/ + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Little Lady + +Author: Eleanor Frances Poynter + +Release Date: October 2, 2005 [EBook #16788] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LITTLE LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + + + + + +Eleanor Frances Poynter is the author of My little lady (1871 +novel), Ersilia (1876 novel), Among the hills (1881 novel), +Madame de Presnel (1885 novel), The wooing of Catherine and +other tales (1886), The failure of Elisabeth (1890 novel), An +exquisite fool (1892 novel), Michael Ferrier (1902 novel); and +translator of Wilhelmine von Hillern's The vulture maiden (Die +Geier-Wally) (1876) and Agnes Mary Duclaux (later Mrs James +Darmesteter)'s Froissart (1895). + +Two of her novels were translated in French: My little lady +as Madeleine Linders (1873); and Among the hills as Hetty +(1883). + + +_The Saturday Review_ vol. XXX p. 794 comments _My little lady_ as +follows: "There are certain female characters in novels which +remind one of nothing so much as of a head of Greuze,--fresh, +simple, yet of the cunningly simple type, 'innocent--arch,' and +intensely natural.... 'My Little Lady' is a character of this +Greuze-like kind.... The whole book is charming; quietly told, +quietly thought, without glare or flutter, and interesting in +both character and story,... and, if slight of kind, thoroughly +good of its kind." + + + + + + + + +COLLECTION + +OF + +BRITISH AUTHORS + + +TAUCHNITZ EDITION. + + +VOL. 1148. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. I. + + + + +Thy sinless progress, through a world +By sorrow darken'd and by care disturbed, +Apt likeness bears to hers through gather'd clouds +Moving untouch'd in silver purity. + +WORDSWORTH. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + + + + + +_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. + + + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. I. + + + + + + +LEIPZIG + +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ + +1871. + + +_The Right of Translation is reserved_. + + + + +To + +J.C.I. + + + + + + +PART I. + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +In the Garden. + + +There are certain days in the lives of each one of us, which +come in their due course without special warning, to which we +look forward with no anticipations of peculiar joy or sorrow, +from which beforehand we neither demand nor expect more than +the ordinary portion of good and evil, and which yet through +some occurrence--unconsidered perhaps at the moment, but +gaining in significance with years and connecting events--are +destined to live apart in our memories to the end of our +existence. Such a day in Horace Graham's life was a certain +hot Sunday in August, that he spent at the big hotel at +Chaudfontaine. + +Every traveller along the great high road leading from +Brussels to Cologne knows Chaudfontaine, the little village +distant about six miles from Liege, with its church, its big +hotel, and its scattered cottages, partly forges, partly +restaurants, which shine white against a dark green background +of wooded hills, and gleam reflected in the clear tranquil +stream by which they stand. On every side the hills seem to +fold over and enclose the quiet green valley; the stream winds +and turns, the long poplar-bordered road follows its course; +amongst the hills are more valleys, more streams, woods, +forests, sheltered nooks, tall grey limestone rocks, spaces of +cornfields, and bright meadows. Everyone admires the charming +scenery as the train speeds across it, through one tunnel +after another; but there are few amongst our countrymen who +care to give it more than a passing glance of admiration, or +to tarry in the quiet little village even for an hour, in +their great annual rush to Spa, or the Rhine, or Switzerland. +As a rule one seldom meets Englishmen at Chaudfontaine, and it +was quite by chance that Horace Graham found himself there. An +accident to a goods train had caused a detention of several +hours all along the line, as he was travelling to Brussels, +and it was by the advice of a Belgian fellow-passenger that he +had stopped at Chaudfontaine, instead of going on to Liege, as +he had at first proposed doing, on hearing from the guard that +it was the furthest point that could be reached that night. + +Behind the hotel lies a sunshiny shady garden, with benches +and tables set under the trees near the house, and beyond, an +unkempt lawn, a sort of wilderness of grass and shrubs and +trees, with clumps of dark and light foliage against the more +uniform green of the surrounding hills, and it was still cool +and pleasant when Graham wandered into it after breakfast on +that Sunday morning, whilst all in front of the hotel was +already basking in the hot sunshine. He had gone to bed the +night before with the fixed intention of leaving by the +earliest morning train, for his first impressions of +Chaudfontaine had not been cheerful ones. It was nearly +midnight when, with his companions, he had crossed the bridge +that connects the railway station with the hotel on the +opposite side of the stream, and scarcely a light was shining +from the windows of the dim white building before him; he was +very tired, rather cross, and disposed to grumble at the delay +in his journey; and the general aspect of things--the bad +supper, the sleepy waiter carrying a candle up flights of +broad shallow wooden stairs, and down a long passage to a +remote room barely furnished, the uncertain view of a +foreground of rustling poplars, and close behind them a black +silent mass of hill--all these had not tended to encourage him. + +But a man must be very cynical, or very _blase_, or wholly +possessed by some other uncomfortable quality, who does not +feel much cheered and invigorated by morning sunbeams pouring +into a strange bed-room, and awakening him to new scenes and +unexperienced sensations. Horace Graham was neither cynical +nor _blase_; on the contrary, he was a pleasant-tempered, fresh- +hearted lad of twenty or thereabouts, who only three weeks +before had made his first acquaintance with French gendarmes, +and for the first time had heard children shouting to each +other in a foreign tongue along white-walled, sunshiny, +foreign streets. Three weeks touring in Germany had only +served to arouse in him a passion for travelling and seeing, +for new places and peoples and scenes, that in all his life, +perhaps, would not be satiated; everything was new to him, +everything amused him; and so it happened that, while he was +dressing and studying from his window the view that had been +only obscurely hinted at in the darkness of night before, a +sudden desire came over him to remain where he was for that +day, climb the hills that rose before him, and see what manner +of country lay beyond. + +It was still early when, after breakfasting by himself in the +salle-a-manger, he found his way into the garden; no one was +stirring, it seemed deserted; he wandered along the gravel +paths, trod down the tall grass as he crossed the lawn, and +arrived at the confines of the little domain. On two sides it +was bounded by a narrow stream, separating it from the road +beyond; at the angle of the garden the shallow, trickling +water widened into a little fall crossed by a few planks; +there were trees and bushes on each side, and the grassy +garden bank sloped down to the stream. It was very green, and +peaceful and dewy. Horace stood still for a minute looking at +the flickering lights and shadows, and watching the dash and +current of the water. + +"_Fi donc, Mademoiselle, tu n'es pas raisonnable_," cries a +sweet shrill little voice close to him, "_tu es vraiment +insupportable aujourd'hui_." + +He turned round and saw a child between five and six years +old, dressed in a shabby little merino frock and white +pinafore, standing with her back towards him, and holding out +a doll at arm's length, its turned-out pink leather toes just +touching the ground. + +"_Veux-tu bien etre sage?_" continues the small monitress with +much severity, "_encore une fois, un, deux, trois!_" and she +made a little dancing-step backwards; then with an air of +encouragement, "_Allons, mon amie, du courage!_ We must be +perfect in our steps for this evening, for you know, Sophie, +if you refuse to dance, M. le Prince will be in despair, and +M. le Baron will put his hand on his heart and cry, 'Alas, +mademoiselle, you have no pity, and my heart is desolated!' " + +"Madelon!" cries a voice through the trees in the distance. + +"_Me voici, papa!_" she answered, stopping the dancing-lesson +and looking round. As she did so she caught sight of Horace, +and gazed up in his face with a child's deliberate stare. She +had great brown eyes, a little round fair face, and light hair +curling all over her head. She looked up at him quite +fearlessly for a moment, and then darted away, dashing against +somebody who was coming along the path, and disappeared. + +"Take care, _ma petite;_ you nearly knocked me down!" cried a +good-humoured voice, belonging to a large gentleman with a +ruddy face, and black hair and beard. "Ah! good morning, +Monsieur," he continued as he approached Horace; "I rejoice to +see that you have not yet quitted Chaudfontaine, as you spoke +of doing last night." + +"I have changed my mind," said Horace, smiling as he +recognised his fellow-traveller of the night before. "I think +of staying here to-day, and not leaving for Brussels till to- +morrow morning." + +"You will not regret it," said his companion, as they turned +back towards the hotel, and walked on slowly together; "it is +true there is not much here to tempt you during the day; but +numbers will arrive for the four o'clock _table-d'hote_. In the +evening there will be quite a little society, and we shall +dance. I assure you, monsieur, that we also know how to be gay +at Chaudfontaine." + +"I don't doubt it," answered Graham; "and though I don't care +much about dancing----" + +"You don't care about dancing?" interrupted the Belgian with +astonishment; "but that is of your nation, Monsieur. You are +truly an extraordinary people, you English; you travel, you +climb, you ride, you walk, and you do not dance!" + +"I think we dance too, sometimes," said the young Englishman, +laughing; "but I own that it is walking I care for most just +now--the country about here seems to be wonderfully pretty." + +"In fact it is not bad," said the Belgian, with the air of +paying it a compliment; "and if you take care to return in +time for the four o'clock _table-d'hote_, you cannot do better +than make a little promenade to gain an appetite for dinner. I +can promise you an excellent one--they keep an admirable cook. +I entreat you not to think of leaving for Brussels; and +precisely you cannot go," he added, drawing out his watch, +"for it is just the hour that the train leaves, and I hear the +whistle at this moment." + +And, in fact, though they could not see the train from where +they stood, they heard its shrill whistle as it rushed into +the station on the other side of the river. + +"So it is decided," said Graham, "and I remain." + +"And you do wisely, Monsieur," cried his companion; "believe +me, you will not regret passing a day in this charming little +spot. Do they speak much in England of Chaudfontaine, +Monsieur?" + +"Well, no," Horace was obliged to acknowledge, "they do not." + +"Ah!" said the Belgian, a little disappointed; "but they speak +of Brussels, perhaps?" + +"Oh! yes, every one knows Brussels," answered Graham. + +"It is a beautiful city," remarked his companion, "and has a +brilliant society; but for my part, I own that at this season +of the year I prefer the retirement, the tranquillity of +Chaudfontaine, where also one amuses oneself perfectly well. I +always spend two or three months here--in fact, have been here +for six weeks already this summer. Affairs called me to Aix- +la-Chapelle last week for a few days, and that was how I had +the good fortune to meet Monsieur last night." + +"It was very lucky for me," said Horace. "I am delighted to be +here. The hotel seems to be very empty," he added. "I have +seen nobody this morning except one little girl." + +"But no, the hotel is almost full--people are gone to mass, +perhaps, or are in bed, or are breakfasting. It is still +early." + +"That little girl," said Horace--"does she belong to the +house?" + +"You mean the little girl who ran against me as I came up to +you just now? No, the _proprietaire_ of the hotel has but one +daughter, Mademoiselle Cecile, a most amiable person. But I +know that child--her father is one of the _habitues_ of the +hotel. She is much to be pitied, poor little one!" + +"Why?" asked Graham. + +"Because her father--_ah! bon jour, Madame_--excuse me, Monsieur, +but I go to pay my respects to Madame la Comtesse!" cried the +Belgian, as an elderly red-faced lady, with fuzzy sandy hair, +wearing a dingy, many-flounced lilac barege gown, came towards +them along the gravel path. + +"At last we see you back, my dear Monsieur!" she cried--"ah! +how many regrets your absence has caused!--of what an +insupportable _ennui_ have we not been the victims! But you are +looking better than when you left us; your journey has done +you good; it is plain that you have not suffered from +absence." + +"Alas! Madame," cries the other, "you little know! And how, +for my part, can I venture to believe in regrets that have +left no traces? Madame is looking more charming, more +blooming----" + +Horace waited to hear no more; he left the pair standing and +complimenting each other on the sunny pathway, and wandered +away under the shade of the big trees, crossed the little +stream and the white dusty road beyond, and began to ascend +the hills. + +"What an ugly old woman!" thought the lad. "She and my friend +seem to be great allies; she must be at least ten years older +than he is, and he talks to her as if she were a pretty girl; +but she is a Countess apparently, and I suppose that counts +for something. Oh! what a jolly country!" + +He strode along whistling, with his hands in his pockets, +feeling as if he had the world before him to explore, and in +the happiest of moods. Such a mood was not rare with Horace +Graham in these youthful days, when, by force of a good +health, and good spirits, and a large capacity for fresh +genuine enjoyment, he was apt to find life pleasant enough on +the whole, though for him it lacked several of the things that +go to make up the ordinary ideal of human happiness. He was +not rich; he had no particular expectations, and but few +family ties, for his parents had both died when he was very +young, and except an aunt who had brought him up, and a +married sister several years older than himself, he had no +near relations in the world. He was simply a medical student, +with nothing to look forward to but pushing his own way, and +making his own path in life as best he could. But he had +plenty of talent, and worked hard at his profession, to which +he was devoted for reasons quite unconnected with any +considerations of possible profit and loss. Indeed, having +just enough money of his own to make him tolerably +independent, he was wont to ignore all such considerations in +his grand youthful way, and to look upon his profession from a +purely abstract scientific point of view. And yet he was not +without large hopes, grand vague ambitions concerning his +future career; for he was at an age when it seems so much +easier to become one of the few enumerated great ones of the +world than to remain amongst the nameless forgotten +multitudes; and life lay before him rather as something +definite, which he could take up and fashion to his own +pleasure, than as a succession of days and years which would +inevitably mould and influence him in their course. It is not +wholly conceit, perhaps, which so assures these clever lads of +the vastness of their untried capabilities, that there are +moments when they feel as if they could grasp heaven and earth +in their wide consciousness; it is rather a want of experience +and clearness of perception. Horace Graham was not +particularly conceited, and yet, in common with many other men +of his age, he had a conviction that, in some way or other, +life had great exceptional prizes in store for him; and indeed +he was so strong, and young, and honest-hearted, that he had +been successful enough hitherto within his narrow limits. He +had pleasant manners, too, and a pleasant face, which gained +him as many friends as he ever cared to have; for he had a +queer, reserved, unsociable twist in his character, which kept +him aloof from much company, and rather spoilt his reputation +for geniality and heartiness. He hated the hard work he had to +go through in society; so at least he was wont to grumble, and +then would add, laughing, "I daresay I am a conceited puppy to +say so: but the fact is, there are not six people in the world +whose company I would prefer to my own for a whole day." + +He found his own company quite sufficient during all his +wanderings through that long summer's day in the lovely +country round Chaudfontaine, a country neither grand nor wild, +hardly romantic, but with a charm of its own that enticed +Graham onwards in spite of the hot August sun. It was so +green, so peaceful, so out of the world; the little valleys +were wrapped so closely amongst the hills, the streams came +gushing out of the limestone rocks, dry water, courses led him +higher and higher up amongst the silent woods, which stretched +away for miles on either hand. Sometimes he would come upon an +open space, whence he could look down upon the broader valley +beneath, with its quiet river flowing through the midst, +reflecting white villages, forges, long rows of poplars, an +occasional bridge, and here and there a long low island; or +descending, he would find himself in some narrow ravine, cleft +between grey rocky heights overgrown with brushwood and +trailing plants, the road leading beside a marshy brook, full +of rushes and forget-me-nots, and disappearing amongst the +forest trees. All day long Graham wandered about that pleasant +land, and it was long past the four o'clock dinner hour when +he stood on the top of the hill he had seen that morning from +his window, and looked across the wide view of woods and +cornfields to where a distant cloud of smoke marked the city +of Liege. Thence descending by a steep zig-zag path, with a +bench at every angle, he crossed the road and the little +rivulet, and found himself once more in the garden at the back +of the hotel. + + +CHAPTER II. + +In the Salon. + + +He had left it in the morning dewy, silent, almost deserted; +he found it full of gaiety and life and movement, talking, +laughing, and smoking going on, pretty bright dresses glancing +amongst the trees, children swinging under the great branches, +the flickering lights and shadows dancing on their white +frocks and curly heads, white-capped bonnes dangling their +_bebes_, papas drinking coffee and liqueurs at the little +tables, mammas talking the latest Liege scandal, and +discussing the newest Parisian fashions. The table-d'hote +dinner was just over, and everybody had come out to enjoy the +air, till it was time for the dancing to begin. + +The glass door leading into the passage that ran through the +house stood wide open; so did the great hall door at the other +end; and Graham could see the courtyard full of sunshine, the +iron railing separating it from the road, the river gleaming, +the bridge and railway station beyond, and then again the +background of hills. He passed through the house, and went out +into the courtyard. Here were more people, more gay dresses, +gossip, cigars, and coffee; more benches and tables set in the +scanty shade of the formal round-topped trees that stood in +square green boxes round the paved quadrangle. Outside in the +road, a boy with a monkey stood grinding a melancholy organ; +the sun seemed setting to the pretty pathetic tune, which +mingled not inharmoniously with the hum of voices and sudden +bursts of laughter; the children were jumping and dancing to +their lengthening shadows, but with a measured glee, so as not +to disturb too seriously the elaborate combination of starch +and ribbon and shining plaits which composed their fete day +toilettes. A small tottering thing of two years old, emulating +its companions of larger growth, toppled over and fell +lamenting at Graham's feet as he came out. He picked it up, +and set it straight again, and then, to console it, found a +sou, and showed it how to put it into the monkey's brown +skinny hand, till the child screamed with delight instead of +woe. The lad had a kind, loving heart, and was tender to all +helpless appealing things, and more especially to little +children. + +He stood watching the pretty glowing scene for a few minutes, +and then went in to his solitary _rechauffe_ dinner. Coming out +again half an hour or so later, he found everything changed. +The monkey boy and his organ were gone, the sun had set, +twilight and mists were gathering in the valley, and the +courtyard was deserted; but across the grey dusk, light was +streaming through the muslin window curtains of the salon, the +noise of laughter, and voices, and music came from within now, +breaking the evening stillness; for everyone had gone indoors +to the salon, where the gas was lighted, chairs and tables +pushed out of the way, and Mademoiselle Cecile, the fat good- +natured daughter of the _proprietaire_, already seated at the +piano. The hall outside fills with grinning waiters and maids, +who have their share of the fun as they look in through the +open door. Round go the dancers, sliding and twirling on the +smooth polished floor, and Mademoiselle Cecile's fingers fly +indefatigably over the keys, as she sits nodding her head to +the music, and smiling as each familiar face glides past her. + +Horace, who, after lingering awhile in the courtyard, had come +indoors like the rest of the world, stood apart at the further +end of the room, sufficiently entertained with looking on at +the scene, which had the charm of novelty to his English eyes, +and commenting to himself on the appearance of the dancers. + +"But you do wrong not to dance, dear Monsieur, I assure you," +said his Belgian friend, coming up to him at the end of a +polka, with the elderly Countess, who with her dingy lilac +barege gown exchanged for a dingier lilac silk, and her sandy +hair fuzzier than ever, had been dancing vigorously. +"Mademoiselle Cecile's music is delicious," he continued, "it +positively inspires one; let me persuade you to attempt just +one little dance." + +"Indeed, I would rather look on," said Horace; "I can listen to +Mademoiselle Cecile's music all the same, and I do not care +much for dancing, as I told you; besides, I don't know anyone +here." + +"If that be all," cried the other eagerly, "I can introduce +you to half a dozen partners in a moment; that lady that I +have just been dancing with, for instance, will be charmed----" + +"Stop, I entreat you," said the young Englishman, in alarm, as +his friend was about to rush off; "I cannot indeed--I assure +you I am a very bad dancer; I am tired with my long walk too." + +"Ah, that walk," said the Belgian, "I did wrong in advising +you to take it; you prolonged it till you missed the _table- +d'hote_ dinner, and now you are too much fatigued to dance." + +"But I am very much amused as it is, I assure you," insisted +Graham. "Do tell me something about all these people. Are they +all stopping at the hotel?" + +His companion was delighted to give any information in his +power. No, not a third of the people were stopping at the +hotel, the greater part had come over from Liege, and would go +back there by the ten o'clock train. + +"Then you do not know many of them?" Graham said. + +"No," the Belgian admitted, "he did not know many of them; +only those who were staying at Chaudfontaine. That lady he had +just been dancing with, Monsieur had seen in the morning, he +believed; she was the Countess G----, a most distinguished +person, with blood-royal in her veins, and came from Brussels. +That pretty girl in blue was Mademoiselle Sophie L----, who was +going to be married next month to one of the largest +proprietors in the neighbourhood, the young man standing by +her, who was paying her so much attention. The odd-looking man +in shoes and buckles was a rising genius, or thought himself +so, a violinist, who came over occasionally from Liege, and +hoped to make his fortune some day in London or Paris; and +perhaps he will do so," says the Belgian, "for he has talent. +That little dirty-looking young man with a hooked nose, and +the red Turkish slippers, is a Spaniard going through a course +of studies at Liege; he is staying in the hotel, and so are +the fat old gentleman and lady seated on the sofa; they are +Brazilians, and he has been sent over by his Government to +purchase arms, I believe. Those three young ladies in white +are sisters, and are come here from Antwerp for the summer; +that is their mother talking to Mademoiselle Cecile. I see no +one else at this moment," he added, looking slowly round the +room at the groups of dancers who stood chattering and fanning +themselves in the interval between the dances. + +"Who is that?" asked Graham, directing his attention to a +gentleman who had just appeared, and was standing, leaning in +the doorway opposite. + +He was a tall handsome man, with light air, and a long fair +moustache and beard, perfectly well dressed, and with an air +sufficiently distinguished to make him at once conspicuous +amongst the Liege clerks and shopkeepers, of whom a large part +of the company consisted. + +"Ah! precisely, Monsieur, you have fixed upon the most +remarkable personage here," cried his companion, with some +excitement; "but is it possible you do not know him?" + +"I never saw him before," answered Graham. "Is he a celebrity? +A prince, or an ambassador, or anything of that kind?" + +"No, nothing of that kind," said the other laughing, "but a +celebrity nevertheless in his way. That is M. Linders, the +great gambler." + +"I never even heard of him," said the young Englishman; "but +then I don't know much about such people." + +"It is true, I had forgotten that Monsieur is not of this +country; but you would hear enough about him were you to stay +any time at Wiesbaden, or Homburg, or Spa, or any of those +places. He twice broke the bank at Homburg last year, won two +hundred thousand francs at Spa this summer, and lost them +again the next week. He is a most dangerous fellow, and +positively dreaded by the proprietors of the tables." + +"What! when he loses two hundred thousand francs?" + +"Ah! that is a thing that rarely happens; as a rule he is +perfectly cool, which is the principal thing at these tables, +plays when the run is in his favour, and stops when it is +against him; but occasionally he gets excited, and then of +course the chances are that he loses everything like another." + +"What can he be doing here?" said Graham. + +"Who knows? Stopping a night or two on his way to Paris, or +Brussels, perhaps, on the chance of finding some one here rich +enough and imprudent enough to make it worth his while. You do +not play, Monsieur?" + +"Never in that way," answered the lad, laughing; "I can get +through a game of whist decently enough, but I rarely touch +cards at all." + +"Ah, then you are safe: otherwise I would have said, avoid M. +Linders; he has not the best reputation in the world, and he +has a brother-in-law who generally travels with him, and is +even a greater rogue than himself, but not so lucky--so they +say at least." + +"Do you know him, this famous gambler? He does not look much +like one," says Graham. + +"That is true; but he is a man of good birth and education, I +believe, though he has turned out such a _mauvais sujet_, and it +is part of his _metier_ to get himself up in that style. Yes, I +know him a little, from meeting him here and elsewhere; he is +always going about, sometimes _en prince_, sometimes in a more +humble way--but excuse me, dear Monsieur, Mademoiselle Cecile +has begun to play, and I am engaged to Mademoiselle Sophie for +this dance; she will never forgive me if I make her wait." + +The dancers whirled on; the room grew hotter and hotter. M. +Linders had disappeared, and Graham began to think that he too +had had almost enough of it all, and that it would be pleasant +to seek peace and coolness in the deserted moonlit courtyard. +He was watching for a pause in the waltz that would admit of +his crossing the room, when his attention was attracted by the +same little girl he had seen that morning in the garden. She +was still dressed in the shabby old frock and pinafore, and as +she came creeping in, threading her way deftly amongst the +young ladies in starched muslins and gay ribbons who were +fluttering about, she made the effect of a little brown moth +who had strayed into the midst of a swarm of brilliant +butterflies. No one took any notice of her, and she made her +way up to the large round table which had been pushed into the +far corner of the room, and near which Graham was standing. + +"Do you want anything?" he asked, as he saw her raise herself +on tiptoe, and stretch forward over the table. + +"I want _that_," she said, pointing to a miniature roulette +board, which stood in the middle, beyond the reach of her +small arm. + +He gave it to her, and then stood watching to see what she +would do with it. She set to work with great deliberation; +first pulling a handful of sugar-plums out of her pocket, and +arranging them in a little heap at her side on the table, and +then proceeding with much gravity to stake them on the +numbers. She would put down a bonbon and give the board a +twirl; "_ving-cinq_," she would say; the ball flew round and +fell into a number; it might be ten, or twenty, or twenty- +five, it did not much matter; she looked to see what it was, +but right or wrong, never failed to eat the bonbon--an +illogical result, which contrasted quaintly with the intense +seriousness with which she made her stakes. Sometimes she +would place two or three sugar-plums on one number, always +naming it aloud--"_trente-et-un_," "_douze-premier_," "_douze- +apres_." It was the oddest game for a small thing not six years +old; and there was something odd, too, in her matter-of-fact, +business-like air, which amused Graham. He had seen gambling- +tables during his three weeks' visit to Germany, and he felt +sure that this child must have seen them too. + +"Eh! What an insupportable heat!" cried a harsh high-pitched +voice behind him. "Monsieur Jules, I will repose myself for a +few minutes, if you will have the goodness to fetch me a glass +of _eau sucree. Je n'en peux plus!_" + +Graham, recognizing the voice, turned round, and saw the +Countess G---- leaning on the arm of a young man with whom she +had been dancing. + +"But it is really stifling!" she exclaimed, dropping into an +arm-chair by the table as her partner retired. "Monsieur does +not dance, apparently," she continued, addressing Horace. +"Well, you are perhaps right; it is a delightful amusement, +but on a night like this---- Ah! here is little Madelon. I have +not seen you before to-day. How is it you are not dancing?" + +"I don't want to," answered the child, giving the roulette- +board a twirl. + +"But that is not at all a pretty game that you have there," +said the Countess, shaking her head; "it was not for little +girls that Mademoiselle Cecile placed the roulette-board +there. Where is your doll? why are you not playing with her?" + +"My doll is in bed; and I like this best," answered the child +indifferently. "_Encore ce malheureux trente-six! Je n'ai pas +de chance ce soir!_" + +"But little girls should not like what is naughty: and I think +it would be much better if you were in bed too. Come, give me +that ugly toy; there is Monsieur quite shocked to see you +playing with it." + +Madelon looked up into Horace's face with her wide-open gaze, +as if to verify this wonderful assertion; and apparently +satisfied that it had been made for the sake of effect, +continued her game without making any reply. + +"Oh, then, I really must take it away," said the Countess; +"_allons_, be reasonable, _ma petite;_ let me have that, and go +and dance with the other little boys and girls." + +"But I don't want to dance, and I like to play at this," cries +Madelon with her shrill little voice, clutching the board with +both her small hands, as the Countess tried to get possession +of it; "you have no right to take it away. Papa lets me play +with it; and I don't care for you! Give it me back again, I +say; _je le veux, je le veux!_" + +"No, no," answered the Countess, pushing it beyond Madelon's +reach to the other side of the table. "I daresay you have seen +your papa play at that game; but children must not always do +the same as their papas. Now, be good, and eat your bonbons +like a sensible child." + +"I will not eat them if I may not play for them!" cried the +child; and with one sweep of her hand she sent them all off +the table on to the floor, and stamped on them again and again +with her tiny foot. "You have no right to speak to me so!" she +went on energetically; "no one but my papa speaks to me; and I +don't know you, and I don't like you, and you are very ugly!" +and then she turned her back on the Countess and stood in +dignified silence. + +"_Mais c'est un petit diable!_" cried the astonished lady, +fanning herself vigorously with her pocket-handkerchief. She +was discomfited though she had won the victory, and hailed the +return of her partner with the _eau sucree_ as a relief. "A +thousand thanks, M. Jules! What if we take another turn, +though this room really is of insufferable heat." + +Madelon was let confronting Horace, a most ill-used little +girl, not crying, but with flushed cheeks and pouting lips--a +little girl who had lost her game and her bonbons, and felt at +war with all the world in consequence. Horace was sorry for +her; he, too, thought she had been ill-used, and no sooner was +the Countess fairly off than he said, very immorally, no +doubt, + +"Would you like to have your game back again?" + +"No," said Madelon, in whom this speech roused a fresh sense +of injury; "I have no more bonbons." + +Graham had none to offer her, and a silence ensued, during +which she stood leaning against the table, slowly scraping one +foot backwards and forwards over the remains of the scattered +bonbons. At last he bethought him of a small bunch of charms +that he had got somewhere, and hung to his watch-chain, and +with which he had often enticed and won the hearts of +children. + +"Would you like to come and look at these?" he said, holding +them up. + +"No," she replied, ungraciously, and retreating a step +backwards. + +"Not at this?" he said. "Here is a little steam engine that +runs on wheels; and, see, here is a fan that will open and +shut." + +"No," she said again, with a determined little shake of her +head, and still retreating. + +"But only look at this," he said, selecting a little flexible +enamel fish, and trying to lure back this small wild bird. +"See this little gold and green fish, it moves its head and +tail." + +"No," she said once more, but the fish was evidently a +temptation, and she paused irresolute for a moment; but Graham +made a step forward, and this decided her. + +"I don't care for _breloques_," she said, with disdain, "and I +don't want to see them, I tell you." And then, turning round, +she marched straight out of the room. + +At that moment the music stopped, the waltzing ceased, an a +line of retreat was left open for Graham. He saw the Countess +once more approaching, and availed himself of it; out of the +noise and heat and crowd he fled, into the fresh open air of +the quiet courtyard. + + +CHAPTER III. + +In the Courtyard. + + +Three gentlemen with cigars, sitting on the bench under the +salon windows, two more pacing up and down in the moonlight +before the hall-door, and a sixth apparently asleep in a +shadowy corner, were the only occupants of the courtyard. +Graham passed them by, and sought solitude at the lower end, +where he found a seat on the stone coping of the iron railing. +The peace and coolness and silence were refreshing, after the +heat and clamour of the salon; the broad harvest-moon had +risen above the opposite ridge of hills, and flooded +everything with clear light, the river gleamed and sparkled, +the poplars threw long still shadows across the white road; +now and then the leaves rustled faintly, some far-off voice +echoed back from the hills, and presently from the hotel the +sound of the music, and the measured beat of feet, came +softened to the ear, mingled with the low rush of the stream, +and the ceaseless ringing of the hammers in the village +forges. + +Horace had not sat there above ten minutes, and was debating +whether--his Belgian friend notwithstanding--a stroll along the +river-bank would not be a pleasanter termination to his +evening than a return to the dancing, when he saw a small +figure appear in the hall doorway, stand a moment as is +irresolute, and then come slowly across the courtyard towards +him. As she came near he recognised little Madelon. She pauses +when she was within a yard or two of him, and stood +contemplating him with her hands clasped behind her back. + +"So you have come out too," he said. + +"_Mais oui--tout ce tapage m'agace les nerfs_," answered the +child, pushing her hair off her forehead with one of her old- +fashioned little gestures, and then standing motionless as +before, her hands behind her, and her eyes fixed on Graham. +Somehow he felt strangely attracted by this odd little child, +with her quaint vehement ways and speeches, who stood gazing +at him with a look half _farouche_, half confiding, in her great +brown eyes. + +"Monsieur," she began, at last. + +"Well," said Graham. + +"Monsieur, I _would_ like to see the little green fish. May I +look at it?" + +"To be sure," he answered. "Come here, and I will show it to +you." + +"And, Monsieur, I do like _breloques_ very much," continues +Madelon, feeling that this is a moment for confession. + +"Very well, then, you can look at all these. See, here is the +little fish to begin with." + +"And may I have it in my own hand to look at?" she asked, +willing to come to some terms before capitulating. + +"Yes, you shall have it to hold in your own hand, if you will +come here." + +She came close to him then, unclasping her hands, and holding +a tiny palm to receive the little trinket. + +Horace was engaged in unfastening it from the rest of the +bunch, and whilst doing so he said, + +"Will you not tell me your name? Madelon, is it not?" + +"My name is Madeleine, but papa and every one call me +Madelon." + +"Madeleine what?" + +"Madeleine Linders." + +"Linders!" cried Horace, suddenly enlightened; "what, is M. +Linders--" the famous gambler he had nearly said, but checked +himself--"is that tall gentleman with a beard, whom I saw in +the salon just now, your papa?" + +"Yes, that is my papa. Please may I have that now?" + +He put the little flexible toy into her hand, and she stood +gazing at it for a moment, almost afraid to touch it, and then +pushing it gently backwards and forwards with one finger. + +"It does move!" she cried delighted. "I never saw one like it +before." + +"Would you like to keep it?" asked Graham. + +"Always, do you mean?--for my very own?" + +"Yes, always." + +"Ah, yes!" she cried, "I should like it very much. I will wear +it round my neck with a string, and love it so much, --better +than Sophie." + +She looked at it with great admiration as it glittered in the +moonlight; but her next question fairly took Horace aback. + +"Is it worth a great deal of money, Monsieur?" she inquired. + +"Why, no, not a great deal--very little, in fact," he replied. + +"Ah! then, I will beg papa to let me keep it always, always, +and not to take it away." + +"I daresay he will let you keep it, if you tell him you like +it," said Graham, not clearly understanding her meaning. + +"Oh! yes, but then he often gives me pretty things, and then +sometimes he says he must take them away again, because they +are worth so much money. I don't mind, you know, if he wants +them; but I will ask him to let me keep this." + +"And what becomes of all your pretty things?" + +"I don't know; I have none now," she answered, "we left them +behind at Spa. Do you know one reason why I would not dance +to-night?" she added, lowering her voice confidentially. + +"No; what was it?" + +"Because I had not my blue silk frock with lace, that I wear +at the balls at Wiesbaden and Spa. I can dance, you know, papa +taught me; but not in this old frock, and I left my other at +Spa." + +"And what were your other reasons?" asked Graham, wondering +more and more at the small specimen of humanity before him. + +"Oh! because the room here is so small and crowded. At +Wiesbaden there are rooms large--so large--quite like this +courtyard," extending her small arms by way of giving +expression to her vague sense of grandeur; "and looking- +glasses all round, and crimson sofas, and gold chandeliers, +and ladies in such beautiful dresses, and officers who danced +with me. I don't know any one here." + +"And who were the Count and the Prince you were talking about +to Mademoiselle Sophie in the garden this morning?" + +Madelon looked disconcerted. + +"I shan't tell you," she said, hanging down her head. + +"Will you not? Not if I want to know very much?" + +She hesitated a moment, then burst forth-- + +"Well, then, they were just nobody at all. I was only talking +make-believe to Sophie, that she might do the steps properly." + +"Oh! then, you did not expect to see them here this evening?" + +"Here!" cries Madelon, with much contempt; "why, no. One meets +nothing but _bourgeois_ here." + +Graham was infinitely amused. + +"Am I a _bourgeois?_" he said, laughing. + +"I don't know," she replied, looking at him; "but you are not +a milord, I know, for I heard papa asking Mademoiselle Cecile +about you, and she said you were not a milord at all." + +"So you care for nothing but Counts and Princes?" + +"I don't know," she said again. Then with an evident sense +that such abstract propositions would involve her beyond her +depth, she added, "Have you any other pretty things to show +me? I should like to see what else you have on your chain." + +In five minutes more they were fast friends, and Madelon, +seated on Graham's knee, was chattering away, and recounting +to him all the history of her short life. He was not long in +perceiving that her father was the beginning and end of all +her ideas--her one standard of perfection, the one medium +through which, small as she was, she was learning to look out +on and estimate the world, and receiving her first impressions +of life. She had no mother, she said, in answer to Graham's +inquiries. _Maman_ had died when she was quite a little baby; +and though she seemed to have some dim faint recollection of +having once lived in a cottage in the country, with a woman to +take care of her, everything else referred to her father, from +her first, vague floating memories to the time when she could +date them as distinct and well-defined, facts. She had once +had a nurse, she said, --a long time ago that was, when she was +little--but papa did not like her, and so she went away; and +now she was too big for one. Papa did everything for her, it +appeared, from putting her to sleep at night, when +Mademoiselle was disposed to be wakeful, to nursing her when +she was ill, taking her to fetes on grand holidays, buying her +pretty things, walking with her, teaching her dancing, and +singing, and reading; and she loved him so much--ah! so much! +Indeed, in all the world, the child had but one object for a +child's boundless powers of trust and love and veneration, and +that one was her father. + +"And where do you generally live now?" asked Graham. + +"Why, nowhere in particular," Madelon answered. "Of course +not--they were always travelling about. Papa had to go to a +great many places. They had come last from Spa, and before +that they had been at Wiesbaden and Homburg, and last winter +they had spent at Nice: and now they were on their way to +Paris." + +"And do you and your papa always live alone? Have you not an +uncle?" enquired Graham, remembering the Belgian's speech +about the brother-in-law. + +"Oh! yes, there is Uncle Charles--he comes with us generally; +but sometimes he goes away, and then I am so glad." + +"How is that? are you not fond of him?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I don't like him at all; he is very +disagreeable, and teases me. And he is always wanting me to go +away; he says, 'Adolphe'--that is papa, you know--'when is that +child going to school?' But papa pays no attention to him, for +he is never going to send me away; he told me so, and he says +he could not get on without me at all." + +Graham no longer wondered at Madelon's choice of a game, for +it appeared she was in the habit of accompanying her father +every evening to the gambling tables, when they were at any of +the watering-places he frequented. + +"Sometimes we go away into the ball-room and dance," she said, +"that is when papa is losing; he says, 'Madelon, _mon enfant_, I +see we shall do nothing here to-night, let us go and dance.' +But sometimes he does nothing but win, and then we stop till +the table closes, and he makes a great deal of money. Do you +ever make money in that way, Monsieur?" she added naively. + +"Indeed I do not," replied Graham. + +"It is true that everyone has not the same way," said the +child, with an air of being well informed, and evidently +regarding her father's way as a profession like another, only +superior to most. "What do you do, Monsieur?" + +"I am going to be a doctor, Madelon." + +"A doctor," she said reflecting; "I do not think that can be a +good way. I only know one doctor, who cured me when I was ill +last winter; but I know a great many gentlemen who make money +like papa. Can you make a fortune with ten francs, Monsieur?" + +"I don't think I ever tried," answered Horace. + +"Ah, well, papa can; I have often heard him say, 'Give me only +ten francs, _et je ferai fortune!_' " + +There was something at once so droll and so sad about this +child, with her precocious knowledge and ignorant simplicity, +that the lad's honest tender heart was touched with a sudden +pity as he listened to her artless chatter. He was almost glad +when her confidences drifted away to more childlike subjects +of interest, and she told him about her toys, and books, and +pictures, and songs; she could sing a great many songs, she +said, but Horace could not persuade her to let him hear one. + +"Why do you talk French?" she said presently; "you speak it so +funnily. I can talk English." + +"Can you?" said Horace laughing, for indeed he spoke French +with a fine English accent and idiom. "Let me hear you. Where +did you learn it?" + +"Uncle Charles taught me; he is English," she answered, +speaking correctly enough, with a pretty little accent. + +"Indeed!" cried Graham. "Your mother was English, then?" + +"Yes. Mamma came from England, papa says, and Uncle Charles +almost always talks English to me. I would not let him do it, +only papa wished me to learn." + +"And have you any other relations in England?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "We have never been in England, +and papa says he will never go, for he detests the English; +but I only know Uncle Charles and you, and I like you." + +"What is your Uncle Charles' other name? Can you tell me?" + +"Leroy," she answered promptly. + +"But that is not an English name," said Graham. + +This was a little beyond Madelon, but after some +consideration, she said with much simplicity, + +"I don't know whether it is not English. But it is only lately +his name has been Leroy, since he came back from a journey he +made; before that it was something else, I forget what, but I +heard him tell papa he would like to be called Leroy, as it +was a common name; and papa told me, in case anyone asked me." + +"I understand," said Graham; and indeed he did understand, and +felt a growing compassion for the poor little girl, whose only +companions and protectors were a gambler and a sharper. + +They were still talking, when the silence of the courtyard was +broken by a sudden confusion and bustle. The sound of the +music and dancing had already ceased; and now a medley of +voices, a shrill clamour of talking and calling, made +themselves heard through the open hall door. + +"Henri! Henri! Ou est-il donc, ce petit drole?" + +"Allons, Pauline, depeche-toi, mon enfant, ton pere nous +attend!" + +"Ciel! j'ai perdu mon fichu et mes gants." + +"Enfin." + +"The people are going away," says Madelon; and, in fact, in +another minute the whole party, talking, laughing, hurrying, +came streaming out by twos and threes into the moonlight, and, +crossing the road and bridge, disappeared one by one in the +station beyond, the sound of their voices still echoing back +through the quiet night. The last had hardly vanished when a +tall solitary figure appeared in the courtyard, and advanced, +looking round as if searching for some one. + +"Madelon!" cried the same voice that Graham had heard that +morning in the garden. + +"There is papa looking for me; I must go," exclaimed the child +at the same moment; and before Graham had time to speak, she +had slipped off his knee and darted up to her father; then +taking his hand, the two went off together, the small figure +jumping and dancing by the side of the tall man as they +disappeared within the doorway of the hotel. + +A few minutes more, and then a sound as of distant thunder +told that the train was approaching through the tunnel. Graham +watched it emerge, traverse the clear moonlit valley with +slackening speed, and pause at the station for its freight of +passengers. There was a vague sound of confusion as the people +took their places, and then with a parting shriek it set off +again; and as the sound died away in the distance, a great +stillness succeeded the noise and bustle of a few moments +before. + +Horace was afraid he had seen the last of Madelon, for +returning to the hotel he found no one in the salon, with the +exception of Mademoiselle Cecile, who was already putting out +the lights. The hall, too, was deserted; the servants had +vanished, and the _habitues_ of the hotel had apparently gone to +bed, for he met no one as he passed along, and turned down the +passage leading to the salle-a-manger. This was a large long +room, occupying the whole ground floor of one wing of the +hotel, with windows looking out on one side into the +courtyard, on the other into the garden, two long tables, +smaller ones in the space between, and above them a row of +chandeliers smothered in pink and yellow paper roses. The room +looked bare and deserted enough now; a sleepy waiter lounged +at the further end, the trees in the garden rustled and waved +to and fro in the rising night breeze, the moonlight streamed +through the uncurtained windows on to the boarded floor and +white table-cloths, chasing the darkness into remote corners, +and contending with the light of the single lamp which stood +on one of the smaller tables, where two men were sitting, +drinking, smoking, and playing at cards. + +One of them was a man between thirty and forty, in a tight- +fitting black coat buttoned up to his chin, and with a thin +face, smooth shaven, with the exception of a little yellow +moustache, and sharp grey eyes. He would have been handsome, +had it not been for his unpleasant expression, at once knowing +and suspicious. The other Horace immediately recognised as +Monsieur Linders; and a moment afterwards he perceived little +Madeleine, sitting nestled close up to her father's side. The +lamplight shone on her curly head and innocent _mignonne_ face +as she watched the game with eager eyes; it was piquant, and +she was marking for her father, and when he had a higher score +than his opponent, she laughed and clapped her hands with +delight. + +Graham stood watching this little scene for a minute; and +somehow, as he looked at the little motherless girl, there +came the thought of small rosy children he knew far away in +England, who, having said their prayers, and repeated their +Sunday hymns, perhaps, had been tucked into little white beds, +and been fast asleep hours ago; and a kind, foolish notion +entered the young fellow's head, that, for that one evening at +least, he must get the brown-eyed child, who had taken his +fancy so much, away from the drinking, and smoking, and card- +playing, into a purer atmosphere. He went up to the table, and +leant over her chair. + +"Will you come out again and have a walk with me in the +garden?" he said in English. + +The man opposite, who was dealing, looked up sharply and +suspiciously. Madelon turned round, and gazed up into the kind +face smiling down on her, then shook her head with great +decision. + +"Not a little walk? I will tell you such pretty stories, all +about fairies, and moonlight, and little boys and girls, and +dragons," said Horace, drawing largely on his imagination, in +his desire to offer a sufficient inducement. + +"No," said Madelon, "I can't come; I am marking for papa." + +"What is it?" said M. Linders, who understood very little +English; "what does this gentleman want, _mon enfant?_" + +"I was asking your little girl if she would take a walk with +me in the garden," says Horace, getting rather red, and in his +bad French. + +"Monsieur is too good," answers M. Linders, making a grand +bow, whilst his companion, having finished dealing, sat +puffing away at his cigar, and drumming impatiently with his +fingers on the table; "but the hour is rather late; what do +you say, Madelon? Will you go with Monsieur?" + +"No, papa," says the child, "I am marking for you; I don't +want to go away." + +"You see how it is, Monsieur," said M. Linders, turning to +Graham with a smile and shrug. "This little one thinks herself +of so much importance, that she will not leave me." + +"Are you then mad," cried his companion, "that you think of +letting Madelon go out at this time of night? It is nearly +eleven o'clock, and she can hardly keep her eyes open." + +"My eyes are wide, wide open, Uncle Charles," exclaimed +Madelon, indignantly; "I'm not a bit tired, but I don't want +to go out now." + +"Monsieur will perhaps join our party," said Monsieur Linders, +very politely. "I should be delighted to try my luck with a +fresh adversary." + +"Thank you," said Graham, "but I hardly ever touch cards." +Then turning to Madelon, he added, "I must go away now, since +you will not come for a walk. Won't you wish me good-bye? I +shall not be here to-morrow." + +She turned round and put her little hand into his for a +moment; then with a sudden shy caprice snatched it away, and +hid her face on her father's shoulder, just peeping at him +with her bright eyes. But she started up again suddenly as he +was leaving the room, calling out "_Adieu, Monsieur, bon +voyage_," and kissing her hand to him. He smiled and nodded in +return, bowed to M. Linders, and so went away. There was a +moment's silence after he went, and then, "You have made a +fine acquaintance this evening, Madelon," said her uncle. + +Madelon made a little _moue_, but did not answer. + +"Are you then mad, Adolphe," he said again, "that you permit +Madeleine to pick up an acquaintance with anyone who chooses +to speak to her? An Englishman too!" + +"Papa is not mad," cried Madelon, between whom and her uncle +there was apparently a standing skirmish. "He was a very kind +gentleman, and I like him very much; he gave me this little +goldfish, and I shall keep it always, always," and she kissed +it with effusion. + +"Bah!" said M. Linders, "English or French, it is all one to +me; and what harm could he do to the little one? It was an +accident, but it does not matter for once. Come, Madelon, you +have forgotten to mark." + +"It is your turn to deal next, papa," said the child, "may I +do it for you?" + +Horace Graham left Chaudfontaine by the earliest train the +following morning; and of all the people he had seen on that +Sunday evening at the hotel, only two ever crossed his path +again in after years--M. Linders, and his little daughter, +Madeleine. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Retrospect. + + +M. Linders was of both Belgian and French extraction, his +father having been a native of Liege, his mother a Parisian of +good family, who, in a moment of misplaced sentiment, as she +was wont in after years to sigh, had consented to marry a +handsome young Belgian officer, and had expiated her folly by +spending the greater part of her married life at Malines, +where her husband was stationed, and at Liege, where his +mother and sister resided. Adolphe's education, however, was +wholly French; for Madame Linders, who, during her husband's +life, had not ceased to mourn over her exile from her own +city, lost no time, after his death, in returning to Paris +with her two children, Therese, a girl of about twelve, and +Adolphe, then a child five or six years old. + +Madame Linders had money, but not much, and she made it go +further than did ever Frenchwoman before, which is saying a +great deal. Adolphe must be educated, Adolphe must be clothed, +Adolphe was to be a great man some day; he was to go into the +army, make himself a name, become a General, a Marshal,--heaven +knows what glories the mother did not dream for him, as she +turned and twisted her old black silks, in the _entresol_ in the +Chaussee d'Antin, where she had her little apartment. She had +friends in Paris, and must keep up appearances for Adolphe's +sake, not to mention her own, and so could not possibly live +in a cheap out-of-the-way quarter. + +As for Therese, she was of infinitely small account in the +family. She was plain, not too amiable, nor particularly +clever, and inclined to be _devote;_ and, as in spite of +positive and negative failings, she also had to eat and be +clothed as well as her handsome fair brother, she could be +regarded as nothing else than a burden in the economical +household. + +"You ask me what I shall do with Therese?" said Madame Linders +one day to a confidential friend. "Oh! she will go into a +convent, of course. I know of an excellent one near Liege, of +which her aunt is the superior, and where she will be +perfectly happy. She has a turn that way. What else can I do +with her, my dear? To speak frankly, she is _laide a faire +peur_, and she can have no _dot_ worth mentioning; for I have not +a sou to spare; so there is no chance of her marrying." + +Therese knew her fate, and was resigned to it. As her mother +said, she had a turn that way; and to the Liege convent she +according went, but not before Madame Linders' death, which +took place when her daughter was about seven-and-twenty, and +which was, as Therese vehemently averred, occasioned by grief +at her son's conduct. + +Adolphe had also known the fate reserved for him, and was by +no means resigned to it; for he had never had the least +intention of becoming a soldier, and having escaped +conscription, absolutely refused to enter the army. He was a +clever, unprincipled lad, who had done well at his studies, +but lost no time in getting into the most dissipated society +he could find from the moment he left college. He inherited +his father's good looks, but his mother's predilections +apparently; for he set out in life with the determination to +be Parisian amongst Parisians--of a certain class, be it +understood; and having some talent for drawing, as indeed he +had for most things, he used it as a pretext, announced that +he intended to be an artist, and furnishing a room in the +Quartier Latin, with an easel and a pipe, he began the wild +Bohemian life which he found most in accordance with his +tastes. + +He was selfish and reckless enough, but not altogether +heartless, for he had a real affection for his mother, which +might have been worked upon with advantage. But Madame +Linders, who had indulged him till he had learnt to look upon +her devotion as a thing of course, now turned upon him with +the fretful, inconsequent reproaches of a weak mind; and +finding that he was constantly met with tearful words and +aggrieved looks, her son avoided her as much as possible. His +sister he could not endure. Therese had always been jealous of +the marked preference shown to him; and now, with an evident +sense of triumph, she preached little sermons, talked at him +with unceasing perseverance, and in truth was not a very +engaging person. + +Madame Linders had not been dead ten days, when the brother +and sister had a violent quarrel, and parted with the +determination on either side never to meet again--a resolution +which was perfectly well kept. Therese retired to the Belgian +convent, and Adolphe, the possessor of a few thousand francs, +the remains of his mother's small fortune, returned to his +studio and to the life he had chosen. + +The success and duration of a career of this sort is in exact +proportion to the amount of capital, real or assumed, invested +in it. Monsieur Linders' capital was very small; his francs +and credit both were soon exhausted, and began to find that +making-believe to paint pictures was hardly a paying business. +He tried to take portraits, attempted etching, gambled, and, +finally, being more in debt than he could well afford, +disappeared from the Paris world for a number of years, and +for a long space was known and heard of no more. It was indeed +affirmed in his circle of acquaintance that he had been seen +playing a fiddle at one of the cheap theatres; that he had +been recognized in the dress of a fiacre-driver, and in that +of a waiter at a Cafe Chantant: but these reports were idly +spread, and wanted confirmation. They might or might not have +been true. M. Linders never cared to talk much of those seven +or eight years in which he had effaced himself, as it were, +from society; but it may be imagined that he went through some +strange experiences in a life which was a struggle for bare +existence. Respectable ways of gaining a livelihood he ever +held in aversion; and it was not, therefore, to be expected +that a foolish and unprofitable pride would interfere to +prevent his using any means not absolutely criminal in order +to reach any desired end. + +At length, however, he emerged from obscurity, and rose once +more to the surface of society; and one of his old +acquaintance, who encountered him at Homburg, returned +marvelling to Paris to relate that he had seen Adolphe Linders +winning fabulous sums at _trente-et-quarante_, that he was +decently clothed, had a magnificent suite of apartments at one +of the first hotels, and an English wife of wondrous beauty. +Monsieur Linders had, in fact, sown his wild oats, so to +speak, and settled down to the business of his life. In former +days, gambling had been a passion with him--too much so, +indeed, to admit of his playing with any great success; he had +been apt to lose both temper and skill. Time, however, while +increasing this passion for play, till it gradually became a +necessity of his life, had taught him to bring to bear upon it +all the ability which would have eminently fitted him for some +more praiseworthy employment. Formerly he had indulged in it +as a diversion; now it became a serious business, which he +prosecuted with a cool head, determined will, and unfailing +perseverance--qualities for which few would have given him +credit in the wild unsettled period of his early career. The +result was highly satisfactory to himself; he was soon known +as one of the most successful haunters of the German and +Belgian gaming-tables; he cast off the outward aspect and +manners of the Bohemian set he had once affected, and assumed +the guise and dress of the gentleman he really was--at least by +birth and education--and which he found at once more profitable +and more congenial to his maturer tastes. He lived splendidly, +and spent money freely when he had it; incurred debts with +great facility when he had not--debts which he did or did not +pay, as the case might be. + +It was during a winter spent at Brussels that he made the +acquaintance of Charles Moore, a young Englishman with tastes +identical with his own, but inferior to him in ability, +talents, and even in principles. A sort of partnership was +formed between them, Mr. Linders undertaking most of the work, +and the Englishman contributing his small fortune as capital; +and not only his own, but that of his sister Magdalen, a young +girl who had come abroad with her brother, the only near +relation she had in the world. M. Linders had been introduced +to her, and she, in complete ignorance of the real character +of either him or her brother Charles, had, with all the +simplicity of eighteen, straightway fallen in love with the +handsome gentlemanlike man, who, on his side, made no secret +of the impression produced on him by the great loveliness of +the English girl. Moore, who was a thoroughly heartless scamp, +had not the least compunction in agreeing to a marriage +between his sister and this man, with whose character and mode +of life he was perfectly well acquainted; indeed, it suited +his views so well, that he did what lay in his power to +forward it. There were no difficulties in the way; the two +were almost alone in the world. He had been left her sole +guardian by their old father, who had died a twelve-month +before; and she, trusting her brother entirely, was glad to +leave everything in his hands. The marriage was accomplished +with all possible speed, and it was not till nearly two months +later that an accident revealed to Magdalen Linders, what +indeed in any case she must have discovered before long--what +manner of man this was she had got for her husband. + +Then she did not pine away, nor sicken with despair, being of +a great courage, strong to bear evil and misfortune, and not +made of the stuff that gives way under cruel deception and +disappointment. She uttered only one reproach-- + +"You should have told me of all this, Adolphe," she said. + +"You would not have married me," he answered gloomily. + +"I--I do not know. Ah, I loved you so much, and so truly!" + +And she did love him still; and clung to him to the last, but +not the less was she broken-hearted, so far as any enjoyment +of life was concerned; and her husband saw it. All sense of +rejoicing seemed to die out of her heart for ever. She hated +the splendour with which he sometimes surrounded her, even +more than the paltry shifts and expedients to which at other +times they had to resort, when he had spent all his money, and +there was no more forthcoming for the moment; she wept when +her children were born, thinking of the iniquity of the world +they had entered; and when her two little boys died one after +the other, there was almost a sense of relief mixed with the +bitterness of her sorrow, as she reflected on the father she +could not have taught them to respect, and on the abject evil +and misery from which she could not have shielded them. + +As for M. Linders, he at once adored and neglected his wife, +as was the nature of the man; that is, he adored her +theoretically for her rare beauty, but neglected her +practically, when, after a few months of married life, he saw +her bloom fading, and her animation vanish, in the utter +despondency which had seized her, and which found its outward +expression in a certain studied composure and coldness of +manner. There soon came a time when he would have willingly +freed himself altogether from the constraint of her presence. +He travelled almost incessantly, spending the summer and +autumn at the German watering-places; the winter in France, or +Belgium, or Italy; and he would sometimes propose that she +should remain at a Paris hotel till he could return to her. In +the first years after their marriage she objected vehemently. +She was so young, so unused to solitude, that she felt a +certain terror at the prospect of being left alone; and, +moreover, she still clung with a sort of desperation to her +girlish illusions, and, loving her husband, could not cease to +believe in his love for her. She had plans, too, for reforming +him, and for a long time would not allow herself to be +convinced of their utter vanity and hopelessness. After the +death of her little boys, however, she became more +indifferent, or more resigned. And so it came to pass that +when she had been married about six years, and four months +after her third child was born, Madame Linders died, alone at +a Paris hotel, with no one near her but the doctor, her baby's +nurse, and the woman of the house. She had dictated a few +words to tell her husband, who was then in Germany, that she +was dying; and, stricken with a horrible remorse, he had +travelled with all possible haste to Paris, and arrived at +daybreak one morning to find that his wife had died the +evening before. + +Madame Linders' death had been caused by a fever, under which +she had sunk rapidly at last. There had been no question of +heart-breaking or pining grief here--so her husband thought +with a sort of satisfaction even then, as he remembered his +sister's words of bitter reproach over their mother's death- +bed; and yet not the less, as he looked at his dead wife's +face, did the reflection force itself upon him, that he had +made the misery instead of the happiness of her life. He was a +man who had accustomed himself to view things from the hardest +and most practical point of view; and from such a view his +marriage had been rather a failure than otherwise, since the +memory of the little fortune she had brought with her had +vanished with the fortune itself. But it had not been +altogether for money that he had married her; he had been in +love with her at one time, and that time repeated itself, with +a pertinacity not to be shaken off, as he stood now in her +silent presence. + +Whatever his feelings may have been, however, they found no +expression then. He turned sharply on the women standing +round, who had already, after the fashion of womankind, +contrived, without speaking, to let him know their opinion of +a man who had left his wife alone for six months at an hotel, +whilst he went and amused himself. He scarcely glanced at the +small daughter, now presented to him for the first time; and +he bade Madame Lavaux, the mistress of the hotel, "make haste +and finish with all that," when, with tearful voice, and +discursive minuteness, she related to him the history of his +wife's last days. He made all necessary arrangements; took +possession of Madame Linders' watch and few trinkets; himself +superintended the packing of her clothes and other trifling +properties into a large trunk, which he left in Madame Lavaux' +charge; attended the funeral on the following day; and +immediately on his return from it, ordered a fiacre to be in +readiness to convey him to the railway station, as he was +going to quit Paris immediately. He was on the point of +departure, when he was confronted by Madame Lavaux and the +nurse bearing the infant, who begged to know if he had any +directions to leave concerning his child. + +"Madame," he answered, addressing the landlady, "I entrust all +these matters to you; see that the child is properly provided +for, and I will send the requisite money." + +"We had arranged that her nurse should take her away to her +own home in the country," said Madame Lavaux. + +"That will do," he answered; and was about to leave the room, +when the nurse, an honest countrywoman, interposed once more, +to inquire where she should write to Monsieur to give him +tidings of his little daughter. + +"I want none," he replied. "You can apply here to Madame for +money if the child lives; if it dies she will let me know, and +I need send no more." And so saying, he strode out of the +room, leaving the women with hands and eyes uplifted at the +hard-hearted conduct of the father. + +For nearly two years M. Linders was absent from Paris, +wandering about, as his habit was, from one town to another, a +free man, as he would himself have expressed it, except for +the one tie which he acknowledged only in the sums of money he +sent from time to time, with sufficient liberality, to Madame +Lavaux. No news reached him of his child, and he demanded +none. But about twenty months after his wife's death, business +obliged him to go for a few weeks to Paris; and finding +himself with a leisure day on his hands, it occurred to him, +with a sudden impulse, to spend it in the country and go and +see his little girl. He ascertained from Madame Lavaux where +she was, and went. + +The woman with whom little Madeleine had been placed lived +about fifteen miles from Paris, in a small village perched +half-way up a steep hill, from the foot of which stretched a +wide plain, where the Seine wound slowly amongst trees and +meadows, and scattered villages. The house to which M. Linders +was directed stood a little apart from the others, near the +road-side, but separated from it by a strip of garden, planted +with herbs and a patch of vines; and as he opened the gate, he +came at once upon a pretty little picture of a child of two +years, in a quaint, short-waisted, long-skirted pinafore, +toddling about, playing at hide-and-seek among the tall poles +and trailing tendrils, and kept within safe limits by a pair +of leading-strings passed round the arm of a woman who sat in +the shade of the doorway knitting. As M. Linders came up the +narrow pathway she ran towards him to the utmost extent of her +tether, uttering little joyous inarticulate cries, and +bubbling over with the happy instinctive laughter of a child +whose consciousness is bounded by its glad surroundings. + +When, in moments of pseudo remorse, which would come upon him +from time to time, it occurred to M. Linders to reflect upon +his misdeeds, and adopt an apologetic tone concerning them, he +was wont to propound a singular theory respecting his life, +averring, in general terms, that it had been spoilt by women,-- +a speech more epigrammatic, perhaps, than accurate, since of +the two women who had loved him best, his mother and his wife, +he had broken the heart of the one, and ruined the happiness +of the other. And yet it was not without its grain of meaning, +however false and distorted; for M. Linders, who was not more +consistent than the rest of mankind, had, by some queer +anomaly, along with all his hardness, and recklessness, and +selfishness, a capacity for affection after his own fashion, +and an odd sensitiveness to the praise and blame of those +women whom he cared for and respected which did not originate +merely in vanity and love of applause. He had been fond of his +mother, though he had ignored her wishes and abused her +generosity; and he had hated his sister Therese, because he +imagined that she had come between them. Their reproaches had +been unbearable to him, and though his wife had never blamed +him in words, there had been a mute upbraiding in her mournful +looks and dejected spirits, which he had resented as a wrong +done to the love he had once felt for her. In the absence of +many subjects for self-congratulation, he rather piqued +himself on a warm heart and sensitive feelings, and chose to +consider them ill-requited by the cold words and sad glances +of those whose happiness he was destroying. The idea that he +should set matters straight by adjusting his life to meet +their preconceived notions of right and wrong, would have +appeared to him highly absurd; but he considered them +unreasonable and himself ill-used when they refused to give +their approbation to his proceedings, and this idea of ill- +usage and unreasonableness he was willing to encourage, as it +enabled him to shift the responsibility of their unhappiness +from his own shoulders on to theirs, and to deaden the sense +of remorse which would make itself felt from time to time. For +in the worst of men, they say, there still lingers some touch +of kindly human feeling, and M. Linders, though amongst the +most worthless, was not perhaps absolutely the worst of men. +He was selfish enough to inflict any amount of pain, yet not +hardened enough to look unmoved on his victims. He had, in +truth, taken both their misery and their reproaches to heart; +and sometimes, especially since his wife's death, he had +surprised in himself a strange, unaccountable desire for a +love that should be true and pure, but which, ignorant of, or +ignoring his errors, should be content to care for him and +believe in him just as he was: such a love as his wife might, +perhaps, have given him in her single month of unconscious +happiness. It was a longing fitful, and not defined in words, +but a real sentiment all the same, not a sentimentality; and, +imperfect as it was in scope and tendency, it expressed the +best part of the man's nature. He despised it, and crushed it +down; but it lay latent, ready to be kindled by a touch. + +And here was a small piece of womankind belonging to him, who +could upbraid by neither word nor look, who ran towards him +confidently, stretching out tiny hands to clutch at his +shining gold chain, and gazing up in his face with great brown +eyes, that recalled to him those of her dead mother, when she +had first known and learnt to love him. Had Madelon been a shy +plain child--had she hidden her face, and run from him +screaming to her nurse, as children are so wont to do, he +would then and there have paid the money he had brought with +him as the ostensible cause of his visit, and gone on his way, +thinking no more about her for another two years perhaps. But +Madelon had no thought of shyness with the tall fair handsome +man who had taken her fancy: she stood for a moment in the +pathway before him, balancing herself on tiptoe with uplifted +arms, confident in the hope of being taken up; and, as the +woman recognizing M. Linders, came forward and bade the child +run to Papa, with a sudden unaccustomed emotion of tenderness, +almost pathetic in such a man, he stooped down and raised her +in his arms. + +As he travelled back to Paris that day, M. Linders formed a +plan which he lost no time in carrying, partially, at least, +into execution. During the next twelvemonth he spent much of +his time in Paris, and went frequently to see his mall +daughter, never without some gift to win her heart, till the +child came to regard his pocket as the inexhaustible source of +boundless surprises, in the shape of toys and cakes and +bonbons. It was not long before she was devoted to her father, +and, her nurse dying when she was a little more than three +years old, M. Linders resolved at once to carry out his idea, +and, instead of placing her with any one else, take possession +of her himself. He removed her accordingly from the country to +Paris, engaged a _bonne_, and henceforth Madelon accompanied him +wherever he went. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Monsieur Linders' System. + + +My little lady had given Horace Graham a tolerably correct +impression of her life as they had talked together in the +moonlight at Chaudfontaine. When M. Linders took her home with +him--if that may be called home which consisted of wanderings +from one hotel to another--it was with certain fixed ideas +concerning her, which he began by realizing with the success +that not unfrequently attended his ideas when he set himself +with a will to work them out. His child's love and trust he +had already gained, as she had won suddenly for herself a +place in his heart, and he started with the determination that +these relations between them should never be disturbed. She +should be educated for himself; she should be brought up to +see with his eyes, to adopt his views; she should be taught no +troublesome standard of right and wrong by which to measure +him and find wanting; no cold shadow of doubt and reproach +should ever rise between them and force them asunder; and +above all, he would make her happy--she for one should never +turn on him and say, "See, my life is ruined, and it is you +who have done it!" She should know no life, no aims, no wishes +but his; but that life should be so free from care and sorrow +that for once he would be able to congratulate himself on +having made the happiness, instead of the misery, of some one +whom he loved and who loved him. + +These were the ideas that M. Linders entertained concerning +Madelon, expressing them to himself in thoughts and language +half genuine, half sentimental, as was his nature. But his +love for his child was genuine enough; and for the fulfilment +of his purpose he was willing to sacrifice much, devoting +himself to her, and giving up time, comfort, and even money, +for the sake of this one small being whom in all the world he +loved, and who was to be taught to love him. He took her about +with him; she associated with his companions; he familiarized +her with all his proceedings, and she came in consequence to +look upon their mode of life as being as much a matter of +course, and a part of the great system of things, as the child +does who sees her father go out to plough every day, or mount +the pulpit every Sunday to preach his sermon. Of course she +did not understand it all; it was his one object in life that +she should not; and fondly as he loved his little Madelon, he +did not scruple to make her welfare subordinate to his own +views. He was careful to keep her within the shady bounds of +that world of no doubtful character, which he found wherever +he went, hovering on the borders of the world of avowed +honesty and respectability, jealously guarding her from every +counter-influence, however good or beneficial. He would not +send her to school, was half unwilling, indeed, that she +should be educated in any way, lest she should come to the +knowledge of good and evil, which he so carefully hid from +her; and he even dismissed her good, kind-hearted bonne, on +overhearing her instruct the child, who could then hardly +speak plain, in some little hymn or prayer, or pious story, +such as nurses delight in teaching their charges. After that +he took care of her himself with the assistance of friendly +landladies at the hotels he frequented, who all took an +interest in and were kind to the little motherless girl, but +were too busy to have any time to spend in teaching her, or +enlarging her ideas; and indeed all the world conspired to +carry out M. Linders' plan; for who would have cared, even had +it been possible, to undertake the ungracious task of opening +the eyes of a child to the real character of a father whom she +loved and believed in so implicitly? And she was so happy, +too! Setting aside any possible injury he might be doing her, +M. Linders was the most devoted of fathers, loving and caring +for her most tenderly, and thinking himself well repaid by the +clinging grasp of her small hand, by the spring of joy with +which she welcomed him after any absence, by her gleeful voice +and laughter, her perfect trust and confidence in him. + +There must have been something good and true about this man, +roue and gambler though he was, that, somehow, he himself and +those around him had missed hitherto, but that sprang +willingly into life when appealed to by the innocent faith, +the undoubting love of his little child. Thus much Madelon all +unconsciously accomplished, but more than this she could not +do. M. Linders did not become a reformed character for her +sake: he had never had any particular principles, and +Madelon's loving innocence, which aroused all his best +emotions, had no power to stir in him any noble motives or +high aspirations, which, if they existed at all, were buried +too deep to be awakened by the touch of her small hand. His +misdeeds had never occasioned him much uneasiness, except as +they had affected the conduct of others towards himself; and +he had no reproaches, expressed or implied, to fear from +Madelon. "No one had ever so believed in him before!" he would +sigh, with a feeling not without a certain pathos in its way, +though with the ring of false sentiment characteristic of the +man, and with an apparent want of perception that it was +ignorance rather than belief that was in question. Madelon +believed indeed in his love, for it answered readily to her +daily and hourly appeals, but she cannot be aid to have +believed in his honour and integrity, for she can hardly have +known what they meant, and she made no claims upon _them_. It +was, perhaps, happy for her that the day when she should have +occasion to do so never arrived. + +She was not left quite uneducated, however; her father taught +her after his own fashion, and she gained a good deal of +practical knowledge in their many wanderings. When she was six +years old she could talk almost as many languages, could +dance, and could sing a variety of songs with the sweetest, +truest little voice; and by the time she was eight or nine, +she had learned both to write and read, though M. Linders took +care that her range of literature should be limited, and +chiefly confined to books of fairy-tales, in which no examples +drawn from real life could be found, to correct and confuse +the single-sided views she received from him. This was almost +the extent of her learning, but she picked up all sorts of odd +bits of information, in the queer mixed society which M. +Linders seemed everywhere to gather round him, and which +appeared to consist of waifs and strays from every grade of +society--from reckless young English milords, Russian princes, +and Polish counts, soi-disant, down to German students and +penniless artists. + +It was, no doubt, fortunate, even at this early age, that +Madelon's little pale face, with its wide-open brown eyes, had +none of the prettiness belonging to the rosy-cheeked, blue- +eyed, golden-haired type of beauty, and that she thus escaped +a world of flattery and nonsense. She was silent too in +company, as a rule, keeping her chatter and laughter, for the +most part, till she was alone with her father, and content +sometimes to sit as quiet as a mouse for a whole evening, +watching what was going on around her; she was too much +accustomed to strangers ever to feel shy with them, but she +cared little for them, unless, as in Horace Graham's case, +they happened to take her fancy. + +It must no be imagined, however, that M. Linders was quite +without conscience as regarded his child; there were some +people with whom he took care that she should not associate, +some society into which he never took her. Many an evening did +Madelon spend happily enough while her father was out, in the +snug little parlours of the hotels, where Madame, the +landlady, would be doing up her accounts perhaps, and +Monsieur, the landlord, reposing after the exertions of the +day; whilst Mademoiselle Madelon, seated at the table, would +build card-houses, or play at dominoes, and eat galette and +confitures to her heart's content. Here, too, she would get +queer little glimpses into life--hearing very likely how +Monsieur B. had made off without paying his bill, or how those +trunks that Madame la Comtesse C. had left eighteen months +ago, as a pledge of her return, had been opened at last, and +been found to contain but old clothes, fit for the rag-market; +how a few francs might be advantageously added on here and +there in the bill for the rich English family at the _premier;_ +how the gentleman known as No. 5 was looked upon as a +suspicious character; and how Pierre the waiter had been set +to watch the door of No. 8, who had spent three months in the +house without paying a sou, and was daily suspected of +attempting to abscond. All these, and a dozen similar stories, +and half the gossip of the town, would come buzzing round +Madelon's ears as she sat gravely balancing one card one the +top of the other. She heard and comprehended them with such +comprehension as was in her; and no doubt they modified in +some degree her childish views of life, which in these early +days was presented to her, poor child! under no very sublime +or elevated aspect; but they had little interest for her, and +she paid small heed to them. In truth, her passionate love for +her father was, no doubt, at this time her great preservative +and safeguard, ennobling her, as every pure unselfish passion +must ennoble, and by absorbing her thoughts and heart, acting +as a charm against many an unworthy influence around her. The +first sound of his footstep outside was enough to put both +stories and gossip out of her head, and was the signal for her +to spring from her chair, and rush into the passage to meet +him; and a few minutes after they would be seated together in +their room upstairs, she nestling on his knee most likely, +with her arm tight round his neck, while he recounted the +adventures of the evening. His purse would be brought out, and +it was Madelon's special privilege and treat to pour out the +contents on the table and count them over. If M. Linders had +won it was a little fete for both--calculations as to how it +should be spent, where they should go the next day, what new +toy, or frock, or trinket should be bought; if he had lost, +there would be a moment of discouragement perhaps, and then +Madelon would say, + +"It does not signify, papa, does it?--you will win to-morrow, +you know." + +As for M. Linders, the thought of the little, eager innocent +face that would greet his return home was the brightest and +purest vision that lighted his dark and wayward life, and he +appealed to his child's sympathy and encouragement in a way +that had something touching in it, showing as it did the +gentler side of a man who was always reckless, and could be +hard and merciless enough sometimes; but he was never anything +but tender with his little Madelon, and one can fancy the two +sitting together, as she counts over the little gold pieces +shining in the candlelight. Once, not long after his marriage, +he had appealed to his wife in the same way, when, after an +unusual run of luck, he had returned in triumph with his +winnings. She, poor girl, looked first at them and then at +him, with a piteous little attempt at a smile; then suddenly +burst into tears, and turned away. It was the first and last +time he tried to win her sympathy in these matters, and was, +perhaps, the beginning of the sort of estrangement that grew +up between them. + +These were happy evenings, Madelon thought, but she found +those happier still when her father was at home, generally +with one or two men who would come in to play cards with him. +They were always good-natured and kind to the little girl who +sat so still and close to her father's side, watching the game +with her quick, intelligent eyes; though some of them, foolish +smooth-faced lads, perhaps, would go away cursing the fate +that had ever led them across M. Linders' path, and carrying +an undying hatred in their hearts for the handsome courteous +man who had enticed them on to ruin. How M. Linders lured +these poor birds into the snare, and by what means he plucked +them when there, Madelon never knew; all that belonged to the +darker side of this character, which she never fully +understood, and on which, for her sake, we will not dwell. + +Most of all, however, did Madelon enjoy being at the German +watering-places, for then she went out with her father +constantly. The fair-haired, brown-eyed little girl was almost +as well-known in the Kursaals of Homburg and Wiesbaden as the +famous gambler himself, as evening after evening they entered +the great lighted salons together, and took their places +amongst the motley crowd gathered round the long green tables. +There she would remain contented for hours, sometimes sitting +on his knee, sometimes herself staking a florin or two--"to +change the luck," M. Linders would say laughingly,--sometimes +wearied out, curled up fast asleep in a corner of one of the +sofas. Then there were the theatres, to which her father often +took her, and where, with delighted, wondering eyes, she made +acquaintance with most of the best operas and learnt to sing +half Bellini's and Weber's music in her clear little voice. +More than once, too, she was taken behind the scenes, where +she saw so much of the mysteries of stage-working and +carpentering as would have destroyed the illusions of an older +person; but it did not make much difference to her; the next +time she found herself in the stalls or balcony she forget all +about what was going on behind, and was as much enchanted as +ever with the fine results prepared for the public gaze. + +On other nights there would be the balls, always a supreme +enjoyment. It must be owned that Madelon took great pleasure +in seeing her small person arrayed in a smart frock; and she +was never weary of admiring the big rooms with their gilded +furniture, and mirrors, and brilliant lights, and polished +floors, where a crowd of gay people would be twirling about to +the sound of the music. She danced like a little fairy, too, +with pure delight in the mere motion, was never tired, and +rarely sat down; for Mademoiselle, who generally held herself +rather aloof from strangers, would be pleased on these +occasions to put on a little winning graciousness, giving her +hand with the air of a small princess to any one soliciting +the honour of a dance; and she was seldom without some tall +partner, attracted by her _gentillesse_ and naive prattle--a +moustached Austrian or Prussian officer, perhaps, in white or +blue uniform, or one of her counts or barons, with a bit of +ribbon dangling from his button-hole; or, if all else failed, +there was always her father, who was ever ready to indulge her +in any of her fancies, and never resisted her coaxing pleading +for one more dance. + +These were the evenings; for the days there were pleasures +enough too, though of a simpler kind, and more profitable, +perhaps, for our poor little Madelon, in her gay unconscious +dance through that mad Vanity Fair, innocent though it was for +her as yet. + +Except on some special emergency, M. Linders rarely went to +the gambling tables during the day. He had a theory that +daylight was prejudicial to his prosperity, and that it was +only at night that he could play there with any fair chance of +success; but he not unfrequently had other business of a +similar nature on hand to occupy his mornings and afternoons; +and when he was engaged or absent, Madelon, with the happy +adaptability of a solitary child, had no difficulty in amusing +herself alone with her toys, and picture-books, and dolls. At +other times, when her father was at leisure, there would be +walks with him, long afternoons spent in the gay Kursaal +gardens, listening to the bands of music; and on idle days, +which with M. Linders were neither few nor far between, +excursions perhaps into the country, sometimes the two alone, +but more frequently accompanied by one or two of M. Linders' +companions. There they would dine at some rustic Gasthof, and +afterwards, whilst her father and his friends smoked, drank +their Rhine wine, and brought out the inevitable cards and +dice in the shady, vine-trellised garden, Madelon, wandering +about here and there, in and out, through yard and court, and +garden and kitchen, poking her small nose everywhere, gained +much primary information on many subjects, from the growing of +cabbages to the making sauerkraut--from the laying of eggs by +ever-hopeful hens, to their final fulfilment of a ruthless +destiny in a frying-pan. In return, she was not unwilling to +impart to the good Hausfrau, and her troop of little ones and +retainers, many details concerning her town life; and might +sometimes be found, perched on the kitchen table, relating +long histories to an admiring audience, in which the blue silk +frocks and tall partners made no small figure, one may be +sure. + +It was a golden childhood. Even in after years, when, reading +the history of these early days in a new light, she suffered a +pang for almost every pleasure she had then enjoyed, even then +Madelon maintained that her childhood had been one of +unclouded happiness, such as few children know. The sudden +changes of fortune, from splendour to poverty of the shabbiest +description, the reckless, dishonest expenditure, and the +endless debts consequent on it; the means--doubtful to say the +least of them--employed by M. Linders for procuring money; the +sense of alienation from all that is best, and noblest, and +truest in life;--all these, which had gone far to make up the +sum of her mother's misery, affected our Madelon hardly at +all. Some of them she did not know of; the rest she took as a +matter of course. In truth, it mattered little to her whether +they lived in a big hotel or a little one; whether the debts +were paid or unpaid; whether money were forthcoming or not; +she never felt the want of it, we may be sure. If she did not +have some promised fete or amusement on one day, it was +certain to come on another; and even the one or two occasions +on which M. Linders, absolutely unable to leave an hotel until +he had paid part of what he owed there, had been obliged to +confiscate everything, caused her no uneasiness. The next +week, very likely, she had other trinkets and knick-knacks, +newer and prettier; and indeed, so long as she had her father, +she cared for little else. In any small childish misfortune or +ailment she had but to run to him to find help, and sympathy, +and caresses; and she had no grief or care in these first +years for which these were not a sufficient remedy. + +Amidst all the miserable failures, and more unworthy successes +of a wasted life, M. Linders gained at least one legitimate +triumph, when he won his child's undying love and gratitude. +All her life long, one may fancy, would Madelon cherish the +remembrance of his unceasing tenderness, of his unwearying +love for his little girl, which showed itself in a thousand +different ways, and which, with one warm, loving little heart, +at any rate, would ever go far to cover a multitude of sins. +The only drawback to her perfect content in these early days +was the presence of her uncle Charles, whom she could not +bear, and who, for his part, looked upon her as a mere +encumbrance, and her being with them at all as a piece of +fatuity on the part of his brother-in-law. There were constant +skirmishes between them while they were together; but even +these ceased after a time, for Moore, who, ever since his +sister's marriage, had clung fitfully to M. Linders, as a +luckier and more prosperous man than himself, was accustomed +to be absent on his own account for months together, and +during one of these solitary journeys he died, about two years +after Horace Graham had seen him at Chaudfontaine. Henceforth +Madelon and her father were alone. + +Madelon, then, by the time she was eight years old, had learnt +to sing, dance, speak several languages, to write, to play +_rouge et noir_, and _roulette_, and indeed _piquet_ and _ecarte_, +too, to great perfection, and to read books of fairy tales. At +ten years old, her education was still at the same point; and +it must be owned that, however varied and sufficient for the +purposes of the moment, it left open a wide field for labour +in the future years; though M. Linders appeared perfectly +satisfied with the results of his teaching so far, and showed +no particular desire to enlarge her ideas upon any point. As +for religion, no wild Arab of our London streets ever knew or +heard less about it than did our little Madelon; or was left +more utterly uninstructed in its simplest truths and dogmas. +What M. Linders' religious beliefs were, or whether he had any +at all, we need not inquire. He at least took care that none +should be instilled into his child's mind; feeling, probably, +that under whatever form they were presented to her, they +would assuredly clash sooner or later with his peculiar system +of education. For himself, his opinions on such matters were +expressed when occasion arose, only in certain unvarying and +vehement declamations against priests and nuns--the latter +particularly, where his general sense of aversion to a class +in the abstract, became specific and definite, when he looked +upon that class as represented in the person of his sister +Therese. + +Of the outward forms and ceremonies of religion Madelon could +not, indeed, remain entirely ignorant, living constantly, as +she did, in Roman Catholic countries; but her very familiarity +with these from her babyhood robbed them in great measure of +the interest they might otherwise have excited in her mind, +and their significance she was never taught to understand. As +a rule, a child must have its attention drawn in some +particular way to its everyday surroundings, or they must +strike it in some new and unfamiliar light, before they rouse +more than a passing curiosity; and though Madelon would +sometimes question her father as to the meaning and intention +of this or that procession passing along the streets, he found +no difficulty in putting her off with vague answers. It was a +wedding or a funeral, he would say, or connected with some +other ordinary event, which Madelon knew to be of daily +recurrence; though none such had as yet had part in the +economy of her small world; and priests, and nuns, and monks +became classed, without difficulty, in her mind, with doctors +and soldiers, and the mass of people generally, who made money +in a different way from her father, with whom, therefore, she +seldom came into personal contact, and with whom she had +little to do--money making being still her one idea of the aim +and business of life. + +The first time, however, that she ever entered a church, when +she was little more than nine years old, was an experience in +her life, and this was the occasion of it. It was in a French +provincial town, where M. Linders had stopped for a day on +business--only for one day, but that Madelon was to spend for +the most part alone; for her father, occupied with his +affairs, was obliged to go out very early, and leave her to +her own devices; and very dull she found them, after the first +hour or two. She was a child of many resources, it is true, +but these will come to an end when a little girl of nine years +old, with books and dolls all packed up, has to amuse herself +for ever so many hours in a dull country hotel, an hotel, too, +which was quite strange to her, and where she could not, +therefore, fall back upon the society and conversation of a +friendly landlady. Madelon wandered upstairs and downstairs, +looked out of all the windows she could get at, and at last +stood leaning against the hall-door, which opened on to the +front courtyard. It was very quiet and very dull, nothing +moving anywhere; no one crossed the square, sunny space, paved +with little stones, and adorned with the usual round-topped +trees, in green boxes. Inside the house there was an +occasional clatter of plates and dishes, or the resonant nasal +cry of "Auguste," or "Henri," from one or other of the +servants, but that was all. Madelon found it too tiresome; the +_porte-cochere_ stood half open, she crossed the courtyard and +peeped out. She saw a quiet, sunny street, with not much more +life or movement than there was within, but still a little +better. Over the high walls surrounding the houses opposite +green trees were waving; at one end of the street there was +the gleam of a river, a bridge, and a row of poplars; the +other end she could not see, for the street made a bend, and a +fountain with dribbling water filled up the angle. Presently a +little boy in a blue blouse, and a little girl with a tight +round white cap, came up to the stone basin, each with a +pitcher to fill; they were a long time about it, for what +would be pleasanter, on this hot summer morning, than to stand +dabbling one's fingers in the cool water? Madelon watched them +till she became possessed with an irresistible desire to do +the same. It was only a few steps off, and though she was +strictly forbidden by her father ever to go out alone, still-- +she had so seldom an opportunity of being naughty, that her +present consciousness of disobedience rather added, perhaps, +to the zest of the adventure. She would go just for this once-- +and in another moment she was out in the street. The little +boy and girl fled with full pitchers as she came up to the +fountain, suddenly awakened to a sense of the waste of time in +which they had been indulging; but that made no difference to +Madelon; she stood gazing with mute admiration at the open- +mouthed monsters, from whose wide jaws the water trickled into +the basin below; and then she held her hands to catch the +drops till they were quite cold, and thought it the best play +she had ever known. By-the-by, however, she began to look +about her in search of further excitement, and, emboldened by +success, turned the corner of the street, and ventured out of +sight of the hotel. On one side large _portes-cocheres_ at +intervals, shutting in the white, green-shuttered houses, that +appeared beyond; on the other a long, high, blank wall, with +nothing to be seen above it, and one small arched doorway +about half-way down. This was the shady side; and Madelon, +crossing over to it, arrived at the arched door, and stood for +a moment contemplating it, wondering what could be inside. + +She was not left long in doubt, for two priests crossed the +road, and pushed open the door, without seeing the child, who, +urged by a spirit of curiosity, crept unnoticed after them, +and suddenly found herself in a cloister, running round a +quadrangle, on one side of which rose the walls and spires and +buttresses of a great church; in the centre a carefully kept +space of smooth grass. Madelon stood for a moment motionless +with delight; it reminded her of a scene in some opera or play +to which she had been in Paris with her father, but, oh! how +much more beautiful, and all real! The sunlight streamed +through the tracery of the cloisters, and fell chequered with +sharp shadows on the pavement; the bright blue sky was crossed +with pinnacles and spires, and there was an echo of music from +the church which lured her on. The two priests walked quickly +along, she followed, and all three entered the building by a +side door together. + +A vast, dim church, with long aisles and lofty pillars, which +seemed to Madeleine's unpractised eye, fresh from the outer +glare, to vanish in infinite mysterious gloom; a blaze of +light, at the far-off high altar, with its priests, and +incense, and gorgeous garments and tall candles; on every side +shrines and tapers, and pictures, awful, agonised, +compassionate Saviours, sad, tender Madonnas; a great silent +multitude of kneeling people, and, above all, the organ +peeling out, wave after wave of sound, which seemed to strike +her, surround her, thrill her with a sense of--what? What was +it all? What did it all mean? An awful instinct suddenly woke +in the child's heart, painfully struggling with inarticulate +cries, as it were, to make itself understood, even to herself. +Wholly inarticulate, for she had been taught no words that +could express, however feebly, these vague yearnings, these +unutterable longings, suddenly stirring in her heart. This +wonderful, solemn music, this place, so strange, so separate +from any other she had known, what was it? what did it all +mean? Ah, yes, what did it all mean? A little girl, no older +than herself, who knelt close by the door, with careless eyes +that roamed everywhere, and stared wondering at Madelon's +cotton frock and rough uncovered little head, could have +explained it all very well; she had a fine gilt prayer-book in +her hand, and knew most of her Catechism, and could have +related the history of all the saints in the church; she did +not find it at all impressive, though she liked coming well +enough on these grand fete-days, when everyone wore their best +clothes, and she could put on her very newest frock. But our +little stray Madelon, who knew of none of all these things, +could find nothing better to do at last than to creep into a +dark corner, between a side chapel and a confessional, crouch +down, and begin to sob with all her heart. + +Presently the music ceased, and the people went pouring out of +the great doors of the church. Madelon, roused by the movement +around her, looked up, dried her eyes, and came out of her +corner; then, following the stream, found herself once more +outside, not in the cloister by the door of which she had +entered, but at the top of a wide flight of steps, leading +down to a large sunny Place, surrounded with houses, where a +fair was going on. She was fairly bewildered; she had never +been in the town before, and though, in fact, not very far +from the hotel where she was staying, she felt completely +lost. + +As she stood still for a moment, in the midst of the +dispersing crowd, looking scared and dazed enough very likely, +she once more attracted the attention of the little girl who +had been kneeling near her in the church, and who now pointed +her out to her parents, good, substantial-looking bourgeois. + +"_Comme elle a l'air drole_," said the child, "with her hair all +rough, and that old cotton frock!" + +"She looks as if she had lost someone," says the kindly +mother. "I will ask her." + +"No, she had not lost anyone," Madelon said, in answer to her +inquiries, "but she did not know where she was; could Madame +tell her the way to the Hotel de l'Aigle d'Or?" + +"It is quite near," Madame answered; "we are going that way; +if you like to come with us, we will show it to you." + +So Madelon followed the three down the broad steps, and out +into the Place, where she looked a queer figure enough, +perhaps, in the midst of all the gay holiday-folk who were +gathered round the booths and stalls. She did not concern +herself about that, however, for her mind was still full of +what she had seen and heard in the church; and she walked on +silently, till presently Madame, with some natural curiosity +as to this small waif and stray she had picked up, said, "Are +you staying at the hotel, _ma petite?_" + +"Yes," answered Madelon, "we came there last night." + +"And how was it you went to church all alone?" + +"Papa had to go out," says Madelon, getting rather red and +confused, "and I was so dull by myself, and I--I went out into +the street, and got into the church by a little door at the +side--not that other one we came out at just now; so I did not +know where I was, nor the way back again." + +"Then you are a stranger here, and have never been to the +church before?" said Monsieur. + +"No," said Madelon; and then, full of her own ideas, she asked +abruptly--"what was everyone doing in there?" + +"In there!--in the church, do you mean?" + +"Yes, in the church--what was everyone doing?" + +"But do you not know, then," said the mother, "that it is to- +day a great fete--the fete of the Assumption?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I did not know. Was that why so many +people were there? What were they doing?" she persisted. + +"How do you mean?--do you not go the _messe_ every Sunday?" said +Madame, surprised. + +"To the _messe!_" answered Madelon--"what is that? I never was in +a church before." + +"Never in a church before!" echoed a chorus of three +astonished voices, while Monsieur added--"Never in this church, +you mean." + +"No," answered Madelon, "it is the first time I ever went into +a church at all." + +"But, _mon enfant_," said the mother, "you are big enough to +have gone to church long before this. Why, you must be eight +or nine years old, and Nanette here went to the _grand' messe_ +before she was five--did you not, Nanette?" + +"Yes," says Nanette, with a further sense of superiority added +to that already induced by the contrast of her new white +muslin frock with Madelon's somewhat limp exterior. + +"And never missed it for a single Sunday of fete-day since," +continued Madame, "except last year, when she had the +measles." + +"Do you go there every Sunday?" asked Madelon of the child. + +"Yes, every Sunday and fete-days. Would you like to see my new +Paroissien? My god-father gave it to me on my last birthday." + +"And is it always like to-day, with all the singing, and +music, and people?" + +"Yes, always the same, only not always quite so grand, you +know, because to-day is a great fete. Why don't you go to +church always?" + +"She is perhaps a little Protestant," suggested the father, +"and goes to the Temple. Is that not it, my child?" + +"I do not know," said Madelon, bewildered; "I never went to +any Temple, and I never heard of Protestants. Papa never took +me to church; but then we do not live here, you know." + +"But in other churches it is the same--everywhere," cries +Madame. + +"What, in all the big churches in Paris, and everywhere?" said +Madelon. "I did not know; I never went into them, but I will +ask papa to take me there now." Then, recurring to her first +difficulty, she repeated, "But what do people go there for?" + +"Mais--pour prier le bon Dieu!" said the good man. + +"I do not understand," said Madelon, despairingly. "What does +that mean? What were the music and the lights for, and what +were all the pictures about?" + +"But is it, then, possible, _ma petite_, that you have had no +one to teach you all these things? And on Sundays, what do you +do then?" said the mother, while Nanette stared more and more +at Madelon, with round eyes. + +"We generally go into the country on Sundays," said Madelon. +"Papa never goes to church, I am sure, or he would have taken +me. I will ask him to let me go again--I like it very much." It +was at this moment that they turned into the street in which +stood the hotel. "Ah! there is papa," cried Madelon, rushing +forward as she saw him coming towards them, and springing into +his arms. He had returned to the hotel for a late _dejeuner_, +and was in terrible dismay when Madelon, being sought for, was +nowhere to be found. One of the waiters said he had seen her +run out of the courtyard, and M. Linders was just going out to +look for her. + +"_Mon Dieu!_ Madelon," he cried, "where, then, have you been?" + +"I ran out, papa," said Madelon, abashed. "I am very sorry--I +will not do it again. I lost myself, but Monsieur and Madame +here showed me the way back." + +Her friendly guides stood watching the two for a moment, as, +after a thousand thanks and acknowledgments, they entered the +hotel together. + +"It is singular," said Madame; "he is handsome, and looks like +a gentleman. How can anyone bring up a little child like that +in such ignorance? She can have no mother, _pauvre petite!_" + +"What an odd little girl, Maman," cried Nanette, "never to +have been to church before, and not to know why people go!" + +"_Chut_, Nanette!" said her father. "Thou also woudst have known +nothing, unless some good friends had taught thee." And so +these kindly people went their way. + +Madelon, meanwhile, was relating all her adventures to her +father. He was too rejoiced at having found her again to scold +her for running away; but he was greatly put out, +nevertheless, as he listened to her little history. Here, +then, was en emergency, such as he had dimly foreseen, and +done much to avoid, which yet had come upon him unawares, +without fault of his, and which he was quite unprepared to +meet. He did not, indeed, fully understand its importance, nor +all that was passing in his child's mind; but he did perceive +that she had caught a glimpse through doors he had vainly +tried to keep closed to her, and that that one glance had so +aroused her curiosity and interest, that it would be less easy +than usual to satisfy her. + +"Why do you never go to church, papa?" she was asking. "Why do +you not take me? It was so beautiful, and there were such +numbers of people. Why do we not go?" + +"I don't care about it myself," he answered, at last, "but you +shall go again some day, _ma petite_, if you like it so much." + +"May I?" said Madelon. "And will you take me, papa? What makes +so many people go? Madame said they went every Sunday and _fete_ +day." + +"I suppose they like it," answered M. Linders. "Some people go +every day, and all day long--nuns, for instance, who have +nothing else to do." + +"It is, then, when people have nothing else to do that they +go?" asked Madelon, misunderstanding him, with much +simplicity. + +"Something like it," answered M. Linders, rather grimly; then, +with a momentary compunction, added, "Not precisely. They do +it also, I suppose, because they think it right." + +"And do you not think it right, papa? Why should they? I have +seen people coming out of church before, but I never knew what +it was like inside. I _may_ go again some day?" + +"When you are older, my child, I will take you again, +perhaps." + +"But that little girl Nanette, papa, was only five years old +when she went first, her mother said, and I have never been at +all," said Madelon, feeling rather aggrieved. + +"Well, when we go to Florence next winter, Madelon, you shall +visit all the churches. They are much more splendid than +these, and have the most beautiful pictures, which I should +like you to see." + +"And will there be music, and lights, and flowers there, the +same as here, papa?" + +"Oh! for that, it is much the same everywhere," replied M. +Linders. "People are much alike all the world over, as you +will find, Madelon. Priests, and mummery, and a gaping crowd, +to stare and say, 'How wonderful! how beautiful!' as you do +now, _ma petite;_ but you shall know better some day." + +He spoke with a certain bitterness that Madelon did not +understand, any more than she did his little speech; but it +silenced her for a moment, and then she said more timidly, + +"But, papa----" + +"Well, Madelon!" + +"But, papa, he said--_ce Monsieur_--he said that people go to +church _pour prier le bon Dieu_. What did he mean? We often say +'_Mon Dieu_,' and I have heard them talk of _le bon Dieu;_ is that +the same? Who is He then--_le bon Dieu?_" + +M. Linders did not at once reply. Madelon was looking up into +his face with wide-open perplexed eyes, frowning a little with +an unusual effort of thought, with the endeavour to penetrate +a momentary mystery, which she instinctively felt lay +somewhere, and which she looked to him to explain; and he +_could_ not give her a careless, mocking answer; he sat staring +blankly at her for a few seconds, and then said slowly, + +"I cannot tell you." + +"Do you not know, papa?" + +"Yes, yes, certainly I know," he answered hastily, and with +some annoyance; "but--in short, Madelon, you are too young to +trouble your head about these things; you cannot understand +them possibly; when you are older you shall have them +explained to you." + +"When, papa?" + +"Oh, I don't know--one of these days, when you are a great +girl, grown up." + +"And you can't tell me now?" said Madelon, a little wistfully; +"but you will let me go to the church again before that? Oh, +indeed it was beautiful, with the lights, and the singing, and +the music. Do you know, papa, it made me cry," she added, in a +half whisper. + +"_Vraiment!_" said M. Linders, with some contempt in his voice, +and a slight, involuntary shrug of the shoulders. + +The contempt was for a class of emotion with which he had no +sympathy, and for that which he imagined had called it forth; +not for his little Madelon, nor for her expression of it. But +the child shrank back, blushing scarlet. He saw his mistake, +perhaps, for he drew her towards him again, and with a tender +caress and word tried to turn her thoughts in another +direction; but it was too late; the impression had been made, +and could never again be effaced. All unconsciously, with that +one inadvertent word, M. Linders had raised the first slight +barrier between himself and his child, had given the first +shock to that confidence which he had fondly hoped was ever to +exist undisturbed between them. In the most sacred hour her +short life had yet known, Madeleine had appealed to him for +help and sympathy, and she had been repulsed without finding +either. She did not indeed view it in that light, nor believe +in and love him the less; she only thought she must have been +foolish; but she took well to heart the lesson that she should +henceforth keep such folly to herself--as far as he was +concerned, at any rate. + +As for M. Linders, this little conversation left him alarmed, +perplexed, uneasy. What if, after all, this small being whom +he had proposed to identify, as it were, with himself, by +teaching her to see with his eyes, to apprehend with his +understanding, what if she were beginning to develop an +independent soul, to have thoughts, notions, ideas of her own, +perhaps, to look out into life with eager eyes that would +penetrate beyond the narrow horizon it had pleased him to fix +as her range of vision, to ask questions whose answers might +lead to awkward conclusions? For the moment it seemed to him +that his whole system of education, which had worked so well +hitherto, was beginning to totter, ready at any time, it might +be, to fall into ruins, leaving him and his child vainly +calling to each other across an ever-widening, impassable +gulf. Already he foresaw as possible results all that he had +most wished to avoid, and felt himself powerless to avert +them; for, however ready to alienate her from good influences, +and expose her to bad ones, he yet shrank from inculcating +falsehood and wrong by precept. With a boy it would have been +different, and he might have had little hesitation in bringing +him up, by both precept and example, in the way he was to go; +but with his little innocent woman-child--no, it was +impossible. She must be left to the silent and negative +teachings of surrounding influences, and in ignorance of all +others; and what if these should fail? Perhaps he over- +estimated the immediate danger, not taking sufficiently into +account the strength and loyalty of her affection for him; +but, on the other hand, he perhaps undervalued the depth and +force of those feelings to the consciousness of which she had +first been roused that day. "It shall not occur again, and in +time she will forget all about it," was his first conclusion. +His second was perhaps wiser in his generation, taking into +consideration a wider range of probabilities. "No," he +reflected, "there has been an error somewhere. I should have +accustomed Madelon to all these things, and then she would +have thought nothing of them. Well, that shall be remedied, +for she shall go to every church in Florence, and so get used +to them." + + +CHAPTER VI. + +At Florence. + + +If we have dwelt with disproportionate detail on the above +little incident, we must be forgiven in consideration of its +real importance to our Madeleine, marking, as it did, the +commencement of a new era in her life. The sudden inspiration +that had kindled for a moment in the great church died away, +indeed, as newer impressions more imperatively claimed her +attention; but the memory of it remained as a starting point +to which any similar sensations subsequently recurring might +be referred, as a phenomenon which seemed to contain within +itself the germ and possible explanation of a thousand vague +aspirations, yearnings which began about this time to spring +up in her mind, and which almost unconsciously linked +themselves with that solemn hour the remembrance of which, +after her conversation with her father, she had set apart in +her own heart, to be pondered on from time to time, but in +silence,--a reticence too natural and legitimate not to be +followed by a hundred others of a similar kind. + +M. Linders, for reasons of his own, with which we need not +concern ourselves here, spent the following autumn and winter +in Florence, establishing himself in an apartment for the +season, contrary to his usual practice of living in hotels; +and this was how it happened that Madelon made two friends who +introduced quite a new element into her life, one which, under +other circumstances, might hardly have entered into it as a +principle of education at all. The rooms M. Linders had taken +were on the third floor of a large palazzo with many +occupants, where a hundred feet daily passed up and down the +common staircase, the number of steps they had to tread +increasing for the most part in direct proportion to their +descent in the social grade which, with sufficiently imposing +representatives on the first floor, reached its minimum, in +point of wealth and station, in the fifth storey garret. On +the same floor as Madelon and her father, but on the opposite +side of the corridor, lived an American artist; and M. Linders +had not been a week in the house before he recognized in him +an ancient _confrere_ of his old Parisian artist days, who, +after many wanderings to and fro on the earth, had finally +settled himself in Florence. The old intimacy was renewed +without difficulty on either side. M. Linders was made free of +the American's _atelier_, and he, for his part, willingly smoked +his pipe of an evening in the Frenchman's little salon. He was +a great black-bearded yellow-faced fellow, with a certain +careless joviality about him, that made him popular, though +leading a not very respectable life; always extravagant, +always in debt, and not averse to a little gambling and +betting when they came in his way. He was a sufficiently +congenial spirit for M. Linders to associate with freely; but +he was kind-hearted, honourable after his own fashion, and had +redeeming points in an honest enthusiasm, in a profound +conviction of the grand possibilities of life in general, and +of his art in particular. He was no great artist, and his +business consisted mainly in making copies of well-known +pictures, which he did with great skill, so that they always +commanded a ready sale in the Florence market. But he also +painted a variety of original subjects; and, in unambitious +moments, occasionally surprised himself by producing some +charming little picture which encouraged him to persevere in +this branch of his art. + +This man took a great fancy to Madelon, in the first instance +from hearing how prettily and deftly she spoke English; and +she, after holding herself aloof in dignified reserve for +three days from this new acquaintance, was suddenly won over +in a visit to his _atelier_, which henceforth became to her a +sort of wonderland, a treasure domain, where she might come +and go as she pleased, and where, from beneath much +accumulated dust, persevering fingers might extract inimagined +prizes, in the shape of sketches, drawings, plaster casts, +prints, and divers queer possessions of different kinds. After +this, she soon became fast friends with the American, who was +very kind and good-natured to her, and M. Linders' promise +that she should see all the churches in Florence was fulfilled +by the artist. He took her to visit both them and the +galleries, showed her the famous pictures, and told her the +names of their painters; and the genuine reverence with which +he gazed on them, his ever-fresh enjoyment and appreciation of +them, impressed her, child as she was, far more than any mere +expressions of admiration or technical explanations of their +merits would have done. + +Sometimes, if she accompanied him to any of the churches where +he happened to be copying a picture, he would leave her to +wander about alone, and they were strange weird hours that she +spent in this way. She did not indeed again assist at any of +the great church ceremonies, but the silent spaces of these +chill, grand, solemn interiors impressed her scarcely less +with a sense of mysterious awe. Tapers twinkled in dim side +chapels, pictures and mosaics looked down on her from above, +rare footsteps echoed along the marble pavements, silent +figures knelt about here and there, pillars, marbles, statues +gleamed, and heavy doors and curtains shut in the shadowy, +echoing, silent place from the sunshine, and blue sky, and +many coloured life without. Madelon, wandering about in the +gloom, gliding softly into every nook and corner, gazing at +tombs and decorated altars and pictures, wondered more and +more at this strange new world in which she found herself, and +which she had no one to interpret to her. It had a mysterious +attraction for her, as nothing had ever had before; and yet it +was almost a relief at last to escape again into the warm, +sunny out-of-door life, to walk home with the painter through +the bright narrow streets, listening to his gay careless talk, +and lingering, perhaps, at some stall, in the busy market- +place, to buy grapes and figs; and then to take a walk with +her father into the country, where roses nodded at her over +garden walls, and vines were yellowing beneath the autumn sky. +Her sensitive perception of beauty and grandeur was so much +greater than her power of grasping and comprehending them, +that her poor little mind became oppressed and bewildered by +the disproportion between the vividness with which she +received new impressions, and her ability for seizing their +meaning. + +The pictures themselves, which, before long, she learnt to +delight in, and even in some sort to appreciate, were a +perpetual source of perplexity to her in the unknown subjects +they represented. Her want of knowledge in such matters was so +complete that her American friend, who, no doubt, took it for +granted that she had been brought up in the religion of the +country, never even guessed at it, not imagining that a child +could remain so utterly uninstructed in the simple facts and +histories; and, somehow, Madelon divined this, and began to +have a shy reluctance in asking questions which would betray +an unsuspected ignorance. "This is such or such a Madonna," +the artist would say; "there you see St. Elizabeth, and that +is St. John the Baptist, you know." Or he would point out St. +Agnes, or St. Cecilia, or St. Catherine, as the case might be. + +"Who was St. Catherine?" Madelon ventured to ask one day. + +"Did you never hear of her?" he answered. "Well then, I will +tell you all about her. There were, in fact, two St. +Catherines, but this one here, who, you see, has a wheel, +lived long before the other. There once dwelt in Alexandria a +lovely and accomplished maiden--" And he would no doubt have +related to her the whole of the beautiful old mystical legend; +but her father, who happened to be with them that day, +interrupted him. + +"Don't stuff the child's head with that nonsense," he said, +and, perhaps, afterwards gave his friend a hint; for Madelon +heard no more about the saints, and was left to puzzle out +meanings and stories for the pictures for herself--and queer +enough ones she often made, very likely. On the other hand, +the American, who liked to talk to her in his own tongue, and +to make her chatter to him in return, would tell her many a +story of the old master painters, of Cimabue and the boy +Giotto, of Lionardo da Vinci, and half a dozen others; old, +old tales of the days when, as we sometimes fancy, looking +back through the mist of centuries, there were giants on the +earth, but all new and fresh to our little Madelon, and with a +touch or romance and poetry about them as told by the +enthusiastic artist, which readily seized her imagination; +indeed he himself, with his black velvet cap, and short pipe, +and old coat, became somehow ennobled and idealised in her +simple mind by his association through his art with the mighty +men he was teaching her to reverence. + +Madelon spent much of her time in the painter's _atelier_, for +her father took it into his head this winter to try his hand +once more at his long-neglected art, and, armed with brushes +and palette, passed many of his leisure hours in his friend's +society. We cannot accredit M. Linders with any profound +penetration, or with any subtle perception of what was working +in his little daughter's mind, but with the most far-reaching +wisdom he could hardly have devised better means, at this +crisis in her life, for maintaining his old hold upon her, and +keeping up the sense of sympathy between them, which had in +one instance been disturbed and endangered. + +She was just beginning to be conscious of the existence of a +new and glorious world, where money-making was, on the whole, +in abeyance, and roulette-tables and croupiers had apparently +no existence at all; and the sight of her father at his easel +day after day, at once connected him with it, as it were, +since he also could produce pictures--_tout comme un autre_. Then +M. Linders could talk well on most subjects, and in the +discussions that the two men would not unfrequently hold +concerning pictures, Madelon was too young, and had too strong +a conviction of her father's perfect wisdom, to discern +between his mere clever knowledge of art and the American's +pure love and enthusiasm; or if, with some instinctive sense +of the difference, she turned more readily to the latter for +information, that was because it was his _metier;_ whereas with +papa----Oh! with papa it was only an amusement; his business was +of quite another kind. + +The American amused himself by painting Madelon more than +once; and she made a famous little model, sitting still and +patiently for hours to him and to her father, who had a knack +of producing any number of little, affected, meretricious +pictures, in the worst possible style and taste. Years +afterwards, Madelon revisited the studio, where the black- +bearded friendly American, grown a little bent and a little +grey, was still stepping backwards and forwards before the +same easel standing in the old place; orange and pomegranate +trees still bloomed in the windows; footsteps still passed up +and down the long corridor outside where her light childish +ones had so often echoed; the old properties hung about on the +walls; and there, amongst dusty rolls piled up in a corner, +Madelon came upon more than one portrait of herself, a pale- +faced, curly-headed child, who looked out at her from the +canvas with wistful brown eyes that seemed full of the +thoughts that at that time had begun to agitate her poor +little brain. How the sight of them brought back the old +vanished days! How it stirred within her sudden tender +recollections of the quiet hours when, dressed out in some +quaint head-gear, or _contadina_ costume, or merely in her own +everyday frock, she had sat perched up on a high stool, or on +a pile of boxes, dreaming to herself, or listening to the talk +between the two men. + +"That man is a fool," the American would exclaim, dashing his +brush across a whole morning's work; "that man is a +presumptuous fool who, here in Florence, here where those +others have lived and died, dares to stand before an easel and +imagine that he can paint--and I have been that man!" He was +wont to grow noisy and loquacious over his failures--not moody +and dumb, as some men do. + +"You concern yourself too much," M. Linders would reply +calmly, putting the finishing touch to Madelon as a _bergere_ +standing in the midst of a flock of sheep, and a green +landscape--like the enlarged top of a _bonbonniere_. "You are too +ambitious, _mon cher_--you are little, and want to be great--hence +your discomfort; whilst I, who am little, and know it, remain +content." + +"May I be spared such content!" growled the other, who was +daily exasperated by the atrocities his friend produced by way +of pictures. It was beyond his comprehension how any man could +paint such to his disgrace, and then calmly contemplate them +as the work of his own hands. "Heaven preserve me from such +content, I say!" + +"But it is there you are all in the wrong," says M. Linders, +quite unmoved by his companion's uncomplimentary energy. "You +agitate, you disturb yourself with the idea that some day you +will become something great--you begin to compare yourself with +these men whose works you are for ever copying, with who +knows? --with Raffaelle, with Da Vinci----" + +"I compare myself with them!" cries the American, interrupting +him. "I! No, mon ami, I am not quite such a fool as that. I +reverence them, I adore their memory, I bow down before their +wonderful genius"--and as he spoke he lifted his cap from his +head, suiting his action to his words--"but compare myself! -- +I!" Then picking up his brush again, he added, "But the world +needs its little men as well as its great ones--at any rate, +the little ones need their _pot au feu;_ so to work again. +_Allons, ma petite_, your head a little more this way." + +This little conversation, which occurred nearly at the +beginning of their acquaintance, the painter's words and +manner, his energy, his simple, dignified gesture as he raised +his cap--all made a great impression on our Madelon; it was +indeed one of her first lessons in that hero-worship whereby +lesser minds are brought into _rapport_ with great ones; and, +even while they reverence afar off, exultingly feel that they +in some sort share in their genius through their power of +appreciating it. Nor was it her last lesson of the same kind. + +Her second friend was an old German violinist, who inhabited +two little rooms at the top of the big house, a tall, broad- +shouldered, stooping man, whose thick yellow hair and +moustache, plentifully mixed with grey, blue eyes, and fair +complexion, testified to his nationality, as did his queer, +uncouth accent, though he has spent at least two-thirds of his +life in Florence. He was an old friend of the American +painter's, and paid frequent visits to his studio; and it was +there he first met Madelon and her father. He did not much +affect M. Linders' company, but he took a fancy to the child, +as indeed most people did, and made her promise that she would +come and see him; and when she had once found her way, and +been welcomed to his little bare room, where an old piano, a +violin, and heaps of dusty folios of music, were the principal +furniture, a day seldom passed without her paying him a visit. +She would perch herself at his window, which commanded a wide +view over the city, with its countless roofs, and domes, and +towers, and beyond the encircling hills, with their scattered +villas, and slopes of terraced gardens, and pines, and olives, +all under the soft blue transparent sky; and with her eyes +fixed on this sunny view, Madelon would go off into some +dreamy fit, as she listened to the violinist, of whose playing +she never wearied. He was devoted to his art, though he had +never attained to any remarkable proficiency in it; and at any +hour of the day he might be heard scraping, and tuning, and +practising, for he belonged to the orchestra of one of the +theatres. It was quite a new sensation for Madelon to hear so +much music in private life, and she thought it all beautiful-- +tuning and scraping and all. + +"But that is all rubbish," the German would cry, after +spending an hour in going through some trashy modern Italian +music. "Now, my child, you shall hear something worth +listening to;" and with a sigh of relief he would turn to some +old piece by Mozart or Bach, some minuet of Haydn's, some +romance of Beethoven's, which he would play with no great +power of execution, indeed, but with a rare sweetness and +delicacy of touch and expression, and with an intense +absorption in the music, which communicated itself to even so +small a listener as Madelon. + +It would have been hard to say which of the two had the more +enjoyment--she, as she sat motionless, her chin propped on her +two hands, her brown eyes gazing into space, and a hundred +dreamy fancies vaguely shaped by the music, flitting through +her brain; or he, as he bent over his violin, lovingly +exacting the sweet sounds, and his thoughts--who knows where? -- +anywhere, one may be sure, rather than in the low-ceiled, +dusty garret, redolent of tobacco smoke, and not altogether +free from a suspicion of onions. + +"There, my child," he would say at the end, "that is music-- +that is art! What I was playing before was mere rubbish--trash, +unworthy of me and of my violin." + +"And why do you play it?" asks Madelon, simply. + +"Ah! why indeed?" said the violinist--"because one must live, +my little Frauelein; and since they will play nothing else at +the theatre, I must play it also, or I should be badly off." + +"You are not rich, then?" said Madelon. + +"Rich enough," he answered. "I gain enough to live upon, and I +ask no more." + +"Why don't you make money like papa?" says Madelon; "then you +could play what you liked, you know. We are very rich +sometimes." + +The old German screwed up his queer, kind, ugly face. + +"It--it's not my way," he said drily. "As for money, I might +have had plenty by this time, if I had not run away from home +when I was a boy, because I preferred being a poor musician to +a rich merchant. Money is not the only nor the best thing in +the world, my little lady." + +M. Linders apparently saw no danger to Madelon's principles in +these new friendships, or else, perhaps, he was bent on +carrying out his plan of letting her get used to things; at +any rate, he did not interfere with her spending as much time +as she liked with both painter and musician; and every day +through the winter she grew fonder of the society of the old +violinist. He was a lonely man, who lived with his music and +his books, cared little for company, and had few friends; but +he liked to see Madelon flitting about his dusky room, +carrying with her bright suggestions of the youth, and gaiety, +and hopefulness he had almost forgotten. He talked to her, +taught her songs, played to her as much as she liked, and +often gave her and her father orders for the theatre to which +he belonged, where, with delight, she would recognise his +familiar face as he nodded and smiled at her from the +orchestra. He instructed her, too, in music; made her learn +her notes, and practise on the jangling old piano, and even, +at her particular request, to scrape a little on the violin; +but she cared most for singing, and for hearing him play and +talk. She never felt shy or timid with him, and one day, at +the end of a long rhapsody about German music and German +composers, she asked him innocently enough-- + +"Who was Beethoven, and Mozart, and--and all those others you +talk about? I never heard of them before." + +"Never before!" he cried, in a sort of comic amazement and +dismay. "Here is a little girl who has lived half her life in +Germany, who talks German, and yet never heard of Beethoven, +nor of Mozart, nor of--of all those others! Listen, then--they +were some of the greatest men that ever lived." + +And, indeed, Madelon heard enough about them after that; for +delighted to have a small, patient listener, to whom he could +rhapsodize as much as he pleased in his native tongue, the +violinist henceforth lost no opportunity of delivering his +little lectures, and would harangue for an hour together, not +only about music and musicians, but about a thousand other +things--a queer, high-flown, rambling jumble, often enough, +which Madelon could not possibly follow nor understand, but to +which she nevertheless liked to listen. A safer teacher she +could hardly have had; she gained much positive information +from him, and when he got altogether beyond her, she remained +impressed with the conviction that he was speaking from the +large experiences of deep, mysterious wisdom and knowledge, +and sat listening with a reverential awe, as to some strange, +lofty strain, coming to her from some higher and nobler region +than she could hope to attain to as yet, and of which she +could in some sort catch the spirit, though she could not +enter into the idea. At the same time there was a certain +childlike vein running through all the old man's rambling +talk, which made it, after all, not unsuited to meet the +instinctive aspirations of a child's mind. With him love and +veneration for greatness and beauty, in every form, amounted +almost to a passion, which was still fresh and genuine, as in +the lad to whom the realization of the word _blase_ seems the +one incomprehensible impossibility of life. In the simple +reverence with which he spoke of the great masters of his art, +Madelon might have recognized the same spirit as that which +animated the American; and as the artist had once uncovered at +the name of Raffaelle and Lionardo da Vinci, so did the +musician figuratively bow down at the shrines of Handel, or +Bach, or Beethoven. From both these men, so different in other +respects, the child began to learn the same lesson, which in +all her life before she had never even heard hinted at. + +All this, however, almost overtaxed our little Madelon's +faculties, and it was not surprising that, as the winter wore +on, a change gradually came over her. In truth, both intellect +and imagination were being overstrained by the constant +succession of new images, new ideas, new thoughts, that +presented themselves to her. She by no means grew accustomed +to churches--not in the sense, at any rate, which her father +had hoped would be the result of his new system. It was not +possible that she should, while so much remained that was +mysterious and unexplained; she only wearied her small brain +with the effort to find the explanation for all these new +perplexities, which she felt must exist somewhere, though she +could not find it; add to this, these long conversations, this +music, with its strange, vague suggestions, and even the +thousand novelties of the picturesque Italian life around her, +not one of which was lost on her impressionable little mind, +and we need not wonder that she began to suffer from an +excitement that gathered in strength from day to day. She grew +thin, morbid, nervous, ate almost nothing, and lost her usual +vivacity, sitting absorbed in dreamy fits, from which it was +difficult to arouse her, and which were very different from +the quiet, happy silence in which she used to remain contented +by her father's side for hours. All night she was haunted with +what she had seen by day in picture-galleries and churches. +The heavenly creations of Fra Angelico or Sandro Botticelli, +of Ghirlandaio or Raffaelle, over which she had mused and +pondered, re-produced themselves in dreams, with the intensity +and reality of actual visions, and with accessories borrowed +from all that, in her new life, had impressed itself most +vividly on her imagination. Once more she would stand in the +vast church, the censers swinging, the organ pealing overhead, +round her a great throng of beatified adoring saints, with +golden glories, with palms, and tall white lilies, and many- +coloured garments; or pillars and arches would melt away, and +she would find herself wandering through flower-enamelled +grass, in fair rose-gardens of Paradise; or radiant forms +would come gliding towards her through dark-blue skies; or the +heavens themselves would seem to open, and reveal a blaze of +glory, where, round a blue-robed, star-crowned Madonna, choirs +of rapturous angels repeated the divine melodies she had heard +faintly echoed in the violinist's dim little room. All day +long these dreams clung to her, oppressing her with their +strange unreal semblance of reality, associating themselves +with every glowing sunset, with every starry sky, till the +pictures themselves that had suggested them looked pale by +comparison. + +She was, in fact, going through a mental crisis, such as, in +other circumstances, and under fostering influences, has +produced more than one small ecstatic enthusiast; the infant +shining light of some Methodist conventicle; the saintly child +visionary of some Catholic convent. But Madelon had no one to +foster, nor to interpret for her these feverish visions, so +inexplicable to herself, poor child! To the good-natured, +careless, jovial American, she would not have even hinted at +them for worlds, and not less carefully did she shun appealing +to her father for sympathy. That contemptuous "_vraiment_" dwelt +in her memory, not as a matter of resentment, but as something +to be avoided henceforth at the cost of any amount of self- +repression. She would sit leaning her languid little head on +his shoulder; but when he anxiously asked her what ailed her, +she could only reply, "I don't know, papa." And indeed she did +not know; nor even if she had, could she have found the words +with which to have explained it to him. It was, after all, the +old German who won her confidence at last. There was, as we +have said, something simple, genuine, homely about the old +man; a reminiscence, perhaps, of his homely Fatherland still +clinging about him, after more than forty years of voluntary +exile, which Madelon could well appreciate, though she could +not have defined it; for a child judges more by instinct than +reflection, and it was through no long process of reasoning +that she had arrived at the certainty that she would be met +here by neither contempt nor indifference. Moreover, his +generally lofty and slightly incomprehensible style of +conversation, and the endless stores of learning with which +she had innocently accredited him, had surrounded him with +that vague halo of wisdom and goodness, so dear to the hearts +of children of larger as of smaller growth, and which they are +so eager to recognize, that they do not always distinguish +between the false and the true. From the very beginning of +their acquaintance, it had occurred to Madelon that she might +be able to gain some information on that subject, which her +father had pronounced to be above her comprehension as yet; +but which, on reflection, and encouraged by a Nanette's +example, she felt quite sure she could understand if it were +only explained to her. Twenty times had that still unanswered +question trembled on her lips, but a shy timidity, not so much +of her old friend as of the subject itself, which had become +invested in her mind with a kind of awful mystery, to which a +hundred circumstances daily contributed, checked her at the +moment of utterance. + +One evening, however, she was sitting as usual at the window +in the old man's room. The sun had set, the short twilight was +drawing to a close, church bells were ringing, down in the +city yellow lights were gleaming in windows here and there, +above, the great sky rounded upward from a faint glow on the +horizon through imperceptible gradations of tint, to pure +depths of transparent blue overhead, where stars were +beginning to flash and tremble; within, in the gloom, the +musician sat playing a sacred melody of Spohr's, and as +Madelon listened, some subtle affinity between this hour and +the first one she had spent in the church touched her, and her +eyes filled with sudden tears of painful ecstasy. As the old +German ceased, she went up to him with an impulse that +admitted of no hesitation, and, as well as she could, told him +all that was in her mind--her dreams, her strange weird +fancies, all that for the last few months had been haunting +and oppressing her with its weight of mystery. "Papa said I +could not understand," she said in conclusion, "but I think I +could. Will you not explain it to me? Can you not tell me what +it all means, and who--who is God?" + +The German had heard in silence till then, but at this last +question he started from his listening attitude. + +"_Was--was--_" he stammered, and suddenly rising--"_Ach, mein Gott!_" +he cried, with the familiar ejaculation, "to ask me!--to ask +me!" + +He walked twice up and down the room, as stirred by some +hidden emotion, his head bowed, his hands behind his back, +murmuring to himself, and then stopped where Madelon was +standing by the window. She looked up, half trembling, into +the rugged face bent over her. He was her priest for the +moment, standing as it were between earth and heaven--her +confessor, to whom she had revealed the poor little secrets of +her heart; and she waited with a sort of awe for his answer. + +"My child," he said at length, looking down sadly enough into +her eager, inquiring eyes, "when I was no older than thou art, +I had a pious, gentle mother, at whose knee night and morning +I said my prayers--and believed. If she were alive now, I would +say, 'Go to her, and she will tell thee of all these things'-- +but do not speak of them to me. Old Karl Wendler is neither +good, nor wise, nor believing enough to instruct thee, an +innocent child." + +He made this little speech very gently and solemnly; then +turned away abruptly, took up his hat, and left the room +without another word. Madelon stood still for a minute +baffled, repulsed, with a sort of bruised, sore feeling at her +heart, and yet with a new sense of wondering pity, roused by +something in his words and manner; then she too left the room, +and though the darkness crept softly downstairs. + +So ended this little episode with the violinist. Not that she +did not visit and sit with him as much as before; the very +next day, when she returned, rather shyly, upstairs, she found +him sitting in the old place, with the old nod and smile to +welcome her, but somehow he managed to put things on a +different footing--he spared her his long metaphysical +discourses, and talked to her more as the child that she was, +laughing, joking, and telling her queer hobgoblin and fairy +stories, some of which she knew before indeed, but which he +related with a quaint simplicity and naivete, which gave them +a fresh charm for her; and under this new aspect of things, +she brightened up, began to lose her fits of dreaminess, to +chatter as in old times, and cheered many an hour of the +musician's solitary life. The American artist, too, left +Florence about this time for a visit to Rome; and during his +absence the _atelier_ was closed, and wandering through churches +and picture galleries were exchanged for long excursions into +the country with her father; by degrees dreams, fancies, +visions floated away, and Madelon became herself again. + +She had gone through a phase, and one not altogether natural +to her, and which readily passed away with the abnormal +conditions that had occasioned it. She was by no means one of +those dreamy, thoughtful, often melancholy children who +startle us by the precocious grasp of their intellect, by +their intuitive perception of truths which we had deemed far +above their comprehension. Madelon's precocity was of quite +another order. In her quick, impulsive, energetic little mind +there was much that was sensitive and excitable, little that +was morbid or unhealthy. One might see that, with her, action +would always willingly take the place of reflection; that her +impulses would have the strength of inspirations; that she +would be more ready to receive impressions than to reason upon +them. Meditation, comparison, introspection, were wholly +foreign to this little, eager, impetuous nature, however they +might be forced upon it in the course of years and events; and +with her keen sense of enjoyment in all glad outward +influences, one might have feared that the realities of life +present to her would too readily preclude any contemplation of +its hidden possibilities, but for a lively, susceptible +imagination, which would surely intervene to prevent any such +tendency being carried out to its too prosaic end. It was +through appeals to her imagination and affection, rather than +to her reason and intellect, that Madeleine could be +influenced; and whatever large sympathies with humanity she +might acquire through life, whatever aspirations after a high +and noble ideal, whatever gleams of inspiration from the great +beyond that lies below the widest, as well as the narrowest +horizon, might visit her--all these would come to her, we may +fancy, through the exercise of pure instincts and a sensitive +imagination, rather than through the power of logical +deduction from given causes. + +From our small, ten-year-old Madelon, however, all this still +lay hidden; for the present, the outward pressure, which had +weighed too heavily on her little mind and brain, removed, she +returned with a glad reaction to her old habits of thought and +speech. Not entirely indeed; the education she had received, +remained and worked; the "obstinate questionings," an answer +to which she had twice vainly sought, were unforgotten, and +still awaited their reply. This little Madelon, to whom the +golden gates had been opened, though ever so slightly--to whom +the divine, lying all about her and within her, had been +revealed, though ever so dimly--could never be quite the same +as the little Madelon who, careless and unthinking, had +strayed into the great church that summer morning six months +ago; but the child herself was as yet hardly conscious of +this, and neither, we may be sure, was M. Linders, as with +renewed cheerfulness, and spirits, and chatter, she danced +along by his side under the new budding trees, under the fair +blue skies. + +It was soon after this, when the delicious promise of an early +spring was brightening the streets and gardens of Florence, +filling them with sunshine and flowers, that another shadow +fell upon the brightness of Madelon's life, and one so dark +and real, as to make all others seem faint and illusory by +comparison. Her father had a serious illness. He had not been +well all the winter; and one day, Madelon, coming down from +the violinist's room, had been frightened almost out of her +small wits at finding him lying back unconscious in a chair in +their little _salon_. She called the old woman who acted as +their servant to her assistance, and between them they had +soon succeeded in restoring him to consciousness, when he had +made light of it, saying it was merely a fit of giddiness, +which would have passed off. He had refused to be alarmed, or +to send for a doctor, even after a second and third attack of +the same kind; but then a fever, which in the mild spring +weather was lurking about, lying in wait of victims, seized +him, and laid him fairly prostrate. + +His illness never took a really dangerous turn, but it kept +him weak and helpless for some weary weeks, during which +Madelon learnt to be a most efficient little nurse, taking +turns with the old servant and with the violinist, who +willingly came down from his upper regions to do all he could +to help his little favourite. In some respects she, perhaps, +made the best nurse of all, with her small skilful fingers, +and entire devotion to her father. She had a curious courage, +too, for such an inexperienced child, and the sense of an +emergency was quite sufficient to make her conquer the +horrible pang it gave her loving little heart to see her +father lying racked with pain, unconscious, and sometimes +delirious. She never failed to be ready when wanted; the +doctor complimented her, and said jokingly that the little +Signorina would make a capital doctor's assistant. Her German +friend nodded approval, and, best of all, it was always to his +Madelon that M. Linders turned in his most weary moments--from +her that he liked to receive drinks and medicine; and she it +was who, as he declared, arranged his pillows and coverings +more comfortably than anyone else. In delirium he asked for +her continually; his eyes sought her when she was not in the +room, and lighted up when she came with her little noiseless +step to his bedside. The old German, who had had a strong +dislike to, and prejudice against this man, took almost a +liking to him, as he noted the great love existing between him +and his little daughter. + +The American did not return till M. Linders was nearly well +again, and thinking of departure. Madelon was in despair at +the idea of leaving Florence; it had been more like home to +her than any place she had yet known, and it almost broke her +heart to think of parting with her old German friend; but M. +Linders was impatient to be gone. He wanted change of air, he +said, after his illness; but, indeed, had other reasons which +he proclaimed less openly, but which were far more imperative, +and made him anxious to pay an earlier visit to Germany this +year than was usual with him. Certain speculations, on the +success of which he had counted, had failed, so that a grand +_coup_ at Homburg or Baden seemed no less necessary than +desirable to set him straight again with the world, and he +accordingly fixed on a day towards the end of April for their +departure. + +The American made a festive little supper the evening before +in his _atelier_, but it was generally felt to be a melancholy +failure, for not even the artist's rather forced gaiety, nor +M. Linders' real indifference, could enliven it. As for the +old German, he sat there, saying little, eating less, and +smoking a great deal; and Madelon at his side was speechless, +only rousing herself later in the evening to coax him into +playing once more all her favourite tunes. Everyone, except, +perhaps, M. Linders, felt more or less sorry at the breaking +up of a pleasant little society which had lasted for some +months, and the violinist almost felt as if he were being +separated from his own child. Madelon wished him good-bye that +night, but she ran upstairs very early the next morning to see +him once more before starting. + +The old man was greatly moved; he was standing looking sadly +out of the window when she came in, and when he saw her in her +little travelling cloak, the tears began to run down his +rugged old cheeks. + +"God bless thee, my little one!" he said. "I shall miss thee +sorely--but thou wilt not forget me?" + +"Never, never!" cries Madelon, with a little sob, and +squeezing the kind hands that held hers so tightly. + +"And if I should never see thee again," said the German, in +broken accents, "if--if--remember, I----" He hesitated and +stammered, and M. Linders' voice was heard calling Madelon. + +"I must go," she said, "papa is calling me; but I will never +forget you--never; ah! you have been so good, so kind to me. +See here," she said, unclosing one of her hands which she had +kept tightly shut, and showing the little green and gold fish +Horace Graham had given her years before, "I promised never to +part with this, but I have nothing else--and--and I love you so +much--will you have it?" + +"No, no," said the old man, smiling and shaking his head, +"keep thy promise, and thy treasure, my child; I do not +require that to remind me of thee. Farewell!" + +He put her gently out of the door as her father's step was +heard coming upstairs, and closed it after her. She never did +see him again, for he died in less than two years after their +parting. + +M. Linders went to Homburg, to Baden, to Wiesbaden, but he was +no longer the man he had been before his illness; he won +largely, indeed, at times, but he lost as largely at others, +playing with a sort of reckless, feverish impatience, instead +of with the steady coolness that had distinguished him +formerly. Old acquaintance who met him said that M. Linders +was a broken man, and that his best days were over: men who +had been accustomed to bet on his success, shrugged their +shoulders, and sought for some steadier and luckier player to +back; he himself, impatient of ill-luck, and of continual +defeat in the scenes of his former triumphs, grew restless and +irritable, wandered from place to place in search of better +fortune and better health, and at length, at the end of a +fortnight's stay at Wiesbaden, after winning a large sum at +_rouge-et-noir_, and losing half of it the next day, announced +abruptly that he was tired of Germany, and should set off at +once for Paris. Madelon had noticed the alteration in her +father less than anyone else perhaps; she was used to changes +of fortune, and whatever he might feel he never showed it in +his manner to her; outwardly, at least, this summer had +appeared to her very similar to any preceding one, and she was +too much accustomed to M. Linders' sudden moves, to find +anything unusual in this one, although, dictated as it was by +a caprice of weariness and disgust, it took them away from the +Germany tables just at the height of the season. Once more, +then, the two set out together, and towards the middle of +August found themselves established in their old quarters in +the Paris Hotel, where Madame Linders had died, and where +Madame Lavaux still reigned head of the establishment. + + +PART II. + + +Chapter I. + +After five Years. + + +One evening, about three weeks after their arrival in Paris, +Madelon was standing at a window at the end of the long +corridor into which M. Linders' apartment opened; the moon was +shining brightly, and she had a book in her hand, which she +was reading by its clear light, stopping, however, every +minute to gaze down into the front courtyard of the hotel, +which lay beneath the window, quiet, almost deserted after the +bustle of the day, and full of white moonlight and black +shadows. Her father was out, and she was watching for his +return, though it was now long past eleven o'clock. + +There was nothing unusual on her part in this late vigil, for +she was quite accustomed to sit up for her father, when he +spent his evenings away from home; but there must have been +something strange and forlorn-looking in the little figure +standing there all alone at such an hour, for a gentleman, who +had come in late from the theatre, paused as he was turning +the key of the door before entering his room, looked at her +once or twice, and, after a moment's hesitation, walked up to +the window. Madelon did not notice him till he was close +behind her, and then turned round with a little start, +dropping her book. + +"I did not think it was you--" she began; then seeing a +stranger, stopped short in the middle of her speech. + +"I am afraid I have startled you," said the gentleman in +English-French, but with a pleasant voice and manner, "and +disappointed you too." + +"I beg your pardon, Monsieur," she answered, "I thought it was +papa; I have been looking for him so long," and she turned +round to the window again. + +It was five years since Horace Graham and Madeleine had spent +an hour together in the courtyard at Chaudfontaine, so that it +was not surprising that they did not at once recognise each +other at this second unforeseen meeting; the young man, as +well as the child, had then been of an age to which five years +cannot be added without bringing with them most appreciable +changes. For Graham, these years had been precisely that +transition period in which a lad separates himself from the +aggregate mass of youth, and stands forth in the world as a +man of his own right, according to that which is in him. This +tall, thin, brown young army doctor, who has passed brilliant +examinations, who is already beginning to be known favourably +in the profession, whose name has appeared at the end of more +than one approved article in scientific Reviews; who has +travelled, seen something of Italy, Switzerland, Belgium; who +for five years has been studying, thinking, living through +youthful experiences and failures, and out-living some +youthful illusions, cannot fail, one may be sure, to be a +different personage, in many respects, from the fresh-hearted +medical student who had sauntered away an idle Sunday amongst +the woods and valleys round Chaudfontaine, and had looked with +curious, half wondering eyes at the new little world disclosed +to him at the hotel. As for our little Madelon, the small, +round, pinafored child was hardly recognisable in this slim +little girl, in white frock, with brown hair that hung in +short wayward tangling waves, instead of curling in soft +ringlets all over her head; and yet Graham, who rarely forgot +a face, was haunted by a vague remembrance of her eyes, with +the peculiar look, half-startled, half-confiding, with which +they met the first glance of strangers. Madelon's brown eyes +were the greatest charm of a face which was hardly pretty yet, +though it had the promise of beauty in after years; to liken +them to those of some dumb, soft, dark-eyed animal is to use a +trite comparison; and yet there is, perhaps, no other that so +well describes eyes such as these, which seem charged with a +meaning beyond that which their owner is able to express in +words, or is, perhaps, even conscious of. When seen in +children, they seem to contain a whole prophecy of their +future lives, and in Madelon they had probably a large share +in the powers of attraction which she undoubtedly possessed; +few could resist their mute appeal, which, child as she was, +went beyond her own thought, and touched deeper sympathies +than any she could yet have known. + +There was a moment's silence after Madelon had spoken, and +then she once more turned from the window with a disappointed +air. + +"Pardon, Monsieur," she said again, "but can you tell me what +time it is? Is it past eleven?" + +"It is more than half-past," said Graham, looking at his +watch. "Have you been waiting here long?" + +"Since ten o'clock," said Madelon, "papa said he would be in +by ten. I cannot think where he can be." + +"He has probably found something to detain him," suggested +Graham. + +"No," answered Madelon, rejecting this obvious proposition; +"for he had an appointment here; there is some one waiting for +him now." + +"Then he has perhaps come in without your knowing it?" + +"I do not think so," said Madelon, "he would have called me; +and besides, I should have seen him cross the courtyard. I saw +you come in just now, Monsieur." + +Nevertheless she left her station by the window, and moved +slowly along the passage to their apartment; it was just +opposite Graham's, and as she went in, leaving the door open, +Horace, who had followed her without any very definite +purpose, looked in. It was a tolerably large room, with a door +to the left opening into a smaller apartment, Utrecht velvet +chairs and sofa, a mantelpiece also covered with velvet, on +which stood a clock, a tall looking-glass, and two lighted wax +candles; a table in the middle with some packs of cards, and a +liqueur bottle and glasses, and a bed on one side opposite the +fireplace. The window looked on to a side street, noisy with +the incessant rattling of vehicles, and so narrow that the +numerous lighted interiors of the houses opposite were visible +to the most casual observer. A smell of smoking pervaded the +room, explained by the presence of a young man, who held a +cigar in one hand, whilst he leaned half out of the window, +over the low iron balcony in front, shouting to some one in +the street below. He looked round as Madelon came in, and +slowly drew himself back into the room, exhibiting a lean, +yellow face, surrounded with dishevelled hair, and ornamented +by black unkempt beard and moustache. + +"_Monsieur votre pere_ does not arrive apparently, +Mademoiselle," he said. + +"I have not seen him come in, Monsieur," answered Madelon; "I +thought he was perhaps here." + +"Not at all, I have seen nothing of him this evening. But this +is perhaps a trick that Monsieur le Papa is playing me; he +fears to give me his little revenge of which he spoke, and +wishes to keep out of my way. What do you say to that, +Mademoiselle?" + +"I am quite sure it is not so," answered Madelon, with a +little defiant air. "I heard papa say it was quite by chance +he had lost all that money to you, for you did not understand +the first principles of the game." + +"Ah! he said that? But it is lucky for us other poor devils +that we have these chances sometimes! You will at least admit +that, Mademoiselle?" + +"Papa plays better than anyone," says Madelon, retreating from +argument to the safer ground of assertion, and still standing +in the middle of the room in her defiant attitude, with her +hands clasped behind her. + +"Without a doubt, Mademoiselle; but then, as he says, we also +have our chances. Well, I cannot wait for mine this evening, +for it is nearly midnight, and I have another appointment. +These gentlemen will wonder what has become of me. +Mademoiselle, I have the honour to wish you good evening." + +He made a profound bow, and left the room. + +Madelon gave a great sigh, and then came out into the passage +again where Horace was standing. He had been a somewhat +bewildered spectator of this queer little interview, but the +child evidently saw nothing out of the way in it, for she made +no remark upon it, and only said rather piteously, + +"I cannot imagine where papa can be; I do wish he would come +back." + +"Does he often stay out so late as this?" asked Graham. + +"Oh! yes, often, but not when he says he is coming in early, +or when he is expecting anyone." + +"And do you know where he is gone?" + +"No, not at all. He said he was going to dine with some +gentlemen, but I don't know where! Oh! do you think anything-- +anything can have happened?" cried Madelon, her hidden anxiety +suddenly finding utterance. + +"Indeed I do not," answered Graham, in his kindest voice. "His +friends have persuaded him to stay late, I have no doubt; you +must not be so uneasy--these things often happen, you know. Let +us go and look out of the window again; perhaps we shall see +him just coming in." + +They went to the end of the corridor accordingly; but no one +was to be seen, except the man who had just left M. Linders' +apartment walking briskly across the moonlight space below, +the great doors of the _porte-cochere_ closing after him with a +clang that resounded through the silent courtyard. Graham had +nothing further to say in the way of consolation; he could +think of no more possible contingencies to suggest, and, +indeed, it was useless to go on reasoning concerning perfectly +unknown conditions. Madelon, however, seemed a little +reassured by his confident tone, and he changed the subject by +asking her whether the gentleman who had just left was a +friend of hers. + +"Who? Monsieur Legros?" Madelon answered. "No, I don't know +him much, and I do not like him at all; he comes sometimes to +play with papa." + +"To play with him?" + +"Yes, at cards, you know--at _ecarte_, or _piquet_, or one of those +games." + +"And it was with him that your father had an appointment?" + +"Yes," said Madelon; "he came last night, and papa told him to +be here again this evening at ten, and that is why I cannot +think why he does not come." + +She turned again disconsolately to the window, and there was +another pause. Madelon relapsed into the silence habitual to +her with strangers, and Graham hardly knew how to continue the +conversation; yet he was unwilling to leave the child alone +with her anxiety at that late hour: and besides, he was +haunted by vague, floating memories that refused to shape +themselves definitely. Some time--somewhere--he had heard or +seen, or dreamt of some one--he could not catch the connecting +link which would serve to unite some remote, foregone +experience with his present sensations. + +He moved a little away from the window, and in so doing his +foot struck against the book which Madelon had dropped on +first seeing him, and he stooped to pick it up. It was a +German story-book, full of bright coloured pictures; so he saw +as he opened it and turned over the leaves, scarcely thinking +of what he did, when his eye was suddenly arrested by the +inscription on the fly-leaf. The book had been given to +Madelon only the year before by a German lady she had met at +Chaudfontaine, and there was her name, "Madeleine Linders," +that of the donor, the date, and below, "Hotel des Bains, +Chaudfontaine." It was a revelation to Horace. Of course he +understood it all now. Here was the clue to his confused +recollections, to the strange little scene he had just +witnessed. Another moonlit courtyard came to his remembrance, +a gleaming, rushing river, a background of shadowy hills, and +a little coy, wilful, chattering girl, with curly hair and +great brown eyes--those very eyes that had been perplexing him +not ten minutes ago. + +"I think you and I have met before," he said to Madelon, +smiling; "but I daresay you don't remember much about it, +though I recollect you very well now." + +"We have met before?" said Madelon. "Pardon, Monsieur, but I +do not very well recall it." + +"At Chaudfontaine, five years ago, when you were quite a +little girl. You are Madeleine Linders, are you not?" + +"Yes, I am Madeleine Linders," she answered. "I have often +been at Chaudfontaine; did you stay at the hotel there?" + +"Only for one night," said Graham; "but you and I had a long +talk together in the courtyard that evening. Let me see, how +can I recall it to you? Ah! there was a little green and gold +fish----" + +"Was that you?" cried Madelon, her face suddenly brightening +with a flush of intelligence and pleasure. "I have it still, +that little fish. Ah! how glad I am now that I did not give it +away! That gentleman was so kind to me, I shall never forget +him. But it was you!" she added, with a sudden recognition of +Graham's identity. + +"It was indeed," he said laughing. "So you have thought of me +sometimes since then? But I am afraid you would not have +remembered me if I had not told you who I was." + +"I was such a little girl then," said Madelon colouring. "Five +years ago--why I was not six years old; but I remember you very +well now," she added, smiling up at him. "I have often thought +of you, Monsieur, and I am so glad to see you again." + +She said it with a little naive air of frankness and sincerity +which was very engaging, giving him her hand as she spoke. + +"I am glad you have not quite forgotten me," said Graham, +sitting down by her on the window seat; "but indeed you have +grown so much, I am not sure I should have recollected you, if +I had not seen your name here. What have you been doing ever +since? Have you ever been to Chaudfontaine again?" + +"Oh, very often," said Madelon. "We go there almost every year +for a little while--not this year though, for we were at +Wiesbaden till three weeks ago, and then papa had to come to +Paris at once." + +"And do you still go about everywhere with your papa, or do +you go to school sometimes?" + +"To school? oh no, never," said Madelon, not without some +wonder at the idea. "Papa would not send me to school. I +should not like it at all, and neither would he. I know he +would not get on at all well without me, and I love travelling +about with him. Last winter we were in Italy." + +"And you never come to England?" + +"No, never. I asked papa once if he would not go there, and he +said no, that we should not like it at all, it was so cold and +_triste_ there, one never amused one's-self." + +"But I thought you had some relations there," said Graham. +"Surely I saw an uncle with you who was English?" + +"Oh yes, Uncle Charles; but he never went to England either, +and he died a long time ago. I don't know of any other +relations." + +"So you never talk English now, I suppose? Do you remember +telling me to speak English, because I spoke French so +funnily?" + +"No," said Madelon, colouring and laughing. "How is it +possible I can have been so rude, Monsieur? I think you speak +it very well. But I have not forgotten my English, for I have +some books, and often we meet English or American gentlemen, +so that I still talk it sometimes." + +"And German too," said Horace, looking at her book. + +"Yes, and Italian; I learnt that last winter at Florence. We +meet a great many different people, you know, so I don't +forget." + +"And you are always travelling about?" + +"Yes, always; I should not like to live in one place, I think, +and papa would not like it either, he says. Do you remember +papa, Monsieur?" + +"Very well," said Graham; and indeed he recalled perfectly the +little scene in the salle-a-manger of the Chaudfontaine hotel-- +the long dimly lighted room, the two men playing at cards, and +the little child nestling close up to the fair one whom she +called papa. "Yes, I remember him very well," he added, after +a moment's pause. + +"How strange that you should see us here again!" said Madelon. +"Did you know we were staying in the hotel, Monsieur?" + +"Not at all," answered Horace, smiling. "I only arrived +yesterday, and had no notion that I should find an old +acquaintance to welcome me." + +"How fortunate that I was waiting here, and that you saw my +name in that book," said Madelon, evidently looking on the +whole as a great event, brought about by a more remarkable +combination of circumstances than everyday life as a rule +afforded. "Without that you would not have known who I was, +perhaps? Papa will be very glad to see you again. Ah, how I +wish he would come!" she added, all her anxieties suddenly +revived. + +"Do you always sit up for him when he is so late?" said +Graham. "Surely it would be wiser for you to go to bed." + +"That is just what I said to Mademoiselle an hour ago," said a +kind, cheery voice behind them, belonging to Madame Lavaux, +the mistress of the hotel. "Of what use, I say, is it for her +to sit up waiting for her papa, who will not come any the +sooner for that." + +"Ah! Madame, I must wait," said Madelon. "Papa will come +soon." + +"But, _ma chere petite_--" began Madame. + +"I must wait," repeated Madelon, piteously; "I always sit up +for him." + +Graham thought he could not do better than leave her in the +hands of the landlady, and with a friendly good-night, and a +promise to come and see her the next day, he went back to his +own room. In a few minutes, he heard Madame pass along the +corridor and go upstairs to bed; but, though tired enough +himself after a day of Paris sight-seeing, he could not make +up his mind to do the same, when, on opening his door, he saw +Madelon standing where he had left her. He could not get rid +of the thought of this lonely little watcher at the end of the +passage, and taking up a book he began to read. From time to +time he looked out, but there was no change in the posture of +affairs; through the half-open door opposite he could see the +lights burning in the still empty room, and the small figure +remained motionless at the moonlit window. All sounds of life +and movement were hushed in the hotel, all the clocks had long +since struck midnight, and he was considering whether he +should not go and speak to Madelon again, when he heard a +faint cry, and then a rush of light feet along the passage and +down the staircase. + +"So he has come at last," thought Graham, laying down his book +with a sense of relief, not sorry to have his self-imposed +vigil brought to an end. He still sat listening, however; his +door was ajar, and he thought he should hear the father and +child come up together. There was a moment's silence as the +sound of the footsteps died away, and then succeeded a quick +opening and shutting of doors, the tread of hasty feet, a +confusion of many voices speaking at once, a sudden clamour +and stir breaking in on the stillness, and then suddenly +subdued and hushed, as if to suit the prevailing quiet of the +sleeping house. + +"Something must have happened," thought Graham. "That poor +child!--perhaps her father has, after all, met with some +accident!" He left his room and ran quickly downstairs. The +confused murmur of voices grew louder as he approached the +hall, and on turning the last angle of the staircase, he at +once perceived the cause of the disturbance. + +A little group was collected in the middle of the hall, the +night porter, one or two of the servants of the hotel, and +some men in blouses, all gathered round a tall prostrate man, +half lying on a bench placed under the centre lamp, half +supported by two men, who had apparently just carried him in. +He was quite insensible, his head had fallen forward on his +breast, and was bound with a handkerchief that had been tied +round to staunch the blood from a wound in his forehead; his +neckcloth was unfastened and his coat thrown back to give him +more air. The little crowd was increasing every moment, as the +news spread through the house; the _porte-cochere_ stood wide +open, and outside in the street a _fiacre_ could be seen, +standing in the moonlight. + +"A doctor must be fetched at once," someone was saying, just +as Horace came up and recognized, not without difficulty, in +the pale disfigured form before him, the handsome fair-haired +M. Linders he had met at Chaudfontaine five years before. + +"I am a doctor," he said, coming forward. "Perhaps I can be of +some use here." + +No one seemed to notice him at first--a lad had already started +in quest of a surgeon, and jumping into the empty _fiacre_ that +had brought the injured man to the hotel, was driving off; but +Madelon turned round at the sound of Graham's voice, and +looked up in his face with a new expression of hope in her +eyes, instead of the blank, bewildered despair with which she +had been gazing at her father and the strange faces around. To +the poor child it seemed as if she had lived through an +unknown space of terror and misery during the few minutes that +had elapsed since from the passage window she had seen the +_fiacre_ stop, and, with the presentiment of evil which had been +haunting her during these last hours of suspense, intensified +to conviction, had flown downstairs only to meet her father's +insensible form as he was carried in. She was kneeling now by +his side, and was chafing one of his cold hands between her +poor little trembling fingers; but when she saw Graham +standing at the edge of the circle she got up, and went to +him. + +"Will you come to papa?" she said, taking him by both hands +and drawing him forward. + +"Don't be frightened," said Horace, in his kind, cheerful +voice, trying to encourage her, for her face and lips were +colourless, and she was trembling as with a sudden chill. He +put one arm round her, and came forward to look at M. Linders. + +"Allow me," he said; and this time his voice commanded +attention, and imposed a moment's silence on the confusion of +tongues. "I am a doctor, and can perhaps be of some use; but I +must beg of you not to press round in this way. Can anyone +tell me what has happened?" he added, as he bent over M. +Linders. + +"It was an accident, Monsieur," said a man of the working- +class, standing by, "this poor gentleman must have had some +kind of fit, I think. I was crossing the Boulevards with him +about ten o'clock; there were a good many carriages about, but +we were going quietly enough, when suddenly I saw him stop, +put his hand to his head, and fall down in the road. I had to +run just then to get safely across myself, and when I reached +the other side, I saw a great confusion, and heard that a +carriage had driven straight over him." + +There was a moment's pause, and Madelon said in a tremulous +whisper, "Papa used to have vertiges last winter, but he got +quite well again." + +"To be sure," said Graham; "and so we must hope he will now. +That was more than two hours ago," he said, turning to the +man--"what have you been doing ever since?" + +"We carried him into the nearest _cafe_, Monsieur, and some +proposed taking him to a hospital, but after a time we found a +letter in his pocket addressed to this hotel, and we thought +it best to bring him here, as he might have friends; so we got +a _fiacre_. But it was a long way off, and we were obliged to +come very slowly." + +"A hospital would perhaps have been the better plan," said +Graham; "or you should have found a doctor before moving him. +However, now he must be carried upstairs without further +delay. My poor child," he said, turning to Madelon, "you can +do no good here--you had better go with Madame, who will take +care of you; will you not, Madame?" he added, turning to the +landlady, who, roused from her bed, had just appeared, after a +hasty toilette. + +"Yes, yes, she can come with me," said Madame Lavaux, who was +not in the best of tempers at the disturbance; "but I beg of +you not to make more noise than you can help, Messieurs, or I +shall have the whole house disturbed, and half the people +leaving to-morrow." + +The sad little procession moved quietly enough up the stairs, +and along the corridor to M. Linders' room. Graham had gone on +in front, but Madame Lavaux had held back Madelon when she +would have pressed forward by the side of the men who were +carrying her father, and she had yielded at first in sheer +bewilderment. She had passed through more than one phase of +emotion in the course of the last ten minutes, poor child! The +first overwhelming shock and terror had passed away, when +Graham's reassuring voice and manner had convinced her that +her father was not dead; but she had still felt too stunned +and confused to do more than obey passively, as she watched +him carefully raised, and slowly carried from the hall. By the +time they reached the top of the staircase, however, her +natural energy began to reassert itself; and, as she saw him +disappear within the bedroom, her impatient eagerness to be at +his side again, could not be restrained. His recent illness +was still too fresh a memory for the mere sight of his present +suffering and insensibility to have any of the terrors of +novelty, after the first shock was over, and all her former +experiences went to prove that his first words on recovering +consciousness would be to ask for her. Her one idea was that +she must go at once and nurse him; she had not heeded, nor, +perhaps, even heard Graham's last words, and she was about to +follow the men into the bedroom, when Madame Lavaux interposed +to prevent her. + +"Run upstairs to my room, _petite_," she said; "you will be out +of the way there, and I will come to you presently." + +"No," said Madelon, refusing point-blank, "I am going with +papa." + +"But it is not possible, my child; you will only be in the +way. You heard what M. le Docteur said?" + +"I _will_ go to papa!" cries Madelon, trembling with agitation +and excitement; "he will want me, I know he will, I am never +in his way! You have no right to prevent my going to him, +Madame! Let me pass, I say," for Madame Lavaux was standing +between her and the door of the room into which M. Linders had +been carried. + +"_Allons donc_, we must be reasonable," says Madame. "Your papa +does not want you now, and little girls should do as they are +told. If you had gone to bed an hour ago, as I advised, you +would have known nothing about all this till to-morrow. Eh, +these children! there is no doing anything with them; and +these men," she continued, with a sigh, "the noise they make +with their great boots! and precisely Madame la Comtesse, au +_premier_, had an _attaque des nerfs_ this evening, and said the +house was as noisy as a barrack--but these things always happen +at unfortunate moments!" + +No one answered this little speech, which, in fact, was +addressed to no one in particular. It was, perhaps, not +altogether Madame Lavaux' fault that through long habit her +instincts as the proprietor of a large hotel had ended by +predominating so far over her instincts as a woman as always +to come to hand first. The nice adjustment between the claims +of conscience and the claims of self-interest, between the +demands of her bills and the demands of never-satisfied, +exacting travellers, alone involved a daily recurring +struggle, in which the softer emotions would have been +altogether out of place, we may suppose. In the present +instance she considered it a hard case that her house should +be turned topsy-turvy at such an untimely hour, and its +general propriety endangered thereby; and Madelon's grief, +which at another time would have excited her compassion, had +for the moment taken the unexpected form of determined +opposition, and could only be looked upon as another element +of disturbance. Madelon herself, however, who could hardly be +expected to regard her father's accident with a view to those +wider issues that naturally presented themselves to Madame +Lavaux, simply felt that she was being cruelly ill-used. She +had not attended to a word of this last speech, but +nevertheless she had detected the want of sympathy, and it by +no means increased her desire to accede to Madame's wishes. + +"I _will_ go to papa," she repeated, the sense of antagonism +that had come uppermost gaining strength and vehemence from +the consciousness of the underlying grief and sore trouble +that had aroused it, "or I will stay here if you will not let +me pass; rather than go away I will stand here all night." + +Graham had heard nothing of this little altercation, but now +coming out of the bed-room to speak to Madame Lavaux, he found +a most determined little Madelon standing with her hands +clasped behind her, and her back set firmly against the wall, +absolutely refusing to retreat. + +She sprang forward, however, as soon as she saw him. + +"I may go to papa now, may I not?" she cried. + +"Mademoiselle wants to go to her papa," says Madame, at the +same moment, "I beg of you, Monsieur, to tell her it is +impossible, and that she had better come with me. She asserts +that her father will want her." + +"That is all nonsense," said Graham hastily; "of course she +cannot come in now," then noticing Madelon's poor little face, +alternately white, and flushed with misery and passion, he +said, "Listen to me, Madelon; you can do your father no good +now. He would not know you, my poor child, and you would only +be in the way. But I promise you that by-and-by you shall see +him." + +"By-and-by," said Madelon; "how soon?" + +"As soon as we can possibly manage it." + +Nothing, perhaps, would have induced Madelon at that moment to +have given into Madame Lavaux' unsupported persuasions, but +she yielded at once to Horace; indeed her sudden passion had +already died away at the sight of his face, at the sound of +the kind voice which she had somehow begun to associate with a +sense of help and protection. She did not quite give up her +point even now, however. + +"I need not go upstairs," she said, with trembling lips and +tears in her eyes. "I may go into my own room, may I not?" + +"Your room? Which is that?" asked Graham. + +"This one--next to papa," she said, pointing to the door that +led into the passage. + +"Yes, you can stay there if you like; but don't you think you +would be better with Madame Lavaux, than all by yourself in +there?" + +"No, I would rather stay here," she answered, and then pausing +a moment at the door, "I may come and see him presently?" she +added wistfully, "I always nursed him when he was ill before." + +"I am sure you are a very good little nurse," said Graham +kindly, "and I will tell you when you may come; but it will +not be just yet. So the best thing you can do will be to go to +bed, and then you will be quite ready for to-morrow." + +He had no time to say more, for his services were required. He +gave Madelon a candle, closed the door that communicated +between the two rooms, and she was left alone. + + +CHAPTER II. + +A Farewell Letter. + + +Madelon was left alone to feel giddy, helpless, bewildered in +the reaction from strong excitement and passion. She was quite +tired and worn-out, too, with her long watching and waiting; +too weary to cry even, or to think over all that had happened. + +She did not go to bed, however; that would have been the last +thing she would have thought of doing; for, Graham's last +words notwithstanding, she had a notion that in a few minutes +she would be called to come and watch by her father, as she +had often done in the old days at Florence; so she only put +down her candle on the table, and curled herself up in a big +arm-chair; and in five minutes, in spite of her resolution to +keep wide awake till she should be summoned, she was sound +asleep. + +Low voices were consulting together in the next room, people +coming in and out; the French doctor who had been sent for +arriving; cautious footsteps, and soft movements about the +injured man. But Madelon heard none of them, she slept soundly +on, and only awoke at last to see her candle go out with a +splutter, and the grey light of dawn creeping chilly into the +room. She awoke with a start and shiver of cold, and sat up +wondering to find herself there; then a rush of recollections +came over her of last night, or her father's accident, and she +jumped up quickly, straightening herself, stretching her +little stiff limbs, and pushing back her tumbled hair with +both hands from the sleepy eyes that were hardly fairly open +even now. + +Her first movement was towards the door between the two +bedrooms, but she checked herself, remembering that Monsieur +le Docteur had told her she must not go in there till she was +called. There was another door to her room leading into the +corridor, and just at that moment she heard two people stop +outside of it, talking together in subdued tones. + +"Then I leave the case altogether in your hands," says a +strange man's voice. "I am absolutely obliged to leave Paris +for B---- by the first train this morning, and cannot be back +till to-morrow night; so, as you say, Monsieur, you are in +Paris for some time----" + +"For the next few days, at any rate," answered the other; and +Madelon recognized Graham's voice and English accent, "long +enough to see this case through to the end, I am afraid." + +"If anything can be done, you will do it, I am sure," +interrupted the other with warmth. "You must permit me to say, +Monsieur, as an old man may say to a young _confrere_, that it +is seldom one meets with so much coolness and skill in such a +very critical case. Nothing else could have saved----" + +The voices died away as the speakers walked towards the end of +the passage. Madelon had hardly taken in the sense of the few +sentences she had heard; she was only anxious now to see +Graham and ask if she might go to her father, so she opened +her door softly and crept into the passage, meeting Horace as +he returned towards the sick-room after seeing the French +doctor off. He looked down on the little figure all pale and +ruffled in the cold grey light. + +"Why, I thought you were asleep," he said. "Would you like to +see your father now? You may come in, but you must be very +quiet, for he is dozing." + +"Then he is better?" said Madelon, anxiously. + +Graham did not answer, he opened the door and led her in. The +room looked cheerless with the shaded night-lamp casting long +shadows, which mingles with those that the growing daylight +was chasing away. M. Linders was lying with his head supported +on a heap of pillows: his forehead was bandaged where the deep +cut had been given just above the brow, and he looked deadly +pale; his eyes were closed, he was breathing heavily, and +Madelon thought that, as Graham had told her, he was asleep; +but it was, in fact, rather a kind of stupor, from which +louder noises than the sound of her soft footfall would have +failed to rouse him. She went on tiptoe up to his bedside, and +stood gazing at him for a moment, and then with a swift, +silent movement buried her face in her hands, and burst into +an agony of crying. + +"He is very ill--oh! is he going to die?" was all the answer +she could give in a hoarse whisper to Graham's attempts at +comfort, trying the while to smother her sobs, so that they +might not break out and wake her father. + +"I hope not--I hope not," said Horace, quite grieved at the +sight of her distress; "but you must not cry so, Madelon; how +are you to nurse him and help him to get well again if you +do?" + +She stopped sobbing a little at this, and tried to check her +tears. + +"Do you really think he will get well again?" she said; "he +looks so ill." + +Graham did not at once answer. In truth, he saw no prospect of +M. Linders' ultimate recovery, though he would probably regain +consciousness, and might, perhaps, linger on for a few days. +But there always remained the hope born of a determination not +to despair, and it seemed cruel, at that moment, not to share +it with our poor little Madelon. + +"We must hope so," he said at last, "we must always hope for +the best, you know; but he must be kept very quiet, so you and +I, Madelon, must do our best to watch him, and see that he is +not disturbed." + +"Yes," said Madelon, drying her eyes quite now. "I will take +care of him." + +"Very well, then, if you will sit with him now, I will go and +speak to Madame Lavaux, if she is up; there are several +arrangements I have to make." + +He went away, leaving Madelon contented for the moment, since +she could sit and watch by her father; she remained +motionless, her eyes fixed on his face, her hands clasped +round her knees, her whole mind so absorbed in keeping +perfectly quiet, the one thing she could do for him just then, +that she hardly ventured to breathe. But not even yet did she +understand the full meaning of what had happened, nor clearly +comprehend all that she had to dread. She was not really +afraid that her father would not recover; she knew indeed that +he was very ill, much worse than he had ever been at Florence, +and that it might be a long, long time before he would be well +again, but she did not think that he was going to die. She had +asked the question indeed, prompted by an instinctive terror +that had seized her, but in fact she hardly knew what death +meant, much less had she ever conceived of her father as dead, +or imagined life without him. Nevertheless, the sudden panic +had left a nameless, unrecognized fear lurking somewhere, +which gave an added intensity to her desire that he would wake +up and speak to her once more; and sometimes the beating of +her own heart seemed to deafen her, so that she could not hear +the sound of his heavy irregular breathing, and then nothing +but the dread of disturbing him could have prevented her from +jumping up and going to him to make sure that he was still +sleeping. When would he awaken and look at her and speak to +her again? It appeared so long since she had heard his voice, +and seen him smile at her; since he had wished her good-bye +the evening before, she seemed to have lived through such long +hours of unimagined terror and sorrow, and all without being +able to turn to him for the sure help, for the loving +protection and sympathy that had ever been ready for his +little Madelon; and even now, he did not know how she was +watching him, nor how she was longing to go to him and kiss +him, to put her arms round his neck, and lay her soft little +cheek caressingly against his. This thought was the most +grievous of all to Madelon just then, and the big tears came +into her eyes again, and fell slowly one by one into her lap. + +Graham, however, returning presently, somehow seemed to bring +courage and consolation with him. Madelon brightened up at +once when he sat down by her and told her that he had asked +Madame Lavaux to send them up some coffee, so that they might +have it together there; and then, seeing the tears on her sad +little face, he assured her in his kind way that her father +would wake up presently and speak to her, and that, in the +meantime, she need not sit quite so still, as she would not +disturb him if she moved about quietly; and when, by-and-by, +the _cafe-au-lait_ arrived, they had their little meal together, +whilst he told her in a low voice how her father had partially +recovered his consciousness in the night and asked for her, +but had been quite satisfied when he heard she had gone to +bed, and had afterwards gone off to sleep as Madelon saw him +now. + +"By-the-by, Madelon," Graham said presently, "tell me if you +have any relations living in Paris, or any friends that you go +and visit sometimes?" + +"No," says Madelon wondering, "I have no relations--only papa." + +"No uncles, or aunts, or cousins?" + +"No," said Madelon again, "only Uncle Charles, who died, you +know." + +"Ah, yes--that was an English uncle; but your papa, has he no +brothers or sisters in Paris, or anywhere else?" + +"I never heard of any," said Madelon, to whom this idea of +possible relations seemed quite a new one. "I never go to +visit anyone." + +"Then you have no friends living in Paris--no little +companions, no ladies who come to see you?" + +"No," answers Madelon, shaking her head, "we don't know anyone +in Paris, except some gentlemen who come to play with papa-- +like Monsieur Legros, you know--only some are nicer than he is; +but I don't know the names of them all. At Wiesbaden I knew a +Russian princess, who used to ask me to go and see her at the +hotel--oh, yes, and a German Countess, and a great many people +that we met at the tables and at the balls, but I daresay I +shall never see them again; we meet so many people, you know." + +"And you have no other friends?" + +"Oh, yes," said Madelon, her eyes shining suddenly, "there was +the American artist, who lived in our house in Florence, and +the old German who taught me to sing and play the violin; I +was very fond of him, he was so good--so good." + +"Who were they?" asked Graham. + +Madelon explained, not in the least understanding the purport +of all these questions, but her explanation did not help +Graham much. In truth, he was revolving some anxious thoughts. +In accepting the charge of this sick man, he felt that he had +incurred a certain responsibility, not only towards M. +Linders, but towards his little girl, and any relations or +friends that he might have. It was on Madelon's account above +all that he felt uneasy; what was to become of her if her +father died--and Graham had little doubt that he was dying--all +friendless and alone in the world as she would apparently be? +Had any arrangements for the future been made, any provision +left for her? What was to become of this poor child, clinging +so closely to her father, and so dependent upon him that she +seemed to have no thoughts nor ideas apart from him? + +Graham had been questioning Madame Lavaux as to what she knew +of M. Linders and his life, and had gained much information on +some points, though very little on others. Madame Lavaux had +readily related the history of Madelon's birth and Madame +Linders' death. It was a story she was fond of telling; it had +been a little romance in the ordinary routine of hotel life, +and one in which, when she had duly set forth M. Linders' +heartlessness and her own exertions, she felt that she must +shine in an exceptionally favourable light; and indeed it was +so pitiful a tale the her hearers could not but share the +indignation and compassion she felt and expressed when she +spoke of _cette pauvre dame_, who so young and so beautiful had +been left alone to give birth to her infant, and, still alone, +to die four months later. But when Graham endeavoured to get +any facts bearing directly upon the present emergency, he +found Madame Lavaux less well-informed. M. Linders had come to +her hotel year after year, she said, and she had always taken +him in, on the little girl's account (who was a _chere petite_, +though troublesome sometimes, as children would be); otherwise +she would have been sorry to have such a _mauvais sujet_ about +the house, in and out at all hours, and queer-looking men +sitting up with him half the night. Had he any relations or +friends? That she did not know, she had never seen or heard of +any, but she did not wonder at that--they did well to keep +clear of him, a bad man, who had broken more hearts than his +wife's, she would answer for it. For the rest, she knew little +about him, she added, with a sudden fit of professional +reticence, induced by the recollection that it might be as +well not to gossip too much about the affairs of her +_clientele;_ he came and went, paid his bill regularly enough, +generally seemed to have money at his command, and of course +it was not for her to inquire how he got it, though she might +have her suspicions. What was to become of his little girl in +case of his death? Madame had never thought of that: did +Monsieur think he was going to die? In that case how much +better to have taken him to the hospital; a death in the house +was always so inconvenient and disagreeable--not that she had +grudged it to that _pauvre_ Madame Linders, but this was a +different thing altogether; would he certainly die? Monsieur +said he did not know, one must always hope, but the case was a +grave one, and seeing that Madame could give him no help he +left her. + +He had questioned Madeleine in the hope that she would be able +to tell him of some one for whom he could send, or to whom he +could at least write, but here again he was baffled, and he +could only wait now for the moment when M. Linders should +recover consciousness. + +The hotel was all astir by this time with life and movement, +doors opening and shutting, footsteps up and down the +staircases and corridors, voices talking, calling, grumbling, +downstairs eating and drinking going on with much clattering +of plates and dishes, fiacres and omnibuses driving up, +tourists setting off in gay parties for their day's sight- +seeing, luggage being moved, travellers coming, travellers +going, to England, to the north, to the south, to the ends of +the earth--all the busy restless hotel life going on except in +this one silent room, where two people sat very quietly +watching a third, who, as one of them foresaw sadly enough, +would never take part in all this stir and bustle of life +again. Outside was broad sunny daylight now, but within it was +all dim and cool, for the night had been hot, and the window +stood wide open, and now the morning air blew freshly through +the Venetian shutters, that were closed to darken the room and +shut out the sun, which later would shine full upon them. The +morning hours slipped away; there was nothing to be done while +M. Linders remained in this state, and Madelon, by Horace's +advice, took a book, and seated herself on a low stool by the +window to read. Now and then she would stand looking at her +father with a most pitiful yearning in her great brown eyes; +once or twice, M. Linders, in his dull slumber, half torpor, +half sleep, seemed in some sort conscious of her presence; he +moved his head uneasily, said "Madeleine," and then some low +muttered words which she could not catch, but he never quite +roused up, and after each throb of expectation and hope, she +could only return to her book, and her silent watching. + +Graham went in and out, or sat reading and writing at the +table, and at twelve o'clock he made Madelon go downstairs to +breakfast with Madame Lavaux in her own little sitting-room. +Madame, who was really very fond of her, had forgotten all +about the altercation of the night before. Indeed she was both +good-natured and kind-hearted as soon as she could allow her +better impulses to have their own way; but she was a little +apt, as are most people to whom life resolves itself into a +narrow ministering to their personal pains and pleasures, to +look upon untoward occurrences as evidence of the causeless +animosity of some vague impersonality, continually on the +watch to adjust the largest events of life so as to occasion +her particular inconvenience. If half Paris and its environs +had been destroyed by an earthquake, her first impression of +the catastrophe would very possibly have been that it could +not have happened at a worse moment for raising the price of +early asparagus, though the further reflection that the +general want of accommodation would justify her in doubling +her hotel tariff, might in some measure have restored her +faith in the fitness of things. After this, she would have +found time to be overwhelmed with compassion for the +sufferers. M. Linders' accident, she found, had, as yet, been +attended with no evil results, so far as she was concerned; no +one had been disturbed in the night, no one had left, so that, +for the moment, it had been safely transferred to that region +of abstract facts, which she could consider dispassionately, +and judge by the light of her kindly impulses; and it was +under the influence of these that she was now bent on petting +and making much of Madelon, giving her cakes and confitures +and all kinds of good things. On second thoughts she had +rejected the idea that M. Linders was going to die; it would +be so very troublesome and inconvenient, that she found it +pleasanter to persuade herself that he would surely recover; +and now, on the strength of his conviction, and with a kind +wish to console Madelon, she became so encouraging, so certain +he would be well again in a few weeks--in a few weeks did she +say?--in a few days--with this clever English doctor, who, as +she improvised for the occasion, everyone knew was one of the +first doctors in London--with all this Madame so encouraged and +cheered our Madelon, that she came upstairs again at the end +of an hour looking quite bright, and almost expecting to see +some wonderful change for the better in her father. M. +Linders, however still lay as she had left him, and perhaps +the sight of his pale bloodless face chilled her, for she +crept silently to her corner, and took up her book again, +without saying a word of her new hopes. Presently Graham, +looking up from his writing, found that she had done the best +thing possible under the circumstances, for, with her book +lying open upon her lap, and her head resting against the +window-frame, she had fallen fast asleep. He went up to her, +raised her gently in his arms, and carried her into her own +room; so perfectly sound asleep was she, that she hardly +stirred, even when he laid her on her bed; and then, drawing +the curtain round her, he left her to herself. + +If this long morning had passed slowly and sadly for our +sorrowful little Madelon, it had been a time of anxiety and +uneasiness enough for Horace Graham also; who had never, I +daresay, felt more nervous than during these quiet hours when +M. Linders, partly from the effects of his accident, partly +from the opiates that had been given him, lay unconscious. He +was young in his profession, and though clever and skilled +enough in the technical part, he had had little experience in +what may be called the moral part of it, and he positively +shrank form the moment when this man, of whose life and +character he knew something, should wake up, and he should +have to tell him that he was dying. It was so absolutely +necessary, too, that he should know the danger he was in; for +if, as was too probable from his mode of life, his affairs +were in disorder, and his arrangements for his child's future +had still to be made, the time that remained to him was in all +human probability but short. For the rest, Graham felt in +himself small capacity for preaching or exhortation, and +indeed from a professional point of view, he dreaded a +possible outburst of excitement and remorse, as lessening his +last chance of saving his patient's life; and yet to him-- +young, full of energy, and hope, and resolution, though no +nearer perfection and tried wisdom than any other man with +crude beliefs and enthusiasms and untested powers for good or +evil--to him death still appeared one of the most awful facts +in life, and he could not think unmoved of the task of +announcing to such a man as this, that his last chances were +over, and such life as one can live in this world was for him +a thing of the past for ever now. Not a twelvemonth later, +Graham had stood by so many dying men, had listened to so many +dying speeches, had seen death met in so many forms, and with +such strange variety of character, with indifference or +calmness, or resignation, with wild triumph, or wilder +remorse, that he looked back with a sort of wonder on his +present inexperience and perplexity. Not the less, however, +did he now sit framing a dozen speeches one after the other, +dreading the effect of saying too much, and fearing to say too +little, till, about an hour after Madelon had fallen asleep, +M. Linders at length stirred, opened his eyes, and tried to +move. + +Graham was at his side instantly, and the sick man gazed up at +him in silence for a moment. + +"What has happened?" he said at last in a feeble voice: "who +are you? where is Madelon?" + +"Madelon is in the next room asleep," answered Graham; "you +met with an accident last night--I am an English doctor staying +in the hotel--the French one had to leave--do you remember?" + +He paused between each sentence, and M. Linders' eyes, which +were fixed upon him as he spoke, gradually acquired an +expression of intelligence as memory returned to him. He +closed them again and turned away his head. + +"Yes, I remember something about it," he said, "but--_que +diable_--I cannot move a limb; am I much hurt?" + +"A good deal," said Graham, helping him to raise himself a +little. "You had better keep quiet, and take this," giving him +a cordial, as M. Linders sank back exhausted. + +"That is better," he said, after a few minutes of struggling +breathing. "So I am a good deal hurt? Am I--am I going to die +by chance, M. le Docteur?" + +He spoke in his old half-sarcastic, half-cynical way, but a +feeble, gasping voice, that made an effect of contrast, as of +the tragic face espied behind the grinning mask. Somehow it +touched Graham, burdened as he was with the consciousness of +the death-warrant he had to pronounce, and he paused before +answering. M. Linders noticed his hesitation. + +"Bah!" he said, "speak, then; do you think I am afraid--a +coward that fears to know the worst? I shall not be the first +man that has died, nor, in all probability, the last. We ought +to be used to it by this time, _nous autres!_" + +"Perhaps it is always best to be prepared for the worst," says +Graham, recovering himself at this address, and taking refuge +at last in a conventional little speech. "And though we must +always hope for the best, I do not think it right to conceal +from you, Monsieur, that you are very much injured and shaken. +If you have any arrangements to make, anyone you would wish to +send for, or to see, I earnestly advise you to lose no time." + +He watched M. Linders narrowly as he spoke, and saw a sudden +gleam of fear or excitement light up his dull eyes for a +moment, whilst his fingers clutched nervously at the sheet, +but that was all the sign he made. + +"So--I am going to die?" he said, after a pause. "Well--that is +ended, then. Send for anyone? Whom should I send for?" he +added, with some vehemence. "For your priests, I suppose, to +come and light candles, and make prayers over me--is that what +you are thinking of, by chance? I won't have one of them--you +need not think of it, do you hear? --not one." + +"Pardon me," said Graham, "but it was not of priests I was +thinking just then--indeed, it seems to me that, at these +moments, a man can turn nowhere so safely as to his God--but +there are others----" + +He spoke quietly enough, but M. Linders interrupted him with a +fierce, hoarse whisper. "I can arrange my own affairs. I have +no one to send to--no one I wish to see. Let me die in peace." + +In spite of his assumed indifference, his whole soul was +filled and shaken with a sudden dread terror; for the moment +he had forgotten even his child. Graham saw it, but could not +urge him further just then; he only passed his arm under the +pillow, so as to raise his head a little, and then said, with +such professional cheerfulness as he could muster, + +"_Allons_, Monsieur, you must have courage. Calm yourself; you +are not going to die yet, and we must hope for the best. You +may live to see many people yet." + +M. Linders appeared scarcely to hear what he was saying; but +in a few moments his face relaxed, and a new expression came +into it, which seemed to soften the grey, ghastly look. + +"My poor little girl!" he said, with a sort of groan--"my +little Madelon!--to leave thee all alone, _pauvre petite!_" + +"It was precisely of her that I wished to speak," said Graham. +"I am afraid, in any case, you must look forward to a long +illness, and, on her account, is there no friend, no relation +you would wish to send for?" + +"I have no friends--no relations," said M. Linders, +impatiently. "A long illness? Bah! M. le Docteur, I know, and +you know that I am going to die--to-day, to-morrow, who knows?-- +and she will be left alone. She has no one in the world but +me, and she has been foolish enough to love me--my little one!" + +He paused for a moment, and then went on, with a vehemence +that struggled for utterance, with his hoarse feeble voice and +failing breath. + +"If this cursed accident had happened but one day sooner or +later, I could have left her a fortune--but a superb fortune; +only one day sooner--I had it two days ago--or to-morrow--I +should have had my revenge last night of that _scelerat_--that +devil--that Legros, and won back the money he cheated me of, +he--he--of all men, a mere beginner, a smatterer--ah! if I had +been the man I once was, it would have been a different +account to settle----" + +He lay back panting, but began again before Graham could +speak. + +"I only want time--give me a little time, and my little +Madeleine shall have such a fortune as shall make her +independent of every one; or stay, why not send for him now? I +will give you his address--yes, now--now at once, before it is +too late!" + +"That is quite impossible, Monsieur," Graham answered with +decision; "and if you agitate yourself in this way, I must +refuse to listen to another word. You are doing all you can to +lessen your chances of recovery." + +"You do not play, Monsieur?" said M. Linders, struck with a +new idea, and not in the least attending to what Graham was +saying. + +"Do you want to win my money?" said the young man, half +smiling. "No, I do not play, nor, if I did, have I any money +to lose. Leave all these notions alone, I entreat of you; calm +yourself; you need not trouble yourself to speak much, but +just tell me what your wishes are concerning your little girl-- +in any case it is always best to be prepared. Have you made +any will? Is there any one to whose care you would wish to +entrust her in the event of your death?" + +M. Linders had exhausted his strength and his passion for the +moment, and answered quietly enough. No, he had made no will, +he said--of what use? Everything he had was hers, of course-- +little enough too, as matters stood. He owned he did not know +what was to become of her; he had made no arrangements--he had +never thought of its coming to this, and then he had always +counted on leaving her a fortune. He had sometimes thought of +letting her be brought up for the stage; that might be +arranged now, if he could see S----, the manager of the Theatre +----. Could he be sent for at once? + +"Certainly, if you really wish it," answered Graham with some +hesitation, and then added frankly, "I have no sort of right +to offer an opinion, but will you not consider a moment before +fixing on such a fate for your child? She is surely very young +to be thrown amongst strangers, on such a doubtful career, +especially without you at hand to protect her." + +"It is true I shall not be there," said the father with a +groan; "I had forgotten that. And I shall never see my little +one grown up. Ah! what is to become of her?" + +"Has she no relations?" said Graham, "in England for instance----" + +"In England!" cried M. Linders fiercely, "what could make you +fancy that?" + +"I had understood that her mother was English----" began Graham. + +"You are right, Monsieur; her mother was English, but she has +no English relations, or, if she has, they are nothing to her, +and she shall never know them. No," he said slowly, after a +pause, "I suppose there is only one thing to be done, and yet +I would almost rather she lay here dead by my side, that we +might be buried together in one grave; it would perhaps be +happier for her, poor little one! Ah, what a fate! but it must +be--you are right, I cannot send her out alone and friendless +into the world, she must go to her aunt." + +"She has an aunt, then?" said Graham, with some surprise. + +"Yes, Monsieur, she has an aunt, my sister Therese, with whom +I quarrelled five and twenty years ago, and whom I have +cordially hated ever since; and if ever woman deserved to be +hated, she does;" and indeed, though he had not mentioned his +sister's name for years, the very sound of it seemed to revive +the old enmity in all its fresh bitterness. "She lives near +Liege," he went on presently. "She is the Superior of a +convent there, having risen to that eminence through her +superior piety and manifold good works, doubtless. Mon Dieu!" +he cried, with another of his sudden impotent bursts of +passion and tenderness, "that it should have come to this, +that I should shut up my little one in a convent! And she will +be miserable--she will blame me, she will think me cruel; but +what can I do? what can I do?" + +"But it seems to me the best thing possible," said Graham, +who, in truth, was not a little relieved by this sudden and +unexpected solution of all difficulties. "So many children are +educated in convent, and are very happy there; she will be +certainly well taught and cared for, and you must trust to +your sister for the future." + +"Never!" he said, half raising himself on his elbow with a +mighty effort. "Well taught!--yes, I know the sort of teaching +she will get there; she will be taught to hate and despise me, +and then they will make her a nun--they will try to do it, but +that shall never be! I will make Madelon promise me that. My +little one a nun!--I will not have it! Ah! I risk too much; she +shall not go!" + +He fell back on the pillow gasping, panting, almost sobbing, +all pretence and semblance of cynicism and indifference gone +in the miserable moment of weakness and despair. Was it for +this, then, that he had taught his child to love him--that he +had watched and guarded and cherished her--that he should place +her now in the hands of his enemy, and that she should learn +to hate his memory when he was dead? Ah! he was dying, and +from the grave there would be no return--no hand could be +stretched out from thence to claim her--no voice make itself +heard to appeal to her old love for him, to remind her of +happy bygone days when she had believed in him, and to bid her +to be faithful to him still. Those others would be able to +work their will then, while he lay silent for evermore, and +his little one would too surely learn what manner of father +she had had, perhaps--who knows?--learn to rejoice in the day +that had set her free from his influence. + +Graham very likely understood something of what was passing in +M. Linders' mind, revealed, as it had been, by those few +broken words, for he said in a kind voice, + +"I think you may surely trust to your child's love for you, M. +Linders, for she seems to have found all her happiness in it +hitherto, and it is so strong and true that I do not think it +will be easily shaken, nor can I fancy anyone will be cruel +enough to attempt it." And then, seeing how little capable M. +Linders seemed at that moment of judging wisely, he went on to +urge the necessity of Madelon's being sent to her aunt as her +natural guardian, representing the impossibility of leaving +her without money or friends in the midst of strangers. + +"There is a little money," said M. Linders, "a few thousand +francs--I do not know how much exactly; you will find it in +that desk. It would start her for the stage; she has talent-- +she would rise. S---- heard her sing once; if he were here now, +we might arrange----" + +He was rambling off in a low broken voice, hardly conscious, +perhaps, of what he was saying. Graham once more interposed. + +"No, no," he said, "you must not think of it. Let her go to +her aunt. Don't be uneasy about her getting there safely; I +will take charge of her." + +"You will?" said M. Linders, fixing his dim eyes on Graham, +and with some resumption of his old manner. "Pardon, Monsieur, +but who are you, that you take such an interest in my +affairs?" + +"Anyone must take an interest in your little girl," said +Graham warmly, and in the kind, frank voice that somehow +always carried with it the conviction of his sincerity and +good faith, "and I am truly glad that the chance that brought +me to this hotel has put it in my power to be of use to you +and to her. For the rest, my name is Graham, and I am an army +surgeon. I don't suppose you recollect the circumstance, +Monsieur, but I very well remember meeting you at +Chaudfontaine some years ago." + +"No, I don't remember," said M. Linders faintly, "but I think +I may trust you. You will see that Madelon reaches Liege +safely?" + +"I will take her there myself," answered Graham. "Would you +like to send any message to your sister?" + +"I will write," said M. Linders, "or rather you shall write +for me; but presently--I cannot talk any more now--it must do +presently." + +Indeed he was faint from exhaustion, and Graham could only do +all that was possible to revive him, and then remain by his +side till he should have recovered his strength a little; and +as he sat there, silently watching, I daresay he preached a +little sermon to himself, but in no unfriendly spirit to his +patient, we may be sure. This, then, was what life might come +to--this might be the end of all its glorious possibilities, of +all its boundless hopes and aims. To this man, as to another, +had the great problem been presented, and he had solved it-- +thus; and to Graham, in the fulness of his youth, and +strength, and energy, the solution seemed stranger than the +problem. To most of us, perhaps, as years go on, life comes to +be represented by its failures rather than its successes, by +its regrets rather than its hopes; enthusiasms die out, +illusions vanish, belief in the perfectibility of ourselves +and of others fades, as we learn to realize the shortness of +life, the waywardness of human nature, the baffling power of +circumstances, too easily allowed; but in their place, a +humble faith in a more perfect and satisfying hereafter, which +shall be the complement of our existence here, the fulfilment +of our unfinished efforts, our many shortcomings, springs up, +let us trust, to encourage us to new strivings, to ever-fresh +beginnings, which shall perhaps be completed and bear fruit in +another world; perhaps be left on earth to work into the grand +economy of progress--not wholly useless in any case. But at +four or five and twenty, in spite of some failures and +disappointments, the treasure of existence to an honest, frank +heart, still seems inexhaustible as it is inestimable. The +contrast between the future Graham looked forward to, full of +hopes and ambitions, and this past whose history he could +guess at, and whose results he contemplated, forced itself +upon him, and an immense compassion filled the young man's +heart at the sight of this wasted life, of this wayward mind, +lighted up with the sudden, passionate gleams of tenderness +for his child, the one pure affection perhaps that survived to +witness to what had been--a great compassion, an honest, +wondering pity for this man who had thus recklessly squandered +his share of the common birth right. Ah! which of us, standing +on safe shores, and seeing, as all must see at times, the sad +wreck of some shattered life cast up by the troubled waves at +our feet, does not ask himself, in no supercilious spirit, +surely, but with an awe-struck humility, "Who or what hath +made thee to differ?" + +Perhaps, as M. Linders lay there, he also preached to himself +a little sermon, after his own peculiar fashion, for when, at +the end of half an hour, he once more aroused himself, all +signs of agitation had disappeared, and it was with a perfect +calmness that he continued the conversation. Graham could not +but admire this composure in the man whom but just now he had +seen shaken with passion and exhausted with conflicting +emotions; whom indeed he had had to help, and judge for, and +support in his hour of weakness and suffering; whilst now M. +Linders had resumed his air of calm superiority as the man of +the world, which seemed at once to repel and forbid support +and sympathy from the youth and inexperience at his side. + +"You are right, Monsieur," he said, breaking the silence +abruptly, and speaking in a clear, though feeble voice, +"Madelon must go her aunt. Did I understand you to say you +would take charge of her to Liege?" + +"I will certainly," said Graham; "if----" + +"I am exceedingly indebted to you," said M. Linders, "but I am +afraid such a journey may interfere with your own plans." + +"Not in the least," replied Graham. "I am only travelling for +amusement, and have no one to consult but myself." + +"Ah--well, I shall not interfere with your amusement long; and +in the meantime, believe me, I am sensible of your goodness. +It may make matters easier if you take a letter from me to my +sister. I am afraid I cannot write myself, but I could +dictate--if it be not troubling you too much--there are a pen +and ink somewhere there; and if you could give me anything--I +still feel rather faint." + +Graham rose, gave him another cordial, drew a small table to +the bedside, and sat down to write. M. Linders considered for +a moment, and then began to dictate. + + +"Ma soeur,--We parted five and twenty years ago, with a mutual +determination never to see each other again--a resolution which +has been perfectly well kept, and which there is no danger of +our breaking now, as I shall be in my grave before you read +this letter; and you will have the further consolation of +reflecting that, as we have never met again in this world, +neither is there any probability of our doing so in another----" + + +"Pardon me," said Graham, laying down his pen, as M. Linders +dictated these last words, "but you are about to recommend +your child to your sister's care; of what use can it be to +begin with words that can only embitter any ill-feeling there +may have been between you?" + +"But it is a great consolation I am offering her there," says +M. Linders, in his feeble voice. "However, as you will-- +_recommencons;_ but no more interruptions, Monsieur, for my +strength is not inexhaustible." + + +"Ma soeur,--It is now five and twenty years since we parted, +with the determination never to see each other again. Whether +we have done well to keep this resolution or not, matters +little now; we shall, at any rate, have no temptation in the +future to break it, for I shall be in my grave before your +receive this letter. I am dying, a fact which may possess some +faint interest for you even now--or may not--that is not to the +purpose either. It is not of myself that I would speak, but of +my child. I am sending her to you, Therese, as to the only +relative she has in the world; look on her, if you prefer it, +as your mother's only grandchild; we had a mother once who +loved me, and whom you professed to love--for her sake be kind +to Madelon. I am not rich, and without money I cannot leave +her amongst strangers, otherwise I would have found some other +means of providing for her; at the same time, I do not send +her to you absolutely penniless--she will take to you the sum +of three thousand francs, which will provide her board for the +next two or three years, at any rate; I do not cast her on +your charity. I have two requests to make, and if your +religion teaches you to have any regard for the wishes of a +dying man, I trust you will hold them sacred as such. In the +first place, I demand of you that you should not bring her up +to be a nun; she has not, and never will have, the slightest +vocation--is not that the right word?--for such a life. My wish +is that she should be educated for the stage, but I do not +absolutely desire it; circumstances must in some measure +decide, and something must be left to your discretion, but a +nun she shall not be. In the second place, respect my memory, +so far as my little Madeleine is concerned. Keep your powers +of abusing me, if they be not already exhausted, for the +benefit of others; she has never been separated from me since +she was an infant, and the little fool has actually learnt to +love me, and to believe in me. It is an innocent delusion, and +has made her happy--do not disturb it. I tell you, my sister, +it will be the worst work you have yet wrought upon earth, and +an evil day for you, if, even when I am in my grave, you try +to come between me and my daughter. + +"Your brother, + +"Adolphe Linders." + + +"I will sign it," said the sick man, holding out his hand for +the pen. He had dictated the letter with some pauses and gasps +for breath, but in the uniform indifferent voice that he had +adopted since the beginning of the conversation. He dropped +the pen, when he had scrawled the signature with almost +powerless fingers, and his hand fell heavily on the bed again. +"That is done," he said, and, after a pause, continued: +"Monsieur, circumstances have compelled me to place a +confidence in you, with which, at another time, I should have +hesitated to burden you, fearing to cause you inconvenience." + +"You cause me no inconvenience, and I shall do my best to +carry out your wishes," said Horace. "In return, I must beg of +you to keep yourself quiet now." + +"One moment, Monsieur--my money you will find in that desk, as +I have said; after paying my funeral and other expenses, you +will, I think, find there is still the sum left that I have +named in my letter. I must beg of you to hand it over to my +sister. I can trust her so far, I believe; and I will not have +my child a pauper on her hands, dependent on her charity for +food and clothing; otherwise it might have been wiser--however, +it is too late now, and in two of three years much may happen. +One word more, and I have done. I have no sort of claim on +your kindness, Monsieur, but you have proved yourself a +friend, and as such I would ask you not to lose sight of +Madelon entirely. She will be but a friendless little one when +I am gone, and I have not much confidence in her aunt's tender +mercies." + +"You may depend upon it that I will not," said Graham +earnestly, and hardly thinking of the sort of responsibility +he was accepting. + +"Thank you; then that is all. And now, Monsieur le Docteur, +how long do you give me?" + +"How long?" said Graham. + +"Ah! how long to live?--to-day, to-night, to-morrow? How long, +in short?" + +Then Graham spoke plainly at last, without further reticence +or concealment, so useless in the face of this indifference +and levity, real or affected. + +"M. Linders," he said, "the chance on which your recovery +hangs is so slight, that I do not think it probable, hardly +possible, that you can live over to-morrow. Will you not try +to understand this?" + +There was something so wistful and kind and honest in Graham's +expression as he stood there, looking down on his patient, +that M. Linders was touched, perhaps, for he held out his hand +with a little friendly gesture; but even then he could not, or +would not abandon his latest pose of dying _en philosophe_. + +"I understand well enough," he answered; "a man does not +arrive at my age, _mon ami_, without having faced death more +than once. You think, perhaps, it has terrors for me?--not at +all; to speak frankly, pain has, but I do not suffer so much +now. That is a bad sign, perhaps. Well, never mind, you have +done your best for me, I know, and I thank you. Except for +that little regret that you know of as regards Legros and--and +Madelon, I am content that life should come to an end--it is +not too delightful in any case, and those that I cared for +most did their best to spoil mine for me. For people who +believe in a hereafter, and choose to contemplate a doubtful +future, adorned with flames and largely peopled with devils, I +can imagine death to have its unpleasant side; but I look upon +all such notions as unphilosophical in the extreme. And now, +Monsieur, I think I could sleep a little. By-and-by, when +Madelon awakes, I should like to see her." + +He turned his head away, and presently fell into a light dose. +Did he mean, or did he persuade himself that he meant half of +what he said? Graham could not decide; and, in truth, he had +uttered his little speech with an air of dignity and +resignation that half imposed upon the younger man, and +impressed him, in spite of his better judgment. An heroic soul +going forth with an unfeigned stoicism to meet its fate? Or an +unhappy man, striving to hide a shivering consciousness from +himself and others, with an assumption of philosophical +scepticism? Ah! who was Graham, that he should judge or weigh +the secrets of another man's heart at such an hour as this? He +left the bedside, and went back once more to his writing. + +A few minutes afterwards, Madame Lavaux knocked softly, and +looked into the room. Graham went out into the passage to +speak to her, closing the door after him. + +"How is he now, the poor Monsieur?" asks Madame. + +"He is sleeping now," Graham answered; "there is nothing to be +done but to keep him as quiet as possible." + +"And will he recover, do you think?" + +"Hardly. One must always hope; but he is very ill." + +"Ah! well," said the landlady, resigning herself; "but, after +all," she added, "it is sad to see a man die like that; and +then there is the child. Otherwise the world will be none the +worse for wanting him. But what is to become of the little +girl?" + +"That is all arranged," replied Graham, "she is to go to an +aunt, a sister of her father's, who, it appears, is Superior +of a convent near Liege. But can you tell me, Madame, had +Madame Linders quarrelled with her English relations? When she +was dying alone here, had she no friends of her own that she +could have sent for to be with her?" + +"She would not have them, Monsieur; you see, she was devoted +to her husband in spite of all, this poor Madame, and _he_ had +quarrelled with her relations, I believe; at any rate, she +would not send for them. 'Adolphe will come,' she would always +say, 'and it would vex him to find anyone here,' and so she +died alone, for he never arrived till the next morning. +However," continues Madame, "it was not of that I came to +speak now, it was to know if Monsieur would not wish to have a +nurse to-night to attend the poor gentleman? It is what we +must have had if you had not been here, and there is no reason +why you should knock yourself up with nursing him." + +"It certainly might be better," said Graham considering, "I +had thought of it, but--however, you are quite right, Madame, a +nurse we will have; where can I get one?" + +Madame said he had better apply to the Soeurs de Charite, and +gave him an address, adding that if he would like to go +himself she could spare half an hour to sit with Monsieur +there. + +"I will go at once," replied Graham, "whilst he is sleeping; +he is not likely to rouse again just a present; don't let him +talk or move if he should awake, but it is not probable that +he will." + +So it was arranged, and Madame Lavaux established herself with +her knitting in the dim, silent room, whilst Graham departed +on his errand, satisfied that his patient was in safe hands. +Not ten minutes had elapsed, however, when a knock came at the +door of the sick-room, and a summons--could Madame come at +once? Madame cast a look at her charge; he was perfectly still +and quiet, sleeping profoundly apparently; there could be no +harm in leaving him for a moment. She went, intending to +return immediately; but, alas! for human intentions, +downstairs she found a commotion that drove M. Linders, M. le +Docteur, and everything else out of her head for the time +being. Madame la Comtesse _au premier_ had lost her diamond +ring--her ring, worth six thousand francs, an heirloom, an +inestimable treasure; lost it? it had been stolen--she knew it, +felt convinced of it; she had left it for five minutes on her +dressing-table whilst she went to speak to some dressmaker or +milliner, and on her return it had vanished. Unpardonable +carelessness on her part, she admitted, but that did not alter +the fact; it had been stolen, and must be found; house, +servants, visitors, luggage, all must be searched and +ransacked. Where were the gendarmes? let all these people be +taken into custody at once, pointing to the group of startled, +wondering, servants,--let everyone be taken into custody. +Madame Lavaux had enough to do and to think of for the next +hour, we may be sure, and though, at the end of that time, +Madame la Comtesse found the ring safe in the corner of her +pocket, whither it had slipped off her finger, and the +disturbance was at an end, not so were the consequences of +that disturbance. + +For in the meantime a very different scene was being acted out +upstairs. + + +CHAPTER III. + +Madam's Vigil. + + +Five minutes after Madame Lavaux had left the room, Madelon, +just awakened from her sound sleep, came creeping gently in. +It was almost dark by this time, for it was late in the +afternoon, and the Venetian shutters were still closed that +had kept out the heat and glare all day; but now she threw +them back, and let in the tepid evening breeze, and the faded +light of the dying day; carriages and carts were rattling in +the street below, shrill voices came from the opposite houses +where lights were appearing here and there; high up in the +serene grey-blue sky a few reddened clouds had caught the last +gleams of the setting sun. + +"Madelon," said M. Linders, roused by the noise she had made +in opening the shutters. + +A sudden throb of joy came over her as she heard his voice +again, and she went swiftly and stood by his bedside. + +"Are you better, papa?" she said, putting her two little cool +hands into one of his, hot with fever. + +"We are alone, are we not?" he answered, looking feebly +around. "Come and sit up here by me. Can you jump up? That is +right," as she climbed up and nestled close to him, her feet +tucked under the sheet; "here, _petite_, let me put my arm round +you." + +He raised himself with an effort, and passed his arm round +her, so that she could lay her head on his shoulder; and then +in answer to her question,-- + +"No, I am not better," he said, "and I do not suppose I ever +shall be better now. But never mind that," as she raised her +head suddenly, and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, +"let us talk a little, Madelon. We have always been happy +together; have we not, my child?" + +"Ah! yes, papa." + +"And later, when you are grown into a woman--as you will be, +you know, by-and-by--and you think of the years when you were +when you were a little girl, you will like to recall them; +will you not, Madelon? You will remember that they were +happy?" + +"Yes, papa, I have been happy, ah, so happy!" says Madelon, +half crying, and nestling closer to him; "but why do you talk +so? What do you mean?" + +"You will think of all our travels together, what pretty +placed we have visited, all the _fete_ days we have spent; and +you will remember that, whatever else I may or may not have +done, I have always tried to make you happy, and to be a good +papa to my little one. Promise me that, Madelon." + +"I promise it, papa," she said. "How could I forget? Why +should I not remember? Why do you talk to me in this way, +papa? Are you very ill?" + +"Very ill," he replied, holding her tighter to him, "so ill +that all those happy days are come to an end for me, and for +you, too, _ma petite;_ we shall never go about again together. +You--you--" his voice broke with a sort of groan, but he went on +again directly, "I wonder what my little Madelon will be like +when she grows into a great girl? I should have liked to have +seen you, my little one. I wonder if you will be tall--I dare +say you will--for your mother was tall, and your face is very +like hers." + +"Am I like her, papa?" + +"Very," he said, stroking her wavy hair, with his feeble +fingers; "your eyes--yes, you have eyes that resemble hers +exactly, and sometimes I have thought that when you grew up it +would be almost like seeing her over again--for you know I did +love her," he added, in a lower tone, turning his head +restlessly on the pillow, "though they said I did not. I never +meant her to die alone; they might have known that. I wish-- +Bah! I am forgetting----" + +"What did you say, papa?" + +"Nothing," he answered; "I think I was forgetting where I was. +How dark it is growing! you must light the candles soon. I +must look at you again; you know I want to see your eyes, and +smile, and pretty hair once more. And you, my little one, you +will not forget my face? Don't cry, don't cry," he said, with +a sudden pain in his voice; "I cannot bear it. I have never +made you cry before: have I, my child?" + +"Never, never," she said, stifling her tears desperately. + +"You must think of me sometimes when you are grown up," he +went on in his feeble voice, harping still on the same +subject. "You will have no money, my poor little one--if it had +not been for that devil Legros--but it is too late to think of +that now. Well, I think you will have beauty, and that will go +far even if you have no _dot_, and I should like you to marry +well. But when you have a husband, and are rich, perhaps, you +must still think sometimes of the days when you were a little +girl, and had a papa who loved no one in the world so much as +his little Madelon." + +"Papa, I want no money, nor husband, nor anything else," cried +Madelon, in a burst of tears, and throwing both her arms round +his neck. "I want nobody but you, and I love you, and always +shall love you better than any one else in the world. Papa, +are you going to die and leave me?" + +"So it seems," he said bitterly. "It is not my choice, +Madelon, but one cannot arrange these little matters for +oneself, you see. Now listen, my child; I am not going to +leave you quite alone. I have a sister, who is your aunt +Therese; I have never spoken to you about her before, for she +became a nun, and we have not always been very good friends, +but I think she will give you a home. She is the Superior of a +convent near Liege, and that English gentleman--the doctor, you +know--will take you to her; do you understand?" + +"Yes, papa." + +"Well, you must stay with her for the present. It is not just +what I could have wished for you, _ma petite_, but I have no +choice, as it happens; and if ever you are dull or unhappy +there, you will not blame me, or think I was unkind in sending +you, will you, my child? for indeed I could not help it, and +you will be a good little girl, I know. By-and-by, as I said, +perhaps you will marry--I cannot arrange all these matters +beforehand. I used to think sometimes that perhaps you might +have come out on the stage a few years hence. Would you have +liked that, Madelon?" + +"Yes--no--oh, I don't know, papa--I want you--I want you!" + +"Yes--you will want me, _pauvre petite_. Good Heavens! that a +child so small, so young should be left without me to take +care of her! Bah, I must not think of it. Madelon, there is +one thing more you must promise me--never to become a nun." + +"A nun, papa?" + +"Yes, a nun," he repeated, in his feeble vehement way, "a nun +like your aunt Therese. Do you know what it means? To grow +pious, and narrow-minded, and sour, to live for ever shut up +between four walls from which there is no escape, to think +yourself better than all the world. Madelon, promise me never +to become a nun; if I thought that were the future in store +for you--promise me, I say." + +"I promise, papa," she said, quite solemnly, putting her hands +together with a quaint little gesture; "indeed I should not +like it at all." + +"If I could only foresee--if I could only arrange," he said +piteously. "God knows I have done what I think is best for +you, my child, and yet--who knows what may come of it? +Madelon," he went on in a faint, pleading, broken voice, "you +will not let them make you think ill of me, and blame and +despise me when I am dead? They will try perhaps, but you must +always love me, my darling, as you do now; it must not be all +in vain--all that I have been striving for--ah, don't cry--there-- +we won't talk any more now--another time." + +There was a minute's silence in the darkening twilight; +Madelon's face was hidden in her father's shoulder, as he lay +there with his arm still round her and his eyes closed, faint +and exhausted. All of a sudden he roused himself with a start. + +"Ah, I am dying!" he cried, with a hoarse voice, "and it is +all dark! Light the candles, Madelon--light them quickly, I +must see you once more before I die!" + +Startled, awe-struck, only half realizing the meaning of his +words, Madelon slid off the bed and prepared to obey. At that +moment there came a tremendous knocking at the door of the +room, and a voice half chanting, half shouting,-- + +"Are you here, my friend? Are you within to-night? Can one +enter? Open quick; it is I, it is your friend! Are you ready +for your little revenge? I am ready, for my part; I will give +it to you--yes, with pleasure--yes, with an open heart!" + +"It is Legros!" cried M. Linders from his bed, in a sudden +spasm of rage, "it is that villain, that _miserable!_ Yes, yes, +come in; Madelon, light the candles quickly; where are the +cards? Ah--I will have my revenge yet!" + +The door burst open, and Legros entered, just as Madelon had +succeeded in lighting the candles. He stopped short in his +uproarious entrance, suddenly sobered by the appearance of M. +Linders, as he lay propped up with pillows, his white face and +bandaged head, and eyes gleaming with fever and rage. + +"Papa is very ill," says Madelon. "Monsieur, do not stay to- +night, I beg of you!" + +"What are you saying, Madelon?" cried her father; "I forbid +you to say that again; bring me the cards. Legros, I am ready +for you; ah, there is then one more chance in life!" + +"You are not fit to play, Monsieur," said the young man, +stepping back; "I will come again to-morrow." + +"To-morrow!" answered M. Linders, with a sort of laugh, "have +you then so many to-morrows that you can talk of them +recklessly? Well, then, I will tell you--I have not--not one; +but I have to-night, and that I will not lose. Ah! you think +to cheat me in that way? you will put me off till to-morrow? +you will say then--Ah, this M. Linders can never have his +revenge now, he is quiet enough, I can keep his money in my +pocket? You shall not say that, Monsieur; Madelon, bring the +cards, and the lights, close to me, here, I cannot see well, +it is so dark." + +He seized the cards, and began to deal them out on the +coverlet with his trembling hands. Madelon placed a small +table at his side, put one candle on it, and with the other in +her hand stood close to his pillow white and motionless. +Legros slowly and reluctantly drew a chair to the bedside, and +sat down opposite. There was a moment's pause, whilst M. +Linders shifted and sorted his cards, and then, "A vous, +Monsieur," he cried, with a sort of fierce impatience; but at +the same instant his hold relaxed, the cards tumbled all in a +heap on the floor, his head fell back. Madelon screamed and +started forward, upsetting the table and the candle; Legros +sprang up. It was at that moment that the door opened, and +Graham, followed by a Soeur de Charite, entered the room. + +Never, to the last day of his life, one may fancy, would +Graham forget the little scene before him, which, indeed, +always returned to his memory with an impression as vivid as +that made upon him now--the overturned table, the scattered +cards, Madelon in her white frock, her pale scared face, her +wavy hair, her great brown eyes illuminated by the candle she +still held, the terrified Legros, the ghastly look of the +dying man--he saw it all at a glance, as he entered the room he +had left so dim and silent but half an hour ago. It was to +Legros he first addressed himself in a tone of strong +indignation. + +"Monsieur," he said, "you can have no business to transact +with a dying man, and your presence is not desired here. Might +I request you to leave me alone with my patient?" + +"On my honour, Monsieur," cries the other, pale and +stammering; "it was no doing of mine--he would have it so." + +Graham, very likely, did not hear what he said; he was already +at M. Linders' side. He raised his head, he felt his pulse and +heart. + +"It is nearly over," he said to the Soeur de Charite; "will you +take the little girl into the next room?" And Madelon, +frightened and trembling, offered no resistance as the Soeur +took her by the hand and led her away. + +It was as Graham said; all was nearly over. The feeble life, +that with careful tending and cherishing might have flickered +and lingered on yet a little longer, was all but quenched in +this last supreme passion and effort. M. Linders never spoke +again, and died in less than two hours, quietly at last, as +men do for the most part die, it is said. + +"That poor child!" said Graham, "who will tell her?" + +"I will," said the brave, cheery little Soeur Angelique, and +went. + + +* * * * * * + + +It was nearly midnight when the sad little bustle that had +been going on in the chamber of death was hushed at last, and +the Soeur de Charite prepared to depart. She had offered indeed +to stay all night, but when Graham assured her that there was +no occasion for any one to remain, as his room was just +opposite, and he should be on the watch to see that all was +quiet, she owned that she should be glad to go, as there was +much illness about, and her services might be required +elsewhere. She stood talking to Graham for a few moments +before leaving. + +"That poor little one," she said, "I should like to have one +look at her, just to see that she is quiet; I don't think she +half understood, or took in, what I said to her." + +"Madame Lavaux told me she was in bed," Graham answered, "but +we will see if she is asleep. Poor child, she will understand +it all soon enough." + +He opened the door gently between the two rooms, and they +looked in. All was dark and silent, but they could just +distinguish a little head laid on the white pillow, and could +hear Madelon's soft, regular breathing. + +"That is all right," said Graham, "we will not go in and +disturb her; she will sleep till the morning, I daresay, for +she was up almost all last night." He closed the door again as +he spoke, and so they left her. + +It was true that Madelon was asleep, but she was not exactly +in bed. When the Sister had come in to tell her of her +father's death, she had found her seated on the ground close +to the door, with her hands clasped round her knees, her head +leaning against the doorway; some one had bought in some +supper on a tray, but it stood on the table untouched, though +she had eaten nothing since the morning. She did not move when +Soeur Angelique came in, but she looked up with an expression +of dumb, helpless misery that went to the Sister's heart; she +sat down beside her on the floor, put her arm round her, and +told her the sad news in her gentle, quiet tones, which had +acquired a ring of sympathy and tenderness in a thousand +mournful scenes of sorrow and despair; but, as she had said to +Horace, she hardly knew whether the child understood her, or +took in what she was saying. Madelon did not speak nor cry; +she only sat gazing at the little Sister with a look of +perplexed terror dilating her brown eyes, that never changed +as Soeur Angelique went on with her pious, gentle maxims and +consolations, which fell blankly enough we may be sure on our +small Madelon's bewildered mind; and presently, hearing +herself called, and seeing indeed that she was making no +impression with her kind little speeches, the Sister rose to +go, saying as she did so, "You will go to bed now, _chere +petite_, will you not?" and then thinking that a familiar face +and voice might perhaps have a kindlier influence than her own +just then, she added, "and I will ask Madame Lavaux to come to +you." + +"No, no," cried Madelon, suddenly rousing, and starting up at +these last words. She had comprehended what the Sister had +told her well enough so far as words went, but she was too +stunned and confused to take in their full meaning; and in +truth her presence there at all had only been another +unfamiliar element in this bewildering whirl of events, +imparting an additional sense of unreality. But when she +mentioned Madame Lavaux, the name linked itself at once with +recent memories and emotions, and its accustomed association +with her every-day life made it a rallying point, as it were, +for her scattered ideas. Madame Lavaux had been cross and +unkind to her the night before; Madame had buoyed her up with +false hopes of her father's recovery only that morning; +Madelon did not want her, would not see her. She stood still +for a few minutes after the Soeur de Charite had left the room, +all her sorrows and doubts and certainties resolved for the +moment into a dull, unreasoning dread of seeing Madame Lavaux +come in; and then, suddenly fancying she heard footsteps +approaching the door, she hastily blew out her candle, and all +dressed as she was, crept under the coverlet of the bed. She +would pretend to be asleep, she thought, and then no one would +disturb her. The footsteps passed on, but presently the door +did open, and some one looked in: it was Madame Lavaux, who, +seeing that Madelon made no sign, concluded that she was +asleep, and went away softly, with a kind pity in her heart +for the desolate child. As for Madelon, the pretence of +slumber soon passed into reality, for, after lying awake for a +while listening to the low voices and rustling movements in +the next room, fatigue and her own enforced tranquillity +overcame her, and she fell sound asleep. + +It must have been long past midnight when she awoke again with +a sudden feeling of fright and strangeness, for which she +could not account, but which made her spring off the bed and +listen if she could hear any one moving. All was very still; +not a sound came from the adjoining apartment; her own room +was quite dark, for the windows and outside shutters were +closed. Madelon felt scared, lonely, desolate, without knowing +why; and then, all at once, she remembered the reason. All +that the Sister had said came back with fresh meaning and +distinctness to her senses restored by sleep; and, sitting +down on the floor just where she was, she began to cry with a +low moaning, sobbing sound, as a child cries when it is sorry +and not naughty. + +No one heard her, no one came near her; she was all alone, and +in a few minutes she stopped crying, half frightened at her +own voice in the silence and darkness. And then she began to +wonder if her father were still in the next room, or whether +they had taken him away anywhere; if not, he was all alone in +there, as she was in here. It would be some comfort to be with +him, she thought. Madelon knew that he was dead, but death was +an unfamiliar experience with her; and she could not perhaps +clearly separate this hour from all other hours when she had +been hurt, or sorrowful, or frightened, and had run to her +father to be comforted. + +She got up, and, opening the door, stole softly into the other +room. It was not quite so dark in there: the windows and +Venetian shutters were wide open, and a lamp in the street +below gave an uncertain light, by which she could just +distinguish the gleam of the mirror, the table in the centre +of the room, and the bed, where the outline of a silent form +was vaguely defined under the white covering sheet. Madelon +had had some half-formed idea of getting on to the bed, and +nestling down by her father, as she had done only the evening +before, when he had put his arm round her, and they had talked +together; but now a chill dread crept over her--a sense of +change, of separation; she had not even the courage to raise +the sheet and look upon his face. She stood gazing for a +moment, afraid to go back into the darkness of her own room; +and then, with a sudden movement, as though urged by some +terror, she turned quickly away, and went swiftly to the open +window. She looked down into the narrow, dark street, dimly +illuminated by an occasional lamp; she looked up to the +starlit space of sky visible above the house-roofs and +chimneys, and neither above nor below did she find any +comfort; for a sudden awful realization of death had come to +her in the darkness and silence, almost too keen and terrible +for our poor little Madelon to bear--each realization, too, a +fresh shock, as with an instinctive shrinking from this new +consciousness of an intolerable weight her mind slipped away +into some more familiar channel, only to be brought rudely +back to this fact, so unfamiliar, and yet the only one for her +now, in this sudden shattering of all her small world of hopes +and joys and affections. And is it not, in truth, terrible, +this _strength_ of facts, when we are, as it were, brought face +to face with them, and held there till we recognise them? No +means of evasion, no hope of appeal from what is, in its very +nature, fixed, unalterable, irrevocable; the sin is committed, +the loved one gone, the friendship broken and dead, and for us +remains the realization in remorse, and heart-breaking, and +despair. + +Which of us is strong enough to wrestle with facts such as +these? which one of us can look them long in the face and +live? In the desperate recoil, some of us find ourselves +recklessly striving to forget and ignore them, and some find a +surer refuge in facts that are stronger still than they; but +to one and all, in kindly compassion to human weakness, each +new emotion, each passing interest and trivial incident, +combines to interpose a barrier between us and the terrible +moment that overwhelmed us; and time which, in later years, +seems to drag out the slow hours and days into long ages of +dreary grief, can deal swiftly and mercifully with a little +child. Hardly had Madelon grasped the true measure of her +grievous loss, or tasted its full bitterness, when the +reaction came with a great burst of tears, and crouching down +in the corner by the window where she had spent so many hours +of the previous day, she sobbed away half the terror and awe +that were oppressing her poor little heart. Presently she +began to grow sorry for herself in a vague, half-conscious +sort of way--poor little Madelon, sitting there all alone +crying, no one to help her, no one to comfort her--then the +sobs came at longer and longer intervals as she gradually lost +consciousness of where she was, or why she was there; and with +the tears still wet on her cheek, she was nearly asleep again, +when she was roused by some one bringing a light into the +room; it was Graham, who had come to fetch something he had +left on the table, and to see that all was quiet. + +Madelon was too much accustomed to late expectant vigils to be +startled; and, indeed, in her drowsy state, her first +impression was only the familiar one of a welcome arrival. "Me +voici, papa!" she cried, jumping up promptly; and then she saw +the young man coming towards her, and with a suddenly revived +consciousness of the still, white-sheeted form on the bed, she +sank down on her low seat again, the sensation of blank misery +all revived. + +Graham, on his side, was not a little surprised at the small +figure that had started up to meet him; he had fancied her in +bed hours ago. He came up to where she was sitting, a most +sad, disconsolate little Madelon, all huddled together, her +hands clasped round her knees, her eyes shining through a +short wavy tangle of brown hair, all rough and disordered. + +"Don't you think you would be better in bed?" says Horace, in +his kind, cheery voice. + +"No," she answered abruptly; she was so miserable, so sore at +heart with the sudden disappointment, poor child, and Graham +had been the cause of it. + +"But I am afraid you will be ill to-morrow if you sit there +all night," said Graham; "do you know what time it is?" + +"No," she said again; and then, as he came a step nearer, she +gave a stamp on the floor, and turned her back on him. "Ah, do +leave me alone!" she cried, in a miserable little broken +voice, covering her face with her hand. + +Graham saw that she was utterly wretched and worn out. He +could guess pretty well how it had all happened, and +reproached himself for not having foreseen and provided +against the chance of her waking up and finding herself alone; +and now he hardly knew what to do--to speak to her, or to urge +her any more just then, would only make matters worse. At last +he said quietly,-- + +"I have some writing to do, and I am going to bring it in +here; you will not mind that, I daresay?" + +No answer; Horace left the room, but in a moment he returned, +sat down at the table and began to write. + +A stillness which the rapid scratching of the pen upon the +paper, and the vague, ceaseless hum of the great city coming +through the open window, only seemed to render apparent; +occasionally the clang of a church clock, the sudden rattle of +wheels rising like hollow thunder and dying away into remote +distance, a far-off cry, and then a silence more profound by +contrast. Madelon, sitting in her dark corner, began to +recover herself; in truth, it was the greatest possible relief +to have Graham in the room with her, bringing light and the +warm sense of a living presence into the chill, unnatural +silence and darkness of death; and presently she began to +awake to a half-penitent consciousness that she had been +cross, rude, not at all raisonnable in fact; little by little +she shifted her position, and at length turned quite round to +look at M. le Docteur. + +Monsieur le Docteur was not looking at her, nor thinking of +her apparently, for he never raised his eyes from his writing; +the candle light shone on his rough brown hair, on his +pleasant, clever face, with keen profile, well defined against +a shadowy background. Madelon sat watching him as though +fascinated; there was something in the absorbed attention he +was giving to his writing, which subdued and attracted her far +more than any words he could have spoken to her, or notice he +could have taken of her just then. He had apparently forgotten +her, this kind Monsieur le Docteur, who had evidently more +important things to think about than her and her pettish +little speeches; or she had perhaps made him angry, and he +would not take any more notice of her at all? There was a +certain amount of probability in this last idea to the self- +convicted little Madelon, that urged her to some sort of +action; she sat still for a few moments longer, then got up +and stole softly across the room to where Graham was sitting. + +"I did not mean to be cross, Monsieur," she said, in her +little trembling voice, standing with her hands clasped behind +her back, and tears in her eyes. Perhaps Graham _had_ forgotten +her for the moment, for he gave a little start as he looked +round. + +"I am sure you did not," he said quite earnestly, as he laid +down his pen, "but you are so tired to-night, and unhappy too; +are you not?" + +"Ah, yes," she answered, with a little sob, "I am very +unhappy!" + +He put his arm round her, as she stood beside him, and took +one of her little hands in his; he was so sorry for the poor +little girl, and yet he hardly knew what to say to console +her. She gave two or three more little sobs, rubbing her eyes +with her other hand to keep back the tears; presently she +looked up into his face, and said: + +"Do you really think I had better go to bed?" + +"Indeed I do," replied Horace, much relieved by the practical +turn her thoughts were taking; "I am really afraid you will be +ill to-morrow if you do not, and you know I must take care of +you now." + +"I thought papa was all alone in here, and I was alone too," +said Madelon, "it was so dark and lonely in my room." + +"Well," said Horace, "I am going to stay in here for a little +while, and presently I will open your door, and then it will +be almost as if you were in the same room; won't that do?" + +"Yes, thank you," said Madelon, who indeed was so tired that +she could hardly speak. Graham lighted a candle for her, and +opened the door leading into the inner room; she paused a +moment as she took the light; and gazed up into the kind face +looking down upon her; then she put her hand into his, and +saying, "Good-night, Monsieur," went into her own room. Graham +closed the door, and returned to his writing. That was all +that passed between them, but from that time Madelon's feeling +for Horace Graham approached adoration. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Madelon's Promise. + + +A week later, and Madelon was again, as on the day of her +father's death, standing at a long open window, looking out on +the fading glories of another evening sky. But instead of the +narrow Paris street, with its noisy rattle of vehicles, and +high white houses limiting the view of earth and heaven, +before her lay the small garden of a Liege hotel, and beyond, +the steep slope of a hill, where, mingled with trees, roof +rose above roof, to where two churches crowning the ridge, +showed their grey masses outlined against the clear pale blue. + +Madelon had left Paris with Horace Graham the day before, and +they had arrived at Liege that afternoon. The young doctor, +bent on fulfilling the promise he had made to M. Linders, had +altered all his plans, remaining in Paris till his little +charge's affairs were settled, and then bringing her to Liege, +with the intention of leaving her in her aunt's hands, and +then proceeding to Switzerland for the accomplishment of as +much of his proposed tour as should still be practicable. He +willingly forfeited these days out of his brief holiday, for +he had come to regard the child so unexpectedly thrown upon +his care, with a very sincere interest, an affection not +unmixed with wonder. Madelon was not at all like any other +little girl he had ever had anything to do with, or rather--for +his experience on this point was limited--unlike his +preconceived notions of little girls in general. We, who know +what Madelon's education had been, cannot feel surprised at +her total ignorance of all sorts of elementary matters, her +perfect unconsciousness of the most ordinary modes of thought +current in the world, and of the most generally received +standards of right and wrong, combined with a detailed +experience in a variety of subjects with which children in +general have no acquaintance. But for Graham, there was much +that could only be matter for conjecture, much that he could +only learn from inference, and to him there was something at +once strange and pitiable in the simplicity with which she +talked to him of her past life, dwelling on little episodes +that only served to exhibit more and more clearly the real +character of M. Linders and his associates. Not for the world +would he have touched the child's innocent faith, or revealed +to our simple Madelon that her father was not the perfection +she dreamed him; but he began to understand better the meaning +of M. Linders' last words in his letter to his sister, and +they gained a pathetic significance and force as he learnt to +appreciate the affection that had subsisted between the father +and child, and foresaw too plainly that the time must come +when some rude shock would shatter all Madelon's early +beliefs, and desecrate, as it were, her tenderest memories. +There was something so sad in this certain retribution that +must fall upon her innocent head, as the child of such a +father, something so touching in her anomalous position, left +all friendless and lonely in the midst of such a hard, +relentless world, that Horace felt all his tenderest feelings +stirred with compassion, and he could have wished to have +shielded her for ever from what, he could not but fear, too +surely awaited her sooner or later. + +What he could do, he did, and it was more than he thought. +Madelon's sudden devotion to him, of which indeed he knew and +suspected nothing, was of infinite service to her in her first +bitterness of her grief, by giving a new current to her ideas, +whilst it did away with the sense of lonely desolation that +had nearly overpowered her in that first dark hour. In her +ardent little nature there was a necessity for loving, even +stronger perhaps than for being loved, a certain enthusiasm, a +capacity for devotion that had opportunely found an object in +the time of extreme need. For a short hour it had seemed to +her as if life itself had come to an end with her father's +death; the darkness and vagueness of the future had crushed +her down, all the more that she had scarcely comprehended what +was the weight that so oppressed her--and then a moment had +changed it all; a kind word spoken, a kind face looking down +upon her, a friendly hand stretched out, and the vague terrors +had vanished. From that time Horace Graham's presence was +bliss to our Madelon; when she was unhappy, she dried her +tears if he consoled her; if he was out, she sat listening for +his returning footsteps; if he was busy, she was content to +remain for hours with her book on her knee, her chin propped +on her hands, her wistful eyes following his every movement. +Monsieur Horace, as it pleased Madelon to call him, knew +nothing of all this, we may be sure; but he was very good and +tender to the little girl, and did all he could to cheer and +console her in the sudden overpowering fits of grief that came +upon her from time to time. Finding that she liked to talk of +the past, he encouraged her to do so, being anxious, indeed, +to learn all he could of her former life, and to ascertain, +if, after all, there were indeed no friends to whom he could +apply, in the event of his mission to her Aunt Therese +proving, from any cause, unsuccessful. But as before, on this +point he obtained no sort of satisfaction. Madelon never got +much beyond the Florence artists, and her German countess, and +Russian princess. M. Linders, it was evident, had had no +friends beyond the acquaintance he had made at the different +places at which he had been wont to tarry from time to time; +and these, for the most part, Graham inferred to have been of +so doubtful a character that he could only rejoice for +Madelon's sake that all further chance of connection was +broken off. Madelon dwelt at great length on their last winter +at Florence; she loved Italy, she said; she liked it better +than France or Belgium, and Florence was such a beautiful +place; had Monsieur Horace ever been there? There were such +splendid churches, and palaces and galleries, with such grand +pictures and statues; the American used to take her to see +them. Papa had several friends there who knew a great deal +about pictures, who were artists indeed; she used to go to +their studios sometimes, and she liked hearing them talk. And +then there were the fetes and processions, and the country +people in such gay dresses, and all with such a blue sky and +such bright sunshine; and then the Sundays! very often she and +papa would go out into the country to some inn where they +would breakfast and dine; ah! it had been so pleasant. "I +shall never be so happy again," sighs Madelon. + +The warm, glowing, picturesque Italian life had, as we know, +forcibly seized her imagination, her eyes shone with delight +as she recalled it, and, almost involuntarily in describing +it, she made use of the soft words and phrases of the Italian +tongue, which with the ready talent she possessed for +languages, she had caught up, and spoke fluently. + +"Where did you go when you left Florence?" asked Graham. + +"We came north across the Alps and through Switzerland to +Baden, and then we stayed a little while at Homburg, and then +we were at Wiesbaden for six weeks: do you know Wiesbaden, +Monsieur Horace?" + +"I was there once for two days," answered Graham; "were you +happy there too?" + +"Ah yes, I was always happy with papa, but I like Wiesbaden +very much. It is so pretty and gay; do you remember the +Kursaal gardens? I used to walk there and listen to the band, +and sometimes we sat and had coffee at the little round +tables, and looked at all the people passing. And then in the +evening there were the balls; last summer I used sometimes to +go to them with the Russian Princess." + +"And who was the Russian Princess?" Graham inquired. + +"She was a Russian lady papa knew there, and she was very kind +to me; I used to walk with her, and sit by her at the tables, +and prick her cards for her; she said I brought her luck." + +"Prick her cards!" cried Graham. + +"Yes--don't you know? at rouge-et-noir," says Madelon in +explanation, "one has little cards to prick, and then one +remembers how many times each colour has won; otherwise one +would not know at all what to do." + +"I see," said Graham; "and so your Russian Princess played at +rouge-et-noir--did she win much?" + +"Yes, a great deal," cried Madelon, spreading out her hands, +"she always had _chance_ and was very rich; she wore such +beautiful toilettes at the balls; she knew a great many +gentlemen, and when I went with her they all danced with me." + +And so on, _da capo_; it was always the same story, and Graham +soon found that he had reached the limits of Madelon's +experiences in that direction. As a last resource, he wrote to +her American and German friends at Florence, the most +respectable apparently of M. Linders' many doubtful +acquaintance, and indeed the only ones with whose address +Madelon could furnish him. From the old German he received a +prompt reply. The American was absent from Florence, he said +on a visit to his own country, which was to be regretted, as +it was he who had been M. Linders' friend, and who could have +given more information concerning him than it was in his power +to do. Indeed, for himself, he knew little about him; he had +spent the last winter at Florence, but his society and +associates were not such as he, the German, affected. M. +Linders had once been an artist, he believed; he had spent +much of his time in painting, but he knew nothing of his early +life. That he was a notorious gambler he was well aware, and +had heard more than one story about him that certainly placed +his character in no very favourable light; more than this he +could not say. Of Madelon he spoke with the warmest affection, +and there was a little note enclosed to her in Graham's +letter, which she placed, and carefully preserved, we may be +sure, amongst her most precious treasures. + +These letters written, and M. Linders' few papers, which were +of little interest or importance, examined, Graham had +exhausted his sources of possible information, and could only +trust no obstacle would intervene to prevent his little charge +being at once received at the convent, and placed under her +aunt's guardianship and care. So, with as little delay as +possible, they had packed up, and set off on their journey: +and now, as Madelon stands at the window of the little hotel +salon, Paris lies many a league behind them, beyond the great +northern levels, across which they have been speeding for so +many hours. And behind her, too, already separated from her by +a distance more impassable than that which can be counted by +leagues, lies Madelon's old life, to which many and many a +time, with passionate outcries, perhaps, with tender +unspeakable yearnings, she will look back across an ever- +widening space, only to see it recede more hopelessly into a +remoter past. + +She does not understand all this yet, however, with the new +life scarcely a week old. She is thinking of Monsieur Horace, +as she stands there looking out at the sunset sky; they have +just dined, and behind her a deft waiter is removing the +cloth; and in a minute she turns round gladly, as Monsieur +Horace himself comes into the room. + +"Shall we take a walk, Madelon?" he says, "or are you too +tired?" + +"I am not at all tired," Madelon answered. "I should like to +have a walk; may we go and look at the convent where Aunt +Therese lives? I should like to see it." + +"That is a good idea," said Horace. "I will inquire +whereabouts it is, and we will go and have a look at it." + +The convent, they were told, stood on the outskirts of Liege, +about a quarter of a mile outside the town, and a little off +the great highroad leading through Chaudfontaine and its +adjacent villages to Pepinster and Spa. It was at some +distance from the hotel; but Madelon repeated that she was not +at all tired, and would like a long walk, so they set off +together in the mild September evening. To their left lay the +old town with its picturesque churches, its quaint old +Bishop's palace, its tall chimneys and busy quays, and +wharves, and warehouses, stretching along the river banks; but +all this they left on one side as they went along the wide, +tree-planted boulevards, where carriages were rolling, and +lamps lighting, and people walking about in the ruddy glow; +and presently these too were passed by, and they came out on +the dusty high-road. A few scattered houses were still to +their right hand and to their left; but the city, with its +cloud of smoke, its kindling lights and ceaseless movement, +was behind them now. Of all its restless stir no sound reached +them through the soft twilight but the chime of bells from its +many towers, which rang out the evening angelus just as they +saw, standing on the summit of a gentle slope to their left, a +building with steep grey slate roofs and belfry, rising above +low white surrounding walls, and knew that they had reached +their destination. + +The carriage-road up to the convent made a circuit, and swept +round to the other side of the little declivity: but in front, +separated from the highroad by a hedge, there was only the +slope of a ploughed field, with a gate at the lower end, +opening on to a narrow path that led straight through it up +the hill; and this path Graham and Madelon followed, to where +it joined a weed-grown footway skirting the outer wall of the +building. There was a garden inside apparently, for trees were +waving their topmost branches overhead, and vines, and +westeria, and Virginia creeper hung down in long, many- +coloured tangled shoots and tendrils over the angle of the +wall outside. A little beyond was a side-door, with a bench +placed beside it; and above, surmounted by a crucifix under a +little pent-house, a narrow shelf on which stood an empty bowl +and spoon, just placed there probably by some wandering +pensioner, who had come there, not in vain, to seek his +evening meal. + +"Shall we sit down for a minute and rest?" said Graham. + +Madelon seated herself at his side without speaking; she had +been talking fast enough, and not without cheerfulness, during +the early part of her walk; but since they had come within +sight of the convent, her chatter had died away into silence. +Perhaps she was tired, for she sat quite still now, and showed +no wish to resume the conversation. The sound of the city +chimes died away; the little bell in the belfry close by kept +up its sharp monotone for a minute longer, and then it too was +hushed; the trees whispered and rustled, the grasshoppers +chirped shrilly all around, but a great stillness seemed to +fall upon the darkling earth as the grey evening came down, +and enfolded it in its soft mists. Grey fields stretched away +on either hand, grey clouds that had been rosy-red half an +hour ago, floated overhead; only the trees looked dark against +the tender grey sky, the encircling hills of Liege against the +lingering twilight glow. + +The silent influence of the hour made itself felt on these two +also, perhaps, for neither of them spoke at first; indeed, +Graham's thoughts had wandered far beyond the horizon before +him, when he was aroused by the sound of a little sob, and +turning round, he saw that Madelon was crying. + +"What is it, Madelon?" he said; "are you tired? What is the +matter?" + +She did not answer at once, she was struggling with her tears; +at last out came the grief. + +"It--it all looks so sad, and gloomy, and _triste_," she said. "I +do not want to come here and be shut up in the convent; oh, +take me away, take me away!" + +She clung to Graham as if she were to be parted from him that +moment, whilst he soothed her as best he could. + +"We will go away at once if you like," he said; "I think we +did wrong to come at this time of the evening; everything +looks grey and cheerless now--you will see to-morrow how much +brighter it will all appear." + +"It is not only that," said Madelon, striving to check her +sobs; "but just now, when we were sitting here, somehow I had +forgotten all about where I was, and everything; and I thought +I was out walking with papa, as I used to be, and I was +planning what we would do to-morrow--and then all at once I +remembered--and to-morrow I shall be in there, and I shall +never see him again, and you will be gone too--oh, papa, papa----" + +She was shaking all over with one of her sudden bursts of +passionate crying. What could he do to console her? What could +he say to comfort her? Not much, perhaps, but then much was +not needed; only a few words commonplace enough, I daresay--but +then, as we have said, Monsieur Horace's voice and words +always had a wonderful influence with our little Madelon. How +is it, indeed, that amidst a hundred tones that fret and jar +on our ears, there is one kind voice that has power to calm +and soothe us--amid a hundred alien forms, one hand to which we +cling for help and support? Graham did not say much, and yet, +as Madelon listened, her sobs grew less violent, her tears +ceased, she began to control herself again. "Listen," said +Graham, presently, "is not that singing that we hear? I think +it must be the nuns." + +Madelon raised her head and held her breath to listen; and +sure enough, from within the convent came the sound of the +voices of the nuns at their evening prayers. She listened +breathlessly, a change came over her face, a light into her +eyes, and she tightened her grasp of Graham's hand. The +melancholy voices rising and falling in unison, seemed a +pathetic, melodious interpretation of the inarticulate +harmonies of the evening hour. + +"I like that," said Madelon, relaxing her hold as they ceased +at last; "do you think they sing like that every evening, +Monsieur Horace?" + +"I have no doubt of it," he answered, "it is their evening +service; see, that must be the chapel where the windows are +lighted up." + +"Perhaps they will let me sing too," said Madelon. "Ah, I +shall like that--I love singing so much; do you think they +will?" + +"I think it very likely," said Horace; "but now, Madelon, we +must be going towards home; it is almost quite dark, and we +have a long walk before us." + +Madelon was almost cheerful again now. She so readily seized +the brighter side of any prospect, that it was only when the +dark side was too forcibly presented to her that she would +consent to dwell on it; and now the sound of the nuns singing +had, unconsciously to herself, idealised the life that had +appeared so dull and cheerless when viewed in connexion with +the grey twilight, and had changed its whole aspect. When they +reached the boulevards, where the lamps were all lighted now, +and the people still walking up and down, it was she who +proposed that they should sit down on one of the benches for a +while. + +"This is the last walk I shall have with you," she said, "for +such a long, long time." + +"Not so very long," said Graham, "you know I am to come and +see you on my way back from Germany, and then if I can manage +it, we will have another walk together." + +"That will be very nice," said Madelon; and then, after a +pause, she added, "Monsieur Horace, supposing Aunt Therese +says she will not have me, what shall I do then?" + +This very same question had, as we know, presented itself to +Graham before now, and he had felt the full force of the +possible difficulty that had now occurred to our unthinking +Madelon for the first time. + +"Indeed I do not know, Madelon," he answered, half laughing, +"but I don't think we need be afraid; your aunt is not likely +to turn you away." + +"But if she did," persisted Madelon, "what should I do? Would +you take me away to live with you?" + +"With me?" said Graham, smiling, "I don't think that would +quite do, Madelon; you know I am a soldiers' doctor, and have +to go where they go, and could not have you following the +regiment." + +"Then you cannot come and go about as you please," said +Madelon; "I thought you always went where you liked; you are +not with the regiment now." + +"No, I have a holiday just now; but that will come to an end +in two or three weeks, and then I must do as I am bid, and go +where I am told." + +"And you have no home then? Ah, take me with you, Monsieur +Horace, I should like to see the world--let me go with you." + +"Would you like to put on a little red coat, and shoulder a +musket and stand to be shot at?" says Graham, laughing at her. +"I hope to see more of the world than you would quite like, I +fancy, Madelon, that is, if we have any luck and get ordered +out to the Crimea." + +For indeed it was just the moment of the Crimean war, and +while the events recorded in this little story were going on, +the world was all astir with the great game in which kingdoms +are staked, and a nation's destinies decided; treaties were +being torn, alliances formed, armies marching, all Europe +arming and standing at arms to prepare for the mighty +struggle, and Graham, like many another young fellow, was +watching anxiously to see whether, in the great tide rolling +eastward, some wave would not reach to where he stood, and +sweep him away to the scene of action. + +Madelon had not heard much about the Crimea, and did not very +well know what Horace meant; but she understood the first part +of his speech, and she, too, laughed at this picture of +herself in a little red coat. Presently, however, she recurred +to her original question. + +"If you were not marching about, would you let me come and +live with you?" she asked again. + +"Indeed, I do not say that I would," said Graham, laughing, +"and I don't mean to settle down for a long time yet; I have +to make my fortune, you know." + +"To make your fortune!" cries Madelon, pricking up her ears at +the sound of the words, for indeed they had a most familiar +ring in them; "why, I could do that for you," she added after +a moment's pause. + +"Could you?" said Graham absently; he did not follow out her +thought in the least, and, in fact, hardly heard what she +said, for the words were suggestive to him also, and carried +with them their own train of ideas. + +"Yes, and I will too," says Madelon, in one brief moment +conceiving, weighing, and forming a great resolution. "Ah, I +know how to do it--I know, and I will; I promise you, and I +always keep my promises, you know. I promised papa that I +would never become a nun, and I never will." + +"Indeed, I cannot fancy you a nun at all," said Graham, +rousing himself, and getting up. "Don't you think we had +better be going back to the hotel now? It is getting quite +late." + +"And when your fortune is made, may I come and live with you?" +said Madelon, without moving. + +"We shall see about that afterwards," he answered, smiling, +"there is time enough to think about it, you may be sure. +Come, Madelon, we must be going." + +"Ah, you do not know, and I will not tell you," said Madelon, +jumping up as she spoke. + +"What do I not know?" asked Graham, taking her hand in his, as +they walked off together. + +"What I will do--it is my secret, but you will see--yes, you +will see, I promise you that." + +She almost danced with glee as she walked along at Graham's +side. He did not understand what she was talking about; he had +missed the first sentence that might have given him the clue, +and merely supposed that it was some childish mystery with +which she was amusing herself. + +But Madelon understood full well, and her busy little brain +was full of plans and projects as she walked along. Make a +fortune! how many fortunes had she not seen made in a day--in +an hour! "Give me only ten francs, _et je ferai fortune!_" The +old speech that she had quoted years ago to Horace Graham-- +though, indeed, she had no remembrance of having done so--was +familiar to her now as then. Ah! she knew how fortunes were +made, and Monsieur Horace did not--that was strange, but it was +evident to her--and she would not tell him. Her superior +knowledge on this point was a hidden treasure, for a great +ambition had suddenly fired our ten-year-old Madelon. Not only +in maturer years are great plans laid, great campaigns +imagined, great victories fought for; within the narrow walls +of many a nursery, on the green lawns of many a garden, the +mimic fort is raised, the siege-train laid, the fortress +stormed; and in many a tiny head the germs of the passions and +ambitions and virtues of later years are already working out +for themselves such paths as surrounding circumstances will +allow them to find. But Madelon's childhood had known neither +nursery nor sheltered home-garden. Her earliest experiences +had been amidst the larger ventures of life, the deeper +interests that gather round advancing years; her playground +had been the salons of the gayest watering-places in Europe, +her playthings the roulette-board and the little gold and +silver pieces that had passed so freely backwards and forwards +on the long green tables where desperate stakes were ventured, +and fortunes won and lost in a night; and it was amongst these +that she now proposed to try her own little game of +enterprise, and prepare this grand surprise for Monsieur +Horace. The idea was an inspiration to her. Her whole soul was +bound up in Horace Graham; I think she would willingly have +laid down her life for him, and have thought little of the +offering; a sort of _furore_ of gratitude and devotion possessed +her, and here at length was an opportunity for doing something +for him--something he did not know how to do for himself, great +and wise though he was, and this idea added not a little zest +to the plan, in Madelon's opinion, one may be sure. Ah, yes, +she knew what to do, she would go to the gambling-tables, as +she had seen her father and his associates go scores of times; +she would win money for him, she would make his fortune! + +So Madelon schemed as she walked along by Graham's side, +whilst he, for his part, had already forgotten her little +speech, if indeed he had ever heard it. + +So it is often--a few careless words between two people, +quickly spoken, soon forgotten, by at least one of them--and +yet, perhaps, destined to alter the course of two lives. +Before they had reached the hotel Madelon had arranged not +only the outline, but the details of her scheme. Spa was, as +she well knew, but a short distance from Liege; she would at +once beg her aunt to allow her to go over there for a day, or +two days, if one were not enough, and then--why, once there, +everything would be easy, and perhaps, even before Monsieur +Horace came back from Germany, as he had said he would, all +might be done, the promise redeemed, the fortune made! A most +childish and childlike plan, founded so entirely on deductions +drawn from experiences in the past, so wholly without +reference to the probabilities of the future, and yet not the +less the result of a fixed resolution in Madelon's mind, which +no subsequent change in the mere details of carrying it out +could affect. For, in her small undeveloped character lay +latent an integrity and strength of will, a tenacity of +purpose, which were already beginning to work, unconsciously, +and by instinct as it were, for she could assuredly never have +learnt from her father, who regarded honesty and integrity as +merely inconvenient weaknesses incidental to human nature +under certain conditions. But to Madelon they were precisely +those sacred truths which lie hidden in our inmost hearts, and +which, when once revealed to us, we cling to as our most +steadfast law, and which to deny were to denounce our best and +purest self. Not to every one are the same truths revealed +with the same force; for the most part it is only through a +searching experience that we can come clearly to understand +one or another, which is to our neighbour as his most unerring +instinct; and such must have been this integrity of purpose in +Madelon, who, in affirming that she always kept her promises, +had uttered no idle vaunt, nor even the proved result of such +experience as her short life had afforded, but had simply +given expression to what she instinctively knew to be the +strongest truth in her nature. + +That evening, after Madelon had gone up to bed, she stood long +at her open window looking out into the night. Her bedroom was +high up in the hotel, and overlooked a large public place; +just opposite was a big, lighted theatre, and from where she +stood she could catch the sound of the music, and could fancy +the bright interior, the gay dresses, the balcony, the great +chandeliers, the actors, the stage. It was her farewell for +many a long day to the scenes and pleasures of her past life, +but she did not know it. The sound of the music stirred within +her a sort of vague excitement, an indefinite longing, and she +was busy peopling the future--a child's future, it is true, not +extending beyond two or three weeks, but yet sufficient to +make her forget the past for the moment. She must have stood +there for nearly an hour; any one looking up might have +wondered to see the little head popped out of window, the +little figure so still and motionless. Up above the stars +twinkled unheeded; down below other stars seemed to be dancing +across the wide Place, but they were only the lamps of the +carriages as they drove to and fro from the theatre. And +yonder, on the outskirts of this busy town, with its lights +and crowds and gay bustle, sleeping under the silent, slow- +moving constellations, surrounded by the dark rustling trees, +stands the still convent, where a narrow room awaits this +dreaming eager little watcher. Our poor little Madelon! Not +more difference between this gay, familiar music to which all +her life has been set hitherto, and the melancholy chant of +the nuns, whose echoes have already passed from her memory, +than between the future she is picturing to herself and the +one preparing for her--but she does not know it. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Mademoiselle Linders. + + +Immediately after breakfast the next morning Graham once more +started for the convent, this time, however, leaving Madelon +at the hotel. He had written from Paris to the Superior +immediately after her brother's death, but had received no +reply. M. Linders' letter he had kept by him to deliver in +person when he should have reached Liege. + +Madelon was watching for his return, and ran to meet him with +a most eager face. + +"Have you seen my aunt?" she said. "Am I to go?" + +"Yes, you are to go, Madelon," he said, looking down on her, +and taking her hands in his. "I have seen your aunt, and we +have agreed that it is best I should take you there this +afternoon." + +He sat down and gave her some little account of the interview +he had had with her father's sister; not the whole, however, +for he said nothing of his own feeling of disappointment in +the turn that it had taken, nor of the compassion that he felt +for his little charge. + +The fact of M. Linders having quarrelled with his sister had, +on the whole, tended to prejudice the latter in his favour +rather than otherwise, for M. Linders unfortunately seemed to +have had a talent for quarrelling with every respectable +friend and relation that he possessed; and it was with a +strong hope of finding a good and kind guardian for Madelon in +her aunt, that he had started for the convent. He wrote a few +words of explanation on his card, and this, with M. Linders' +letter, he sent in to the Lady Superior, and in return was +requested to wait in the parlour till she should come to him. +A key was handed to him, and he let himself into a large, +square room, furnished with a table, a piano, and some straw +chairs; a wooden grating shut off one end, within which were +another table and more chairs; one or two prints of sacred +subjects were on the walls, two large windows high up showed +the tops of green trees in a sunny inner courtyard,--Graham had +time to take in all these details before a door on the other +side of the grating opened and the Lady Superior appeared. + +Mademoiselle Linders had doubtless displayed a wise judgment +in her choice of life; she could never under any circumstances +have shone in society, but there was something imposing in her +tall figure in its straight black draperies, and the ease and +dignity to which she could never have attained in a Paris +salon, she had acquired without difficulty in her convent +parlour. She had worked hard to obtain her present position, +and she filled it with a certain propriety of air and +demeanour. But her features were harsh, and her thin, worn +face, so far as could be distinguished beneath the half- +concealing black veil, wore a stern, discontented expression. +Somehow, Graham already felt very sorry for little Madelon, as +holding M. Linders' letter in one hand, the Superior +approached the grating, and sitting down on the inner side, +invited him by action, rather than words, to resume his chair +on the other. + +"If I am not mistaken, Monsieur," she began in a constrained, +formal voice, "it was from you that I received a letter last +week, announcing my brother's death?" Graham bowed. + +"I thought it unnecessary to answer it," continued the +Superior, "as you stated that you proposed coming to Liege +almost immediately. If I understand rightly, you attended my +brother in his last illness?" + +"I did, Madame--it was a short one, as you are aware----" + +"Yes, yes, an accident--I understood as much from your letter," +says Madame, dismissing that part of the subject with a wave +of her hand; "and the little girl?" + +"She is here--in Liege that is--we arrived last night." + +"In this letter," says the Superior, slowly unfolding the +paper, "with the contents of which you are doubtless +acquainted, Monsieur----" + +"I wrote it at M. Linders' dictation, Madame." + +"Ah, exactly--in this letter then, I see that my brother wishes +me to take charge of his child. I confess that, after all that +has passed between us, I am at a loss to imagine on what +grounds he can found such a request." + +"But--pardon me, Madame--" said Graham, "as your brother's only +surviving relative--so at least I understood him to say--you +surely become the natural guardian of his child." + +"My brother and I renounced each other, and parted years ago, +Monsieur; were you at all intimate with him?" + +"Not in the least," replied Graham; "I knew nothing, or next +to nothing, of him, till I attended him in his last illness; +it was by the merest accident that I became, in any way, mixed +up in his affairs." + +"Then you are probably unaware of the character he bore," +Therese Linders said, suddenly exchanging her air of cold +constraint for a voice and manner expressive of the bitterest +scorn; "he was a gambler by profession, a man of the most +reckless and dissipated life; he plunged by choice into the +lowest society he could find; he broke his mother's heart +before he was one-and-twenty; he neglected, and all but +deserted his wife; he ruined the lives of all who came in his +way--he was a man without principle or feeling, without +affection for any living being." + +"Pardon me, Madame," Graham said again, "he was devotedly +attached to his little daughter, and--and he is dead; to the +dead much may surely be forgiven," for indeed at that moment +his sympathies were rather with the man by whose death-bed he +had watched than with the bitter woman before him. + +"There is no question of forgiveness here," says Madame the +Superior, with a slight change of manner; "I bear my brother +no malice; it was not I that he injured, though he would +doubtless have done so had it been in his power. In separating +myself from him, I felt that I was only doing my duty; but I +have kept myself informed as to his career, and had I seen +many change or hope of amendment, I might have made some steps +towards reconciliation." + +"And that step, Madame," Graham ventured to say, "was taken by +your brother on his death-bed----" + +"Are you alluding to this letter, Monsieur?" she inquired, +crushing it in her hand as she spoke, "you have forgotten its +contents strangely, if you imagine that I consider that as a +step towards reconciliation. My brother expresses no wish of +the kind; he was no hypocrite at least, and he says with +sufficient plainness, that he only turns to me as a last +resource." + +And, in fact, the letter was, as we know, couched in no very +pleasant or conciliatory terms, and Graham was silenced for +the moment. At last, ---- + +"He appeals to your mother's memory on behalf of his child," +he said. + +"He does well to allude to our mother!" cried the Superior. +"Yes, I recognise him here. He does well to speak of her, when +he knows that he broke her heart. She adored him, Monsieur. He +was her one thought in life, when there were others who--who +perhaps--but all that signifies little now. But in appealing to +my mother's memory he suggests the strongest reason why, even +now that he is dead, I should refuse to be reconciled to his +memory." + +Graham was confounded by her vehemence. What argument had he +to oppose to this torrent of bitter words? Or how reason with +such a woman as this--one with a show of right, too, on her +side, as he was bound to own? He did not attempt it, but gave +up the point at once, turning to a more practical +consideration. + +"If you are not disposed to take charge of your little niece, +Madame," he said, "can you at least suggest any one in whose +care she can be left? I promised her father to place her in +your hands, but you must see it is impossible for me to take +any further responsibility on myself. Even if I had the will, +I have not at present the power." + +"I never said I would not take charge of my niece, Monsieur," +said the Superior. + +And to what end then, wonders Graham, this grand tirade, this +fine display of what to him could not but appear very like +hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness? To what end indeed? +And yet, perhaps, not wholly unnatural. After five-and-twenty +years of convent life, Therese Linders still clung to the +memory of the closing scenes of her worldly career, as the +most eventful in the dead level of a grey monotonous life, +still held to the remembrance of her mother's death, and of +her fierce quarrel with her brother, as the period when all +her keenest emotions had been most actively called into play. +And indeed what memories are so precious to us, which, in our +profound egotism, do we cherish so closely, as those of the +times which stirred our strongest passions to their depth, and +which, gathering up, as it were, all lesser experiences into +one supreme moment, revealed to us the intensest life of which +we are capable? There are women who would willingly barter +months of placid existence for one such moment, though it be a +bitter one; and though Mademoiselle Linders was not one of +these, or she would never have discovered that her vocation +lay within the walls of a convent, she was, nevertheless, a +woman capable of strong feelings, of vehement passions; and +these had, perhaps, found their widest scope in the love, +though it had been a wayward one, that she had felt for her +mother, and in her intense jealousy of her brother. For a +quarter of a century these passions had lain dormant, crushed +beneath the slow routine of daily duties; but these, in their +unvarying monotony, had, on the other hand, made that lapse of +years appear but as a few weeks, and kept the memory of those +stormy scenes fresher than that of the events that, one by +one, had crept into the convent life, and slowly modified its +dull course. The news of her brother's death had affected her +but little; but the sight of the familiar handwriting, the +very framing of the sentences and choice of words, which had +seemed to her like a fresh challenge even from his grave, had +revived a thousand passions, jealousies, enmities, which one +might have thought dead and buried for ever. What ghosts from +old years that Graham could not see, what memories from her +childhood and girlhood, what shadows from the old Paris life, +were thronging round Therese Linders, as with changed name and +dress she sat there in her convent parlour! Old familiar forms +flitting to and fro, old voices ringing in her ears, her +brother young, handsome, and indulged, herself plain, +unprepossessing, neglected, and a mother whom she had held to +and watched till the last, yet turning from her to the son who +had scorned her wishes and broken her heart. It had all +happened twenty-five years ago, but to the Superior it seemed +but as yesterday. The old hatred blazed up again, in the form, +as it doubtless appeared to her, of an anger righteous even +against the dead. Nor was the revival without its charms, with +all its old associations of strife and antagonism--like a +breeze blowing freshly from the outer world, and suddenly +stirring the slow, creeping current of her daily life. + +"I never said I would not take charge of my niece," she said; +"on the contrary, I have every intention of so doing. I only +wish to make it clearly understood that my brother had no sort +of claim upon me, and that I consider every line of this +letter an insult." + +"His child, at least, is innocent," began Graham. + +"I am not likely to hold her responsible for her father's +misdeeds," says Madame, drawing herself up. "I repeat that I +am willing to receive my niece at once, though I cannot +suppose that with the education and training she has received, +she is likely to be anything but a burden and a care; however, +that can be looked to and corrected!" + +"Indeed you will find her a most innocent and loveable child," +pleaded Graham eagerly, and not without an inward dismay at +the idea of our little unconscious Madelon being looked to, +and corrected by this grim woman; "she thinks her father was +perfection, it is true, but it is through her total want of +comprehension of his real character, and of the nature of his +pursuits; and--believe me, Madame, it would be cruel to disturb +that ignorance." + +"She has nothing to fear from me in that respect," said the +Superior coldly; "my brother might have spared the threats +with which he insults me; his child will never hear his name +mentioned by me. From the time she enters this house her past +life is at an end; she must lean to forget it, and prepare for +the future she will spend here." + +"Not as a nun!" cried Graham involuntarily. + +"And why not as a nun, Monsieur?" + +"It was her father's last wish, his dying request that she +should never become a nun: it was the fear of some such design +on your part that made him hesitate about sending her to you, +Madame. You must surely understand from his letter how anxious +he is on that point." + +"I see that he proposes an alternative that I cannot +contemplate for a moment; it is not to train actresses that we +receive pupils at the convent, Monsieur; and I have too much +regard for my niece's welfare not to prepare her for that life +which on earth is the most peaceful and blessed, and which +will win for its followers so rich a reward hereafter. But +pardon me--I cannot expect you to agree with me on this point, +and it is one that it is useless for us to discuss." + +She rose as she spoke, and Graham rose also; there was nothing +more to be said. + +"Then it only remains for me to bring Madelon here," he said, +"and hand over to you the sum of money which M. Linders left +for her use." + +"That is all," replied the Superior; "if you can bring her +this afternoon I shall be ready to receive her. You must +accept my thanks, Monsieur, for your kindness to her, and for +the trouble you have taken." + +Graham, as he walked back to the hotel, was ready to vow that +nothing should induce him to hand Madelon over to the care of +her grim aunt. He understood now M. Linders' reluctance to +send her to his sister, and sympathised with it fully. Poor +little Madelon, with her pretty, impulsive ways, her naive +ignorance,--Madelon, so used to be petted and indulged, she to +be shut up within those dull walls, with that horrible, harsh, +unforgiving woman, to be taught, and drilled, and turned into +a nun--he hated to think of it! He would take her away with +him, he would hide her somewhere, he would send her to his +sister who had half a dozen children of her own to look after, +he would make his aunt adopt her--his aunt, who would as soon +have thought of adopting the Great Mogul. A thousand +impossible schemes and notions flitted through the foolish +young fellow's brain as he walked along, chafed and irritated +with his interview--all ending, as we have seen, in his coming +into the hotel and telling Madelon she was to go to the +convent that very afternoon. One thing indeed he determined +upon, that against her own will she should never become a nun, +if it were in his power to prevent it. He had promised her +father not to lose sight of her, and, as far as he was able, +he would keep his engagement. + +He did not witness the meeting between his little charge and +her aunt. He bade farewell to a tearful, half-frightened +little Madelon at the door of the parlour, he saw it close +upon her, and it was with quite a heavy heart that he turned +away, leaving behind him the little girl who had occupied so +large a share of his thoughts and anxieties during the last +ten days. He had nothing to detain him in Liege now, and he +left it the next morning, with the intention of carrying out +as much of his proposed tour as he should find practicable. +His original intention had been to proceed from Paris to +Strasbourg, and so into Switzerland, and over the Alps to the +Italian lakes. So much of his holiday was already gone, +however, that he gave up the idea of the lakes; but +Switzerland might still be accomplished, and Strasbourg at any +rate must be in his first point, as it was there that, on +leaving England, he had directed his letters to be sent in the +first instance, and he expected to find them lying awaiting +them. + +He did find them, and their contents were such as to drive all +thoughts of his tour out of his head. It was with a wild throb +of excitement and exultation, such as he had never known +before, that, on opening the first that came to hand, one that +had been lying there for nearly a week, he read that the +regiment to which he was attached was under immediate orders +for the Crimea, and that he must return, without loss of time, +to England. Even then, however, he did not forget little +Madelon. He knew that she would be counting on his promised +return, and could not bear the idea of going away without +seeing her again, and wishing her good-bye. He calculated that +he had still half a day to spare, and, notwithstanding his +hurry, resolved to return by Brussels rather than Paris, +choosing those trains that would allow him to spend a couple +of hours in Liege, and pay a visit to the convent. + +It was only three days since he had last seen the white walls +and grey roofs that were growing quite familiar to him now, +and yet how life seemed to have changed its whole aspect to +him--and not to him only, perhaps, but to somebody else too, +who within those walls had been spending three of the saddest, +dreariest days her small life had ever known. + +When Graham asked for Madelon, he was shown, not into the +parlour, but into a corridor leading to it from the outer +door; straw chairs were placed here also, on either side of +the grating that divided it down the middle, and on the inner +side was a window looking into another and smaller courtyard. +As Graham sat there waiting, an inner door opened and a number +of children came trooping out; they were the _externes_, +children of the bourgeois class for the most part, who came to +school twice a-day at the convent; indeed they were the only +pupils, the building not being large enough to accommodate +boarders. + +The children, laughing and chattering, vanished through the +front door to disperse to their different homes, and then, in +a minute, the inner door opened again, and a small figure +appeared; a nun followed, but she remained in the background, +whilst Madelon came forward with a look of eager expectation +on the mignonne face that seemed to have grown thinner and +paler since Graham had last seen it only three days ago. His +return, so much sooner than she had expected, had filled her +with a sudden joy, and raised in her a vague hope, that she +stood sadly in need of just then, poor child! + +"So you see I have come back sooner than I expected, Madelon," +said Graham, taking the little hands that were stretched out +to him so eagerly through the grating, "but I don't know what +you will say to me, for I shall not have time for the walk I +promised you, when I thought I should stay two or three days +in Liege. I must go away this afternoon, but I was determined +not to leave without wishing you good-bye." + +"Go away this afternoon!" faltered Madelon, "then you are +going away quite--and I shall never see you again!" + +"Yes, yes, some day, I hope," said Horace; "why, you don't +think I am going to forget you? My poor little Madelon, I am +sorry to have startled you, but I will explain how it is," and +then he told her how there was a great war going on, and he +had been called away to join his regiment which was ordered +out to the Crimea; "you know," he said smiling at her, "I told +you it would never do for you to come marching about with me, +and running the chance of being shot at." + +He tried to speak cheerfully, but indeed it was not easy with +that sad little face before him. Madelon did not answer; she +only leant her head against the wooden bars of the grating, +and sobbed in the most miserable, heart-broken way. It made +Graham quite unhappy to see her. + +"Don't cry so, Madelon," he kept on saying, almost as much +distressed as she was, "I cannot bear to see you cry." And +indeed he could not, for the kind-hearted young fellow had a +theory that children and dogs and birds and all such +irresponsible creatures should be happy as the day is long, +and there seemed something too grievous in this overpowering +distress in little Madelon. She checked herself a little +presently, however, drawing back one hand to wipe away her +tears, while she clung to him tightly with the other. He began +to talk to her again as soon as she was able to listen, saying +everything he could to cheer and encourage her, telling her +what he was going to do, and how he would write to her, and +she must write to him, and tell him all about herself, and how +she must be a good little girl, and study very hard, and learn +all sorts of things, and how he would certainly come back some +day and see her. + +"When?" asks Madelon. + +"Ah, that I cannot tell you, but before very long I hope, and +meantime you must make haste and grow tall--let me see how tall +shall I expect you to be? as tall as that----" touching one of +the bars above her head. + +She tried to smile as she answered, "It would take me a long +time to grow as tall as that." + +"Not if you make haste and try very hard," he said; "and by +that time you will have learnt such a number of things, music, +and geography, and sewing, and--what is it little girls learn?" +So he went on talking; but she scarcely answered him, only +held his hands tighter and tighter, as if she was afraid he +would escape from her. Something seemed to have gone from her +in these last few days, something of energy, and spirit, and +hopefulness; Horace had never seen her so utterly forlorn and +downcast before, not even on the night of her father's death. + +At last he looked at his watch. "I must go, Madelon," he said, +"I have to catch the train." + +"No, no, don't go!" she cried, suddenly starting from her +desponding attitude, "don't go and leave me, I cannot stay +here--I cannot--don't go!" + +She was holding him so tightly that he could not move, her +eyes fixed on his face with an intensity of pleading. He was +almost sorry that he had come at all. + +"My poor little Madelon," he said, "I must go--I must, you +know--there--there, good-bye, good-bye." + +He squeezed the little hands that were clinging so desperately +to him, again and again, and then tried gently to unloose +them; suddenly she relaxed her hold, and flung herself away +from him. Graham hastened away without another word, but as he +reached the door he turned round for one more look. Madelon +had thrown herself down upon the low window-seat, her face +buried in her folded arms, her frame shaking with sobs; the +nun had come forward and was trying to comfort her--the bare +grey walls, the black dresses, the despairing little figure +crouching there, and outside the courtyard all aglow in the +afternoon sunshine, with pigeons whirring and perching on the +sloping roofs, spreading their wings against the blue sky--it +was a little picture that long lived in Graham's memory. Poor +little Madelon! + + +CHAPTER VI. + +In the Convent. + + +Not till Monsieur Horace was indeed gone, and there was no +longer any hope of seeing him return, not till the last door +was closed between them, the last link broken with the outer +world, not till then perhaps did our little Madelon begin to +comprehend the change that one brief fortnight had worked in +her whole life. Till now, she had scarcely felt the full +bitterness of her father's death, or understood that the old, +happy, bright, beautiful life was at an end for ever. These +last days had been so full of excitement, she had been so +hurried from one new sensation to another, that she had not +had time to occupy herself exclusively with this great sorrow +that had fallen upon her; but there was nothing to distract +her now. Her father's death, which she had found so hard to +understand in the midst of everyday life and familiar +associations, she realized all too bitterly when such +realization was aided by the blank convent walls and the dull +convent routine; the sorrow that had been diverted for a +moment by another strong predominant feeling, returned with +overwhelming force when on every side she saw none but strange +faces, heard none but unfamiliar voices; liberty, and joy, and +affection seemed suddenly to have taken to themselves wings +and deserted her, and she was left alone with her desolation. + +The child was half-crazed in these first days in the extremity +of her grief; the nuns tried to console her, but she was at +first beyond consolation. She did not know what to do with her +sense of misery, her hopeless yearning, with the sudden +darkness which had fallen upon her bright life, and where she +was left to grope without one hand stretched out by which she +could reach back as it were, into the past, and grasp some +familiar reality that should help her to a comprehension of +this strange new world in which she found herself. We hear +often enough of the short life of childish troubles, quickly +excited, and as quickly forgotten--true enough perhaps of the +griefs isolated, so to speak, in the midst of long days of +happiness. But the grief that is not isolated? The grief over +which the child cries itself to sleep every night, and which +wakes with it in the morning, saddening and darkening with its +own gloom the day which ought to be so joyous? In such a grief +as this, there is, perhaps, for the time it lasts, no sorrow +so sad, so acute, so hopeless, as a child's. For us, who with +our wide experience have lived through so much, and must +expect to live through so much more, a strength has risen up +out of our very extremity, as we have learnt to believe in a +beyond, in a future that must succeed the darkest hour. But a +child, as a rule, has neither past nor future; it lives in the +present. The past lies behind, already half forgotten in to- +day's happiness or trouble; the future is utterly wide, vague, +and impracticable, in nowise modifying or limiting the sorrow +which, to its unpractised imagination, can have no ending. +When a child has learnt to live in the past, or the future, +rather than in the present, it has learnt one of the first and +saddest of life's experiences--a lesson so hard in the +learning, so impossible to unlearn in all the years to come. + +A lesson that our Madelon, too, must soon take to heart, in +the midst of such dreary distasteful surroundings, with a past +so bright to look back upon, with a future which she can fill +with any amount of day-dreams, of whatever hue she pleases--a +lesson therefore, which she is not long in acquiring, but with +the too usual result, a most weary impatience of the present. +The first violence of her grief exhausted itself in time, as +was only natural, and something of her old energy and spirit +began to show itself again; but the change was not much for +the better. She did not mope nor pine, that was not her way; +but she became possessed with a spirit of restless petulance, +which at first, indeed, was only another phase of unhappiness, +but which, not being recognized as such, presently developed +into a most decided wilfulness. She turned impatiently from +the nun's well-meant kindness and efforts to console her, +which somehow were not what she wanted--not that, but something +so different, poor child!--she was cross, peevish, fractious +without intending it, scarcely knowing why; the nuns set her +down as a perverse unamiable child: and so it happened, that +she had not been many weeks in the convent before she came to +be regarded with general disfavour and indifference instead of +with the kindly feeling that had at first been shown to the +forlorn little stranger. + +Graham had indeed wasted some pity on her, in imagining her +under the immediate control of her aunt. The Superior had far +too many things to think about for her to trouble herself with +any direct superintendence of her little niece; Madelon hardly +ever saw her, and in fact, of the convent life in general she +knew but little. Her lessons she soon began to do with the +other children in the class, and for the rest she was placed +under the special care of one of the younger Sisters, Soeur +Lucie by name. + +Like Madelon, Soeur Lucie had been brought, a little ten-year- +old orphan to the convent, to be under the care of one of the +nuns who was her aunt; and it was, perhaps, on this account, +that she was chosen by Mademoiselle Linders as a sort of +_gouvernante_ for her niece. But there was no other resemblance +between this placid, fair-haired, blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked +Flemish girl, whose early recollections were all of farms and +farmyards, of flat grassy meadows watered by slow moving +streams, of red cows feeding tranquilly in rich pastures, of +milking, and cheese-making, and butter-making, of dairies with +shining pots and pans and spotless floors, and our vehement +brown-eyed Madelon, who in her ten years had seen more of the +world than Soeur Lucie was likely to see if she lived to be a +hundred. Soeur Lucie had passed a happy, peaceful childhood in +the convent, and, as she grew up into girlhood, had listened +submissively to the words of exhortation which urged her to +give up the world and its vanities, which she had never known, +and by such voluntary renunciation to pass from a state of +mere negative virtue into that one of superior holiness only +to be attained beneath the nun's veil, and behind the convent +grating. She took the vows as soon as she was old enough, +endowed the convent with her fortune, and was perfectly happy. +She had neither friends nor relations outside this little +world in which she had been brought up, and she desired +nothing beyond what it could afford her. She had, as she well +knew, secured for herself in the next world a sure +compensation for any little sacrifices she might have made in +this--a reflection that often consoled her under a too +prolonged course of prayer and meditation, for which, to say +the truth, she had little aptitude--and for the rest, she was +universally allowed to be the best compote-maker (the nuns +were famous for their compotes, which were in great demand), +the best embroiderer, the best altar-decorator in the convent. +What more could be expected or demanded of life? Soeur Lucie, +at any rate, was quite satisfied with her position, and this +perfectly simple-minded, good-tempered little sister was a +general favourite. Madelon could not have fallen into kinder +hands; Soeur Lucie, if not always very wise, was at least very +good-natured, and if she did not win much respect or +admiration from our little Madelon, who was not long in +discovering that she knew a great deal about a great many +things that the nun had never heard or dreamt of, the poor +child at least learnt to recognize hers as a friendly face, +and to turn to her in these dreary days. + +The convent was neither very large nor very wealthy. The +building itself had formerly been a chateau-farm, which, with +its sheds and outlying buildings, had, many years ago, been +converted with considerable alterations into its present form; +rooms had been partitioned off, a little chapel had been +built, the hall turned into a refectory, the farmyard and +orchard into a pleasant sunny garden with lawn, and flower- +beds, and shrubs, with vines and fruit-trees alternating with +creepers along the old walls. As for the sisters, few were +from the upper ranks of society, belonging for the most part, +rather to the middle and bourgeois class. Mademoiselle Linders +had gained her present position not less by her superior birth +and education, than by that to which she would more willingly +have attributed her elevation--a certain asceticism of life +which she affected, an extra observance of fasts and vigils, +which the good nuns looked upon with reverence, without caring +to emulate such peculiar sanctity in their own persons. The +rule was not a strict one, nor, though the Superior was +careful to enforce it to its utmost rigour, was the life one +of particular hardship or privation. They were a simple, kind, +good-hearted set, these Sisters, having their little disputes, +and contentions, and jealousies among themselves occasionally, +no doubt, but leading good, peaceable lives on the whole, with +each day and hour well filled with its appointed tasks, +leading through a continual, not useless round of embroidery, +teaching, compote-making, and prayers. + +Perhaps some one looking round on them, with their honest, +homely Belgian faces, would have tried to imagine some history +for them, in accordance with the traditions that cling about +convent walls, and associate themselves with the very mention +of a nun; and most likely they would have been all wrong. None +of these Sisters had had very eventful lives, and they had, +for the most part, dropped into their present mode of +existence quite naturally. With little romance to look back +upon, save such as finds a place in even the homeliest life, +with an imperfect middle-class education that had failed to +elevate the mind, or give it wide conceptions of life, and +religion, and duty, a certain satisfaction at having done with +secular life and its cares, and at having their future here +and hereafter comfortably provided for, was perhaps the +general tone amongst this prosaic, unimaginative community. We +are, indeed, far from affirming that in that little society +there was no higher tone of religious enthusiasm, that there +were not some who not only found their highest religious ideal +in the life they had chosen, but to whom it formed, in fact, +the highest ideal to which they could attain, and calculated, +therefore, to develope in them the best and noblest part of +their natures. To such, the appointed, monotonous round, the +unquestioning submission to the will of another, the obedience +at once voluntary and enforced, would not only bring a +gracious sense of repose after conflict, but, by satisfying +their religious cravings and aspirations, by demanding the +exercise of those virtues which appeared to them at once the +highest and the most attainable, would give peace to souls +which, in the world's active life, would have tossed for ever +to and fro in reckless unquiet warfare, nor have ever once +perceived that in such warfare they might, after all, be +fulfilling the noblest ends. "Peace, and rest, and time for +heavenly meditation," they had cried, stretching out weary +hands to this quiet little harbour of refuge, and perhaps--who +knows?--they had there found them. + +Such, then, was this little world in which our Madelon +suddenly found herself placed to her utter bewilderment at +first, so alien was it to all her former experiences, so +little could she understand of its meaning, its aims, its +spirit and intention; no more than, as it seemed to her, those +around her understood her, or her wants and wishes. To her, +the convent only appeared inexpressibly _triste_ and dreary, a +round of dull tasks, enlivened by duller recreations, day +after day, for ever bounded by those blank, grey walls--no +change, no variety, no escape. The bare, scantily-furnished +rooms, the furniture itself, the food, the nuns' perpetual +black dress, and ungraceful headgear,--Madelon hated them all, +as she gradually recovered from her first desolation, and +became alive again to external impressions; and, as the first +keenness of her sorrow wore off, this vague sense of general +unhappiness and discomfort showed itself in an attitude of +opposition and defiance to every one and everything around +her. From being helplessly wretched and cross, she became +distinctly naughty, and before long our Madelon had drifted +into the hopeless position of a child always refractory, +always in disgrace, a position from which, when once assumed, +it is almost impossible for the small hapless delinquent to +struggle free. + +That Madelon was very naughty cannot be denied, and the fact +surprised no one so much as herself. The nuns, accustomed to +all sorts of children of every variety of temper, of every +shade of docility and wilfulness, of cleverness and stupidity, +found nothing astonishing in one more perverse little +specimen, but Madelon could not understand it at all. She was +not used to feeling naughty, and did not know what it meant at +first. In her life hitherto, when she had been as happy as the +day is long, she had had singularly few opportunities for +exercising the privilege of every child of Adam, and +exhibiting her original waywardness. But it was far otherwise +now, and she could not understand why she always felt cross, +always obstinate, always perverse; she only knew that she was +very miserable, and it was quite a discovery to be told one +day that it was because she was naughty, and that if she were +good, she would be happy. + +"I always am good," said Madelon, firing up, and speaking from +the experience of former days, "and I am not at all happy--I +never shall be here." + +But alas! it was proved too clearly that she was not at all +good, and indeed she began to think so herself, only she did +not see how she could help it. + +Madelon got into great disgrace in the very first weeks after +her arrival at the convent, and this was the occasion of it. +The only room vacant for her was a cell that had been occupied +by a sister who had died a short time previously, a sister of +a devout turn of mind, who had assisted her meditations by the +contemplation of a skull of unusual size and shininess. The +cell was a cheerful, narrow little room, looking out on the +convent garden, and the first pleasant sensation that Madelon +knew in the convent was when she was taken into it, and saw +the afternoon sun shining upon its white-washed walls, and the +late climbing roses nodding in at the open window; but she +became possessed with a perfect horror of the skull. She +discovered it the first evening when she was going to bed, and +was quite glad to pop her head under the bed-clothes, to shut +out all sight and thought of it. But awaking again that first +night in her grief and loneliness, she saw a stray moonbeam +shining in, and lighting it up into ghastly whiteness and +distinctness, as it stood on a little bracket against the wall +beneath a tall wooden crucifix. For the first minute she was +half paralysed with terror; she lay staring at it without +power to move, and then she would assuredly have run to some +one for protection had she known to whom to go, or, indeed, +had she not been too terrified to do more than hide her head +under the counterpane again. From that time it became a +perpetual nightmare to her. By day its terrors were less +apparent, though even then, with her innate love for all +things bright, and joyous, and pleasant, it was a positive +grief to her to have such a grim object before her eyes +whenever she came into the room; but at night no sooner was +she in bed, and the light taken away, than her imagination +conjured up a hundred frightful shapes, that all associated +themselves with the grinning death's-head. In vain she covered +it up, in vain she shut her eyes--sleeping or waking it seemed +always there. At length she could bear it no longer, and +entreated piteously that it might be taken away; but Soeur +Lucie, to whom the little prayer was made, did not view the +matter in at all the same light as Madelon. In the first +place, if formed part of the furniture of the room, and had +always been there, so far as he knew--which, to the nun, whose +life was founded on a series of unquestioned precedents, +allowing of nothing arbitrary but the will of the Superior, +appeared an unanswerable reason why it should always remain; +and, in the next place, with the lack of sympathy that one +sometimes remarks in unimaginative minds, she did not in the +least understand the terror with which it inspired the child, +but assured her, in her good-humoured way, that that was all +nonsense, and the she would get over it in time. So the skull +remained, and Madelon was miserable, till one night, in a +moment of desperation, she jumped out of bed, seized it with +both hands, and flung it with all her might through the window +into the garden below. She was frightened when she heard the +crash of falling glass, for in her excitement she had never +stopped to open the window, but greatly relieved, +notwithstanding, to think that her enemy was gone, and slept +more soundly that night than she had done for a long time +previously. + +Next morning, however, Madelon had a cold, a pane of glass was +found in fragments on the gravel walk beneath the window, a +skull was discovered, lying among the long grass on the lawn; +one can fancy the exclamations, the inquiries, the commotion. +Madelon, though not a little frightened, avowed boldly enough +what she had done, and so far gained her end that the skull +never reappeared, and a safe precedent was established for +Soeur Lucie's future guidance; but she got into great trouble +at the time, and gained moreover the unenviable distinction of +having committed a deed of unparalleled audacity. After this, +what might not be expected of such a child? The nuns at once +formed a bad opinion of her, which they owed it to themselves +to confirm on the occasion of each succeeding offence, by a +reference to this past misdeed which had first taught them of +what enormities she was capable. + +Matters were no better when there came to be a question of +lessons. Madelon did not mind the actual learning, though she +wearied a little of the continued application to which she was +unused; but she resented to the last degree the astonishment +that her ignorance on all sorts of subjects excited both in +the nuns who taught her, and in the other children in the +class, and which was expressed with sufficient distinctness. +"Never studied geography, nor history, nor arithmetic!" cries +Soeur Ursule, who superintended the school; "not know the +principal cities in Europe, nor the kings of France, nor even +your multiplication table!" These speeches, with strongly +implied notes of admiration after each sentence, and +illustrated by the expression on the faces of a small, open- +mouthed audience in the background, roused Madelon's most +indignant feelings; she rebelled alike against the injustice +of being held up to public reprobation for not knowing what +she had never been taught, and against the imputations cast +upon her education hitherto. "I can do a great many things you +cannot," she would answer defiantly, "I can talk English, and +German, and Italian--you can't; I can dance--you can't; I can +sing songs, and--and, oh! a great many things that you cannot +do!" A speech of this sort would bring our poor Madelon into +dire disgrace we may be sure; and then angry, impenitent, she +would go away into some corner, and cry--oh! how sadly--for her +father; for the happy old days, for Monsieur Horace, too, +perhaps, to come back, and take her out of all this misery. + +Behind the convent was a strip of ground, which produced +cabbages and snails on one side, and apple-trees on the other; +a straight walk divided these useful productions from each +other. When Madelon was _en penitence_ she used sometimes to be +sent to walk here alone during the hour of recreation, and +would wander disconsolately enough among the apple-trees, +counting the apples by way of something to do, and getting +intimately acquainted with the snails and green caterpillars +amongst the cabbages. Our poor little Madelon! I could almost +wish that we had kept her always in that pretty green valley +where we first saw her; but I suppose in every life there come +times when cabbages, or things of no cheerfuller aspect than +cabbages, are the only prospect, and this was one of her +times. She used to feel very unhappy and very lonely as she +paced up and down, thinking of the past--ah, how far that past +already lay behind her, how separate, how different from +anything she did, or saw, or heard in these dull days! She did +not find many friends to console her in her troubles; good- +natured Soeur Lucie did indeed try to comfort her when she +found her crying, and though she was not very successful in +her efforts, Madeleine began to give her almost as much +gratitude as if she had been. Soeur Lucie could not think of +anything to tell her but that she was very naughty, and must +try to be good, which Madelon knew too well already. It would +have been more to the purpose, perhaps, if she had told her +she was not so very bad after all, but Soeur Lucie never +thought of that; perhaps she did not care much about the +child; by this time Madelon was beginning to be established as +the black sheep of the little community, and Soeur Lucie only +expressed the general sense; but being very good-natured, she +said in a kind way what other people said disagreeably. + +Neither from her companions did she meet with much sympathy, +and, indeed, when out of disgrace, Madelon was apt to be +rather ungracious to her schoolfellows, with whom she had +little in common. The children who came daily to the convent +were of two classes--children of the poor and children of a +higher bourgeois grade, shopkeepers for the most part. Madelon +was naturally classed with the latter of these two sets during +the lesson hours, but she stood decidedly aloof from them +afterwards, at first through shyness, and then with a sort of +wondering disdain. She had never been used to children's +society; all her life her father had been careful to keep her +apart from companions of her own age, and, accustomed to +associate continually with grown-up people, she chose to +regard with great contempt the trivial chatter, and squabbles, +and amusements of her small contemporaries. After a time, +indeed, she condescended to astonish their minds with some of +her old stories, and was gratified by the admiration of a +round-eyed, open-mouthed audience, who listened with rapt +attention as she related some of the glories of past days, +balls, and theatres, and kursaals, princes and counts, and +fine dresses; it served in some sort to maintain the sense of +superiority which was sorely tried during the untoward events +of the lesson hours; but this also was destined to come to an +end. One day there was a whispering among the listeners, which +resulted in the smallest of them saying boldly,-- + +"Marie-Louise says your papa must have been a very bad man." + +"What!" cries Madelon, jumping off the high stool on which she +had been seated. This little scene took place during the hour +of recreation, when the children ate their luncheon of bread +and fruit. + +"Ah, yes," says Marie-Louise, a broad-faced, flaxen-haired +damsel, half a head taller than Madelon, and nodding her head +knowingly. "Those are very fine stories that you tell us +there, Mademoiselle, but when I related them at home they said +it was clear your papa must have been a very wicked man." + +Madelon turned quite white and walked up to the girl, her +teeth set, her small fists clenched. "You are wicked!" she +stammered out; "how dare you say such things? I--I will never +speak to you again!" and then she turned, and walked off +without another word. + +The matter did not end here, however, for the children talked +of it among themselves, the nuns heard of it, and, finally, it +reached the ears of Madame la Superieure herself. Madelon, +summoned into the awful presence of her aunt, received the +strictest orders never again to refer to these past +experiences in any way. "You are my child now," says Madame, +overwhelming the poor little culprit before her with her +severest demeanour, "and must learn to forget all these +follies." If Madelon feared any one, it was her aunt, who had +never cared to win her little niece's love by any show of +affection; the child came before her trembling, and escaped +from her gladly. She had no inclination to draw down further +reprimands by disobedience in this particular, so far as words +went, nor indeed had she any temptation to do so. From this +time she kept more apart from the rest of the children, rarely +joining in their games, and preferring even Soeur Lucie's +society to that of her small companions. So, altogether, +Madelon's first attempts at a convent life were not a success, +and time only brought other sad deficiencies to light. + +Whatever the nuns may have thought or said, concerning her +ignorance of history, geography, and arithmetic, it was a far +more serious matter when there came to be a question of her +religious knowledge. The good sisters were really horrified at +the complete blank they found, and lost no time in putting her +through a course of the most orthodox instruction. Before she +had been a month in the convent, she knew almost as much as +Nanette, had learnt why people go to church and what they do +there, had studied her catechism, could find her places in her +prayer-book, could repeat Ave Marias and Paternosters, and +tell her beads like every one else. And so Madelon's questions +are answered at last, her perplexities solved, her yearnings +satisfied! She apprehended quickly all that she was taught, so +far as in her lay, and vaguely perceived something still +beyond her powers of apprehension, something that still +confusedly connected itself with the great church, with the +violinist's playing, with the pictures and the music of old +days, and which, for the present, in her new life, found its +clearest expression, not in the nuns' teaching, for, kind and +affectionate as it in truth was, it was marred from the first +to Madelon by the inevitable exclamation of wonder and horror +that she should not know all about it already--not in the +questions and answers in her catechism, nor in the religious +dogmas and formulas which she accepted, but could hardly +appreciate--not in all these, but in the little chapel with its +gaudy altars, and twinkling lights, its services, and music, +and incense. Indeed, apart from all higher considerations, the +pictures, the colouring, the singing, all were the happiest +relief to the child, who, used to perpetual change and +brightness, wearied indescribably of the dull, colourless +life, the uniform dress, the want of all artistic beauty in +the convent. Her greatest reward when she had been good was to +be allowed to join in the singing in the chapel--her greatest +punishment, to be banished from the evening services. + +No need, however, to pursue this part of little Madelon's +history further. With the nuns' instruction, and the learning +of her catechism, vanished all that had distinguished her, in +this respect, from other children of her years and station. +She had learnt most of what can be learnt by such teaching, +and for her, as for others, there remained the verifying and +realization of these lessons, according to her capacity and +experience. Only, one may somehow feel sure, that to this +passionate, wilful little nature, religion would hardly +present itself as one simple sublime truth, high, pure, and +serene as the over-arching, all-embracing heaven, through +which the sun shines down on the clashing creeds of men; but +rather as a complex, many-sided problem, too often at variance +with her scheme of life, to be felt after through the medium +of conflicting emotions, to be worked out at last through what +doubts, questionings, with what perplexities, strivings, +yearnings, cries for light--along this in nowise singular path, +no need to follow our little Madelon. + +For the rest, she imbibed readily enough at this time many of +the particular views of religious subjects affected by the +nuns, at first, indeed, not without a certain incredulity that +such things could be, when her father had never spoken to her +about them, nor made her aware of their existence; but +presently, with more confidence, as she remembered that he was +to have told her all about them when she was older. There were +the legends and histories of the saints, for instance, in +which Madelon learnt to take special delight, though it way be +feared that she regarded them rather as pretty romantic +stories, illustrated and glorified by her recollections of the +old pictures in Florence, than as the vehicle of religious +instruction that the nuns would willingly have made them. She +used to beg Soeur Lucie to tell them to her again and again, +and the good little nun, delighted to find at least one pious +disposition in her small rebellious charge, was always ready +to comply with her request, and went over the whole list of +saints and their lives, not sparing one miracle or miraculous +virtue we may be sure, and telling them all in her simple, +matter-of-fact language, with details drawn from her daily +life to give a touch of reality, which invested the mystic old +Eastern and Southern legends with a quaint naive homeliness +not without its own charm--like the same subjects as +interpreted by some of the old Dutch and Flemish masters, in +contrast with the high-wrought, idealised conceptions of the +earlier Italian schools. But it was through the medium of +these last that Madelon saw them all pass before her--St. +Cecilia, St. Catherine, St. Dorothea, St. Agnes, St. +Elizabeth--she knew them all by name. Soeur Lucie almost changed +her opinion of Madelon when she discovered this--for about a +day and a half that is, till the child's next flagrant +delinquency--and Madelon found a host of recollections in +which she might safely indulge, as she chatted to Soeur Lucie +about the pictures, and galleries, and churches of Florence, +not a little pleased when the nun's exclamations and questions +revealed that she herself had never seen but two churches in +her life, that near her old home and the convent chapel. + +"Oh, I have seen a great many," Madelon would say, "and +palaces too; I daresay you never saw a palace either? but I +like the churches best because of the chapels, and altars, and +tombs, and pictures. At Florence the churches were so big--oh! +as big as the whole convent--but I think the chapel here very +pretty too; will you let me help you to decorate the altar for +the next fete, if I am good?" + +So she chattered on, and these were her happiest hours +perhaps. Sometimes she would be allowed to accompany Soeur +Lucie to the big kitchen, and assist in the grand compote- +making, which seemed to be going on at all seasons of the +year. There, sometimes helping, sometimes perched on her +favourite seat on the corner of the table, Madelon would +forget her sorrows for awhile in the contemplation of the old +farm-kitchen with its rough white-washed walls, decorated with +pots and pans, and shining kettles, its shelves with endless +rows of blue and white crockery, its great black rafters +crossing below the high-pitched ceiling leaving a gloomy +space, full of mystery to Madelon's imagination; and then, +below, the long white wooden table, the piles of fruit, the +busy figures of the nuns as they moved to and fro. Outside in +the courtyard the sun would be shining perhaps, the trees +would wave, and cast flickering shadows on Madelon, as she +sat, the pigeons would come fluttering and perching on the +window-sill, and Soeur Lucie, whilst paring, cutting, boiling, +skimming, would crone out for Madelon's benefit the old tales +she knew so well that she could almost have repeated them in +her sleep. Madelon only begged to be let off the tragical +ending, which she could not bear, at last always stopping her +ears when the critical moment of the sword, or the wheel, or +the fire approached. She took great interest in the history of +Ste. Therese, especially in the account of her running away in +her childhood, which seemed to her most worthy of imitation-- +only, thinks Madelon, she would have taken care not to have +been caught, and brought back again. The subsequent history of +the saint she found less edifying; nothing that savoured of +conventual life found favour in Madelon's eyes in these days; +and indeed her whole faith in saints and legends was rudely +shaken one day by a broad and somewhat reckless assertion on +the part of Soeur Lucie, that all the female saints had been +nuns--an assertion certainly unsupported by the facts, whether +legendary or ascertained, but which had somehow become a fixed +idea in Soeur Lucie's mind, and was dear to the heart of the +little nun. + +"They were not nuns like you, then," says Madelon at last, +after some combating of the point, "for they could go out, and +walk about, and do a great many things you must not do--and if +I were a saint, I would never, never become a nun!" + +"But it is the nuns that have become saints," cries Soeur +Lucie, with the happiest conviction; and Madelon, unable to +argue out her own ideas on the subject, contented herself with +repeating, that anyhow they had not all been nuns like Soeur +Lucie, which was indisputable. + +These were, as we have said, Madelon's happiest times, and, +indeed, they hardly repaid the child for long days of +weariness and despondency, for hours of heart-sick longing for +she knew not what, of objectless hoping, of that saddest form +of home-sickness, that knows of no home for which to pine. In +all the future there was but one point on which her mind could +rest--Monsieur Horace's promised return, and that was too +vague, too remote to afford her much comfort. And her own +promise to him, has she forgotten that? She would not have +been the Madelon that we know if she had done so, but we need +hardly say that she had not been two days in the convent, +before she instinctively perceived how futile were all those +poor little schemes with which she had been so busy the +evening before she parted with Graham, how impossible it would +be to ask or obtain her aunt's permission for going to Spa on +such an errand. The convent was to all intents and purposes a +prison to our little Madelon, and she could only wait and +cherish her purpose till a happier moment. + +She heard twice from Graham in the first few months. He wrote +just before leaving England, and once from the Crimae; but +this last letter elicited an icy response from the Superior, +to the effect generally that her niece being now under her +care, and receiving the education that would fit her for the +life that would be hers for the future, she wished all old +connections and associations to be broken off; in short, that +it would be useless for Graham to write any more letters, as +Madelon would not be allowed to see them. Graham received this +letter at Balaklava, at the end of a long day's work, and +laughed out loud as he read the stiff, formal little epistle, +which, to the young man in the midst of the whirl and bustle +of camps and hospitals, seemed like a voice from another +world; there was something too ludicrous in the notion of a +child of eleven years old being forbidden to receive letters, +because she might possibly be a nun nine or ten years hence. + +"As for that, we'll see about it by-and-by, old lady," he said +to himself, "but in the meantime there is no use in writing +letters that are not to be delivered;" and then he thrust +Mademoiselle Linders' letter into his pocket, and thought no +more about it. + +So Madelon heard nothing more of Monsieur Horace, though she +often, often thought of him, and wondered what he was doing. +He was very busy, very hard-worked; an army-surgeon had no +sinecure in the Crimea in those days, as we know, and it was +perhaps well for the child, who cared more for him than for +any one else in the world, that she knew nothing of his life +at this time, of wintry battle-fields and hospital tents, of +camps and trenches, where, day and night, he had to fight in +his own battle with sickness, and wounds, and death. No news +from the war came to Madelon's ears, no whisper from all the +din and clamour that were filling Europe, penetrated to this +quiet, out-of-the-world, little world in which her lot was +cast. The mighty thunder of the guns before Sebastopol rolled, +echoing, to the north, and roused sunny cities basking in the +south, and stirred a million hearts in the far islands of the +west; but it died away before the vine-covered gate, the +white-washed walls of the little Belgian convent. There life +stole on at an even pace, little asked of it, yielding little +in return, and amongst that peaceful Sisterhood, one little +restless spirit, ever seeking and feeling after what she could +not find, looking in the faces of all around her, if so be +some one could help her, and, with a child's instinct, +rejecting each in turn. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + + + + + +_COPYRIGHT EDITION_. + + + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. II. + + + + + + +LEIPZIG + +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ + +1871. + + +_The Right of Translation is reserved_. + + + + + + +PART II. + +(continued.) + + + + +MY LITTLE LADY. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Fever. + + +For more than two uneventful years Madelon remained in the +convent; but early in the third spring after her arrival, a +low fever broke out, which for the time completely disturbed +the peaceful, even current of existence there, and, by its +results, altered, as it happened, the whole course of her own +life. + +She was between twelve and thirteen then, and had grown into a +slim little maiden, rather tall for her age, with a little +pale face as in old days, but with her wavy brown hair all +braided now, and fastened in long plaits round her head. In +these two years she has become somewhat reconciled to her +convent life; not, indeed, as a permanent arrangement--it never +occurred to her to regard it in that light--but as something +that must be endured till a new future should open out before +her. She learns her lessons, sings in the chapel, knows +something of compote-making, and can embroider with skilful +little fingers almost after Soeur Lucie's own heart. She still +holds aloof from her companions, turning to Soeur Lucie for +society, though rather with the feeling of the simple-hearted +little nun being _bon camarade_, than with any deeper sentiment +of friendship or respect. She is rarely _en penitence_ now; the +vehement little spirit seems laid; and if something of her old +spring and energy have gone with it, if she is sometimes sad, +and almost always quiet, there is no one to note it much, or +to heed the change that has apparently come over her. And yet +Madelon was in truth little altered, and was scarcely less of +a child than when Graham had brought her to the convent. She +had learned a variety of things, it is true; she could have +named all the principal cities in Europe now; and though she +still stumbled over the kings of France, her multiplication- +table was unexceptionable; but her education had been one of +acquisition rather than of development. Her mind had not yet +had time to assimilate itself with those around her, nor to +become reconciled to the life that was so at variance with all +her old traditions; and she maintained a nucleus, as it were, +of independent thought, which no mere extraneous influences or +knowledge could affect. In the total silence imposed upon +herself, and those around her, concerning her past life, there +had been no possibility of modifying her ideas on that +subject, and they were still at the same point as when she +entered the convent. She still clung to her father's memory, +with all the passionate love of which her ardent little soul +was capable; she still believed in his perfection, and held to +her recollections of the old days with a strength and tenacity +only enhanced by the contrast which her present life daily +forced upon her. The past lived in her memory as a bright, +changeful dream, varying from one pleasure to another, with an +ever-shifting background of fair, foreign towns and cities, +Kursaals, palaces, salons, gardens, mountains, and lakes, and +quiet green nooks of country--all, as it seemed to her, with +the power of generalization that seizes on the most salient +points, and takes them as types of the whole, shining in +sunlight that never clouded, under clear blue skies that never +darkened. Madelon knew that that time had gone by for ever; +and yet, in all her dreams for the future, her imagination +never went beyond a repetition of it all--only for her father +she, perhaps, substituted Monsieur Horace: for Monsieur +Horace, we may be sure, was not forgotten, any more than her +promise to him; though, indeed, this last had been so long in +abeyance that she had ceased to think of it as likely to be +speedily fulfilled. She had almost come to regard it as one of +the many things referred to that somewhat vague period when +she should be grown up, and when, in some way--how she did not +know--she would be released from the convent and from Aunt +Therese, and be at liberty to come and go as she pleased. In +the meantime she had almost given up hoping for Monsieur +Horace's return. The time when she had last seen him and heard +from him already seemed so remote to her childish memory. No +one ever spoke to her about him, and he never wrote to her. +She did not for a moment think he had forgotten her; she had +too much confidence in him for that; but by degrees a notion, +vague at first, but gradually becoming a fixed idea destined +to have results, established itself in foolish little +Madelon's head, that he was waiting till he should hear from +her that his fortune was made before he would come back to +her. Madelon would get quite unhappy when she thought of this-- +he must think her so faithless and forgetful, yet how could +she help it? That the promise had made as deep an impression +upon him as upon her she never doubted for a moment; and was +it not most possible, and even probable, that he was expecting +to hear of the result, perhaps even in want of this wonderful +fortune, on which he must be counting? It was a sad thought, +this, to our Madelon, but gradually it became a confirmed one +in her mind. + +How long this state of things would have lasted--whether, with +the fading of childish impressions, present abiding influences +might have taken possession of her, whether, some few years +hence, some sudden development of her devotional tendencies +might have roused her latent powers of enthusiasm, and turned +them in a new direction just at the moment when youthful +ardour is most readily kindled, and tender, fervent hearts +most easily touched--whether, in such a case, our little +Madelon, inspired with new beliefs, would have renounced her +old life in the fervour of her acceptance of the new, and, +after all, have taken the nun's vows, and been content to +allow her native energy and earnestness to find scope in the +loftiest aspirations of a convent life--all this can never now +be known. Something there was in her character which, under +certain conditions, might have developed in such a direction. +The time might, indeed, surely would have come, had she +remained in the convent, when a sudden need and hunger for +sympathy, and perhaps excitement, would have risen in her +soul, too keen and imperative to be satisfied with past +memories; and when, in the absence of all support and +friendship in the outer world, she might have seized on +whatever she could find in the narrow circle in which she +moved, to still that imperious craving. Not in vain, then, +might have appeared those old dreams and visions in Florence +long ago. Madelon might have learnt to find in them a new and +deep significance, an interpretation in accordance with her +latest teaching, and through the dim years they might have +come back to her--prophetic warnings, as she might have been +taught to consider them--linking themselves with present +influences, to urge her on to one course. Her father's last +command, her own promises, sacred as she held them now, might +have availed nothing then, against what she might have been +taught to consider a voice from on high, a call of more than +earthly authority. + +Such, we say, might have been the turn things would have taken +with Madelon, had the uninterrupted, monotonous convent life +continued to be hers. But long before her mind was prepared +for any such influences, early in the third year after her +father's death, certain events occurred, which brought this +period of her history to an abrupt close. + +How, or why the fever broke out--whether it was the result of a +damp, unhealthy winter, or through infection brought by one of +the school-children, or from any other obvious cause, we need +not inquire here. It first showed itself about the middle of +February, and within a fortnight half the nuns had taken it, +the school was broken up, and the whole convent turned into a +hospital for the sick and dying. + +Two of the sisters died within the first week or two; one was +very old, so old, indeed, that the fever seemed to be only the +decisive touch needed to extinguish the feeble life, that had +been uncertainly wavering for months previously; the other was +younger, and much beloved. And then came a sense as of some +general great calamity, a sort of awe-struck mourning, with +which real grief had, perhaps, little to do. The Superior +herself had been struck with the fever, and in three days she +was dead. Her vigils, her fastings, the wearying abnegations +of her stern, hard life had left her little strength for +struggling against the disease when it laid hold of her at +last, and so she too died in her cell one cold, bleak March +morning, with a hushed sisterhood gathered round her death- +bed, and gazing on it, as on that of a departing saint. Little +beloved, but much revered, Therese Linders also had got that +she had laboured for, and was now gone to prove the worth of +it; that which she had valued most in her narrow world had +been awarded her to the full--much honour, but small affection; +much glorification to her memory as to one of surpassing +sanctity, few tears of tender or regretful recollection. She +had had a strange, loveless life, with a certain pathos in it +too, as in the life of every human being, if looked at aright. +Not always, one may imagine, had such cold, relentless +pietism, such harsh indifference possessed her. She lies there +now, still and silent for evermore on earth, a crucifix +between her hands, tapers burning at her head and feet, with +the hard lines fixed on her cold grey face; and yet she also +had been a little, soft, round child, with yearnings too, like +other children, for a mother's kisses and a mother's love. "Go +away, Adolphe, you are very naughty, and I do not love you; +mamma always kisses you, and she never, never kisses me!" This +little speech, uttered by our poor saintly Superior when she +was but eight years old, may perhaps give the key to much in +her after life; and if we cannot, with an admiring sisterhood, +henceforth count this unhappy, soured woman in our catalogue +of saints, we will at least grant her a place amongst the +great company of "might-have-beens," most inscrutable problems +in this puzzling life of ours, and so bid her a not unkindly +farewell. + +Madelon, meanwhile, knew nothing of these things; she had +taken the fever also, and while death was busy in other parts +of the convent, she lay unconscious in her little cell, +tossing in delirium, or lying in feverish stupor, with Soeur +Lucie coming softly in and out. In this desolated overworked +household, the child had come to be considered as only another +item of trouble, hardly of anxiety; for her life or death just +then was felt to be of the very smallest consequence to any +one. The one tie that had bound her to the convent had been +snapped by her aunt's death; if she lives, think the nuns--if +indeed they find time to think of her at all--she is a burthen +on our hands; if she dies, well then, one more coffin and +another grave. This is perhaps the ebb-tide of Madelon's +importance in the world; never before has been, never again +will be, we may trust, her existence of so little moment to +any human being--that existence which, meanwhile, in spite of +all such indifference, in perfect unconsciousness of it +indeed, is beginning to assert itself again. For though the +Superior had died amidst lamentations, and the places of Soeurs +Eulalie and Marguerite will know them no more, our little +Madelon, over whom there are none to lament or rejoice, will +live. + +One afternoon she awoke, as from a long sleep. The low sun was +shining into the cell, lighting up the wooden crucifix on the +white-washed wall; Soeur Lucie, in her strait coif and long +black veil, was sitting by the bedside reading her book of +hours; through the window could be seen a strip of blue sky +crossed by some budding tree in the convent garden, little +birds were beginning to chirp and twitter amongst the +branches. The spring had come in these last days whilst +Madelon had been lying there, and in the midst of the glad +resurrection of all nature, she too was stirring and awakening +to consciousness, and a new life. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +Madelon overhears a Conversation. + + +Amidst the springing flowers, the twitter of pairing birds, +and the bursting of green leaves through the brown, downy +husks, in the bounteous April weather, Madelon began to +recover rapidly. She was nursed with kindness and care, if not +exactly with tenderness, by Soeur Lucie; but tenderness our +little black sheep had long since learnt not to expect in the +convent, and she hardly missed it now. It was in the first +days of her convalescence that she heard of the death of her +aunt Therese, through some chance remark of one of the Sisters +who came into her cell. Had it not been for this, they would +have kept it from her longer; but the news scarcely affected +her at all. Her aunt had shown her no affection in these last +two years that they had lived under the same roof, and, on the +few occasions on which Madelon had come in contact with her, +the pale, cold face, and severe manner of the nun had inspired +her niece with a dread, which only lacked opportunity to +become a more active dislike. She heard the news then with +apathy, and was still too languid and weak to think of the +loss in reference to herself, or to realise that, so far as +she knew, she had now no relation in the world. Nor did such +realization come at once, even when she grew stronger; her +aunt had counted for so little in her present mode of life, +that it did not occur to her that her death might bring any +possible change into it; indeed, as we have said, she had +ceased to look for any immediate change. Monsieur Horace had +brought her to the convent, and Soeur Lucie took care of her +there, and so she supposed matters would go on for the +present. + +If, however, the news of her aunt's death affected her but +little, it was quite otherwise with another conversation that +she overheard a few days later, and which, indeed, was not +meant for her ears either. She had awakened one evening from a +long, sound sleep, and was lying quietly in the dusk, dreamily +wondering how soon she should make up her mind to arouse +herself and take the medicine that she knew awaited her as +soon as she should declare herself awake, when Soeur Ursule +entered the room. She had come with some message to Soeur +Lucie, and when it was delivered, stood chatting a few minutes +by the window where Soeur Lucie sat knitting. She was a gaunt, +brisk, elderly woman, who had been governess in a large +school, before an opportune legacy had enabled her to fulfil +her dearest wish and enter the convent, where, with fresh zeal +and energy, she resumed the duties most congenial to her, as +teacher and superintendent of the school. Thoroughly devout +and conscientious, and with a kind heart _au fond_, she +nevertheless brought with her into her new sphere all the +habits and modes of thought acquired during a long struggle +with a very hard, secular world--a practical turn of mind, +verging on hardness, a dictatorial manner, a certain opinion- +activeness, which still showed itself now and then in oddest +contrast with the habitual submission demanded of a nun. + +"She looks better this evening," she said now, nodding towards +the bed where Madelon lay with her eyes still closed. + +"Yes, yes, she is getting on; I shall have her up to-morrow, I +hope," answered Soeur Lucie, with some natural pride in this +specimen of successful nursing. + +"Ah, well--she could have been better spared though, than some +that are gone," answered the other; "but no doubt it is all +for the best. Not but that I am glad that the child is +recovering--still we shall certainly find her a great burthen +on our hands." + +"It is true, then," cried Soeur Lucie, "what I heard Soeur Marie +saying--that our sainted mother had bequeathed her to the care +of the convent, and left directions that she is to take the +veil as soon as she is old enough." + +"Yes, it is true enough, and, as I was saying, all is no doubt +for the best; otherwise it is really a great charge for us to +have a child of that age on our hands to bring up." + +"But that was just my case," replied Soeur Lucie simply. "I +have not been out of the convent for more than six months +since I was ten years old, as you know, Soeur Ursule." + +"You, _ma Soeur!_ That was quite a different matter; every one +knows what a marked vocation you had even in your childhood, +and how willingly you devoted your fortune, and resigned all +worldly hopes--whereas this little one has always been the most +tiresome child in the class, and, moreover, will have to live +at the expense of the convent." + +"That is true," said Soeur Lucie reflecting; "I never heard +that she had any money, and of course people cannot live for +nothing." + +"She has not a sou--you may depend upon it," said Soeur Ursule +emphatically; "she brought nothing with her when she came." + +"Nothing!" cried Soeur Lucie. + +"Or so little, that it must all be gone by this time. I really +do not see how it can be arranged--Soeurs Marie and Catherine +settled it with our late sainted Superior, and I think even +they are beginning to repent a little, for they were talking +only this morning of all the expense we have had lately." + +"Poor child," murmured Soeur Lucie, who had no unkindly +feelings towards her little charge, "there is surely enough +for one more." + +"That is all very well, _ma Soeur_, but an extra person is an +extra person, as we all know. We might keep the child for a +time out of charity, but when there is a question of her +taking the vows, and living here always, it is another matter +altogether. It has not been the custom in our house to receive +sisters without _dots_, and it will never do--never; but of +course our sainted mother knew best, and my opinion was not +asked, though it might have been as well worth having as that +of some others." + +"Poor child," said good little Soeur Lucie again, looking +towards the bed; "and she has improved very much lately, don't +you think so, _ma Soeur?_" + +"Oh, yes, she has improved, no doubt; it would be astonishing +if she had not, after being here more than two years; but that +is not the question. However, I must be going," she added, "I +have a hundred things to do before vespers. And the border for +that altar-cloth will be ready by the end of the month, you +think?" + +"I hope so," answered Soeur Lucie. "Madelon shall help me as +soon as she is strong enough again; she can embroider quite +nicely now." + +"So much the better; she will have to do plenty by-and-by, and +make herself useful if she is to stay here." + +Soeur Ursule left the room as she spoke, and Soeur Lucie, with +her knitting in her lap, sat meditating in the darkness. +Presently a restless movement in the bed roused her. "Are you +awake, Madelon?" she said softly. + +No answer, only another toss, and a sort of long sigh. Soeur +Lucie rose, lighted a candle, measured out some medicine, and +then with the glass in one hand, and the light in the other, +she came to the bedside. Madelon was lying with her back +towards her, her arms flung over her head, her face buried in +the pillow. She did not move, and Soeur Lucie touched her +gently. + +"It is time to take your medicine, mon enfant," she said. + +Madelon turned round then, and taking the glass, drank off the +contents without a word; as she gave it back to the nun, +something in her face or expression, fairly startled the +little sister. + +"Why, whatever is the matter, _mon enfant?_" she cried, "you +must have been dreaming, I think." + +"No, I have not been dreaming," answered Madelon; and then, as +the nun turned away to put the glass and candle on the table, +she caught hold of her gown with all the strength of which her +feeble fingers were capable. + +"Don't go, please don't go, Soeur Lucie," she said, "I want to +speak to you." + +"In a moment; I am not going," answered the sister. "Well, +what is it, _ma petite?_" she added, coming back to the bedside. + +"What--what was it Soeur Ursule was saying to you just now?" +asks Madelon. + +"Just now!" cried Soeur Lucie, taken aback; "why, I thought you +were asleep." + +"No, I was not asleep," Madelon answered, "I only had my eyes +shut." + +"But that is very naughty, _mon enfant_, to pretend to be asleep +when you are awake." + +"I didn't pretend," said Madelon aggrieved, "only I hadn't +opened my eyes, and I could not help hearing what you said." + +"Ah well, if you heard, there is no use in my telling you," +says Soeur Lucie, who was not at all above using that +imperfect, but irrefragable, logic familiar to us from our +nurseries; "so you had better go to sleep again, for I cannot +stop here any longer. Let me smoothe your pillow." + +"No," said Madelon, escaping from her hands with an impatient +toss. "Ah, don't go away yet," she added piteously. "Was it +true what Soeur Ursule said about me?" + +"About you, _mon enfant?_" + +"Yes, about me--that I was to become a nun." + +"Ah!" said Soeur Lucie, with the air of being suddenly +enlightened, "yes--yes, I suppose so, since she said it. Now I +must go, and do you go to sleep." + +"No, no," cried Madelon, raising herself in the bed and +stretching out both arms after Soeur Lucie's retreating figure. +"Ah, Soeur Lucie, don't leave me. I can't be a nun; don't let +them make me a nun!" + +There was something so pitiful and beseeching in her accent, +something so frail-looking in the little, white, imploring +hands, that Soeur Lucie's heart was touched. She came back +again. + +"_Ecoute_, Madelon," she said, "you will be ill again to-morrow +if you talk so much; lie down now, and tell me what it is you +want. No one is going to make you a nun now, you know." + +"No, not now, but by-and-by. Is it true that Aunt Therese said +I was to be made one?" + +"Yes, that is true enough, I believe; but there is nothing to +be unhappy about in that," answered Soeur Lucie, who naturally +looked at things from a different point of view than +Madelon's. "There are many girls who would be glad of such a +chance; for you see, _mon enfant_, it is only because nothing +could be refused to our late sainted Superior, that it has +been arranged at all." + +"Soeur Ursule said I should be a burthen," answered Madelon. "I +don't want to be a burthen; I only want to go away. Ah! why do +you keep me? I am miserable here; I always have been, and I +always shall be--always." + +"But that is foolish," replied Soeur Lucie, "for you will be +very happy--far happier than you could ever be out in the +world, _ma petite;_ it is full of snares, and temptations, and +wickedness, that never can come near us here. Look at me; I +was no older than you when I first came here, and never has +girl been happier, I believe. No, no, Madelon," she went on, +with a good-natured wish to make things pleasant, "you will +stay with us, and be our child, and we will take care of you." + +"I don't want you to take care of me!" cries Madelon, the +burning tears starting painfully to her eyes. "I hate +convents, and I hate nuns, and it is wicked and cruel to keep +me here!" + +"Am I cruel and wicked? Do you hate me?" said Soeur Lucie, +rather aggrieved in her turn. + +"No, no," cried Madelon, with compunction, and throwing her +arms round Soeur Lucie's neck; "you are very kind, Soeur Lucie, +and you won't let them make me a nun, will you? You will tell +them all that I should be miserable--ah! I should die, I know I +should!" + +"Well, well, we will not talk about it any more to-night. As +for me, I have nothing to do with it--nothing; but I cannot +have you make yourself ill with chattering; so now let me put +your pillow straight, and then you must go to sleep as fast as +you can." + +With a final shake of the pillow and arrangement of the bed- +clothes, Soeur Lucie went away, leaving Madelon, not to sleep, +but to lie broad awake, framing the most dismal little +pictures of the future. And was this to be the end of it all, +then?--the end of her vague dreams, her undefined hopes, which, +leaping over a dim space of intervening years, had rested on a +future of indefinite brightness lying somewhere outside these +convent walls? Ah, was all indeed at an end? Never to pass +these dull walls again, never to see anything but these dreary +rooms,--all her life to be one unvarying, relentless routine, +day after day, year after year--to be forced to teach stupid +children, like Soeur Ursule, or to make jam and embroider +alter-cloths, like Soeur Lucie, to say such long prayers, and +to wear such ugly dresses, thinks poor Madelon, with a queer +jumble of the duties and obligations of a nun's life. Ah! what +would be the use of getting well and strong again, if that +were all that life had in store for her? "Why did I not die?" +thinks the poor child, tossing restlessly from side to side. +"I wish I was dead! Ah! why did I not die? I wish I had never +been born!" To her, as to all inexperienced minds, life +appeared as a series of arbitrary events, rather than as a +chain of dependent circumstances ceaselessly modifying each +other, and she could not conceive the possibility of any +gradual change of position being brought about in the slow +course of years. The long succession of grey, weary days, +which she had lately taught herself to consider as a path that +must be traversed, but which would still lead ultimately to a +future of most supreme happiness, suddenly seemed to terminate +in a grave black as death itself, from which there could be no +escape. "If papa were here," thinks Madelon, "he would never +allow it; he would never leave me in this horrible place, he +would take me away. Oh! papa, papa, why did you die?" And +burying her face in the pillow, she began to sob and cry in +her weakness and despair. + +But this last thought of her father had suggested a new set of +ideas and memories to Madelon, and by-and-by she stopped +crying, and began to think again, confusedly at first, but +presently with a more definite purpose gradually forming +itself in the darkness of her bewildered thoughts. Has she not +promised her father never to become a nun? Perhaps he had +thought of something like this happening, and that was why he +had made her promise, and of course she must keep her word. +But how is she to do that? wonders Madelon. If Monsieur Horace +were here, indeed, he might help her. Ah, if Monsieur Horace +was but here! Should she write to him, and tell him how +unhappy she was, and ask him to come and take her away? He had +given her his English address, and told her to be sure and let +him know, if she were in any trouble, or wanted any help. "But +then," thinks our foolish little Madelon, with the most +quixotic notions busy in her tired little brain, "I have not +done what I said I would, and he will think, perhaps, I want +to break my word." Alas, must that grand surprise that was to +have been prepared for him, all those fine schemes, and plans, +and projects, must they all fall to the ground? Was she never, +never to show him how much she loved him? And yet, if they +made her a nun, how could she do it all? He would never have +his fortune made then, though she had promised to do it, and +he would think she had forgotten him, and cared nothing about +him. So wearily did Madelon's mind revolve, dwelling most of +all on that promise made so long ago; and as she realized the +possibility of her never being able to fulfil it at all, she +became possessed with a feverish desire to get up that very +moment and set about it. If--if--ah, supposing she were to run +away--Aunt Therese is not here now, and she would not be afraid +of the other nuns finding her, she would hide herself too well +for that--supposing she were to run away, go to Spa, make the +fortune, and then write to Monsieur Horace? Would not that be +an idea? + +When Soeur Lucie came in an hour later, to look after Madelon, +she found her fast asleep; the traces of tears were still on +her cheeks, and the pillow and bedclothes were all disarranged +and tossed about again, but she was lying quite quietly now. +Soeur Lucie stood for a moment, looking down upon the child's +white face, that had grown so small and thin. Her hair had +been all cut off during her illness, and curled in soft brown +rings all over her head, as when she was a little child, and +indeed there was something most childlike in the peaceful +little face, which had a look of repose that it seldom wore +when the wistful brown eyes were open, with their expression +of always longing and seeking for something beyond their ken. +Somehow Soeur Lucie was touched with a sudden feeling of +unwonted tenderness for her little charge. "_Pauvre petite_," +she murmured, gently raising one hand that hung over the side +of the bed, and smoothing back a stray lock of hair. Madelon +opened her eyes for a moment; "Monsieur Horace," she said, "I +have not forgotten, I--I will----" and then she turned away and +fell sound asleep again. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +The Red Silk Purse. + + +It was about three weeks later, that Madelon was sitting one +evening at her bed-room window; it was open, and the breeze +blew in pleasantly, bringing with it the faint scent of early +roses and lingering violets. In the garden below, lengthening +shadows fell across the cherished centre square of grass, the +trees were all golden-green in the western sunlight; black- +veiled Sisters were walking about breaking the stillness with +their voices and laughter; along the convent wall the vines +were shooting and spreading their long tender sprays, and on +the opposite side a great westeria was shedding showers of +lilac blossoms with every breath of wind amongst the shrubs +and evergreens below. + +Madelon, sitting forward on her chair, her chin propped on her +hands, her embroidery lying in her lap, saw and heeded none of +these things; her eyes were fixed dreamily on the sky, but her +thoughts were by no means dreamy, very intent rather upon one +idea which she was endeavouring to rescue from the region of +dreams and vagueness, and set before her with a distinctness +that should ensure a practical result. This idea, which indeed +was no new one, but simply that of running away from the +convent, which had first occurred to her three weeks before, +had presented itself with more assurance to her mind during +every day of her convalescence; and now that she was nearly +well again, it was fast becoming an unalterable resolution. +There were difficulties in the way--she was considering them +now--but she knew she should be able to overcome them; we say +advisedly; she _knew_ it, for the child already recognized in +herself an unwavering strength of mind and purpose, which +assured her that no foreseen obstacles could stand between her +and any fixed end that she proposed to herself; as for +unforeseen ones--our small-experienced Madelon did not take +them into account at all. + +It was not that she was a prodigy compounded of nothing but +firmness, and resolution, and obstinacy, this little slender +girl, who sat there in the evening sunlight, puzzling out her +plan; there were plenty of weak points in her character, which +would perhaps make themselves sufficiently apparent in years +to come. But these at least she possessed--a persistency of +purpose in whatever she undertook, on which she could +confidently rely, and a certain courage and independence that +promised to carry her successfully through all difficulties; +and these things are, I think, as the charmed cakes that the +Princess carried to the enchanted castle, and wherewith she +tamed the great lions that tried to oppose her entrance. +Madelon sees before her a very fair enchanted castle, lying +outside these convent walls--even something like a Prince to +rescue--and she will not fail to provide herself with such +charms as lie within her reach, to appease any possible +menagerie that may be lying between her and it. + +She had already sketched out a little scheme whereby she might +redeem the two promises which, lying latent in her mind for +these two years past, had suddenly sprung into such abnormal +activity, and, in the limited circle of her small past, +present and future, monopolized at once her memories, and +energies, and hopes. She must get out of the convent--that was +evidently the first thing to be done; and this safely +accomplished, the path of action seemed tolerably clear. She +would make her way to Spa, which, as she well knew, was not +far off, and go to an hotel there, which her father had +frequented a good deal, and where there was a good-natured +landlady, who had always petted and made much of the little +lonely child, once at Spa-- but here Madelon's plans assumed a +bright and dazzling aspect, which, undimmed by any prophetic +mist, unshaded by any foreboding cloud, almost deprived them +of that distinctness so requisite for their calm and impartial +consideration. All the difficulties seemed to lie on the road +between the convent and the Redoute at Spa; once there, there +could be no doubt but that this fortune, which she was pledged +in her poor little foolish idea to obtain, would be made in no +time at all. She could perfectly figure to herself the piles +of notes and gold that would flow in upon her; and how she +would then write to Monsieur Horace at the address he had +given her; and then Madelon had in her own mind a distinct +little picture of herself, pouring out a bag of gold at +Monsieur Horace's feet, with a little discourse, which there +was still time enough to compose! + +But it could not be denied that there were two formidable +obstacles standing between her and this so brilliant +consummation; first, that she was not yet out of the convent, +and that there was no perfectly obvious means of getting out; +secondly, that she had no money. The former of these +objections did not, however, appear absolutely insurmountable. +Just beneath her window the wall was covered with a tangle of +vines, and jessamine, and climbing roses; to a slim active +child, with an unalterable purpose, the descent of even twenty +feet of wall with so much friendly assistance might have +seemed not unfeasible; but, in fact, Madelon's window was +raised hardly ten feet above the flower-bed below. Once in the +garden, there was, as in most old garden walls, a corner where +certain displaced bricks would afford a sufficient footing, +aided by the wide-spreading branches of the great westeria, +and the tough shoots of clinging ivy. The wall was not high; +what might be its aspect on the other side she was not +certain, though she had an unpleasant haunting memory of a +smooth, white-washed surface; but once on the top, it would be +hard indeed if she could not get down; and then, as she knew, +there was only a field to be crossed, and she would find +herself in the highroad leading from Liege to Chaudfontaine, +and so through Pepinster to Spa. No, getting out of the +convent was not the difficulty. It would be easier, certainly, +if one could walk out at the front door; but this being a +possibility not to be calculated upon, two walls should not +stand in the way. The real problem, of which even Madelon's +sanguine mind saw no present solution, was how to get on +without money, or rather how to procure any. She had none, not +even a centime, and she was well aware that her fortune could +in no wise be procured without some small invested capital: +and besides, how was she to get to Spa at all without money? +Could she walk there? Her ideas of the actual distance were +too vague for her to make such a plan with any certainty; and +besides, the chances of her discovery and capture by the nuns +(chances too horribly unpleasing, and involving too many +unknown consequences for Madelon to contemplate them with +anything but a shudder), would be multiplied indefinitely by +so slow a method of proceeding. Certainly this question of +money was a serious one, and it was this that Madelon was +revolving, as she sat gazing at the golden sunset sky, when +she was startled by a sudden rumbling and tumbling in the +corridor; in another moment the door was burst open, and Soeur +Lucie and another sister appeared, dragging between them a +corded trunk, of the most secular appearance, which had +apparently seen many places, for it was pasted all over with +half-effaced addresses and illustrated hotel advertisements. + +Madelon gave a little cry and sprang forward; she knew the box +well, and had brought it with her to Liege, but had never seen +it since then till to-day. It was like a little bit of her +former life suddenly revived, and rescued from the past years +with which so much was buried. + +"This is yours apparently, Madeleine," said Soeur Lucie, her +broad, good-humoured face illumined with a smile at the +child's eagerness; "the sight of it has done you good, I +think; it is long since you have looked so gay." + +"Yes, it is mine," cried Madelon; "where had it been all this +time, Soeur Lucie?" + +"Soeur Marie and I were clearing out a room downstairs, and we +found it pushed away in a corner, so we thought we had better +bring it up for you to see what was in it." + +"I know," said Madelon, "it was a trunk of mamma's; there are +some things of hers put away in it, I think. I never saw them, +for we did not take it about with us everywhere; but I brought +it with me from Paris, and I suppose Aunt Therese put it +away." + +"Our sainted Superior doubtless knew best," said Soeur Lucie, +with a ready faith, which was capable, however, of adjusting +itself to meet altered circumstances, "but we are clearing out +that room below, which we think of turning into another store- +room; we have not half space enough for our confitures as it +is, and another large order has arrived to-day. And so, +Madeleine, we had better see of there is anything in the box +you wish to keep, and then it can be sent away. We shall +perhaps find some clothes that can be altered for you." + +"Yes," said Madelon, on whom, in spite of her new schemes and +resolutions, that little sentence about sending the box away +had a chilling effect; it was like cutting off another link +between her and the world. Soeur Lucie went down on her knees +and began to uncord the trunk. + +"Here is the key tied to it," she said; "now we shall see." + +She raised the lid as she spoke, but at that moment a bell +began to ring. + +"That is for vespers," she cried, "we must go; Madeleine, in a +few days you will be able to come to the chapel again; to- +night you can stay and take out these things. Ah, just as I +thought--there are clothes," she added, taking a hurried peep, +and then followed Soeur Marie out of the room. + +Madelon approached the box with a certain awe mixed with her +curiosity. It was quite true that she had never seen what it +contained; she only knew that it had been her mother's, and +that various articles belonging to her had been put away in it +after her death. It had never been opened since, to her +knowledge; her father had once told her that she might have +the contents one day when she was a big girl, but that was all +she knew about it. + +Madelon had no very keen emotion respecting the mother she had +never known; her father had spoken of her so seldom, and +everything in connection with her had so completely dropped +out of sight, that there had been no scope for the +imaginative, shadowy adoration with which children who have +early lost their mother are wont to regard her memory; her +father had been everything to her, and of her mother's brother +she had none but unpleasant recollections. But now, for the +first time, she was brought face to face with something that +had actually been her mother's, and it was with a sort of +instinctive reverence that she went up to the box and took out +one thing after another. There was some faint scent pervading +them all, which ever afterwards associated itself in Madelon's +mind with that hour in the narrow room and gathering twilight. + +There was nothing apparently of the smallest value in the +trunk. Any trinkets that Madame Linders might once have +possessed had been parted with long before her death; and +anything else that seemed likely to produce money had been +sold afterwards. Here were nothing but linen clothes, which, +as Soeur Lucie had hinted, might be made available for Madelon; +a shawl, and a cloak of an old-fashioned pattern, a few worn +English books, with the name "Magdalen Moore" written on the +fly-leaf, at which Madelon looked curiously; a half-empty +workbox, and two or three gowns. Amongst these was a well-worn +black silk, lying almost at the bottom of the trunk; and +Madelon, taking it out, unfolded it with some satisfaction at +the thought of seeing it transformed into a garment for +herself. As she did so, she perceived that some things had +been left in the pocket. It had probably been the last gown +worn by Madame Linders, and after her death, in the hurry and +confusion that had attended the packing away of her things, +under Monsieur Linders' superintendence, it had been put away +with the rest without examination. + +A cambric handkerchief was the first thing Madelon pulled out, +and, as she did so, a folded paper fluttered on to the ground. +She picked it up, and took it to the window to examine it. It +was the fragment of a half-burned letter, a half sheet of +foreign paper closely written in a small, clear hand; but only +a fragment, for there was neither beginning nor ending. It was +in English, but Madelon remembered enough of the language to +make out the meaning, and this was what she read in the fading +light. + +It began abruptly thus:-- + +"... cannot come to me, and that I must not come to you, that it +would do no good, and that M. Linders would not like it. Well, +I must admit, I suppose, but if you could imagine, Magdalen, +how I long to see your face, to hear your voice again! It is +hard to be parted for so long, and I weary, oh, how I weary +for you sometimes. To think that you are unhappy, and that I +cannot comfort you; that you also sometimes wish for me, and +that I cannot come to you--all this seems at times very hard to +bear. I think sometimes that to die for those we love would be +too easy a thing; to suffer for them and with them--would not +that be better? And I do suffer with you in my heart--do you +not believe it? But of what good is it? it cannot remove one +pang or lighten your burthen for a single moment. This is +folly, you will say; well, perhaps it is; you know I like to +be sentimental sometimes, and I am in just such a mood to- +night. Is it folly too to say, that after all the years since +we parted, I still miss you? and yet so it is. Sometimes +sitting by the fire of an evening, or looking out at the +twilight garden, I seem to hear a voice and a step, and half +expect to see my pretty Maud--you tell me you are altered, but +I cannot realize it, and yet, of course, you must be; we are +both growing old women now--we two girls will never meet again. +Don't laugh at me if I tell you a dream I had last night; I +dreamt that..." Below these words the page had been destroyed, +but there was more written on the other side, and Madelon read +on: + +"... no doubt tired of all this about my love and regrets and +sympathy, and you have heard it all before, have you not? Only +believe it, Magdalen, for it comes from my heart. I think +sometimes from your letters that you doubt it, that you doubt +me; never do that--trust me when I say that my love for you is +a part of myself, that can only end with life and +consciousness. Well, let us talk of something else. I am so +glad to hear that your baby thrives; it was good of you to +wish to give it my name, but your husband was quite right in +saying it should be called Madeleine after you, and I shall +love it all the better. I already feel as if I had a +possession in it, and if big Maud will not come to me, why +then I shall have to put up with little Maud, and insist on +her coming to pay me a visit some day. But you must come too, +Magdalen; your room is all ready for you, it has been prepared +ever since I came into this house, and if I could see your +baby in the little empty bed in my nursery I think it would +take away some of the heartache that looking at it gives me. I +am writing a dismal letter instead of a cheery one, such as I +ought to send you in your solitude; but the rain it is +raining, and the wind it is blowing, and when all looks so +gray and forlorn outside, one is apt to be haunted by the +sound of small feet and chattering voices; you also, do you +not know what that is? I am alone too, to-day, for Hor..." + +Here the sentence broke off abruptly; the edges of the paper +were all charred and brown; one could fancy that the letter +had been condemned to the flames, and then that this page had +been rescued, as if the possessor could not bear to part with +all the loving words. + +It was like a sigh from the past. Still holding the paper in +her hand, Madelon leant her head against the window-frame and +looked out. The sun had set, the trees were blowing about, +black against the clear pale yellow of the evening sky, +overhead stars were shining faintly here and there, the wind +was sighing and scattering the faint-scented petals of the +over-blown roses. Half unconsciously, Madelon felt that the +scene, the hour, were in harmony with the pathos of the brown, +faded words, like a chord struck in unison with the key-note +of a mournful song. As she gazed, the tears began to gather in +her eyes; she tried to read the letter again, and the big +drops fell on the paper, already stained with other tears that +had been dried ever so many years ago. But it was already too +dark, she could hardly see the words; she laid the paper down +and began to cry. + +It was not the first part of the letter that moved her so +much, though there was something in her that responded to the +devoted, loving words; but she had not the key to their +meaning. She knew nothing of her mother's life, nor of her +causes for unhappiness; and for the moment she did not draw +the inferences that to an older and more experienced person +would have been at once obvious. It was the allusion to +herself that was making Madelon cry with a tender little self- +pity. The child was so weary of the convent, was feeling so +friendless and so homeless just then, that this mention of the +little empty bed that sometime and somewhere had been prepared +and waiting to receive her, awoke in her quite a new longing, +such as she had never had before, for a home and a mother, and +kind protection and care, like other children. When at last +she folded the letter up, it was to put it carefully away in +the little box that contained her few treasures. It belonged +to a life in which she somehow felt she had some part, though +it lay below the horizon of her own memories and +consciousness. + +Only then, as Madelon prepared to put back the things that she +had taken out of the trunk, did it occur to her to look if +anything else remained in the pocket of the black silk gown. +There was not much--only a half-used pencil, a small key, and a +faded red silk netted purse. There was money in this last--at +one end a few sous and about six francs in silver, at the +other twenty francs in gold. + + +CHAPTER X. + +Out of the Convent. + + +"I think you might very well come down to vespers to-night, +_mon enfant_," said Soeur Lucie one evening about a week later. + +"To-night!" said Madelon, starting. + +"Yes; why not? You are quite well and strong enough now, and +we must set to work again. I think you have been idle long +enough, and we can't begin better than by your coming to +chapel this evening." + +Madelon was silent and dismayed. Ever since she had found the +money her project of flight had become a question of time +only, and it was precisely this hour of vespers she had fixed +on as the only one possible for her escape: the nuns would all +be in the chapel, and, once outside the convent, the +increasing darkness would favour her. + +"Ah, not to-night, Soeur Lucie, please," she said, in a +faltering voice; "I--I am tired--I have been in the garden all +the afternoon;--that is, I am not tired; but I don't want to +come down to-night." + +"Well, I will let you off this one evening," said Soeur Lucie, +good-naturedly; "though you used to be fond of coming to +vespers, and certainly I don't think you can be very tired +with sitting in the garden. However, we must begin work +regularly to-morrow; so you had better go to bed at once, and +get well rested. Good night, _ma petite_." + +"Good-night," said Madelon; and then, as Soeur Lucie turned to +leave the room, she felt a sudden pang of self-reproach. She +was deceiving the good-humoured, simple little sister, who had +been kind to her after her own fashion; and she was going +away, and would never see her any more. She thought she would +like to have one more kind word from her, as she could not +wish her good-bye. + +"Do you love me, Soeur Lucie?" she said, flinging her arms +round her neck. + +"To be sure, _mon enfant_," answers Soeur Lucie, with some +astonishment; then, hastening to add the qualifying clause by +which so many worthy people take care to proclaim that their +love is human, and not divine, "that is, when you are good, +you know, and do what you are told." + +"Ah," said Madeleine, relaxing her hold, "then if I were to do +something you thought very naughty, you would not love me any +more?" + +"Indeed, I don't know. You are not going to be naughty, I +hope?" answered the nun; "but I can't wait any longer now. +Make haste, and go to bed quietly." + +She hurried out of the room as she spoke. Madelon listened +till the sound of her footsteps died away; and then, without a +moment's further pause or hesitation, began pulling together a +few things into a small bundle. She had no time to waste in +vain regrets: what she had to do must be done quickly, or not +at all. A dozen windows overlooked the garden, and presently +the nuns would be returning to their cells, and her chances +would be over. Even now it was possible that one or another +might have been detained from the chapel, but that she must +risk; better that, she thought, than to wait till later, when +a prolonged vigil or a wakeful sister might be the cause of +frustrating all her hopes and plans. She had no fear of her +flight being discovered before the morning. Since her illness +she had always gone to bed early, and Soeur Lucie never did +anything more than put her head in at the door, on her way to +her own room, which was in a different part of the building, +to see that all was dark and quiet; and if Madelon did not +speak, would go away at once, satisfied that she was asleep. + +The chapel bell was still ringing as she went swiftly about +her few preparations, but it had ceased by the time the small +bundle was made up, and Madelon, in her hat and cloak, stood +ready to depart. She had laid all her plans in her own mind, +and knew exactly what she meant to do. She had decided that +she would walk to Chaudfontaine; she knew that she had only to +follow the highroad to get there, and the distance she thought +could not be very great, for she remembered having once walked +it with her father years ago. To be sure she had been very +tired, but she had been only a little girl then, and could do +much better now; and it appeared to her this would be simpler +and better than going into Liege to find the railway-station, +of whose situation she had no very distinct idea, and where +she might have to wait all night for a train, thus doubling +her chances of detection. She would rather walk the five or +six miles to Chaudfontaine during the night, and take the +first morning train to Pepinster and Spa; once there, there +could of course be no further difficulties. + +She stood at the window now, ready to take the first step. She +had on the old black silk gown, in which Soeur Lucie's skilful +fingers had already made the necessary alterations, a black +cloth cloak, and a little round hat and veil. She had grown a +good deal during her illness, and the idea of height was aided +by the straight black skirt, which, reaching to her ankles, +gave her a quaint, old-fashioned air. She had her bundle on +her arm, but there was still a moment of irresolution, as she +looked for the last time round the little whitewashed room. It +appeared to her that she was going to do something so +dreadfully naughty. Our Madelon had not lived so long in a +convent atmosphere, without imbibing some of the convent ideas +and opinions, and she was aware that in the eyes of the nuns +there were few offences so heinous as that which she was going +to commit. "But I am not a nun yet," thinks the poor child, +clasping and unclasping her hands in her perplexity, and +struggling with the conscience-stricken sense of naughtiness, +which threatened at this last moment to overpower all her +foregone conclusions, and disconcert her in spite of herself-- +"I am not a nun yet, so it cannot be so very wrong in me; and +then there is Monsieur Horace----" and with the thought of him +all Madelon's courage returned. The rush of associations +linking his name with a hundred aspirations, hopes, plans, +which had become a habit of mind with her, revived in full +force, and with these came a sudden realization of the +imminent nature of the present opportunity, which, if lost, +might never return. + +The next moment she had dropped her bundle on the flower-bed +below, and was scrambling out of the low window, clinging to +the window-sill, catching hold of tough stems and pliant +branches, crashing down through twigs, and leaves, and +flowers, on to the ground beneath. Could these convent-trained +vines and roses have known what daring little culprit was +amongst them, would they have cried aloud for aid, I wonder, +stretching out thorny sprays, and twining tendrils, to catch +and detain her prisoner?--or would they not rather, in their +sweet liberty of air, and dew, and sunshine, have done their +best to help forward this poor little captive in her flight, +aiding her in her descent, and shielding her from all prying +eyes with their leafy branches, their interlacing sprays of +red buds, and soft, faint flowers? + +But they paid no heed one way or the other, and Madelon, with +not a few scratches on her hands, and more that one rent in +her frock, was safely on the ground. It was all the work of a +moment; in another she had caught up her bundle, and was +darting over the lawn, across the twilit garden, as if the +whole sisterhood were in pursuit. Hardly knowing how she did +it, she clambered up the wall, through the big westeria, +reached the top, and slipping, sliding, found herself in the +pathway running round the outside, scratched, bruised, and +breathless, but without the walls, and so far free, at any +rate. Months afterwards she found some withered lilac-blossoms +lodged amongst the ribbons of her hat; how they recalled to +her the moment of that desperate rush and clamber, the faint, +dewy scent of the flowers, which she noticed even then, the +rustle and crash of the branches, which startled her as with +the sound of pursuing footsteps. + +Once outside, she paused for a moment to take breath, and be +certain that no one was following her. All was quiet, and in +the stillness she could hear, as once before, the voices of +the nuns singing in the chapel. Picking up her bundle again, +she walked quickly away, along the little weed-grown path at +the back of the building, down the slope of the ploughed +field, up which she had come with Horace Graham two years and +a half ago. In thinking over her journey beforehand, she had +decided that it would be unwise to be walking along the +highroad whilst there was still any daylight left, and that +she would hide herself somewhere till it should be quite dark, +before setting out on her walk to Chaudfontaine. So, as soon +as she had reached the bottom of the unsheltered slope, she +looked about for a place of refuge. She found it in a clump of +trees and bushes growing by the roadside; and creeping in +amongst them, our Madelon's slim little figure was very well +concealed amongst the shadows from any passer-by. Eight +o'clock had struck as she left the convent. "I will wait till +nine," she resolved. "An hour will not be very long, and it +will be quite dark by that time." And so she did wait, with +the most determined impatient patience, through an hour that +seemed as if it would never end, whilst the darkness fell, and +passing footsteps became more and more rare. At last she heard +the shrill-toned convent clock strike nine, and coming out of +her place of concealment, she began her journey in earnest. + +It was a dark, still, cloudy night. Above was the black mass +of the convent dimly defined against the sullen sky; she took +one glance at it before she bade it farewell; all was silent, +not a light shone from its windows, not a tree waved above the +surrounding walls. Behind her hung the great cloud of smoke +that ever darkens over the city of Liege. Here and there a +sudden glare illuminated the gloom of the surrounding hills; +it came from the furnaces of the great iron-foundries; before +her stretched the dusky road, between hedges and trees and +scattered houses, soon lost in the obscurity beyond. Not a +footstep could be heard, not a leaf rustled as Madelon and her +bundle emerged from their hiding-place; but the child felt no +alarm at the silence and solitude--the darkness and loneliness +of the road could not frighten her. Indeed she was naturally +of so courageous a temperament, and just then, through joy and +hope, of so brave a spirit, that it would have been only a +very real and present danger that could have alarmed her, and +she did not even dream if imaginary ones. She almost danced as +she went along, she felt so free and happy. "How glad I am to +have quitted the convent," she thought to herself; "how _triste_ +it was, how dismal! How can people exist who always, always +live there? They do not live, I think, they seem half dead +already. Aunt Therese, how mournful and cold she always +looked; she never smiled, she hardly ever spoke; she was not +alive as other people are. Soeur Lucie told me that she would +be a glorious saint in Heaven, and ten thousand times more +happy than if she had not lived in the convent; how does Soeur +Lucie know, I wonder? If so, she must have been glad to die--it +was, perhaps, for that, that she made herself so miserable, +that she might not dread death when it came; but that seems to +me a very foolish way of spending one's life. And if to be +like Aunt Therese was to be a saint, I am sure all the nuns +were not so. How they used to chatter and quarrel sometimes; +Soeur Marie would hardly speak to Soeur Lucie for a week, I +remember, because she said Soeur Lucie had made Aunt Therese +give her the best piece of embroidery to do, after it had been +promised to her. I do not believe that; I love Soeur Lucie, she +was always kind to me, and never quarrelled with any one. Oh! +even if I had not made that promise to papa, I could never, +never, have been a nun; I have done well in running away." + +She walked on for a long time, her thoughts running on the +scenes she had left behind, on the last two years of her life; +she had no remorse now, no regrets at their having come to an +end. To our lively, independent, excitable Madelon, they had, +as we know, been years of restraint, of penance, of utter +weariness; and never, perhaps, had she felt them to be so more +keenly than in these first moments of her release. But she +would have found them harder still without the memory of +Monsieur Horace, and her promise to him, to fill her heart and +imagination, and her thoughts reverted to him now; how, when +she had made his fortune, she would take it all to him; how he +would look, what he would say. This was a little picture the +child was never weary of imagining to herself. She filled it +in with a hundred different backgrounds, to suit the fancy of +the moment; she tinted it with the brightest colours. Out in +the vague future, into which no one can venture to look +without some point on which to rest the mind, this little +scene had gradually become at once the end of her present +hopes, the beginning of another life, of which, indeed, she +knew nothing, but that it lay in a sort of luminous haze of +success and happiness. She never doubted she would attain it; +it was not an affair of the imagination only, it was to be a +most certain reality; she had arranged it all in those long +weeks gone by, and now that the beginning was actually made, +she was ready to look at it from the most practical point of +view. Taking out her little purse, she began to count her +money for at least the fiftieth time, as she walked along in +the darkness. + +"I have here twenty-six francs," she said to herself; "out of +these, I must pay my journey to Spa. Why should I not go to +Spa on foot? It cannot be a very long way; I remember that +papa sometimes went backwards and forwards twice in the day +from Chaudfontaine. I have already come a great way, and I am +not in the lest fatigued. If I could do that, I should save a +great deal of money--not that I am afraid I shall not have +plenty without that; ten francs would be sufficient, but it +will be perhaps safer if I can keep fifteen. Let me see; I +must pay for my room at Spa. I wonder whether Madame Bertrand +is still the landlady at the Hotel de Madrid. Also I must have +some breakfast and some dinner; all this, however, will not +cost me ten francs. I imagine I could still take the train +from Chaudfontaine to Spa. Ah, I am getting very tired; I +wonder if I have much further to go. I think I must rest a +little while." + +Madelon, in fact, but lately recovered from her fever, and for +many months unused to much exercise, was in no sort of +condition for a six or seven miles' walk. She had started with +great courage, but it seemed to her that she had already been +on her journey quite an indefinite length of time, and that +she must be near the end, whilst in fact she had only +accomplished half the distance. She would sit down for a short +time, she thought, and then the rest would soon be +accomplished, and she looked about for a seat of some kind. +The road hitherto could hardly have been called lonely, for +houses had been scattered on either side, and part of the way +had led through a large village, where, from some uncurtained +window, from some cafe or restaurant, long gleams of light had +shot across the road, revealing for an instant the little +figure passing swiftly along, glad to hide again in the +obscurity beyond. But all this was left behind now, and as far +as she could make out, she was quite in the open country, +though in the darkness she could hardly distinguish objects +three yards off. She found a big stone however, before long, +and sitting down on it, leaning her head against a tree, in +five minutes the child was soundly asleep. + +How long she slept she never knew. Tired out, her repose was +at first profound and unconscious; but presently it began to +be haunted by confused dreams, in which past, present, and +future were mingled together. She dreamt that she was +wandering in some immense vaulted hall, where she had never +been before, and which yet resembled the refectory of the +convent; for long tables were spread as for the evening meal, +and in the twilight, black-robed nuns whose faces she could +never see, were gliding to and fro. And then, how or why she +did not know, they were no longer the deal tables of the +convent, with their coarse white cloths and earthenware +plates, but the long green tables of the Kursaal, with Aunt +Therese as croupier, and all the nuns pushing and raking the +piles of money backwards and forwards. She was amongst them, +and it seemed to her she had just won a great heap of gold; +but when she tried to get it, Aunt Therese, in the character +of croupier, refused to let her touch it. "It is mine; is it +not, papa?" she cried to somebody standing at her side; and +then looking up, saw it was Monsieur Horace; he did not speak, +but gazing at her for a moment, shook his head, and moved away +slowly into the gloom. And then the nuns and Aunt Therese also +seemed to vanish, and she was left alone with the tables and +the money, in the midst of which lay a long figure covered +with a sheet, as she had seen her father the night that he had +died. She did not think of that, however, but ran eagerly up +to the table to take her winnings, when the figure moved, a +hand was put out to seize the gold, and the sheet falling off, +Madelon recognized her dead father's face. + +With a shriek she awoke, and sprang up, shivering and +trembling with cold and fright--all the terrors of the night +suddenly come upon her. She looked round; all was as it had +been when she went to sleep; the lonely road, the dark fields, +the trees and hedges; but a breeze had sprung up before the +dawn, and was rustling the leaves and branches; overhead a +star or two was shining in dark rifts, and in the east a +melancholy waning moon was slowly rising, half obscured by +scattered clouds. With a sudden impulse, born of an urgent +sense of utter loneliness and helplessness, the child fell on +her knees and repeated an Ave Maria; the clouds drifted away, +and the low moon shone out between the trees with a pale glow, +that to our convent-taught Madelon seemed suddenly to +irradiate and transfigure the night with a glory not of earth. +Never in after years did she, in church or picture-gallery, +come across glorified Madonna, or saint floating in ethereal +spaces, without the memory returning to her of a silent road, +dark, rustling trees, a midnight sky swept with clouds; and +then a vision, as it were, of light and hope, giving new +strength and courage to one little terrified heart. + +Madelon started on her journey with renewed energy, but she +hardly knew how she got through the miles that remained. The +moon rose higher and higher, the road bordered with poplar- +trees seemed to stretch before and behind into a never-ending +length, as in some wearying nightmare. Madelon, in her +straight, old-fashioned silk frock, her bundle on her arm, +marching steadily on, looked nothing but a queer little black +speck, casting a long narrow shadow, as she passed from one +moon-lit space to another. Ever afterwards, when she looked +back upon that night, the whole seemed like some perplexed, +struggling dream, of which the waking reality appeared less +vivid than the visions that had haunted her sleep. Perhaps she +would have broken down altogether but for the friendly hints +of the coming day that presently began to show themselves. +There came a moment when the night grew more silent, and the +breeze more chilly, and the surrounding world more dim and +fantastic in the uncertain moonlight; and then the shadows +began to waver and grow confused, long streaks of light showed +themselves in the east, the moon grew fainter in the +brightening sky, the birds began to chirp and twitter in every +tree and bush. The night had vanished, and the horizon was all +aglow with the ruddy light of a new day, when Madelon turned +the last bend of the road, and saw before her the white +cottages, the big hotel, the stream and hills of +Chaudfontaine. + + +CHAPTER XI. + +The Countess G----. + + +No one was yet stirring in the little village, which, scarcely +emerged from the early twilight, lay still and silent, except +for the ceaseless, monotonous clang of the forges. Madelon was +tired out; she knew it was too early for any train to start +for Spa, and nothing better occurred to her than to sit down +and rest once more in a sheltered corner amongst some bushes +under a big hawthorn-tree growing on the bank of the river; +and in a few minutes she was again sound asleep, whilst the +mass of snowy blossoms above her head grew rosy in the +sunlight. + +It was broad daylight when she awoke again, and sat up rubbing +her eyes, and feeling very chilly, and stiff, and sleepy, but +with a quickly succeeding delight in the bright May morning, a +joyous sense of escape and freedom, of all that she had +accomplished already, and was going to accomplish on this day +to which she had looked forward so long. Everything looked +gold and blue in the early sunlight; the river danced and +sparkled, the poplar-trees were now green, now silvery-grey, +as they waved about in the breeze; the country people were +passing along the road, laughing and chattering gaily in their +queer _patois_. The dark night seemed to have vanished into +indefinite remoteness, like some incongruous dream, which, on +waking, one recalls with difficulty and wonder, in the midst +of bright familiar surroundings. The two years of convent +life, too, seemed to be slipping out of little Madelon's +existence, as if they had never been; she could almost fancy +she had been sleeping all these months, and had awakened to +find all the same--ah! no, not quite the same. Madelon had a +sharp little pang of grief as she thought of her father, and +then a glad throb of joy as she thought of Monsieur Horace--and +then she suddenly discovered that she was horribly hungry, +and, jumping up, she began to walk towards the village. + +Not fifty yards from where she had been sleeping stood the +hotel where she had so often stayed, and where she had first +met Horace Graham. There, too, everything was stirring and +awakening into activity--shutters being thrown back, windows +opened, the sunny courtyard swept out. Madelon stood still for +a moment looking on. She wondered whether her old friend, +Mademoiselle Cecile, was still there; she thought it would be +very pleasant to go in and see her, and have some breakfast in +the big _salle-a-manger_, with the pink and yellow paper roses, +and long rows of windows looking out into the courtyard and +garden. But then, she further reflected, breakfasting at an +hotel might probably cost a great deal of money, and she had +so little money to spare; so that on the whole it might be +better to see what she could find in a shop, and she walked +quickly up the village street. Chaudfontaine contains none of +the luxuries, and as few as possible of the necessaries of +life, which are for the most part supplied from Liege; but +sour bread is not unknown there, and Madelon having procured a +great, dark tough hunch for her sous, turned back towards the +hotel. She stood outside the iron railing, eating her bread, +and watching what was going on inside; the stir and small +bustle had a positive fascination for her, after her months of +seclusion in the convent. It brought back her old life with +the strangest vividness, joining on the present with the past +which had been so happy; it was as if she had been suddenly +brought back into air and light after long years of darkness +and silence. Through the open door of the hotel she could see +the shadowy green of the garden beyond. Was the swing in which +she had so often sat for hours still there? The windows of the +salon were open too, and there were the old pictures on the +wall, the piano just where it used to stand, and a short, +stout figure, in skirt and camisole, moving about, who might +be Mademoiselle Cecile herself. Presently some children came +running out into the courtyard, with shining hair and faces, +and clean white pinafores, fresh out of the nurse's hands. +Madelon looked at them with a sudden sense of having grown +much older than she used to be--almost grown up, compared to +these small things. She had been no bigger than that when she +had first seen Monsieur Horace. She tried to recall their +first meeting, but in truth she could not remember much about +it; it was so long ago, and succeeding visits had so nearly +effaced the remembrance of that early time, that it was rather +the shadowy memory of a memory, than the reality itself, that +came back to her mind. + +Madelon had long finished her breakfast, but, busy with these +recollections, was still lingering outside the courtyard, when +a gentleman and lady came out of the hotel and walked down +towards the gate. The gentleman was stout, black-haired, red- +faced, and good-humoured-looking; the lady elderly, thin, and +freckled, with a much tumbled silk gown, and frizzy, sandy +hair, under a black net bonnet, adorned with many artificial +flowers. In all our Madelon's reminiscences of the past, these +two figures assuredly had no place, and yet this was by no +means the first time they had met at this very hotel. The lady +was the Countess G----, with whom one memorable evening Madelon +had had a grand fight over a roulette board; the gentleman was +Horace Graham's _quondam_ fellow-traveller, the Countess's old +admirer, and now her husband. + +They were talking as they came together down the courtyard, +and Madelon caught the last words of their conversation. + +"Adieu, _mon ami_," cried the lady, as they approached the gate; +"I shall rejoin you this afternoon at Liege." + +"And by the earliest train possible, I beg of you," answered +the other. "I may find it necessary to go on to Brussels this +evening." + +"By the earliest train possible, _mon ami_. Adieu, then,--_au +revoir_." + +"_Au revoir, ma cherie_," answered the gentleman, turning back +to the hotel, but pausing before he had taken a dozen steps. + +_"Ma cherie_, you will not forget my business at Madame +Bertrand's?" + +"But no, _mon ami_, it shall be attended to without fail." + +"_Ma cherie_----" + +"_Mon ami_----" + +"You must hasten, or you will miss the train." + +"I go, I go," cried the Countess, waving her parasol in token +of farewell, and hurrying out of the gateway. These last words +aroused Madelon also. In hearing strange voices talking what +seemed some familiar, half-forgotten tongue, she had almost +forgotten the train; but she started up now from where she had +been half standing, half leaning, and followed the Countess +across the bridge into the railway station. Indeed she had +only just time to take her ticket, before the train for Spa +came rushing up with slackening speed into the station. There +were few passengers either coming or going at this early hour, +but Madelon's heart gave a great jump as she saw two black- +robed figures get out of one of the carriages and come towards +her. In another moment she saw they were Soeurs de Charite, +with a dress quite different from that worn by the nuns; but +the imaginary alarm suggested very real causes of fear, which +somehow had almost slipped from her mind since the first hours +of her escape from the convent. In her new, glad sense of +freedom, she had quite forgotten that the hour had long since +arrived when her flight must most certainly be discovered, and +that there were, after all, still only six miles of road +between her and her old life; and it was with quite a newly +awakened dread that even now unfriendly eyes might be watching +her from some one of the carriage-windows, that she jumped +hastily into the nearest compartment she could find. It was +not empty, however, for the Countess, who had preceded her +across the bridge had already taken her place, and was +arranging her flounces in one corner. She looked up, astounded +at Madelon's somewhat precipitate entrance; and as the train +moved off, she treated her small companion to a most +unceremonious stare, which took in every detail of her +personal appearance. + +"Are you travelling alone?" she asked, at length, abruptly. + +"Yes, madame," said Madelon, getting rather red. She had +resented the stare, and did not want to be talked to; her one +idea now was to get to Spa unnoticed. But she had ill-chosen +her travelling companion--the Countess was a lady whose +impertinent curiosity was rarely baffled. + +"What! quite alone? Is there nobody at all with you?" + +"No, madame." + +"But that is very extraordinary, and not at all the thing for +a young person of your age. What makes you go about all by +yourself?" + +"I--I have no one to go with me," faltered Madelon, getting +more and more hot and uncomfortable. + +"But that is very strange, and, as one may say, very improper; +have you no friends?" + +"Yes,--no," began Madelon; but at that moment, with a shriek, +the train entered a tunnel, and the sudden noise and darkness +put a stop to the conversation for a time. The Countess began +again presently, however, as they went speeding across the +next valley. + +"Do you live at Chaudfontaine?" was her next inquiry. + +"No," says poor Madelon, looking around despairingly, as for +some means of escape; but that was hopeless, and she could +only shrink further into her corner. + +"And where are you going now, then?" + +"I am going to Spa." + +"To Spa? Ah, indeed--and what are you going to do there? +Perhaps," said the Countess, more graciously, and with another +glance at the shabby frock and poor little bundle, "perhaps +you are going into some situation there?" + +"Situation?" repeated Madelon, bewildered. + +"Yes--you would make a very nice little nursery-maid, I dare +say," said the Countess, with much condescension; "and, +indeed, if you should be wanting any assistance in that way, +you have only to apply to me; and if you can produce good +credentials, I shall be most happy to assist you. I am always +ready to help deserving young people." + +Madelon grew red as fire. "I am not a nursery-maid," she said, +with much indignation; "I don't know what you mean, and you +have no right to ask me so many questions--I will not answer +any more." + +Another shriek and another tunnel; when they once more emerged +into daylight, Madelon had retreated into that corner of the +carriage remotest from the Countess, who, for her part, showed +some wisdom, perhaps, in making no attempt to resume the +conversation. + +At Pepinster, they changed trains; and here Madelon found an +empty carriage, where, without disturbance, she might sit and +congratulate herself on having accomplished this first step in +her journey. Indeed, this seemed to her so great a success, +that she felt nothing but hope as she sat curled up in a +corner, only wishing vaguely, from time to time, that her head +would not ache so much, and that she did not feel so very, +very tired. She had a great confidence in the swiftness of the +train, which was every moment increasing the distance between +herself and Liege, and so, as she thought, lessening the +chances of her being discovered in case of pursuit; and yet, +when it stopped at length at the well-remembered Spa station, +she lingered a moment in the carriage, feeling as if it were a +friendly place of refuge she was leaving, to face unknown +dangers in the outer world. + +No one noticed her, however, as she slowly alighted and looked +about her. There were, as we have said, but few passengers at +this early hour, and the platform was already nearly deserted. +At a little distance she could see Madame la Comtesse and her +flounces walking briskly away; on one side was an English +family of the received type, wrangling with porters and +omnibus-drivers in the midst of their luggage; on the other, +an invalid Russian wrapped to the nose in furs, leaning on his +valet's arm; in the foreground, a party of gay Liegeois, come +over for a day's amusement. No one looked at our poor little +Madelon, as, half-bewildered, she stood for a moment on the +platform, her bundle on her arm, her veil pulled down over her +face; one after the other they vanished, and then she too +followed, out into the tree-bordered road, with the familiar +hills on either side, sheltering the little gay white town. +The day had changed within the last hour, the sunshine was +gone, and in its place was a grey, lowering sky. Madelon +shivered as she walked along; her head ached more and more; +she wondered what it was that made her feel so tired and weak, +and then she remembered that she had been ill for a long time, +and that she had been up all night. "I will ask Madame +Bertrand to let me lie down and go to sleep," she thought, +"before I go to the Redoute, and then I shall be all right." +She walked on as fast as she could, so as to arrive sooner at +the hotel; she remembered its situation perfectly, in the +Place Royale, not far from the stand where the band used to +play every evening; and there its was at last, all unchanged +since she had last seen it three years ago, and with "Hotel de +Madrid" shining in big gold letters above the door. + +Every one who knows Spa, knows the Place Royale, with its +broad walks and rows of trees, leading from the shady avenues +of the Promenade a Sept Heures at the one end, to the winding +street with its gay shops at the other. The Hotel de Madrid +was situated about half-way down the Place, and, as compared +with the great hotels of Spa, it was small, mean, and third- +rate, little frequented therefore by the better class of +visitors, and with no particular recommendation beyond its +situation on the Place Royale, its cheap terms, and its +excellent landlady. M. Linders, whose means did not always +admit of reckless expenditure, and whose credit was not wholly +unlimited, had gone there two or three times, when visiting +Spa to retrieve fallen fortunes; and the first time he had +taken Madelon with him, she and Madame Bertrand had become +such fast friends, that, for his child's sake, he never +afterwards went anywhere else. Madelon had the most lively, +pleasant recollections of the stout motherly landlady, whose +store of bonbons and confitures had been absolutely endless. +Of all her friends in this class, Madame Bertrand had been the +one to whom she had most attached herself, and now it was +almost with the feeling of finding herself at home that she +saw the hotel before her. + + +The door stood open, and she went into the small hall, or +rather passage, which ran through the house, ending in another +door, which, also open, afforded a green view of many currant +and gooseberry bushes in Madame Bertrand's garden. To the +right was the staircase, to the left the _salle-a-manger_, a low +room with two windows looking on to the Place, and furnished +with half-a-dozen small round tables, for the hotel was of too +unpretentious a nature to aspire to a _table d'hote_; the floor +lacked polish, and the furniture was shabby, yet the room had +a friendly look to our homeless Madelon, as a frequent +resting-place in such wanderings to and fro as had been hers +in former years. She went in. A man was sitting at one of the +tables, a tall bottle of red wine at his side, and a dish of +cutlets before him, eating his late _dejeuner_, and reading a +newspaper; whilst a waiter moved about, arranging knives and +forks, table-napkins, and _pistolets_, with occasional pauses +for such glimpses of the outer world as could be obtained +through the muslin curtains hanging before the somewhat dingy +windows. + +"Is Madame Bertrand at home?" asked Madelon, coming up to him. + +The man stared down at the shabbily dressed little figure +before him, glanced at the bundle hanging on her arm, and then +answered civilly enough that Madame Bertrand was not at home. +Did Mademoiselle want anything? + +"I wanted to speak to Madame Bertrand," answered Madelon +rather piteously; "will she be back soon, do you think? When +can I see her?" + +"_Eh, je n'en sais rien_," said the man. "If Mademoiselle wants +to see her, she had better call again--or she can leave a +message," and he went on laying the tables. + +Madelon sat down despondingly on a chair near the door, hardly +knowing what to do next. It was the first check in the +carrying out of her little programme, a programme so neatly +arranged, but with this defect, mainly arising from +inexperience, that it had made no sort of allowance for +unforeseen circumstances--and yet of such so many were likely +to arise. She had quite settled in her own mind what she was +going to say to Madame Bertrand, and also what Madame Bertrand +would say to her, but she had not provided for this other +contingency of not finding her at all. She sat and considered +for a minute. Two or three men came in laughing and talking, +and stared in her face as they passed by and called for what +they wanted. She began to feel uncomfortable; she could not +stay there till Madame Bertrand returned; what if she were to +go to the Redoute first, and then return to the hotel? Yes, +that would be the best plan; if only she had not felt so very +tired, with such aching limbs and head; the sight and smell of +the meat and wine made her feel almost faint. However, that +could not be helped, she must do the best she could. She went +up to the waiter again. "I must go now," she said, "but I will +come back presently to see Madame Bertrand; may I leave these +things here?" and she held up her bundle. + +"Mademoiselle wants a room--or is it something for Madame?" +said the man, perplexed at this strange little visitor, who +was wholly out of the range of his experience. + +"No, no, it is mine," said Madelon; "if I might leave it here----" + +The waiter set down the tray he was holding, and left the room +followed by Madelon. "Mademoiselle Henriette!" he cried. + +"Mademoiselle Henriette is in the garden," answered a shrill +voice from above; and at the same moment a trim little figure +appeared from amongst the currant and gooseberry bushes, and +came in at the open door leading into the passage. + +"Does any one want me?" she cried. + +"Pardon, Madame," said Madelon, coming forward to tell her +little story, whilst the waiter returned to his plates and +dishes, "I wanted to see Madame Bertrand, but they say she is +out, and that I must return later; might I leave my things +here for a little while till I come back?" + +"Do you want a room, Mademoiselle?" said the other; "I regret +to say that the hotel is quite full; we have not a single bed +at your disposal." + +"Ah, what shall I do? what do you think would be best?" said +poor Madelon, piteously, suddenly breaking down in the grown- +up part she had been half unconsciously acting, and ready to +burst into tears. Things were not turning out at all as she +had wished or intended. "I did want a room, but I thought I +should have found Madame Bertrand, and she would have helped +me; I don't know what to do now." + +"Do you know my aunt? I am Madame Bertrand's niece," says +Mademoiselle Henriette in explanation. "She will not be in +just yet, but if you like to wait in here a little while, you +can do so, or you can return by-and-by." + +She opened the door of a small parlour as she spoke, and stood +aside for Madelon to enter. A little faded room, with a high +desk standing in the window, gaudy ornaments on the +mantelpiece, a worn Utrecht velvet sofa, and a semicircle of +worsted-work chairs--not much in it all to awaken enthusiasm, +one would think, and yet, as Madelon came in, she forgot +disappointment, and fatigue, and everything else for a moment, +in a glad recognition of well-remembered objects. + +"It is not a bit altered," she cried, quite joyfully, turning +to Mademoiselle Henriette as she spoke. + +"You have been here before then," says Mademoiselle, looking +curiously at the child, and seeing for the first time, in the +clearer light of the room, what a child she was. + +"Yes," answered Madelon, "I used to come here very often; we +liked coming, because Madame Bertrand was so kind. I know she +will be glad to see me again--ah!" she cried, breaking off in +the middle of her sentence, "there is the little china dog I +used to play with, and the bonbonniere with the flowers +painted on the top--ah, and my little glass--do you know, Madame +used always let me drink out of that glass when I had supper +with her--but you were not here, then, Mademoiselle." + +"That is true, I have only been with my aunt about six months; +she is growing old, and wants some one to help her," answered +Mademoiselle Henriette, a most brisk, capable-looking little +personage, "but I daresay she will recollect you. Are you all +alone? Have you come far to-day?" + +"Not very far," said Madelon, colouring up, and suddenly +recalled to the present. "I think, please, I will leave my +things here now, and come back presently." + +"I think you had better stay here quietly and rest; you look +very tired," said Mademoiselle kindly; and indeed as the glow +faded from her cheeks, Madelon showed a most colourless little +face, with heavy eyelids, that seemed as if they could hardly +open. + +"No, I would rather go out now," she answered; "I can rest +afterwards." + +Indeed, tired as she felt, she had changed her mind, thinking +that if she stayed now, it would be hard to set off again by- +and-by, and she was determined to get her business done to- +day--she had a morbid dread, too, of questions from strangers, +after her experience with the Countess. + +"I _must_ go out," she repeated; "but I will come back again, +and then perhaps Madame Bertrand will have come in, and will +tell me where I can sleep to-night." + +Mademoiselle Henriette had neither time nor sufficient +interest in the child to contest the point further; and +Madelon, having safely deposited her bundle in a corner of the +sofa, departed on her errand. + + +CHAPTER XII. + +What Madelon did at the Redoute. + + +And so more than half Madelon's troubles are over, and she is +really approaching the moment so looked and longed for, for +which so much has been dared and risked! Ah, is it so that our +dearest hopes get fulfilled? In after years Madelon always +looked back upon the remainder of that day, as upon the +previous night, as a sort of horrible nightmare, through which +she struggled more and more painfully--to what awakening we +shall presently see. The golden morning had faded into a grey +drizzle; the mist hung upon the hills, hiding their tops, and +there were low heavy clouds, presaging an afternoon of more +decided rain. The golden hope, too, that had so sustained and +cheered our Madelon, seemed to have suddenly faded also; and +in its place was that ever-increasing sense of utter weariness +and aching limbs, which seemed as if it would overpower her +before she had gone a dozen yards from the house. She went on +bravely, however, trying to brace herself with the +consciousness of a great purpose, very near its fulfilment +now; but somehow she seemed almost to have forgotten what it +was, or why she had ever formed it. Her keenest feeling at +that moment was, perhaps, that expressed by the quick, furtive +glance with which she looked round from time to time, as some +following footstep made itself heard behind her. The sudden +alarm at Chaudfontaine had given rise to a haunting dread, +which she was unable to shake off, though even that was rather +a vague sensation than a well-defined, reasonable fear. + +Still she kept on her way, strong in the strength of a +resolution that had so taken possession of all the deepest +feelings and affections of a most ardent little nature, that +nothing but absolute physical inability could have held her +back from keeping to it now. It was perhaps well for her, +however, that with her childish pleasure in planning every +detail, she had arranged everything beforehand with such +minuteness, that she had no need to reflect now as to what she +had to do. She had only to go on mechanically, and indeed she +seemed to have no power of reflection left in her at all, as +she walked slowly up the street, past the gay shops, where, a +happy, chattering little girl, she had so often lingered with +her father, to choose some pretty trifle. Almost without +thinking, so familiar was the road, did she enter the Redoute, +and ascend the wide staircase; and then at last she feels a +thrill as she sees before her the big salons that she has so +often re-visited in her dreams, with their gilding, and +mirrors, and velvet, that she loves so well, and with which +some of her happiest hours are associated--sees, too, the long +green tables, where Monsieur Horace's fortune is to be made, +and Madelon's promise redeemed at last. + +Nothing seemed so strange to our inexperienced Madelon, as +that everything should be unchanged; only yesterday she had +been sitting quietly in the convent garden, with long years +separating her from the old life--and now it seemed but +yesterday that she had been here. She went straight up to the +_rouge-et-noir_ table. She was familiar with both it and +roulette, but of the two games _rouge-et-noir_ was that which M. +Linders had always most affected; and without thinking much +about it, Madelon had fixed upon it as the one at which she +would try her fortune. It was still early, and the tables had +not long been opened, yet there was already a crowd two or +three deep round them; and Madelon, hovering on the outside, +had to wait some time for an opening that would enable her to +approach near enough to lay down her money. It seemed so +natural to be standing there watching the play--the expectant +silence, the clink of the coin, the monotonous drone of the +croupier, were all so familiar, that for a minute she quite +forgot that she had any special object in view; and then, with +one of those starts of realization with which from time to +time she seemed to waken up out of some confused dream, she +remembered why she was there, and what she had to do. It was +only then, that on taking out her purse with its cherished +contents, so as to be ready when her turn should come, it +flashed across her mind that she had intended to ask Madame +Bertrand to change the two ten-franc pieces that formed her +capital, into pieces of five francs, which would have given +her two chances more. Well--it could not be helped now, and, +after all, had she not more than enough? "_Dix francs, et je +ferai fortune--dix francs, et je ferai fortune_--" The old words +seemed to set themselves to a tune in Madelon's head, chiming +in with the croupier's perpetual "_Rouge gagne et la couleur_," +"_Rouge perd et la couleur_," whilst the two precious coins grew +warm in the little hand that was clasped so tightly over them. +She had half relapsed into her dreamy state, when a woman who +had been standing in front of her came pushing through the +crowd. Madelon instinctively stepped forward to take her +place, and roused up on finding that she was near enough to +the table to lay down her money. The croupier was counting out +the cards for the next stakes. Madelon waited till that turn +was over, and then, leaning across the back of the chair +before her, threw one of her little gold pieces on the table. + +It was on the red she had staked. There was a pause as the +other players made their game; Madelon's languid pulses began +to flutter with a sudden interest, increasing to breathless +excitement as the croupier began to deal out the cards. "_Rouge +perd et la couleur_," and the poor little piece was swept away. +Madelon's heart sank with a sudden pang, and then it beat +faster, and her cheeks flushed, as, with a quick impulse, +without a moment's hesitation, she threw her remaining ten +francs on to the same spot. Another pause--another deal. "_Rouge +perd et la couleur!_" She had lost again, and her last chance +was gone. + +Surely at the gambling-tables of Spa that day there was no +more pitiful little tragedy played out than that represented +by these two warm little gold coins, raked away by an +indifferent croupier into a great careless heap, and carrying +with them how many hopes, and ambitions, and longings--all +crushed and scattered in one brief moment. Madelon half +uttered a stifled cry, half made an involuntary movement +forward; then, recollecting herself, shrank back, disengaging +herself from the crowd. The gap was immediately filled up; no +one remarked, or cared for, the poor, despairing child. The +brave little spirit almost gave way, as Madelon, with a sudden +sick feeling of faintness and giddiness, was obliged to sit +down on the nearest sofa--but not quite even then. All was +lost--nothing now remained for her to do in those _salons_, and +she must not stay there, she knew; so in a minute she got up +again, and made her way out of the room and down the +staircase, clinging to the balustrade, blindly groping her +way, as it were, till she was once more in the street. + +Here the fresh air revived her a little, and she was able to +consider what she should do next. Ah! what, indeed, was she to +do, with a programme so rudely disarranged, with all her +little plans and projects so shattered to fragments, that to +restore them to anything like their former shape seemed +hopeless? Madelon could think of nothing better to do than to +go back to the hotel from which she had come. She had left all +her small possessions there, and perhaps Madame Bertrand would +have come in, and would be able to help her. In all the world +our despairing Madelon could turn her thoughts nowhere at this +crisis but to the good, unconscious Madame Bertrand, the one +friend to whom she could apply, and who might perhaps be +willing to assist her. + +It seemed a long time before she found herself at the hotel +again, and yet, in fact, it was scarcely more than half an +hour since she had left it. Through the open door to the left +she might have seen the waiter still busy over his plates and +glasses, while the gentleman who had been breakfasting had +only just finished his newspaper. But Madelon never thought of +them, nor looked in that direction, indeed; with dazed eyes +she was making her way along the semi-darkness of the passage +to the parlour at the end, when she ran right up against some +one who was coming towards her--a stout old lady, with grey +hair, and a little grey moustache, a very gay shawl, and a +large bonnet, with primrose-coloured ribbons. Madelon +recognised her in an instant. "Oh! Madame Bertrand!" she +cried, flinging her arms round her, "don't you know me? I am +Madeleine Linders." + +Madame Bertrand stepped back, a little overwhelmed by this +vehement salutation, and then,-- + +"Madeleine Linders?" she cried. "What! little Mademoiselle +Madelon, who used to come here so often with her papa?" + +"Yes, I am little Madelon," she answered; and indeed the sight +of the kind old face, the sound of the cheery, familiar voice, +made her feel quite a small Madelon again. "You have not +forgotten me, have you, Madame Bertrand?" + +"Indeed I have not, though you have grown into such a tall +young lady. But why have you not been here for such a long +time? Where is your papa?" + +"Ah! Madame," says Madelon, her sense of utter discouragement +gaining ground again, as the first flush of pleasure at the +sight of her old friend died away, "I am very unhappy. Papa +died nearly three years ago, and I have been in a convent ever +since, with Aunt Therese; but Aunt Therese is dead too; and +they said that I was to be a nun, so I ran away." + +"To be a nun!--a child like you? How could they think of such a +thing?" cried the good old woman. "And you look tired out. +Come in here and tell me all about it." + +She drew her into the little parlour as she spoke. +Mademoiselle Henriette was sitting at the high desk in the +window looking on the garden, and some one else was there too, +fanning herself in one of the worsted-work chairs. It was +Madame la Comtesse, who had come there to settle her husband's +business with Madame Bertrand. Both looked up as the landlady +came into the room, half carrying, half dragging Madelon. + +"_Pauvre petite! pauvre petite!_" she kept on saying, shaking +and nodding her kind old head the while. + +She made the child lie down on the sofa, pulled a cushion +under her head, and then introduced her generally with "They +wanted to make her a nun, and so she has run away from the +convent." + +"Run away!" cried Mademoiselle Henriette, turning quite round. +"Well, I thought there was something very queer----" + +"Run away!" cried the Countess. "Dear me, but that is very +naughty!" + +These little speeches, coming in the midst of Madame +Bertrand's effusive benevolence, seemed quite irrelevant to +the matter in hand, but nevertheless imparted a sudden chill. + +"Not at all naughty," said Madame, at last, rallying, and +still busy about the sofa, where Madelon had passively and +wearily laid back her aching little head. "It was the very +best thing she could do. Nun, indeed! I have no great opinion +of convents, nor nuns either, myself; an idle pack--the best of +them only say more prayers than their neighbours, and there is +nothing very clever in that. I could do it myself, if I had +the time." + +"But it is very singular," said the Countess, getting up. +"That is certainly the same little girl I travelled with from +Chaudfontaine this morning. I thought there was something odd +about her; she would not answer any of my questions. But there +is no convent at Chaudfontaine. Are you sure she is telling +you the truth?" + +"Of course she is, Madame--I have known her since--since she was +that high," replied Madame Bertrand, with some indignation; a +reply so conclusive to herself, that its want of apparent +logic may be pardoned. "Tell me, _mon enfant_, where is your +convent that you speak of." + +"At Liege," said Madelon, rousing and trying to sit up. "Aunt +Therese was the Superior, but she is dead. I walked to +Chaudfontaine in the night--and--oh, Madame Bertrand, don't let +them come and take me back!" She gave a terrified glance round +the room, and caught hold of Madame Bertrand. + +"No one shall take you away; don't be afraid, _chere petite_; +but tell us all bout it. Walked to Chaudfontaine in the night! +Why, you must be half dead, poor little one! And what have you +come to Spa for--have you any friends here?" + +"No," said Madelon, "I thought you would help me, and let me +stay here for a little while." + +"And so you shall--for as long as you like," said Madame; "but +what have you come here for? Have you no friends to go to?" + +"Yes--I--I--ah, I forgot!" cried Madelon, burying her face in her +hands. All of a sudden she remembered how she had intended +writing to Monsieur Horace, all that she had meant to say to +him, and how she would have asked him to come and help her--and +now all that was at an end. As to telling Madame Bertrand or +any one else of her cherished plans--never; that was her own +secret, which she would never, never part with, except to +Monsieur Horace himself. "I forgot," she cried, "I have no +one--ah? what shall I do, what shall I do?" + +"Do!" said the Countess, interposing with much prompt energy, +"it is not difficult to know what you must do; you must go +back to the convent, of course. I never heard of anything so +improper as your running away." + +"No, no, no," cried Madelon; "I cannot go back there--never; +they would kill me." She flung herself down on the sofa again, +while old Madame Bertrand tried to comfort her. No one should +make her go back; she was her _chere petite_, she would take +care of her--and was she not very hungry? would she like some +soup, or some cakes, or some bread and _confiture?_ + +Meanwhile the Countess was saying to Mademoiselle Henriette, +"This is a most extraordinary affair. If we do not take care, +your excellent aunt will be imposed upon; but I am going back +to Liege in an hour, and can perfectly well take the little +girl with me, and leave her at the convent." + +"Indeed, Madame, we should be much indebted to you," said +mademoiselle Henriette, briskly; "it is evident that she has +no friends, and has come to my aunt simply because she was in +some way acquainted with her formerly. As you say, if we do +not take care we shall certainly have her on our hands; my +aunt is quite capable of it." + +"Then that is easily settled," said the Countess; "I will take +charge of her. No thanks, Mademoiselle, I am only doing my +duty. I really do not know what young people of the present +day will come to. Does any one know what her name is, or +anything about her?" + +Madame Bertrand, who had been vainly endeavouring to extract +from our desponding little Madelon any decided expression of +opinion on the subject of cakes or confitures, overheard this +last question. "Poor little one, I know her very well," she +said, lowering her voice confidentially, "her name is Linders; +her father was Monsieur Linders, a famous gambler--it was long +before you came here, Henriette, and Madame will not have +heard of him probably; but here in Spa he was well known, and +he used often to come to our hotel." + +"Linders!" cried the Countess--"M. Linders--yes, certainly I +remember him perfectly, and the little girl too. M. Linders?-- +of course, every one knew him." + +"Ah! Madame, did you know my father?" said Madelon, raising +her head at these last words, and clasping her hands +imploringly; "be good to me then, I entreat of you; do not +speak of sending me back to the convent. I cannot go!" + +There was something pitiful in the child's voice and gesture, +something pathetic in the little appeal to her father's +memory, that might have touched any one less animated by a +stern sense of duty than the Countess. As it was, she was not +in the least affected. + +"On the contrary, _mon enfant_," she answered, "I shall be doing +you the greatest kindness, and no more than my duty, in taking +you back there; and we have agreed that you shall return with +me at once." + +"I will not go!" cried Madelon, wildly; "I cannot, I will +not!--I will not! Do you hear? What right have you to take me? +I am not your child!--I will not go with you!" + +She got up as she spoke, confronting the Countess, and trying +to throw all the energy of which she was capable into her +vehement words. But even in her own ears her voice sounded +shrill and weak, and seemed to die away as if she were talking +in her sleep; the very strength of her emotion appeared +unreal, and failing her when she most needed it: her words +seemed to have no meaning, and as she finished speaking, she +dropped down on her seat again with a little sob, feeling that +she was conquered, for she had no power of resistance left in +her. + +So she lay upon the sofa in a sot of doze, while a tribunal of +three sat upon, condemned, and sentenced this poor little +criminal, who knew nothing of what they were saying after she +had made her own ineffectual little protest. Madame Bertrand, +indeed, good old soul, with the softest and kindest of hearts, +would not at first hear of her being sent away; she was fond +of the child, she said; she had known her for years, and felt +sure there was something in her story that they did not yet +understand. But Madame Bertrand was old--moreover, she was not +a little in awe of the niece whom she had called in to assist +her failing powers; moreover, she had perhaps a lurking idea +that they might after all be right, and that there was +something exceptionally heinous in running away from a +convent; so she was soon overruled by the other two, who +settled the matter in a very summary way--Madelon must return +to the convent with Madame la Comtesse that very day. + +She was roused up presently, and made to drink some wine by +Madame Bertrand, who was in despair because she could eat none +of the good things she had provided, and felt nothing but and +old traitress, as Madelon stood up at last, looking about her +with dazed eyes; and then, without further opposition, +submissively put on her hat, took up her bundle, and prepared +to follow the Countess. Indeed, had Madame Bertrand known how +recently the child had recovered from a long illness, nothing, +I think, would have induced her to let her go; but she only +supposed she was over-tired with her strange night journey; +and, in fact, the wine and the rest together had so far +revived Madelon that she appeared quite capable of walking +down to the station with the Countess. Madame Bertrand gave +her great hug as she wished her good-bye, and was perhaps a +little aggrieved at the passive way in which Madelon received +it. + +"If ever you want help, come back to me--will you not, _mon +enfant?_--and I will help you, if I can." + +"Yes," said Madelon; "but they will not let me run away again; +will they?" + +"Let you run away, _ma petite?_" + +"Yes--Aunt Therese, you know. She won't let me do it again." + +"Your aunt? You told me she was dead;" cried Madame. + +"Yes, so she is," said Madelon. "I was forgetting, I think. +Good-bye, Madame Bertrand. You will let me stay next time, +will you not? But I must go now?" And she followed the +Countess out of the house without another word. + +Madame la Comtesse, having got her own way, was kind enough to +the child who had so unwittingly strayed across her path. When +they reached the station she gave her her ticket, made her sit +down in the waiting-room, and even offered her refreshment in +the interval before the train started. Indeed, we should err +if we attributed to the Countess, whom this little episode in +our Madelon's history has brought for the second, and we may +trust for the last, time before us--we should err, I say, in +attributing to her any feeling of ill-will towards Madelon, or +any special interest in her conduct or fate. Neither need it +be imagined that she was actuated by any large views of duty +towards the world in general: she was not at all benevolent, +but neither was she particularly ill-natured; she was merely a +shallow-minded, frivolous woman, who, having long since +lowered her standard of perfection to suit her own +attainments, saw fit to measure every one else by her own +narrow ideal, and to set them right where they proved +themselves wanting--a convenient process, which enabled her to +satisfy her vague sense of duty, and right and wrong, without +any reference to her own possible shortcomings. In capturing +our little stray Madelon, and taking her back to the convent, +she felt she was doing a deed that would afford her matter for +self-congratulation for days to come; and she was gracious and +affable accordingly, speaking to Madelon in a tone of +condescending good-nature, which was quite lost upon the +child, who was beyond caring for kindness or unkindness just +then. She was only conscious of some terrible burden, which +she could not define nor reason upon, but which seemed to +oppress and weigh her down, making her incapable of thought, +or speech, or motion. When they got into the railway-carriage +she could only lean back in the corner, with a general sense +that something dreadful had happened, or was going to happen; +but that her head ached too much, and felt too confused, for +her to remember what it was all about. + +They changed carriages at Pepinster, and, still in the same +dream of misery, Madelon followed the Countess from one train +to another. They set off again, but presently, as the +slackening speed showed that they were approaching another +station, she suddenly woke up to the keenest perception of her +situation, with a quickening of her numbed senses to the most +vivid realization of all she had lost, of all she might have +to endure. Ah! it was all true, and no dream--she had run away +from the convent to make Monsieur Horace's fortune; and she +had not done it, and now all was over, and she was being taken +back to the convent--and there would be no more chance of +escape for her--never more. In the agony of this thought she +turned towards the Countess, with a half-formed intention of +throwing herself at her feet, and imploring, in such voice and +accents as should admit of no refusal, to be allowed to go +away--anyhow, anywhere, only as far as possible from Liege. But +she checked herself as she saw that the Countess, with a +handkerchief thrown over her face, had comfortably composed +herself to sleep in one corner, and a new idea suggested +itself as the train stopped at a little village station. The +child glanced towards the woman; she still slept, or appeared +to do so, and the next moment Madelon had opened the door, +and, taking up her bundle, had slid swiftly and silently out +of the carriage. + +The train moved on, and a drowsy Countess might presently +awake to find with astonishment that she was alone in the +compartment; but our little Madelon, left standing on the +platform, had slipped out of her sight and knowledge for ever. + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +The Restaurant at Le Trooz. + + +The train disappeared, and our forlorn little Madelon remained +standing alone on the platform. Forlorn, indeed! It was +raining hard now, a thick, persistent drizzle, through which +everything looked dim and blurred, and which was almost as +dense as the low-hanging mists that hid the tops of the hills. +Madelon stood still and shivered for a minute, clutching her +little bundle under her cloak, and trying to collect her +ideas. + +Not a hundred yards off was the village, lying between the +hills in the next valley to Chaudfontaine, and not more than +three miles from that place, but shut out from it by a barrier +of rocky, wooded hill, round which there was only just space +for the road and stream to wind; an amphibious little village, +half in and half out of the water apparently, for it stood +just where the stream spread out in wide shallows, round low +islands, on and amongst which the houses were clustered and +scattered. Madelon instinctively turned towards it; she had +the very vaguest idea in her poor, bewildered little brain as +to where she was, or what she was going to do, only one thing +obvious in the surrounding uncertainties--that she could not +remain standing on the platform in the pouring rain. She gave +up her ticket mechanically, passed through the gate, and +followed the muddy road leading to the cottages. She was very +tired, she had never felt quite so tired before, and her knees +trembled as they had done that day when the fever came on at +the convent; she was so dizzy too, that she had to stop now +and then, to grasp the one fact of her being where she was and +not somewhere else altogether; her single idea was to go on +walking until--until when? That was a question she could not +have answered, only somewhere she must go, where she would be +out of the way of countess or nuns, or any other enemy who +might be lying in wait to pounce upon her. This was all she +thought about as she passed along the village street, which +was dull and deserted-looking enough on this wet, grey +afternoon, till the sight of a church with an open door, +suggested something quite different, and which was a positive +relief after that nightmare motion of walking perpetually with +failing limbs, and a sense of pursuit behind. She would go in +there, and sit down and rest for a little while. By-and-by, +when the giddiness and trembling had gone off, she would be +better able to think of what she should do; she would be out +of the rain, too, there--the cold rain, which had already +drenched her cloak and skirt. + +She went in; it was a village church of the simplest +description, very small, with plain wooden benches and +confessionals, and a high altar with inexpensive decorations, +in nowise remarkable. But hardly was Madelon inside the door, +when she stood suddenly motionless, transfixed by a horrible +terror that, weak and exhausted as she was, wholly seized and +gained possession of her; for, raised in the middle of the +aisle, covered with a black velvet pall and with a row of tall +candles on either side, stood a coffin, with white embroidery +of death's heads on the pall, and little banners with painted +death's heads decorating every candle. To the terrified, +speechless child, the skulls seemed to become animated--to +grin; they seemed to move; the whole air was suddenly full of +them, chattering, dancing, swarming round her; she tried to +scream, but could not; she turned to fly from the dreadful, +haunted spot, but with the first step she made, strength and +consciousness gave way altogether, and she sank senseless to +the ground. + +Ten minutes later, a woman of the village, coming in to see +the preparations for the funeral of Monsieur N----, lately one +of the great proprietors of the neighbourhood, nearly stumbled +over Madelon's prostrate form. She started back, half uttering +an exclamation of surprise and alarm; then, seeing that it was +a child who was lying so still upon the stone floor, she knelt +down by her, laid her head in her lap, and began rubbing her +hands. Madelon was not quite unconscious, apparently, for she +moved her head uneasily, and uttered a low moan. "She is not +dead, at any rate," muttered the woman, still chafing the cold +little hands, while she studied the small white face, the +short rings of hair just appearing under the hat all crushed +in her fall, the bundle lying at her side, and the worn frock +and cloak soaked with rain. "I wonder if she is alone?" added +the woman to herself. She glances round the empty church, then +gently laying Madelon on the floor again, with a cushion to +support her head, she went to the door, and peered out into +the rain for a few moments; then, returning, without calling +for help, or summoning any one, she stooped down, took Madelon +in her arms--which, indeed, she was well able to do, for she +was a tall, strong woman, between thirty and forty, and the +child was very slight and thin after her recent illness--and +carried her out of the church, down the street, towards the +end of the village. No one was stirring in the pouring rain, +or seemed to notice her, except one or two boys, who ran after +her shouting and singing--"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, Jeanne-Marie--what +have you got to-day, Jeanne-Marie?" And to them she gave no +sort of heed, walking steadily and swiftly on, without even +turning her head, till she paused before a low, white-washed +cottage, standing a little apart from the village, between the +poplars that bordered the road. In front was a bench, and on +one side a vine, all dripping and forlorn, was trained over a +trellis that sloped from the roof, and, with wooden supports, +made a shelter for a row of bee-hives placed on a plank +beneath; under the front gable was a wicker contrivance for +pigeons, and below it, in large gold letters on a blue board, +the words, "Cafe et Restaurant." The door opened at once into +the little public room of the humblest pretentions, furnished +with a cupboard containing a store of bottles and glasses, a +stove in one corner, above it some bright copper tea-kettles, +a dozen chairs, and a deal table pushed near the one small +window that looked out on the road and the stream beyond, and +then across fields, and meadows, and trees, to the hills. A +man, with a heavy, loutish face and figure, was sitting with +his arms on the table, twirling a glass about in his fingers, +a bottle half full of vine before him. He turned round as +Jeanne-Marie entered with Madelon in her arms, and rising +slowly went towards them. + +"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, what have you got there?" he said. + +"Does that concern you?" answered the woman sharply enough; +"drink your wine, Jacques Monnier, and do not trouble yourself +with other people's affairs." + +"_Est-elle morte, la petite?_" asked Jacques, recoiling at the +sight of Madelon's white face. + +"_Est-elle morte?_" repeated Jeanne-Marie, "and with her eyes as +wide open as yours! _Allons, mon enfant, du courage_," she +added, as Madelon opened her eyes for a moment; but she closed +them again, and the woman looking round, said, "There will be +no peace here, with you men coming in and out. Open that door +for me, Jacques," pointing to one nearly opposite the +entrance. + +The man obeyed. It opened at the bottom of the ladder-like +staircase, a gleam of light from above, showing where another +door at the top step led into a small bed-room. Jeanne-Marie +carried Madelon upstairs like a baby, took off her hat and +damp cloak, laid her on the bed, and then ran downstairs again +for a glass of cordial. + +Madelon, however, was already reviving, and when Jeanne-Marie +went up to her again, she raised herself on the bed, resting +on one elbow, and fixed her large eyes upon the woman, first +with a look of blank unconsciousness, and then with a sudden +light of terror in them, as of some wild hunted thing just +caught by its pursuers. + +"Don't take me back to the convent!" she cried in sharp, +piteous accents; "don't take me back; I can't go, I can't--no, +no, no!" + +"No one shall take you back," said Jeanne-Marie, trying to +soothe her. But she paid no heed. + +"Indeed I can't go. Ah, Madame, you said you knew papa; have +pity upon me! I promised him I would never be a nun. He died, +you know, and sent me to the convent at Liege to be with Aunt +Therese; but he made me promise before he died. I can't go +back--I should die too. Ah, Madame, have pity on me!" + +She was kneeling on the bed now, her hands clasped with her +pitiful little imploring gesture. Jeanne-Marie came close to +her, and smoothed back her hair caressingly with her rough +work-a-day fingers. + +"_Soyez tranquille, mon enfant_," she said, "you shall not be +taken back to the convent, and no one shall make you a nun." + +"You promise?" said Madelon, catching hold of her arm, and +looking into her face with eager, suspicious eyes; "you +promise not to take me back?" + +"Yes, I promise," said the woman; "fear nothing, _ma petite_." + +"And you won't tell Aunt Therese that I ran away? For she +would be so angry, you know; she wanted to make me a nun like +herself; you won't tell her--you won't, you won't?" + +"No, no," said Jeanne-Marie. "I will tell nothing, you are +quite safe here; now lie down and be quiet, and I will give +you something nice to drink." + +But Madelon's eyes wandered; the terrified look came again, +and she clung tighter and tighter to Jeanne-Marie. + +"Please ask Aunt Therese to go away!" she cried; "she is +standing there in the corner of the room, staring at me; she +will not move--there--there she is, don't you see? Oh, tell her +to go away--she stares at me so, and oh! there is a coffin at +her side, it is all over death's heads; Aunt Therese has a +death's head--oh! take me away, take me away!" + +With a shriek of terror the child threw herself back on the +bed, covering her eyes with her hands, burying her face in the +pillow. + +Jeanne-Marie went to the top of the stairs and called "Jacques +Monnier!" + +"_Hein?_" said the man, coming slowly to the door below, and +standing with his broad figure framed in it. + +"Jacques," said Jeanne-Marie, "go at once for the doctor, and +tell him to come here, for some one is very ill." + +"_Hein?_" said Jacques again, "does that concern me? I must +attend to my own affairs, and finish my wine, Jeanne-Marie." + +"If you do not go this moment," said the woman, with a little +stamp of her foot, "you shall never taste my wine again, with +or without payment, Jacques, _et je tiens parole, moi!_" + +"There is other wine to be had in Le Trooz," answered the man +sulkily, but moving nevertheless towards the entrance, when +she was recalled by Jeanne-Marie. + +"Jacques," she said, coming two or three steps down the +stairs, "if Monsieur le Docteur inquires who is ill, you will +say it is my niece." + +"But she is then your niece, _la petite_," said Jacques, +scratching his head as an outward expression of some inward +perplexity. + +"You will tell Monsieur le Docteur what I say," repeated +Jeanne-Marie imperiously, "and make haste;" and she went +upstairs again, and closed the bed-room with a certain +emphasis, as though to prevent further discussion. + +Madelon was still lying on the bed, with her face buried in +the pillow; a violent shivering of cold or of fear had seized +her, but she resisted Jeanne-Marie's efforts to raise her with +the obstinacy of a strong will acted on by intense physical +alarm. But at length the woman's persuasive words appeared to +have a soothing effect, though she seemed scarcely to take in +their meaning, for she allowed herself to be undressed and put +into bed, and after taking some warm drink, fell into a +restless, starting sleep. + +Jeanne-Marie drew a curtain across the small window, so as to +shut out the slanting sunbeams, which were pouring into the +room, on to the patchwork quilt and white pillow where the +little feverish head lay so uneasily; then, taking up her +knitting, she sat down by the bedside, and as she mechanically +added row after row to the blue worsted stocking, she +reflected. From Madelon's few distracted words, she imagined +that she knew the state of the case very well; it was one not +unprecedented, and presented no difficulties to either +comprehension of belief. "They wanted to bring her up as a +nun, and so she ran away. Well, thou hast done wisely, little +one; I also know something of convents and nuns, and if it +depends on me to protect thee, they shall not touch thee, _mon +enfant_." This was her final resolution as she sat knitting and +reflecting, with a great sympathy with, and tenderness for, +the poor little terrified, hunted girl, lying there at her +mercy. + +Such tenderness, and power of sympathy with distress, were +indeed amongst Jeanne-Marie's strongest characteristics, +hidden though they were under a harsh, imperious manner and +exterior. For she too had had a strange, sad, troublous life, +with tragedy and sorrow enough in it, which it does not +concern us to relate here, and which were yet of no small +concern to our little Madelon, as she lay there, dependent on +this one woman for freedom, shelter, and even existence. For +if, as is surely the case, in our life of to-day lies a whole +prophecy of our life in the future, if in our most trivial +actions is hidden the germ of our greatest deeds, then our +most momentous decision in some sudden emergency, is but the +sure consummation and fruition of each unnoticed detail, our +action of to-day but the inevitable result of a whole precious +lifetime of preparation for some unforeseen crisis. So, too, +from a present habit of thought, much may be surmised as to +what has been done and suffered in the past; and though little +was known about Jeanne-Marie, some inferences might have been +drawn concerning her former life, had any of her neighbours +been skilled in the inductive method, or been sufficiently +interested in the woman to study her character closely. But in +fact they cared very little about her. It is true that when +she had first come into the village, there had been many +conjectures about her set afloat. She did not belong to that +part of the country, she could not even speak the Liege +_patois_, and never took the trouble to learn it, invariably +using the French language. She had no belongings, and never +spoke of her former life; so that it was not long before a +vague, open-mouthed curiosity, seizing upon a thousand +untested hints and rumours to satisfy itself withal, led the +villagers to whisper among themselves that some strange +history was attached to her; and woe to that woman who, in a +small village, is accredited with a strange history that no +one knows anything about! But Jeanne-Marie had outlived all +this; her secrets, if she had any, were never revealed either +then or later, and in time people had ceased to trouble +themselves about her. She led a silent, solitary life, +resenting perhaps the suspicion with which she had at first +been received, and holding aloof from her neighbours as they +held aloof from her. Her restaurant was well attended, for she +gave the best wine in the village, was liberal, and of an +honesty above suspicion; but even the men who were her most +constant customers did not like her, and were half afraid of +her. She held imperious rule among them, issuing imperative +commands which she expected to be obeyed, and enforcing strict +order and regularity in her house. To the women of the village +her manners were cold, abrupt, and reserved; she never stopped +to gossip or chatter; she would come and go about her business +without an unnecessary word, and the women, looking after her, +had ceased to do more than shrug their shoulders, and resume +the flow of talk her silent presence had checked. + +But it was, after all, only the gay, and prosperous, and happy +that she shunned. The poor, the friendless, the erring, the +rejected of this world, were certain to find in Jeanne-Marie a +friend who never failed, one who looked out for the sorrowful +and broken-hearted, and never passed by on the other side. +Even the village children knew to whom to run when hurt, or +unhappy, or in disgrace, sure of getting consolation and +sugar-plums from the sad, lonely woman, though equally sure of +being sent away as soon as their tears were dried, and their +troubles forgotten. If the poor, abused Ugly Duckling of Hans +Andersen's tale had strayed on a wintry day to her door, she +would have taken it in, and nourished, and cherished it all +through the cold, dark weather; but when the summer was come, +and the duckling grown into a swan, spread its broad white +wings against the blue sky, she would have watched it fly away +without word or sign to detain it; she would have had nothing +in common with it then. + +So to Jeanne-Marie it seemed the simplest thing in the world, +that, having found Madelon in need of help, she should help +her at the cost of any trouble to herself; that she should +take in, and cherish this poor little stray girl without +inquiry, without hope, or thought of reward. At Madelon, +happy, successful, contented, Jeanne-Marie would not have +looked a second time; but for Madelon, forsaken, shelterless, +dependent on her, she would have been ready almost to lay down +her life. + +In about half an hour, Jacques Monnier returned with the +doctor. He knew Jeanne-Marie well, as he knew everyone in the +village, and went at once upstairs to the little bedroom where +Madelon was lying. + +"Your niece, I think Jacques Monnier told me?" he said, after +watching Madelon for a minute as she lay in her uneasy sleep. + +"Yes," said Jeanne-Marie with a certain sullenness of manner, +which she was apt to display towards her superiors in station. + +"Has she been here long?" said the doctor, feeling Madelon's +pulse, but looking steadily at the woman; "when was she taken +ill? How is it you have not called me in before?" + +"Look here, Monsieur le Docteur," answered Jeanne-Marie with a +sort of stolid defiance, "I called you in to tell me what to +do for the child, not to put me through a catechism. She +fainted away this morning, and when she came to herself again, +she began to rave and talk nonsense, so I sent for you. Now +tell me what is to be done." + +Just then Madelon opened her eyes. + +"Do you not know me, Madame?" she said. "I am Madeleine +Linders, and papa is dead; he sent me to be with Aunt Therese, +but she is dead too--Oh, save me, save me!" she cried, +springing up with all the old terror upon her; "don't let them +take me, papa, you made me promise that I would not stay +there. Tell Aunt Therese to go away, papa; papa, save me!" and +she clung to the doctor's arm. "Besides, you know," she went +on, speaking fast and eagerly, "I promised him--Monsieur +Horace, you know--and I must keep it, I must keep my promise to +Monsieur Horace,--I must, I must!" + +"You hear?" said Jeanne-Marie, as Madelon fell back on the +pillow again muttering to herself. + +"I hear," answered the doctor, "and I see that she is in a +high fever, and it may go hard with her, poor child! It is +fortunate she is with you, Jeanne-Marie," he went on, kindly, +"for you are a capital nurse, I know; but I am afraid it will +be a long business." + +"That is no matter," she answered. + +"If you would like to have her removed to the hospital at +Liege," continued the doctor, doubtfully, "it might still be +done. It may injure your business to have her here. Still, as +you say she is your niece----" + +"As I say she is my niece," returned Jeanne-Marie, abruptly, +"it is not likely I should turn her out of the house, and that +is enough. My business will take care of itself. And now tell +me what I am to do, doctor?" + +He prescribed for Madelon, said he would call again, and left +the house, pondering on the woman who kept so apart from her +neighbours, and on her small visitor, who he knew well enough +was not her niece, for had not Jacques Monnier told him how +Jeanne-Marie had suddenly come in out of the rain, carrying +the girl in her arms, and had taken her upstairs without a +word of explanation? + +"There is a mystery somewhere," thought the doctor; "but it is +no concern of mine." And so he went his way to visit his next +patient. + +Jeanne-Marie had no fears concerning the doctor's discretion; +he was a man too busy in his scattered district to have much +time or inclination for gossip. But she had far less +confidence in Jacques Monnier's wisdom, and thought it not +inexpedient to go downstairs, after the doctor's departure, +and give her customer a word of exhortation. He was seated at +the table as before, twirling the glass in his fingers, and +gazing vacantly out of window. + +"Well, Jacques," said Jeanne-Marie, "and what did you tell the +doctor?" + +"I told him what you told me," said the man, in a surly voice. + +"What was that?" + +"That your niece was ill, and that he was to come and see +her." + +"Was that all?" + +No answer. + +"Was that all?" repeated Jeanne-Marie. "_Allons_, Jacques, don't +keep me waiting. I will know what you said to the doctor." + +Jacques, who under other circumstances might have met this +imperative mode of questioning by dogged silence, or an +evasive answer, was too uncertain as to what the doctor +himself might have repeated to Jeanne-Marie, to attempt +equivocation. + +"I told him," he said, slowly and reluctantly, "that it was a +queer thing you should have picked up your niece in the +street, and that I didn't believe she was your niece at all; +and no more I do, Jeanne-Marie," he added, gaining courage as +he spoke. + +"Ah! you told him that?" said the woman. "Well, look you, +Jacques, if I find you saying any such thing again, this is +the very last time you cross my door-step, and that account of +yours will have to be paid in full next week. You understand?" + +"Oh! yes, I understand well enough," he answered sulkily; "but +if I hold my tongue the neighbours will talk; I am not the +only person who saw you come through the street, I will answer +for it." + +"Who said I came through the village at all? And what does it +matter to you what the neighbours say?" retorted Jeanne-Marie, +"attend to what I say--that is enough for you, Jacques--and if +you do hear anyone say anything about the child upstairs, tell +them it is my niece come on a visit, and not a word more; +otherwise you understand----" + +"Oh! yes, I understand," he repeated grumbling, "but what do I +care? Yours is not the only wine to be had in Le Trooz----" + +"Bah!" was Jeanne-Marie's only answer, as she left the room. +She knew her customer too well to be in the least afraid of +his carrying his implied threat into execution. Indeed, +Jacques Monnier, who had no mind to be ousted from the +convenient little restaurant, where he got good wine and long +credit, acted upon the hints he had received, and stuck +manfully to Jeanne-Marie's version of her adventure. And so it +happened, that although for a day or two a few rumours were +afloat in the village, they soon died away; and it was +received as an established fact by those who cared to interest +themselves in Jeanne-Marie's affairs, that it was her niece +whom the doctor went to see so regularly. And so much apart +did Jeanne-Marie keep from her neighbours, that the subject +was soon half-forgotten, and Madelon's very existence seemed +problematic, as she lay in the little upstairs room, and the +woman who sheltered her, appeared to come and go about her +business much the same as usual. + +As for Jeanne-Marie, as soon as the house was quiet, on the +evening of that day so eventful for our little Madelon, she +sat down and wrote two letters: one she put into a large +envelope, which she directed to a street in Paris; the other, +inclosed in the first, was addressed to the Superior of the +Convent at Liege, and the letters, with their Paris direction, +were put into the post that very night. + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +Madelon's Convalescence. + + +Madelon, if she had but known it, had small reason to +apprehend any very vigorous pursuit on the part of the nuns. +There was, it is true, no small commotion in the convent, when +Soeur Lucie, entering Madelon's cell the morning after her +flight, found the empty room, the unslept-on bed. She did not +indeed realize at first that the child had run away; but when, +after inquiry and search through the whole convent, she found +that nothing had been seen or heard of her, since she herself +had quitted the cell the previous evening, then the whole +truth became apparent, and a general sense of consternation +pervaded the sisterhood. It was the enormity of the offence +that struck them aghast, the boldness of the attempt, and its +complete success. It was altogether a new idea to them that +any one should wish to escape from those walls; an appalling +one that any one should make such an attempt, and succeed. +Soeur Lucie, held responsible for Madelon, was summoned before +the Superior, questioned, cross-questioned, and, amid tears +and sobs, could only repeat that she had left her charge as +usual, the evening before; and that, in the morning, going to +her cell, had discovered that she had vanished; how, or when, +or whither, she could not imagine. How she had escaped was +indeed at first a mystery, which could not fail to rouse an +eager curiosity in the sisters, and a not unpleasing +excitement succeeded the first indignation, as, with one +accord, they ran to examine Madelon's room. The window stood +wide open, the branches of the climbing rose-trees were broken +here and there, small footsteps could be traced on the flower- +bed below. It was all that was needed to make their +supposition a certainty--Madelon had run away. + +This point settled, a calmer feeling began to prevail, and, as +their first consternation subsided, the nuns began to reflect +that after all worse things might have happened. If it had +been one of themselves indeed, that would have been a very +different matter; such a sin, such a scandal could not even be +thought of without horror. But this little stray girl, who +belonged to nobody, whom nobody had cared for, who had been a +trouble ever since she had come, and who had been left a +burthen and a responsibility on their hands--why should they +concern themselves so much about her flight? No doubt she had +made her escape to some friends she had known before she was +brought to the convent, from no one knew where, two or three +years ago. The nuns were not more averse than other people to +the drawing of convenient conclusions from insufficient +premises, and this theory of Madelon's having run away to her +friends once started, every one was ready to add their mite of +evidence in aid of its confirmation. Some thought she had +possibly started for England--it was an Englishman who had +brought her to the convent; others that she had friends in +Paris--it certainly was from Paris she had come; one suggested +one thing, and one another, and in the meantime, though +inquiries were made, the search was neither very energetic nor +very determined. When the evening came, it was generally felt +to be rather a relief than otherwise that nothing had been +heard of the small runaway. What could they do with her if she +came back? No one felt disposed to put in a claim for her-- +least of all Soeur Lucie, whom she had brought into terrible +disgrace, and who had yet been really fond of the child, and +who for months after had a pang in her kind little heart +whenever she thought of her wayward charge. And so, when, two +days later, a letter, with neither date nor signature, but +bearing a Paris post-mark, arrived for the Superior, +announcing that Mademoiselle Madeleine Linders was with +friends, and that it was useless for any one to attempt to +find her or reclaim her, for they had her in safe keeping, and +would never consent to part with her, every one felt that the +matter was arranged in the most satisfactory manner possible, +and troubled themselves no more. + +As for the Countess G----, there had been a flatness about the +termination of her share in Madelon's adventures that +effectually put a stop to any desire on her part to pursue the +matter further; and finding, on her arrival at Liege, that her +husband was obliged to start for Brussels that very afternoon, +she found it convenient altogether to dismiss the subject from +her mind. With her departure from Liege, we also gladly +dismiss her from these pages for ever. + +So Madelon, tossing and moaning on her bed of sickness, is +once more all alone in the world, except for Jeanne-Marie, to +whom, before two days were over, she had somehow become the +one absorbing interest in life. The lonely woman, whose +sympathies and affections had, as one might guess, been all +bruised, and warped, and crushed in some desperate struggle, +or in some long agony, found a new channel for them in an +indescribable, yearning love for the little pale girl whom she +had rescued, and by whose side she sat hour after hour, +wondering, as she listened to her wild broken talk about her +father and Monsieur Horace, Aunt Therese, and Soeur Lucie, what +the child's past life could have been, and by what strange +chances she had come to be in such evil straits. A new world +of hopes and fears, of interests and anxieties, seemed to have +suddenly opened for Jeanne-Marie, as she sat in the little +upper chamber; whilst in the public room downstairs the rough +men, in obedience to her word, sat silently drinking and +smoking, or talking in subdued voices, so that no disturbing +sound might reach the sick child above. + +Madelon's second attack of fever was far worse than the first. +Weakened as she was by her former illness, it was an almost +hopeless fight with death that was carried on for days; and +when the crisis came at last, the doctor himself declared that +it was scarcely possible that she should rally, and be +restored to life and reason. But the crisis passed, and +Madelon was once more safe. She awoke about midnight to the +confused consciousness of a strange room, perplexing her with +unfamiliar surroundings. A dim light burned before the +coloured picture of a saint that hung on the rough white- +washed wall, and by its uncertain gleams she could distinguish +the rude furniture, the patchwork quilt, the heavy rafters +that crossed above her head. The window stood wide open, +letting in the night scents of the flowers in the garden +below; she could see a space of dark, star-lit sky; and hear +the rustling of the trees, the whispering of the breeze among +the vine-leaves that clustered about the window. Her eyes +wandered round with vague bewilderment, the flickering light +and long shadows only seeming to confuse her more, as she +tried to reconcile her broken, shadowy memories with the +present realities, which seemed more dreamlike still. + +The door opened, and Jeanne-Marie came in, holding another +candle, which she shaded with her hand, as she stood by the +bed for a moment, looking down upon Madelon. + +"You are better," she said at last, setting down the candle on +the table behind her, and smoothing the pillow and coverlet. +Her voice was like her face, harsh and melancholy, but with a +tender, pathetic ring in it at times. + +"Am I?" said Madelon. "Have I been ill again? Where is Soeur +Lucie? This is not the convent--where am I?" + +"You are not at the convent now," answered Jeanne-Marie. "I am +taking care of you, and you must lie very still, and go to +sleep again when you have taken this." + +Madelon drank off her medicine, but she was not satisfied, and +in a moment her brain was at work again. + +"I can't make out where I am," she said, looking up at Jeanne- +Marie with the old wistful look in her eyes--"is it in an +hotel? --is papa coming? I thought I was at the convent with +Aunt Therese. Ah! do help me!" + +"I will tell you nothing unless you lie still," said Jeanne- +Marie, as Madelon made a most futile attempt to raise herself +in bed. She considered a moment, and then said--"Don't you +remember, _ma petite?_ Your papa is dead, and you are not at the +convent any more, and need not go back there unless you like. +You are with me, Jeanne-Marie, at Le Trooz, and I will take +care of you till you are well. Now you are not to talk any +more." + +Madelon lay silent for a minute. "Yes, I remember," she said +at last, slowly. "Papa is dead, and Monsieur Horace--he is not +here?" she cried, with startling eagerness. + +"No, no," said Jeanne-Marie, "no one is here but me." + +"Because you know," Madelon went on, "I cannot see him yet--I +cannot--it would not do to see him, you know, till--till--ah! you +do not know about that----" She stopped suddenly, and Jeanne- +Marie smoothed the pillow again with her rough, kindly hands. + +"I know that you must go to sleep now, and that I shall not +say a word more to you to-night," she said; and then, without +heeding Madelon's further questions, she put out the light, +and sat silently by the bedside till the child was once more +asleep. + +Madelon did not recover readily from this second attack. Even +when she was pronounced wholly out of danger, there were the +weariest days to be passed, relapses, weakness, languor. +Flowers bloomed and faded in the garden below, the scent of +the roses perfumed the air, the red-tipped vine-shoots growing +upwards narrowed the space of blue sky seen through the little +window, till the sun shone in softened by a screen of glowing +green leaves; and all through these lengthening summer days +our pale little Madelon lay on her sick bed, very still, and +patient, and uncomplaining, and so gentle and grateful to +Jeanne-Marie, who nursed and watched her unceasingly with her +harsh tenderness, that a passionate affection seized the hard, +lonely woman, for the forlorn little stranger who was so +dependent upon her, and who owed everything to her compassion +and care. + +It was not long before a recollection of the past came back to +Madelon, sufficiently clear, until the moment of her jumping +out of the train at Le Trooz; after that she could remember +nothing distinctly, only a general sense of misery, and pain, +and terror. She asked Jeanne-Marie numberless questions, as to +how and where she had found her, and what she had said. + +"How did you know that I had run away from the convent?" she +asked. + +"You said so," answered Jeanne-Marie. "You were afraid that +your aunt would come and take you back." + +"Aunt Therese is dead," said Madelon. "I remember it all very +well now. Did I tell you that? And did I tell you about papa, +too? How strange that I should not remember having said so +many things," she added, as the woman replied in the +affirmative. + +"Not at all strange," replied Jeanne-Marie. "People often talk +like that when ill, and recollect nothing of it afterwards." + +"Still, it is very odd," said Madelon, musing; and then she +added, suddenly, "Did I talk of any one else?" + +"Of plenty of people," replied Jeanne-Marie. "Soeur Lucie, and +Soeur Francoise, and numbers of others." + +"Ah! yes; but I don't mean in the convent!--any one out of the +convent, I mean? Did I talk of--Monsieur Horace?" + +"Sometimes," said Jeanne-Marie, counting her stitches +composedly. + +"What did I say about him?" asked Madelon, anxiously. "Please +will you tell me? I can't remember, you know." + +Jeanne-Marie looked at her for a moment, and then said, rather +bluntly,-- + +"Nothing that anybody could understand. You called to him, and +then you told him not to come; that was all, and not common +sense either." + +"Ah, that is all right," said Madelon, satisfied; her secret +at least was safe, and never, never, should it be revealed +till she had accomplished her task. As she once more mentally +recorded this little vow, she looked at Jeanne-Marie, who was +still sitting by her bedside knitting. + +"Jeanne-Marie," she said in her tired, feeble little voice, +and putting out one of her small thin hands, "you are very, +very good to me; I can't think how any one can be so kind as +you are; I shall love you all my life. What would have become +of me if you had not found me and taken such care of me?" + +"What will become of you if you don't leave off talking, and +do as the doctor bids you?" said Jeanne-Marie, stopping her +little speech; "he said you were to be quite quiet, and here +have you been chattering this half-hour; now I am going to get +your dinner." + +As she became stronger, Madelon would sometimes have long +conversations with Jeanne-Marie--in which she would tell her +much about her past life, of her father, of how happy she had +been as a little child, of how miserable she had been in the +convent, and of how she had hated the life there. But more +often she would lie still for hours, almost perfectly silent, +thinking, brooding over something--Jeanne-Marie would wonder +what. Madelon never told her; she had begun to love and cling +to the woman, almost the only friend she had in the world, but +not even in her would she confide; she had made the resolution +to tell no one of her plans and hopes, to trust no one, lest +her purpose should in any way be frustrated; and she kept to +it, though at the cost of some pain and trouble, so natural is +it to seek for help and sympathy. + +Madelon's fixed idea had returned to her with redoubled force +since her illness. Her one failure had only added intensity to +her purpose since her first sense of discouragement had passed +away; there was something in the child's nature that refused +to acknowledge defeat as such, and she was only eager to begin +again. Our poor little Madelon, with her strange experiences +and inexperiences, her untutored faiths and instincts, shaking +off all rule, ignorant of all conventionalities, only bent, +amidst difficulties, and obstacles, and delays, on steadily +working towards one fixed and well-defined end--surely, tried +by any of the received laws of polite society, concerning +correct, well-educated young ladies of thirteen, she would be +found sadly wanting. Shall we blame her? or shall we not +rather, with a kindly compassion, try for a while to +understand from what point of view she had learnt to look at +life, and to arrive at some comprehension of, and sympathy +with her. + +In the meantime, though it was evident she could do nothing +till she was well again, an old perplexity was beginning to +trouble Madelon; what was she to do without money? Once, a +strange chance--which, with a touch of convent superstition +that had been grafted on her mind, she was half disposed to +look upon as miraculous--had provided the requisite sum, but +the most sanguine hopes could hardly point to the repetition +of such a miracle or chance, and during long hours, when +Jeanne-Marie was attending to her customers below, or sitting +at her side, knitting, Madelon's brain was for ever working on +this old problem that had proved so hard before, when she sat +thinking it out in the convent cell. But at any rate she was +free here; she might come and go without scaling walls, or +fear of pursuing nuns; and then could she not earn some money? +The thought was an inspiration to Madelon--yes, when she was +strong and well enough, she would work day and night till she +had gained it. If she were only well. + +It was about this time that Jeanne-Marie perceived a change in +her patient, hitherto so still and resigned, a certain uneasy +restlessness and longing to be up and about again. + +"Jeanne-Marie, do you think I shall soon be well?" she would +ask again and again; "do you think the doctor will soon let me +get up?" + +"You will never be well if you toss about like that," Jeanne- +Marie said grimly, one evening; "lie still, and I will tell +you some stories." + +She sat down by her, and, as she knitted, told her one story +after another, fairy-tales for the most part, old stories that +Madelon knew by heart from her early studies in the German +picture-books and similar works. But Jeanne-Marie told them +well, and somehow they seemed invested with a new interest for +Madelon, as she half unconsciously contrasted her own +experiences with those of the heroes and heroines, and found +in their adventures some far-fetched parallel to her own. But +then their experiences were so much wider and more varied in +that old charmed, sunny, fairy life; the knot of their +difficulties was so readily cut, by a simple reference to some +Fortunatus' purse, or the arrival in the very nick of time of +some friendly fairy. Madelon did not draw the parallel quite +far enough, or it might have occurred to her that benevolence +did not become wholly extinct with the disappearance of +fairies, and that friendly interference is not quite unknown +even in these more prosaic days. The Fortunatus' purse, it is +true, might awake a sense of comparison, but who could have +looked at Jeanne-Marie's homely features, and have dreamed of +her in connexion with a fairy? In truth, it requires a larger +and deeper experience than any that Madelon could have +acquired, or reasoned out, to recognise how much of the charm +of these tales of our childhood can be traced to the eternal +truths that lie hidden in them, or to perceive that the +shining fairy concealed beneath the frequent guise of some +crabbed old woman, is no mere freak of fancy, but the symbol +of a reality, less exceptional perhaps amongst us poor +mortals, than amongst the fairies themselves, who, finding +their presence no longer needed, vanished from our earth so +many centuries ago. + +It was the next morning, that, after the doctor's visit was +over, Jeanne-Marie returned to the bedroom, with the air of +having tidings to impart. + +"You will be satisfied now, I hope," she said, as she met the +gaze of the restless brown eyes. "M. le Docteur says you may +get up for an hour this afternoon." + +"Does he?" cried Madelon, eagerly; "then he thinks I am +better--that I shall soon be well." + +"Of course you are better," said Jeanne-Marie--"you are getting +stronger every day; you will soon be quite well again." + +"And how soon shall I be able to go out?--to go on a journey, +for instance?" + +"You are, then, very anxious to get away?" asked Jeanne-Marie. + +"But yes," said Madelon naively, "I must go as soon as +possible." + +"Ah, well," said the woman, stifling a sigh, "that is only +natural; but there is no hurry, you will not be able to go +yet." + +"No," said Madelon, sadly, "I shall not be able to go yet." + +She did not remark Jeanne-Marie's sad voice, nor the unwonted +tears that filled her eyes; the woman felt half heart-broken +at what she imagined to be her charge's indifference. Madelon +was not indifferent or ungrateful, but her mind was filled +just then with her one idea, and she had no room for any +other; it wrought in her what seemed a supreme selfishness, +and yet she had no thought of self in the matter. + +She lay quite still for a few minutes, her pale little face +glowing with her renewed hopes. Then she said,-- + +"Jeanne-Marie, would you mind putting out my things where I +can see them?--my frock and all. Then I shall believe I am to +get up." + +Jeanne-Marie acquiesced silently. Madelon's scanty wardrobe +had all been mended and put in order, and now it was spread +out before her; but somehow the sight of the old black silk +frock brought a sudden chill with it; the very last time she +had put it on had been on the morning of the day she had +escaped from the convent. Since then what had she not gone +through! what disappointment, terror, sickness nearly to +death! Might she not indeed have been dead by this time, or a +prisoner for ever within the convent walls, had it not been +for Jeanne-Marie? Her eyes filled with tears at the thought. +She longed to tell Jeanne-Marie once more how much she loved +her; but the woman had left the room, and Madelon could only +lie patiently, and think of all she was going to do, when she +should be well again. + + +CHAPTER XV. + +A Summer with Jeanne-Marie. + + +At the back of Jeanne-Marie's house lay the garden, sheltered +by the steep rocky hill that rose just beyond. All through the +long summer evenings the voices of the men, as they sat +smoking and drinking in its vine-covered arbours, might be +heard; but during the day it was comparatively deserted, and +Jeanne-Marie had no difficulty in finding a quiet, shady +corner where Madelon might sit as long as she pleased without +being disturbed. An outside wooden staircase led from her room +to the garden below, so that she could come and go without +passing through the lower rooms of the house; and we may be +sure that it was considered a golden day by both her and +Jeanne-Marie, when she first made this little expedition. The +child, still almost too weak to stand or walk, was carried by +her strong, kind hostess down the flight of steps, and once +more found herself under the blue heavens, with a world of +sweet summer sights and sounds around her, as she lay on her +little improvised couch amongst the flowers and sweet-smelling +herbs. + +"There," said Jeanne-Marie, contemplating her with much +satisfaction, "now you have nothing to do but to get well +again as fast as you can." + +"Ah, I shall soon be well now!" cried Madelon, joyfully. The +colour came into her pale cheeks, her eyes shone with a new +light. Mists, and rain, and darkness seemed to have fled from +her life, and in their place a full tide of summer sunshine, +in which the birds sang gladly, and the flowers seemed to +spring up and open unconsciously, was crowning and glorifying +the day. + +That she had nothing to do but to get well, was not at all +Madelon's idea, however. A few evenings later, as she lay +awake in her bed, watching Jeanne-Marie moving about in the +twilight, arranging things for the night, she said,-- + +"Jeanne-Marie, I want to earn some money." + +"Some money, little one! What is that for?" + +"Ah, that I cannot tell you; but I want some, very much--thirty +francs at least. See here, I have been thinking--I can +embroider--Soeur Lucie said I could do it almost as well as she +could; do you think you could get me some to do? Ah, please +help me. I should like to earn some money." + +Two days afterwards, Jeanne-Marie produced two strips of +cloth, such as are used for purposes of church decoration, +with patterns and materials for embroidery. + +"Is that the sort of thing?" she said. "If you could do these, +you would get thirty francs for them, I daresay; I will see +that they are disposed of." + +"I will try," said Madelon. "Jeanne-Marie, how good you are to +me!--whatever I want, you do for me!" + +"That is nothing," said the woman, and went abruptly away to +attend to her customers. + +So, all the long summer days, Madelon sat through hot +noontides in the shady garden below, through golden sunsets at +the open window of her room above, stitching with silks and +gold and silver thread, till her weak little fingers ached, +and the task seemed as if it would never be done. Down in the +homely neglected little garden, all a sweet tangle of flowers +and weeds, she would seat herself; the birds would twitter +overhead, the bees would come humming round her amongst the +unpruned vines and roses that clambered everywhere, while the +embroidery pattern slowly grew beneath her fingers. She worked +steadily and well, but she could not work very fast; and she +wearied, oh! how she wearied of it sometimes; but she never +wavered in her purpose. "It is for Monsieur Horace," she would +say, and begin again with fresh zeal. Through the open window +of the little kitchen, which looked upon the garden, she could +see Jeanne-Marie coming and going, chopping herbs, shelling +peas and beans; and sometimes, when Madelon was too tired of +her work, she would gladly throw it down, that she might help +in these employments. "May I make an omelette, Jeanne-Marie?" +she would say; "I know how to do it, if you will let me try." +And the sight of Madelon flitting about the kitchen, busy +among the pots and pans, seemed to stir some long-forgotten +emotion in Jeanne-Marie's sad heart--too long-forgotten to be +learnt anew without pain, for her eyes would fill with tears +as she watched her. The child never went into the village, or, +indeed, stirred beyond the garden; that was all the world to +her just now, peopled by Jeanne-Marie, her hopes, and her +embroidery. + +Is it most strange or most natural, one wonders, that there +are times when one small nook of earth shuts out, as it were, +the whole universe from our eyes, when one personal interest +occupies us to the exclusion of the whole world of action, and +progress, and speculation, and thought? Thrones may topple +over, nationalities be effaced, revolutions in politics, in +religion, in science be effected, and all pass unheeded while +we sit counting our own private loss and gain in love or +friendship, in grief or joy. Whilst Madelon has been wearying +out her little heart and brain in the pursuit of her self- +imposed task, the world has not been, and is not, standing +still, we may be sure, and her small wheel of life is somehow +kept in motion by the great revolving circle of events, +however little she may think of, or heed them. Sebastopol has +fallen in these last months, the Crimean war is at an end, and +all the world that was discussing battles and sieges when +Horace Graham last parted with Madelon one September +afternoon, is talking of treaties and peace now, as the allied +armies move homewards from the East. And--which indeed would +have had more interest for Madelon could she have known it-- +Graham himself, after more than two years' hard work, had been +wounded in one of the last skirmishes; and with this wound, +and the accompanying fever, had lain for weeks very near to +death in the Scutari hospital, to be sent home at last, +invalided to England. While Madelon had been slowly recovering +from her fever in her little out-of-the-world refuge at Le +Trooz, Graham had been gaining health and strength in a +pleasant English home, with a sister to nurse and pet him, +nephews and nieces to make much of him, and the rosiest cheeks +and bluest eyes in the world to fall in love with, as he lay +idly on the lawn through the summer days. It was at the house +of his sister, who was married to a country doctor in Kent, +that this double process of love-making and convalescence went +on, with the greatest success and satisfaction to all parties; +and it was Miss Maria Leslie, the ward of his brother-in-law, +Dr. Vavasour, who was the owner of those bluest eyes and +rosiest cheeks. + +Meanwhile Madelon, stitching, stitching away at her work, +thought vaguely of Monsieur Horace as being still in that far- +off country from which he had last written to her, and +wondered a little how soon a letter written to the English +address he had given her would reach him. What would he say +and think when he received it? And when, ah! when would she be +able to write it? She worked on steadily, and yet it was +already September when the last stitch was put in, and she +could give the work to Jeanne-Marie. A few days afterwards the +woman put thirty francs into her hands. + +"There is your money," she said; "now what are you going to do +with it?" + +"I am going away," answered Madelon. + +"Yes?" said Jeanne-Marie, without any apparent emotion, "and +where are you going?" + +"I am going to Spa. Ah! Jeanne-Marie, do not ask me what I am +going to do; it is my secret, I cannot tell any one, but you +shall know some day." + +Jeanne-Marie was silent for a moment, then, "Look here, _ma +petite_," she said; "I don't want to know what you are going to +do; it is no concern of mine, and I cannot keep you if you +want to go away; but who are you going to in Spa? I cannot let +you go off without knowing where you are, and whether you are +safe. You might have the fever again, or some one might try to +take you back to the convent, and I should know nothing about +it. Where are you going? Have you any friends at Spa?" + +"There is only Madame Bertrand at the Hotel de Madrid," +replied Madelon, rather disconsolately; "I would not mind +going to her again, she is so kind; she wanted me to stay with +her the last time I was there--but then there is Mademoiselle +Henriette--it was she who wished to send me back to the +convent; if she were not there, I should not be afraid." + +"And is there no other hotel you could go to?" + +"I should not like to go to another," said Madelon, "they +would be all strange; I would rather go to Madame Bertrand, +and I should not have to stay there long." + +"And then what are you going to do?" + +"I don't know--I am not sure," answered Madelon, rather +embarrassed. "I shall write to a friend I have--Monsieur +Horace, you know--and he will tell me what to do." + +"And why do you not write to him at once, _mon enfant?_" + +"I cannot," was all Madelon's answer, nor could Jeanne-Marie +ever extract any further explanation on that point. The next +day Jeanne-Marie was missing from the restaurant for some +hours; but she reappeared in the afternoon, and presently came +out into the garden, where Madelon, seated in her favourite +corner, was nursing a big cat, and sorting out herbs for +drying. + +"What a long time you have been away!" she said, as Jeanne- +Marie came up to her. "See, I have done all these; I think +there are enough to last you all the winter." + +"Not quite," answered the woman; "bur never mind them now. Do +you want to know where I have been? I have been to Spa, and +seen Madame Bertrand." + +"Have you?" cried Madelon; "did you tell her about me? Was +Mademoiselle Henriette there?" + +"Mademoiselle Henriette is gone; she and her aunt had a grand +quarrel, and she left, and so Madame Bertrand is alone again. +I told her all about you: she said she was glad you had not +gone back to the convent, and that you could go to her +whenever you wished, for she would take care of you. So as +your work is done," Jeanne-Marie added with a sigh, "there is +nothing to keep you, and you may go as soon as you like." + +"May I" cried Madelon; "to-morrow, next day? Ah! Jeanne-Marie, +how happy you have made me; you will know why, you will +understand some day--tell me when I shall go." + +"We will say the day after to-morrow. I will get your things +ready," answered Jeanne-Marie. She stood gazing at the child +for a moment, as if she would have said something more, then +turned away quickly and entered the house. + +Madelon never thought of connecting Jeanne-Marie's sad looks +and ways with her own departure; and indeed, hardly noticed +them, in her joy at having accomplished her task, and earned +the longed-for thirty francs. She did not understand nor +suspect the woman's passionate longing for her affection; no +child can comprehend that strange, pathetic yearning that +older people have for a child's love--a love so pure, and +fresh, and ingenuous, that when it is freely and frankly +given, it is surely the most flattering and precious in the +world. Madelon gave Jeanne-Marie all the love she had to +bestow, but the first place in her heart was already taken; +and perhaps the woman had discovered that it was so, and was +half jealous of this unknown Monsieur Horace, whom she divined +to be at the bottom of all Madelon's plans and ideas. But if +it were so, she never spoke of it, nor of any of the half- +formed hopes and projects she may have had; and Madelon never +could have guessed them, as her kind, sad hostess silently +made up her small wardrobe into a bundle, and patched the old +black silk frock once more, sighing over it the while. And had +Madelon then no regrets at leaving the little cottage, where +she had been tended with such motherly care? Some, perhaps; +for as she sat that last evening watching Jeanne-Marie at her +work, she, too, sighed a little; and at last, clasping her +arms round the woman's neck, she cried, "Jeanne-Marie, I will +love you always--always!--I will never forget you!" + +"That is as may be," says melancholy Jeanne-Marie, disengaging +herself. + +"Ah! you will not believe me," said Madelon; "but I tell you I +never forget, and you have been so good, so kind to me! +Sometimes I think I should like to stay with you always--would +you let me?" + +"Would I let you?" said Jeanne-Marie, dropping her work +suddenly, and looking at the child. "No, I would not let you," +she said, after a moment's pause, "unless you had nowhere else +to go; but you have other friends, it appears, and it is well +for you. No, I would not let you, for it would be as bad a +thing for you as could be. Ask any of the neighbours what they +would think of it--ask them if they think you would get good or +bad from me, and see what they would say!" She gave a little +scornful laugh. + +"I don't know what you mean," said Madelon, fixing her great +eyes on her with a puzzled look--"I don't care what they would +say. You are one of the best people I ever knew, and I love +you with all my heart; but I _must_ go away." + +"Why must you?" asks Jeanne-Marie, stitching away at the black +frock. + +"That is what I cannot tell you," said Madelon. "No, I will +not tell any one, though I should like to tell you, too," +added the poor child, gazing wistfully at almost the only +friend she had in the world. + +"Well, well," said Jeanne-Marie, "I do not want to hear your +secrets, as you know, unless you like to tell them; but I am +not going to lose sight of you altogether till I hear you are +safe with your friends. You must write me a letter from Spa, +and if I do not hear or see anything of you in a week's time, +I shall come and look after you." + +"Yes, I will write," said Madelon; "and I wish--I wish I was +not going away; I have been so happy here." And then she hid +her face on Jeanne-Marie's shoulder, while the sky was all +rosy with the sunset of the last of these peaceful summer days +that our Madelon was to spend at Le Trooz. + +Jeanne-Marie could not spare time to go again to Spa the next +day, but she went with Madelon to the station, and waited till +the train that bore her away was out of sight, and then, all +lonely, she walked back to her empty house. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +How Madelon kept her Promise. + + +Madelon was standing in a little upper bedroom of the Hotel de +Madrid, a room so high up that from the window one looked over +the tops of the trees in the Place Royale below, to the +opposite hills. It was already dusk, but there was sufficient +light to enable her to count over the little piles of gold +that lay on the table before her, and which, as she counted, +she put into a small canvas bag. It was the third evening +after her arrival in Spa; she was preparing for her third +visit to the Redoute, and this was what her capital of thirty +francs had already produced. + +The last ten-franc piece disappeared within the bag, and +Madelon, taking her hat and cloak, began to put them on +slowly, pausing as she did so to reflect. + +"If I have the same luck this evening," she thinks, "to-morrow +I shall be able to write to Monsieur Horace--if only I have--and +why not? I have scarcely lost once these last two nights. +Certainly it is better to play in the evening than in the +daytime. I remember now that papa once said so, and to-night I +feel certain--yes, I feel certain that I shall win--and then to- +morrow----" + +She clasped her hands in ecstasy; she looked up at the evening +sky. It was a raw, grey September evening, with gusts of wind +and showers of rain at intervals. But Madelon cared nothing +for the weather; her heart was all glowing with hope, and joy, +and exultation. She put on her hat and veil, took up her +money, and locking her door after her, ran downstairs. She +hung the key up in Madame Bertrand's room, but Madame Bertrand +was not there. On Madelon's arrival at the hotel she had found +the excellent old woman ill, and unable to leave her room, and +it was in her bed that she had given the child the warmest of +welcomes, and from thence that she had issued various orders +for her comfort and welfare. Her attack still kept her +confined to her room, and thus it happened that our Madelon, +quite independent, found herself at liberty to come and go +just as she pleased. + +She hung up her key, in the deserted little parlour, and, +unchallenged, left the hotel, and went out into the tree- +planted Place, where the band was playing, and people walking +up and down under the chill grey skies. She felt very hopeful +and joyous, so different from the first time she had started +on the same errand, and the fact inspired her with ever- +increasing confidence. She had failed then, and yet here she +was, successful in her last attempts, ready to make another +crowning trial, and with how many more chances in her favour! +Surely she could not fail now!--and yet if she should! She was +turning towards the Redoute, when an idea suddenly occurred to +her--an idea most natural, arising, as it did, from that +instinctive cry for more than human help, that awakes in every +heart on great emergencies, and appealing, moreover, to that +particular class of religious sentiment which in our little +orphaned Madelon had most readily responded to convent +teaching. What if it had been the Holy Virgin Mother who had +been her protector in all these troubles, who had raised her +up friends, and had brought her from death, as it were, to +life again, to fulfil her promise? And if it were so,--which +seemed most probable to Madelon,--would it not be well to +invite her further protection, and even by some small offering +to give emphasis to her prayers? Madelon's notions, it will be +perceived, were not in strict accordance with convent +orthodoxy, which would scarcely have been willing to recognize +the Virgin's help in a successful escape from the convent +itself; but orthodox notions were the last things with which +it was to be expected our Madelon would trouble herself. +Without other thought than that here might be another and sure +way of furthering her one object, she made her way into a +church, and expending two sous in a lighted taper, carried it +to a little side chapel, where, above a flower-decorated +altar, a beneficent Madonna seemed to welcome all sad orphans +in the world to her all-protecting embrace. + +To me there is something infinitely touching in these shrines +to the Virgin, with all their associations of suffering and +prayer, in their little ex-voto pictures, and flowers, and +lighted tapers. I do not envy those who can see in them +nothing but the expression of a pitiable superstition; to my +mind they appeal to far wider sympathies, as one thinks of the +sick and weary hearts who have come there to seek consolation +and help. Everywhere one comes across these shrines--in the +gloom of some great Cathedral, in some homely village church, +in some humble wayside chapel, where, amidst sunny fields and +pastures, amidst mountains, streams, and lakes, one reads the +little heart-broken scrawls affixed to the grating, praying an +Ave-Maria or Paternoster from the passer-by, for a sick +person, for a mother watching beside her dying child, for a +woman forsaken of the world. A whole atmosphere of consecrated +suffering seems to float round these spots sacred to sorrow, +the sorrow that humbly appeals, as it best knows how, to the +love, wide enough to embrace and comfort all desolate, and +yearning, and heavy-laden souls. + +One can fancy Madelon as she walks along the dim church; one +or two lights twinkle here and there in the darkness, the +taper she holds shines on her little pale face, and her brown +eyes are lighted up with a sudden glow of enthusiasm, +devotion, supplication, as she kneels for a moment before the +Virgin's altar, with an Ave-Maria on her lips, and an unspoken +prayer in her heart. + +Half an hour later, Madelon, in the midst of the blaze of +light in the big gambling salon of the Redoute, is thinking of +nothing in the world but rouge-et-noir and the chances of the +game before her. For the first time she has ventured to push +her way through the crowd and take a seat at the table; and +for the moment she has forgotten her object, forgotten why she +is there even, in the excitement of watching whether black or +red will win. It matters little, it seems; whatever she stakes +on, comes up; her small capital is being doubled an trebled. +She had taken off her veil, which hitherto she had carefully +kept down, and the little flushed face, with the eager eyes +that sparkle with impatience at every pause in the game, is +noticed by several people round the table. Her invariable +luck, too, is remarked upon. "Stake for me, _mon enfant_," +whispered a voice in her ear, and a little pile of five-franc +pieces was put in front of her. Madelon, hardly thinking of +what she did, staked the stranger's money along with her own +on the red. It won. "Thank you, my child; it is the first time +I have won to-night," said the voice again, as a long hand +covered with rings swept up the money. Madelon turned round +quickly: behind her stood a woman with rouged cheeks, a low +evening dress half concealed by a black lace shawl, beads and +bracelets on her neck and arms--a common figure enough--there +were half-a-dozen more such in the room--and she took no more +notice of Madelon, but went on pricking her card without +speaking to her again. But to the child there came a quick +revulsion of feeling, that she could not have explained, as +she shrank away from her gaudily-attired neighbour. All at +once the game seemed somehow to have lost its interest and +excitement; the crowds, the heat, the light, suddenly +oppressed her; for the first time her heart gave way. She felt +scared, friendless, lonely. There came to her mind a thought +of the peaceful faces of the black-robed sisters, a sound as +of the tinkling bell ringing above the old cabbage-ground, a +breath sweet with the scent of fresh roses in Jeanne-Marie's +little garden; she had a momentary impulse to go, to fly +somewhere, anywhere--ah! but whither? Whither in all the wide +world could she go? Back to the convent to be made a nun? Back +to Jeanne-Marie with her promise unfulfilled? "I will keep my +promise, I will not be frightened," thinks the poor child, +bravely; "I will fancy that papa is in the room, and that he +will take care of me." And all these thoughts pass through he +head while the croupier is crying, "_Faites votre jeu, +Messieurs, faites votre jeu!_" and in, and on she goes again. + +And while she is intent on making Monsieur Horace's fortune, +Monsieur Horace himself, not five hundred yards off, is +walking up and down the Place Royale, listening to the band, +and troubling his head not at all about fortune-making, but +very much about Madelon. On his recovery from his illness, he +had come to Spa to drink the waters, and had been there nearly +a month, during which time he had twice been over to Liege to +make inquiries about Madelon. His dismay had been great, when, +on his first visit to the convent, he had learnt that +Mademoiselle Linders was dead, that her little niece had +disappeared three or four months before, and that nothing had +been heard of her since, with the exception of the vague, +anonymous letter from Paris. He wrote off at once to Madame +Lavaux, the only person with whom he could imagine Madeleine +to have taken refuge; but, as we know, Madame Lavaux had +neither seen her nor heard anything about her. He had then, in +his perplexity, written to her old friends in Florence, +thinking it just possible they might be able to give him some +information, but with no more success. He received an answer +from the American artist, in which he mentioned the death of +the old violinist, lamented Madelon's disappearance, but, as +may be supposed, gave no news of her. + +Graham was greatly annoyed and perplexed. What could have +become of the child? To whom could she have gone? She had had +no friend but himself when he had last parted from her, and +she could hardly, he imagined, have made any outside the +convent walls. And why had she run away? Had she been unkindly +treated? Why had she not written to him if she were in +trouble? These and a hundred other questions he asked himself, +reproaching himself the while for not having kept up some kind +of communication with her, or with Mademoiselle Linders. He +had a real interest in, and affection for, the child, whom he +had befriended in her hour of need; and held himself besides +in some sort responsible for her welfare, after the promise he +had made to her father on his death-bed. What was he to do if +all traces of her were indeed lost? This very day he had again +been over to Liege, had paid a second visit to the convent, +and had made inquiries of every person who probably or +improbably might have had news of her, but with no more result +than before; and now, as he walked up and down the Place +Royale, he was debating in his own mind whether he could take +any further steps in the matter, or whether it must not rather +now be left to time and chance to discover her hiding-place. + +A shower of rain came on, dispersing the few people who had +cared to linger in the open air in this raw, chilly evening; +and Horace, leaving the Place, went up the street, which, with +its lights and shops, looked cheerfully by comparison, and, +like the rest of the world, turned into the Redoute, more than +usually full, for it was the race-week, and numbers of +strangers had come into the town. The ball-room, where dancing +was going on, was crowded; and Graham, who, attracted by the +music, had looked in, had soon had enough of the heat and +noise. In a few minutes he had made his way into the gambling +salon, and had joined one of the silent groups standing round +the tables. + +Meanwhile, Madelon, once more absorbed in the game, is +meditating her grand _coup_. Hitherto she has been playing +cautiously, her capital accumulating gradually, but surely, +till she has quite a heap of gold and notes before her. It is +already a fortune in her eyes, and she thinks, if she could +only double this all at once, then indeed would the great task +be accomplished; she might go then, she might write to +Monsieur Horace, she would see him again--ah! what joy, what +happiness! Should she venture? Surely it would be very rash to +risk all that at once--and yet if she were to win--and she has +been so lucky this evening-- her heart leaps up again--she +hesitates a moment, then pushes the whole on to the black, +reserving only one ten-franc piece, and sits pale, breathless, +incapable of moving, during what seemed to her the longest +minute in her life. It was only a minute--the croupier dealt +the cards--"_Rouge perd, et couleur_," he cried, paid the smaller +stakes, and then, counting out gold and notes, pushed over to +her what was, in fact, a sufficiently large sum, and which, to +her inexperienced eyes, seemed enormous. "Who is she?" asked +one or two of the bystanders of each other. "She has been +winning all the evening." They shrugged their shoulders; +nobody knew. As for Madelon, she heard none of their remarks-- +she had won, she might go now, go and find Monsieur Horace; +and as this thought crossed her mind, she gathered up her +winnings, thrust them into her bag, and rose to depart. As she +turned round, she faced Monsieur Horace himself, who had been +standing behind her chair, little dreaming whose play it was +he had been watching. + +She recognised him in a moment, though he had grown thinner +and browner since she had last seen him. "Monsieur Horace!-- +Monsieur Horace!" she cried. + +He was still watching the game, but turned at the sound of her +voice, and looked down on the excited little face before him. +"Madelon!" he exclaimed--"Madelon here!--no, impossible! +Madelon!" + +"Yes, yes," she said, half laughing, half crying at the same +time, "I am Madelon. Ah! come this way--let me show you. I have +something to show you this time--you will see, you will see!" + +She seized both his hands as she spoke, and pulled him through +the crowd into the adjoining reading-room. It was all lighted +up, the table strewn with books and papers; but no one was +there. Madelon was in a state of wild excitement and triumph. + +"Look here," she cried; "I promised to make your fortune, did +I not, Monsieur Horace?--and I have done it! Ah! you will be +rich now--see here!" she poured the contents of her bag on the +table before him. "Are you glad?" she said. + +"Glad!--what on earth are you talking about? Where did you get +this money, Madelon?" + +"Where?--why, there, at the tables, to be sure--where else?" she +answered, getting frightened at his manner. + +"But--gracious powers! are you out of your senses, child?" +cried Graham. "Whatever possessed you to come here? What +business have you in a place like this? Are you alone?" + +"Yes, I am alone. I came to make your fortune," answered +Madelon, dismayed. + +"My fortune!" he repeated. "What can have put such a notion +into your head? As for that money, the sooner you get rid of +it the better. What the devil--good heavens! a baby like you!-- +here, give it to me!" + +"What are you going to do?" cried Madelon, struck with sudden +fear, as he swept it up in his hand. + +"Take it back, of course," he answered, striding into the next +room. + +"Ah! you shall not!" she cried passionately, running after +him, and seizing his hand; "it is mine, it is mine, you shall +not have it!" + +"Hush, Madelon," he said, turning round sharply, "don't make a +disturbance here." + +She made no answer, but clung with her whole weight to his arm +as he approached the table. She dragged his hand back, she +held it tight between hers; her face was quite pale, her teeth +set in her childish passion. + +"Madelon, let go!" said Graham; "do you hear what I say? Let +go!" + +"Give me my money back!" she cried, in a passionate whisper; +"you have no right to take it; it is my own." + +"Let go," he repeated, freeing his hand as he spoke. She +seized it again, but it was too late; he had placed the money +on the table, and with the other hand pushed it into the +middle. A horrible pause, while Madelon clung tighter and +tighter, watching breathlessly till she saw the croupier rake +in the whole. All was lost, then; she flung Horace's hand +away, and rushed out of the room. "Madelon!" he cried, and +followed her. Down the lighted staircase, out into the lighted +street, he could see the swift little figure darting along the +Place Royale, where he had been walking not half an hour ago, +all quiet and dark now; the music gone, the people dispersed, +the rain falling heavily. Still she ran on, into the avenue of +the Promenade a Sept Heures. It was darker still there, only a +rare lamp slanting here and there a long gleam of light across +the wet path. Horace began to be afraid that he should lose +her altogether, but she suddenly stumbled and fell, and when +he came up to her, she was sitting all in a heap on the ground +at the foot of a tree, her face buried in her hands, her frame +shaking with sobs. + +"Madelon," said Horace, stooping down, and trying to take her +hands; "my little Madelon, my poor little child!" + +She jumped up when she heard his voice, and started away from +him. + +"_Ne me touchez pas, je vous le defends_," she cried, "_ne me +touchez pas, je vous deteste--vous etes un cruel--un perfide!_" + +She began to sob again, and dropped down once more upon the +ground, crouched upon the damp earth, strewn with dead fallen +leaves. Her hat had fallen off, and the rain came down upon +her uncovered head, wetting the short hair as it was blown +about by the wind, drenching her thin little cloak and old +black silk frock. A very pitiful sight as she sat there, a +desolate, homeless child, on this dark, wet autumn night, deaf +in her excess of childish rage to Horace's words, shaking him +off with wilful, passionate gestures whenever he touched her--a +very perplexing sight to the young man, who stood and watched +her, uncertain what to say or do next. + +At last she grew a little quieter, and then he spoke to her in +a tone of authority:-- + +"You must get up, Madelon; you will get quite wet if you stay +here." + +He took hold of her hand, and held it firmly when she tried to +loosen it, and at last she got up slowly. As she rose, she +became conscious of the wet and cold, and was completely +sobered as she stood shivering at Horace's side. + +"My poor little Madelon!" he said, in the kind voice she +remembered from old times. "You are quite wet and so cold, we +must not stay here; tell me where you are going?" + +"I don't know," said Madelon, beginning to cry again. Only an +hour ago she had been so full of joy and hope, with such a +bright future before her; and now the rain and wind were +beating in her face, above her the black sky, darkness all +around; where indeed was she going? + +"But you have some friends here?" said Horace--"you are not +staying here all alone?" + +"Yes, I am all alone," said Madelon, sobbing. "Oh! what shall +I do?--what shall I do?" + +"Don't cry so, Madelon," said Graham, "my poor child, don't be +frightened. I will take care of you, but I want you to tell me +all about this. Do you mean you are all alone in Spa?" + +"Yes, I am all alone; I came here three days ago. I had been +ill at Le Trooz, and a woman there--Jeanne-Marie--took care of +me; but as soon as I was well and had money enough, I came to +Spa, and went to the Hotel de Madrid. Papa and I used to go +there, and I knew Madame Bertrand who keeps it." + +"So you slept there last night," said Horace, not a little +mystified at the story, but trying to elucidate some fact +sufficiently plain to act upon. + +"Yes, last light, and before. I left my things there, and +meant to have gone back to-night, but I have no money now. +What is to be done?" That grand question of money, so +incomprehensible to children to whom all things seem to come +by nature, had long ago been faced by Madelon, but had never +before, perhaps, presented itself as a problem so incapable of +solution--as a question to be asked of such a very dreary, +black, voiceless world, from which no answer could reasonably +be expected. But, in truth, the answer was not far off. + +"I will take care of all that," said Horace; "so now, come +with me. Stay, here is your hat; we must not go without that." + +He arranged her disordered hair and crushed hat, and then, +taking her hand, led her back towards the town, Madelon very +subdued, and miserable, and cold, Horace greatly perplexed as +to the meaning of it all, but quite resolved not to lose sight +of his charge any more. + +Arrived at the Hotel de Madrid, he left Madelon for a moment +in the shabby little coffee-room, while he asked to speak to +Madame Bertrand. Madame Bertrand, as we know, was ill and in +bed, but the maid brought down Madelon's bundle of things. +Graham asked her a few questions, but the girl evidently knew +nothing about the child. "Madame knew--she had dined in +Madame's private room the last two days," but she could not +tell anything more about her, and did not even know her name. + +When Graham came back to the room, he found Madelon standing +listlessly as he had left her; she had not moved. "Well," he +said cheerily, "that is settled; now you are my property for +the present; you shall sleep at my hotel to-night." + +"At your hotel?" she said, looking up at him. + +"Yes, where I am staying. Your friend here is not well. I +think I shall look after you better. You do not mind coming +with me?" + +"No, no!" she cried, beginning to cling to him in her old way-- +"I will go anywhere with you. Indeed I did not mean what I +said, but I am very unhappy." + +"You are tired and wet," answered Graham, "but we will soon +set that to rights; you will see to-morrow, you will not be +unhappy at all. Old friends like you and me, Madelon, should +not cry at seeing each other again; should they?" + +Talking to her in his kind, cheerful way, they walked briskly +along till they arrived at the hotel. Madelon was tired out, +and he at once ordered a room, fire, and supper for her, and +handed her over to the care of a good-natured chambermaid. + +"Good night, Madelon. I will come and see after you to-morrow +morning," he said smiling, as he left her. + +She looked up at him for a moment with a most pitiful, eager +longing in her eyes; then suddenly seizing his hands in her +wild excited way--"Oh, Monsieur Horace, Monsieur Horace, if I +could only tell you!" she cried; and then, as he left the +room, and closed the door, she flung herself upon the floor in +quite another passion of tears than that she had given way to +in the Promenade a Sept Heures. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +The old Letter. + + +When Horace went to see after Madelon the next morning, he +found her already up and dressed. She opened her bedroom door +in answer to his knock, and stood before him, her eyes cast +down, her wavy hair all smooth and shining, even the old black +silk frock arranged and neat--a very different little Madelon +from the passionate, despairing, weeping child of the evening +before. + +"Good morning, Madelon," said Graham, taking her hand and +looking at her with a smile and a gleam in his kind eyes; "how +are you to-day? Did you sleep well?" + +"I am very well, Monsieur," says Madelon, with her downcast +eyes. "I have been up a long time. I have been thinking of +what I shall do; I do not know, will you help me?" + +"We will talk of that presently," said Graham, "but first we +must have some breakfast; come downstairs with me now." + +"Monsieur Horace," said Madelon, drawing back, "please I +wanted to tell you, I know I was very naughty last night, and +I am very sorry;" and she looked up with her eyes full of +tears. + +"I don't think we either of us quite knew what we were doing +last night," said Graham, squeezing her little hand in his; +"let us agree to forget it, for the present at all events; I +want you to come with me now; there is a lady downstairs who +very much wishes to see you." + +"To see me?" said Madelon, shrinking back again. + +"Yes, don't be frightened, it is only my aunt. She wants to +know you, and I think will be very fond of you. Will you come +with me?" And then, as they went along the passage and +downstairs, he explained to her that he was not alone at the +hotel, but that his aunt, Mrs. Treherne, was also there, and +that he had been telling her what old friends he and Madelon +were, and how unexpectedly they had met last night. + +He opened the door of a sitting-room on the _premier_; a wood- +fire was crackling, breakfast was on the table, and before the +coffee-pot stood a lady dressed in black. + +"Here is Madelon, Aunt Barbara," said Graham; and Mrs. +Treherne came forward, a tall, gracious, fair woman, with +stately manners, and a beautiful sad face. + +"My dear," she said, taking Madelon's hand, "Horace has been +telling me about you, and from what he says, I think you and I +must become better acquainted. He tells me your name is +Madeleine Linders." + +"Yes, Madame," says Madelon, rather shyly, and glancing up at +the beautiful face, which, with blue eyes and golden hair +still undimmed, might have been that of some fair saint or +Madonna, but for a certain chilling expression of cold +sadness. + +"I knew something of a Monsieur Linders once," said Mrs. +Treherne, "and I think he must have been your father, my dear. +Your mother was English, was she not? Can you tell me what her +name was before she married?" + +"I--I don't know," said Madelon; "she died when I was quite a +baby." + +"Nearly thirteen years ago, that would be? Yes, that is as I +thought; but have you never heard her English name, never seen +it written? Have you nothing that once belonged to her?" + +"Yes, Madame," answered Madelon; "there is a box at the +convent that was full of things, clothes, and some books. +There was a name written in them--ah! I cannot remember it--it +was English." + +"Moore?" asked Mrs. Treherne. "Stay, I will write it. Magdalen +Moore--was that it?" + +"Yes," said Madelon; "I think it was--yes, I know it was. I +remember the letters now. But I have something of hers here, +too," she added--"a letter, that I found in the pocket of this +dress--this was mamma's once, and it was in the trunk. Shall I +fetch it?--it is upstairs." + +"Yes, I should like to see it, my dear. You will wonder at all +these questions, but, if I am not mistaken, your mother was a +very dear friend of mine." + +Madelon left the room, and Mrs. Treherne, sitting down at the +table, began to arrange her breakfast-cups. Horace was +standing with one arm on the mantel-piece, gazing into the +fire; he had been silent during this short interview, but as +Madelon disappeared,-- + +"Is she at all like her mother?" he inquired. + +"She is like--yes, certainly she is like; her eyes remind me of +Magdalen's--and yet she is unlike, too." + +"You must be prepared," said Horace, after a moment's pause, +"to find her devoted to her father's memory; and not without +reason, I must say, for he was devoted to her, after his own +fashion. She thinks him absolute perfection; and, in fact, I +believe this escapade of hers to have been entirely founded on +precedents furnished by him." + +"I think it is the most dreadful thing I ever heard of," said +Mrs. Treherne--"a child of that age alone in such a place!" + +"Well, I really don't know," answered Graham, half laughing. +"I don't suppose it has done her much mischief; and of this I +am quite sure, that she had no idea of there being any more +harm in going to a gambling-table than in going for a walk." + +"That appears to me the worst part of it, that a child should +have been brought up in such ignorance of right and wrong. +However, she can be taught differently." + +"Certainly; but don't you think the teaching had better come +gradually?--it would break her heart, to begin with, to be told +her father was not everything she imagines--if indeed she could +be made to understand it just yet, which I doubt." + +"Of course it would be cruel to shake a child's faith in her +father," answered Mrs. Treherne; "but she must learn it in +time. Monsieur Linders was one of the most worthless men that +ever lived, and Charles Moore was as bad, if not worse. I +wonder--good heavens, Horace, how one wonders at such things!--I +wonder what Magdalen had done that she should be left to the +mercy of two such men as those." + +"Well, it is no fault of Madelon's, at any rate," Horace +began; and then stopped, as the door opened, and Madelon came +in. In her hand she carried a queer little bundle of +treasures, that she had brought away with her from the +convent--the old German's letter, the two that Horace had sent +her, and one or two other things, all tied together with a +silk thread. + +"This is the letter," she said, selecting one from the packet, +and giving it to Mrs. Treherne. It was the one she had read in +the evening twilight in her convent cell last May. "I am +afraid there is no name on it, for there is no beginning nor +ending. I think it must have been burnt." + +"Why, that is your writing, Aunt Barbara!" said Graham, who +had come forward to inspect these relics. + +"Yes, it is mine," said Mrs. Treherne. "It was written by me +many years ago." + +She glanced at the letter as she spoke, then crushed it up +quickly in her hand, and with a sudden flush on her pale cheek +turned to Madelon. + +"My dear," she said, putting one arm round the child's waist, +and caressing her hair with the other hand, "I knew you mother +very well; she was my cousin, and the very dearest friend I +ever had. I think you must come and live with me, and be my +child, as there is no one else who has any claim on you." + +"Did you know mamma, Madame?" said Madelon. "And papa--did you +know him?" + +"No, my dear, I never knew your father," said Mrs. Treherne, +with a change in her voice, and relaxing her hold of the +child. + +"You forget, Madelon," said Graham, coming to the rescue, +"your father never went to England, so he did not make +acquaintance with your mother's friends. But that is not the +question now; my aunt wants to know if you will not come and +live with her in England, and be her little girl? That would +be pleasanter than the convent, would it not?" + +"Yes, thank you. I should like to go and live in England very +much," said Madelon, her eyes wandering wistfully from Mrs. +Treherne to Graham. "And with you too, Monsieur Horace?" she +added, quickly. + +"Not with me, exactly," he answered, taking her hand in his; +"for I am going off to America in a month or two; and you know +we agreed that you and I could not go about the world +together; but I shall often hear of you, and from you, and be +quite sure that you are happy; and that will be a great thing, +will it not?" + +"Yes, thank you," she said again. Her eyes filled with sudden +tears, but they did not fall. It was a very puzzling world in +which she found herself, and events, which only yesterday she +had thought to guide after her own fashion, had escaped quite +beyond the control of her small hand. + +Perhaps Mrs. Treherne saw how bewildered she was, for she drew +her towards her again, and kissed her, and told her that she +was her child now, and that she would take care of her, and +love her for her mother's sake. + +"Now let us have some breakfast," she said. "After that we +will see what we have to do, for I am going to leave Spa to- +morrow." + + +Late in the afternoon of the same day, Horace, who had been +out since the morning, coming into the sitting-room, found +Madelon there alone. It was growing dark, and she was sitting +in a big arm-chair by the fire, her eyes fixed on the +crackling wood, her hands lying listlessly in her lap. She +hardly looked up, or stirred as Graham came in, and drew a +chair to her side. + +"Well, Madelon," he said, cheerfully, "so we start for England +to-morrow?" + +"Yes," she said; but there was no animation in her manner. + +"Has my aunt told you?" he went on. "We are going to sleep at +Liege, so that she may go to the convent, and settle matters +there finally, and let the nuns know they are not to expect +you back again." + +"Yes, I know," said Madelon. "Monsieur Horace, do you think we +might stop for just a little while--for half-an-hour--at Le +Trooz, to see Jeanne-Marie? She would not like me to go away +without wishing her good-bye." + +"Of course we will. It was Jeanne-Marie who took care of you +when you were ill, was it not? Tell me the whole story, +Madelon. What made you run away from Liege?" + +"There was a fever in the convent; I caught it, and Aunt +Therese died; and when I was getting well I heard the nuns +talking about it, and saying I was to live in the convent +always, and be made a nun--and I could not, oh! I could not-- +papa said I was never to be a nun, and it would have been so +dreadful; and I could not have kept my promise to you, +either." + +"What was this promise, Madelon? I can't remember your making +me one, or anything about it." + +"Yes, don't you know? That evening at Liege, the night before +I went into the convent, when we were taking a walk. You said +you wanted to make your fortune, and I said I would do it for +you. I knew how, and I thought you did not. I meant to do it +at once, but I could not, and I was afraid you would think I +had forgotten my promise, and would want the money, so I got +out of the window and came to Spa. But I lost all my money the +first time I went to the tables, and there was a lady who +wanted to take me back to the convent; but she went to sleep +in the train, and I got out at Le Trooz. I don't remember much +after that, for the fever came on again; but Jeanne-Marie, who +keeps a restaurant in the village, found me in the church, she +says, and took me home, and nursed me till I was well." + +"And how long ago was all this?" + +"It was last May that I ran away from the convent, and I was +with Jeanne-Marie all the summer; but as soon as I was well +again, and had enough money, I came back here--that was four +days ago; and last night I had the money, and to-day I should +have written to you to tell you that I had kept my promise, +and made your fortune." + +"And so it was all for me," said Graham, with a sudden pang of +tenderness and remorse. "My poor little Madelon, you must have +thought me very cruel and unkind last night." + +"Never mind," she answered, "you did not understand; I thought +you knew I had promised;" but she turned away her head as she +spoke, and Graham saw that she was crying. + +"Indeed I don't remember anything about it," he said; "why, my +poor child, I should never have thought of such a thing. Well, +never mind, Madelon, you shall come to England with us. Do you +know you are a sort of cousin of mine?" + +"Am I?" she answered, "did you know mamma as well as Mrs. ---- +as Madame _votre Tante?_" + +"Well, no; the fact is, I never even heard her married name, +though I knew we had some relations named Moore, for she was +my mother's cousin, also. But she went abroad and married when +I was quite a child, and died a few years afterwards, and that +is how it happened that I never heard of, or saw her." + +"Ah! well, you knew papa," said Madelon; and then there was +silence between them for a minute, till a flame leaping up +showed Madelon's face all tearful and woe-begone. + +"You are not happy, Madelon," said Graham. "What is it? Can I +help you in any way? Is there anything I can do for you?" + +She fairly burst into sobs as he spoke. + +"Monsieur Horace," she answered, "I--I wanted to make your +fortune; I had looked forward to it for such a long time, and +I was so happy when I had done it, and I thought you would be +so pleased and glad, too, and now it is all at an end----" + +How was Graham to console her? How explain it all to her? +"Listen to me, Madelon," he said at last; "I think you were a +dear little girl to have such a kind thought for me, and I +don't know how to thank you enough for it; but it was all a +mistake, and you must not fret about it now. I don't think I +care so very much about having a fortune; and anyhow, I like +working hard and getting money that way for myself." + +"But mine is the best and quickest way," said Madelon, +unconvinced; "it was what papa always did." + +"Yes, but you know everybody does not set to work the same +way, and I think I like mine best for myself." + +"Do you?" she said, looking at him wistfully; "and may I not +go and try again, then?" + +"No, no," he answered kindly; "that would not do at all, +Madelon; it does not do for little girls to run about the +world making fortunes. Your father used to take you to those +rooms, but he would not have liked to have seen you there +alone last night, and you must never go again." + +He tried to speak lightly, but the words aroused some new +consciousness in the child, and she coloured scarlet. + +"I--I did not know--" she began; and then stopped suddenly, and +never again spoke of making Monsieur Horace's fortune. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +Partings. + + +So it was something like the end of a fairy tale after all; +for a carriage stopped before the restaurant at Le Trooz, and +out of it came a gentleman, and a lady beautiful enough to be +a fairy godmother, and the little wandering Princess herself, +no other than our Madelon, who ran up to Jeanne-Marie as she +came to the door, and clasping her round the neck, clung to +her more tightly than she had ever clung before, till the +woman, disengaging herself, turned to speak to her other +visitors. Mrs. Treherne came into the little public room, +which happened to be empty just then, and siting down on one +of the wooden chairs, began to talk to Jeanne-Marie; whilst +Madelon, escaping, made her way to the garden at the back, +where she had spent so many peaceful hours. It was not a week +since she had been there and it looked all unchanged; the sun +was shining again after the last few days, and filling the air +with summer heat and radiance; the grapes were ripening on the +wall; the bees humming among the flowers; Jeanne-Marie's pots +and pans stood in the kitchen window. How quiet, and sunny, +and familiar it looked! Madelon half expected to find her +chair set in the old shady corner, to see Jeanne-Marie's face +appearing through the screen of vine-leaves at the open +window, to hear her voice calling to her to leave her work, +and come and help her make the soup! Ah no, it was not all +unchanged; was there indeed anything the same as in the old +days that already seemed such ages distant, the old time gone +for ever? With a sudden pang, Madelon turned away, and went +quickly up the outside staircase, all overgrown with unpruned +sprays and tendrils, into the room she had occupied for so +many weeks. How happy she had been there! what dreams she had +dreamed! what hopes she had cherished! what visions she had +indulged in! Where were they all now? Where was that golden +future to which she had so confidently looked forward, for +which she had worked, and striven, and ventured all? She knelt +down by the bed, flinging her arms out over the coarse blue +counterpane. Ah, if she had but died there, died while she was +all unconscious, before this cruel grief and disappointment +had come upon her! + +And meanwhile, Jeanne-Marie, in the room below, had been +hardening her heart against the child after her own fashion. +She had answered Mrs. Treherne's questions curtly, rejected +the faintest suggestion of money as an insult, and stood +eyeing Graham defiantly while the talk went on. "Madelon has +grand new friends now," she was thinking all the time very +likely, "and will go away and be happy, and forget all about +me; well, let her go--what does it matter?" And then presently, +going upstairs to look for this happy, triumphant Madelon, she +found her crouching on the floor, trying to stifle the sound +of her despairing sobs. + +"Oh, Jeanne-Marie, Jeanne-Marie!" she cried, as soon as she +could speak, "I wish I might stay with you, I wish I had never +gone away; what was the use of it all? I thought I was going +to be so happy, and now I am to go to England, and Monsieur +Horace is to go to America, and I shall never, never, be happy +again!" + +"What was the use of what?" says Jeanne-Marie, taking the +child into her kind arms; "why will you never be happy again? +Are they unkind to you? Is that gentleman downstairs Monsieur +Horace that you used to talk about?" + +"Yes, that is Monsieur Horace. Ah, no, he is not unkind, he is +kinder than any one--you do not understand, Jeanne-Marie, and I +cannot tell you, but I am very unhappy." She put her arms +round the woman's neck, and hid her face on her shoulder. In +truth, Jeanne-Marie did not understand what all this terrible +grief and despair were about. Madelon, as we know, had never +confided her hopes, and plans, and wishes to her; but she knew +that the child whom she loved better than all the world was in +trouble, and that she must send her away without being able to +say a word to comfort her, and that seemed hard to bear. + +So they sat silent for awhile; and then Jeanne-Marie got up. + +"You must go, _ma petite_," she said; "Madame is waiting, and I +came to fetch you." She walked to the door, and then turned +round suddenly. "_Ecoutez, mon enfant_," she said, placing her +two hands on Madelon's shoulders, and looking down into her +face, "you will not forget me? I--I should not like to think +you will go away, and forget me." + +"Never!" cried Madelon; "how could I? I will never forget you, +Jeanne-Marie, and some day, if I can, I will come back and see +you." + +So they parted, and, of the two, it was the brave, faithful +heart of the woman that suffered the sharper pang, though she +went about her daily work without saying a word or shedding a +tear. + +Mrs. Treherne had large estates in Cornwall, on which, since +her husband's death, she had almost constantly resided; and +thither, with Madelon, she proceeded, a few days after their +arrival in London. Graham did not go with them. He had been +appointed to accompany a government exploring party into +Central America, and his time was fully occupied with business +to settle, arrangements to make, outfit to purchase, and, +moreover, with running down to his sister's house in the +country as often as possible, so as to devote every spare hour +to Miss Leslie. The summer love-making had ended in an +engagement before he started for Spa--an engagement which-- +neither he nor Miss Leslie having any money to speak of-- +promised to be of quite indefinite length. In the midst of all +his bustle, however, Graham contrived to take Madelon to as +many sights as could be crowded into the three or four days +that they stayed at the London hotel; and in a thousand kind +ways tried to encourage and cheer the child, who never said a +word about her grief, but drooped more and more as the moment +for separation drew near. Graham went to see her and his aunt +off at the Great Western terminus, and it was amidst all the +noise, and hurry, and confusion of a railway-station that they +parted at last. It was all over in a minute, and as Graham +stood on the platform, watching the train move slowly out of +the station, a little white face appeared at a carriage- +window, two brown eyes gazed wistfully after him, a little +hand waved one more farewell. It was his last glimpse of our +small Madelon. + + +PART III. + + +CHAPTER I. + +Letters. + + +For five years Horace Graham was a wanderer on the other side +of the Atlantic. He had left England with the intention of +remaining abroad for two years only; but at the end of that +time, when the exploring party to which he belonged was +returning home, he did not find it difficult to make excuses +for remaining behind. He had only begun to see the country, he +said in his letters to England; he knew two men who were going +further south, to Paraguay, to La Plata, to Patagonia, +perhaps; and he meant to accompany them, and see what was to +be seen; time enough to think of coming home afterwards; of +what use would it be for him to return just then? "We are both +young," he wrote to his future wife, Maria Leslie, "and can +well afford to wait a year or two before settling down into +sober married life. You, my dear Maria, who so often said this +to me when, in the first days of our engagement, I urged a +speedy marriage, will, I know, agree with me. I see now that +in those days you were right and I was wrong. We are not rich +enough to marry. I should do wrong to make you submit to all +the trials and hardships which struggling poverty entails; +though indeed, in all the world, I know of no one so well +fitted to meet them as my dearest Molly. How often we used to +picture to ourselves some little snuggery where you could knit +and darn stockings, and I could smoke my pipe! Is not that the +correct division of labour between man and woman? Well, some +day we will have some such dear little hole, and I will smoke +my pipe; but you shall not be condemned to stitching--you shall +do--let me see--what shall you do?--anything in the world you +like best, my dear girl; for I mean to be a rich man in those +days, which I often picture to myself as the good time coming, +to which some of us are looking forward. When I hear of an +opening in England, I shall return--perhaps sooner, if it is +very long in coming; unless, indeed, you would like to join me +out here. What do you think of that proposal? We could settle +down comfortably in Peru or Mexico, and you could make friends +among the Spanish ladies, and learn from them to sleep all day +and dance all night, unless you would prefer to accompany my +pipe with your cigarette; for, of course, you too would smoke, +like every one else. And from time to time we could go on long +expeditions--such as I am making now--day and night in an open +boat, on some river flowing through trackless forests, great +trees dipping down into the water, strange flowers blooming +overhead, strange beasts that one never saw before, hopping +and rushing about; and mosquitoes, of which one has seen +plenty, eating one up alive at every opportunity. My poor +Molly! I can see your face of dismay. No, don't be afraid; you +shall not be asked to leave your own comfortable home till I +can return and take you to as good a one; and then I mean to +write a book about my adventures, and you shall do nothing +worse than shudder over them at your leisure at our own +fireside." + +To which Maria replied:--"I think, my dear Horace, you are +quite right not to hurry home. As you say, we are both young, +and have life before us; and do not trouble yourself about me, +for as long as I hear that you are well and happy, I can and +ought to desire nothing further. The idea of coming out to you +made me shiver indeed; you will say I am very unenterprising, +but I don't think I should ever care about leaving England; +one is so happy here, what more can one desire? What can I +tell you in return for your long letter? Georgie will have +given you all the village news, no doubt; has she told you +that we have a new curate--Mr. Morris? He preached last Sunday, +and is a great improvement on Mr. Saunders, who was the +dullest man I ever heard. The school gets on nicely; I have +two more pupils, and receive many compliments, I assure you, +on the way in which I manage my class. I sometimes wonder if +it could not be arranged some day, that you should enter into +partnership with Dr. Vavasour, who is growing old, and gets +tired with his day's work? I often think of this, and of how +pleasant it would be, but, as you may suppose, have never even +hinted at it to your sister. Is it such a very wild castle in +the air? It is a very pleasant one, and I sometimes sit and +think it all over. We should never have to leave Ashurst then; +there is a pretty little house lately built at the end of the +village, which would just suit us, I think; you could write +your book, and when it was done, read it to me, as you know I +do not much care about reading. You should smoke your pipe as +much as you please, and I would sit and work, for there is +nothing I like doing better, and I should find it very +uncomfortable to sit with my hands before me. Do you think I +mean to grow idle in my old age? No, not if we have a hundred +thousand a-year, for I am sure there must be always something +for every one to do," and so on; a little moral sentiment +closed the letter. + +When Graham received it, he read it over twice, and sighed a +little as he folded it up, and put it away. He was relieved +that Maria should take such a calm view of the subject, for he +had felt his own letter to be somewhat egotistical, and yet-- +well, right or wrong, he could not help it; he _could_ not give +up his travels and researches just then. The spirit of +adventure was upon him, driving him, as it has driven many a +man before, further and further into the wilderness, heedless +of danger, and hardships, and discomfort; almost heedless, +too, of home, and friends, and love--all that, he would have +time to think of at some future day, when he should find +himself obliged to return to England. Maria's suggestion of +the country partnership as the goal of his ambition and his +hopes, her picture of the new house at the end of the village, +rose before his mind, but in no such tempting light as before +hers. "She is a dear, good girl," he thought, "but she does +not understand. Well, I suppose it will come to that, or +something like that, at least; what better can one look +forward to? one cannot roam about the world for ever--at least, +I cannot, bound as I am; not that I repent that;" and then it +was that he sighed. Nevertheless he did roam about for three +years longer; and then his health giving way, he was obliged +to return to England, and arrived at his sister's house, a +bronzed, meagre, bearded traveller, with his youth gone for +ever, and years of life, and adventure, and toil separating +him from the lad who had first seen little Madelon at +Chaudfontaine. + +He had not forgotten her; it would have been strange indeed if +he had, for Mrs. Treherne's letters, which followed him in his +wanderings with tolerable regularity, were apt to be full of +Madeleine; and in them would often be enclosed a sheet, on +which, in her cramped foreign handwriting, Madelon would have +recorded, for Monsieur Horace's benefit, the small experiences +of her every-day life. + +"I am learning very hard," so these little effusions would +run; "and Aunt Barbara says that I advance in my studies, but +that I shall do better when I go to London, for I will have +masters then, and go to classes. I like Cornwall very much; I +have a garden of my own, but the flowers will not grow very +well--the gardener says the wind from the sea will kill them. +It seems to me there is always a wind here, and last week +there was a great storm, and many ships were wrecked. Aunt +Barbara said she was glad you were the other side of the +ocean, and so indeed was I. I never thought the wind and sea +could make so much noise; it is not here as at Nice with the +Mediterranean, which was almost always calm, and tranquil, and +blue like the sky. Here the sea is grey like the sky--that +makes a great difference. Will you soon write to me once more? +I read your letter to me over and over again. I like to hear +all about the strange countries you are in, and I should like +to see them too. We have a book of travels which tells us all +about South America, and I read it very often. I send you one +little primrose that I gathered to-day in my garden." + +Again, nearly a year later. + +"I do not know how people can like to live always in one +place, when there is so much that is beautiful to see in the +world. Aunt Barbara says that she would be content always to +live in Cornwall; and it is very kind of her to come to +London, for it is that I may have masters, she says; but I +cannot help being glad, for I was so tired of the rocks, and +the sea always the same. We arrived last week, and Aunt +Barbara says we shall stay the whole winter, and come back +every year, very likely. I like our house very much; it is in +Westminster, not far from the Abbey, where I went with you; +one side looks on to the street, that is rather dull; but the +other looks on to St. James's Park, where I go to walk with +Aunt Barbara. We went to the Abbey last Sunday; it reminded me +of the churches abroad, and the singing was so beautiful. In +Cornwall there was only a fiddle and a cracked flute, and +everybody sang out of tune; I did not like going to church +there at all. Please write to me soon, Monsieur Horace, and +tell me where you are, and what you are doing; I fancy it all +to myself--the big forests, and the rivers, and the flowers, +and everything." + +Accompanying these would be Mrs. Treherne's reports: + +"Madeleine improves every day, I think. She is much grown, and +resembles her mother more and more, though she will never be +so beautiful, to my mind; she has not, and never will have, +Magdalen's English air and complexion. She gets on well with +her London masters and classes, and has great advantages in +many ways over girls of her own age, especially in her +knowledge of foreign languages. I trust that by degrees the +memory of her disastrous past may fade away; we never speak of +it, and she is so constantly employed, and seems to take so +much interest in her occupation and studies, that I hope she +is ceasing to think of old days, and will grow up the quiet, +English girl I could wish to see Magdalen's daughter. Indeed +she is almost too quiet and wanting in the gaiety and +animation natural to girls of her age; but otherwise I have +not a fault to find with her. She is fond of reading, and gets +hold of every book of travels she can hear of, that will give +her any idea of the country you are exploring. We share your +letters, my dear Horace, and follow you in all your +wanderings, with the greatest interest." + +One more letter. + + +"March 1st, 186--. + +"My dear Monsieur Horace, + +"Aunt Barbara bids me write and welcome you back to England. +We look forward to seeing you very much; but she says, if you +can remain with your sister a week longer, it will be better +than coming down to Cornwall now, as we shall be in London on +Monday next, at the latest. We should have come up to town for +Christmas as usual, if Aunt Barbara had not been so unwell; +and now that she is strong again, she wishes to be there as +soon as possible. It would not be worth while, therefore, for +you to make so long a journey just now. I hope you will come +and see us soon; it seems a long, long time since you went +away--more than five years. + +"Ever your affectionate + +"Madeleine Linders." + + +It was at the end of a dull March day that Horace Graham, just +arrived from Kent, made his way to his aunt's house in +Westminster. He thought more of Madelon than of Mrs. Treherne, +very likely, as the cab rattled along from the station. There +had never been much affection or sympathy between him and his +aunt, although he had always been grateful to her, for her +kindness to him as a boy; but she was not a person who +inspired much warmth of feeling, and his sister's little house +in the village where he had been born, had always appeared to +him more home-like than the great Cornwall house, where, as a +lad, he had been expected to spend the greater part of his +holidays. But he was pleased with the idea of seeing his +little Madelon again. He had not needed letters to remind him +of her during all these years; he had often thought of the +child whom he had twice rescued in moments of desolation and +peril, and who had been the heroine of such a romantic little +episode--thought of her and her doings with a sort of wonder +sometimes, at her daring, her independence, her devotion--and +all for him! When Graham thought of this, he felt very tender +towards his foolish, rash, loving little Madelon; he felt so +now, as he drove along to Westminster; he would not realize +how much she must be altered; she came before him always as +the little pale-faced girl, with short curly hair, in a shabby +black silk frock. It was a picture that, somehow, had made +itself a sure resting-place in Graham's heart. + +"We did not expect you till the late train, sir; it is close +upon dinner-time, and the ladies are upstairs in the drawing- +room, I believe," said the old butler who opened the door. + +"Upstairs? in the drawing-room?" said Graham; "stop, I will +find my way, Burchett, if you will look after my things." + +He ran upstairs; the house was strange to him, but a door +stood open on the first landing, and going in, he found +himself in a drawing-room, where the firelight glowed and +flickered on picture-lined walls, and chintz-covered easy- +chairs and sofas, on an open piano, on flower-stands filled +with hyacinths and crocuses, on the windows looking out on the +dark March night, and the leafless trees in the Park. No one +was there--he saw that at a glance, as he looked round on the +warm, firelit scene; but even as he ascertained the fact, some +one appeared, coming through the curtains that hung over the +folding-doors between the two drawing-rooms--some one who gave +a great start when she saw him, and then came forward blushing +and confused. "My aunt is upstairs,"--she began, then stopped +suddenly, glancing up at this stranger with the lean brown +face, and long rough beard. "Monsieur Horace!" she cried, +springing forward. He saw a tall, slim girl, all in soft +flowing white, he saw two hands stretched out in joyous +welcome, he saw two brown eyes shining with eager gladness and +surprise; and all at once the old picture vanished from his +mind, and he knew that this was Madelon. + + +CHAPTER II. + +Sehnsucht. + + +Graham had numberless engagements in London, and except at +breakfast, or at lunch perhaps, little was seen of him at his +aunt's house during the first days after his arrival in town. +One evening, however, coming home earlier than usual, he found +the two ladies still in the drawing-room, and joining them at +the fireside, he first made Madelon sing to him, and then, +beginning to talk, the conversation went on till long after +midnight, as he sat relating his travels and adventures. +Presently he brought out his journal, and read extracts from +it, filling up the brief, hurried notes with fuller details as +he went on, and describing to them the plan of his book, some +chapters of which were already written, and which he hoped to +bring out before the season was over. Mrs. Treherne was a +perfect listener; she was sufficiently well informed to make +it worth while to tell her more, and she knew how to put +intelligent questions just at the right moment. As for +Madelon, she had been busily engaged on some piece of +embroidery when he first began talking, but gradually her +hands had dropped into her lap, and with her eyes fixed on him +in the frankest unconsciousness, she had become utterly +absorbed in what he was saying. Graham's whole heart was in +his work, past and present, and this rapt naive interest on +the part of the girl at once flattered and encouraged him. + +"I can trust you two," he said, putting away his papers at +last, "and I am not forestalling my public too much in letting +you hear all this; but you are my first auditors, and my first +critics. You won't betray me, Madelon?" he added, turning to +her with a smile. + +She shook her head, smiling back at him without speaking; and +then, rising, began to fold up her work, while Mrs. Treherne +said,-- + +"I should have thought you would have found your first +audience at Ashurst." + +"I did try it one evening," he said, "but one of the children +began to scream, and Georgie had to go and attend to it; and +the Doctor went to sleep, and Maria, who had been all the +afternoon in a stuffy school-room, looking after a school- +feast or something of the sort, told me not to mind her, and +presently went to sleep too; so I gave it up, after that." + +"It was certainly not encouraging," said Mrs. Treherne; "but +you must surely have fallen upon an unfortunate moment; they +do not go to sleep every evening, I presume?" + +He did not answer; he was looking at Madelon, his eyes +following her as she moved here and there about the room, +putting away her work, closing the piano, setting things in +order for the night. It was a habit he had taken up, this of +watching her whenever they were in the room together, +wondering perhaps how his little Madelon had grown into one of +the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Indeed she was +little Madelon no longer--and yet not wholly altered after all. +She was tall now, above the middle height, and her hair was a +shade darker, and fastened up in long plaits at the back of +her head; but her cheeks were pale as in old days, and a +slight accent, an occasional idiom, something exceptional in +style, and gesture, and manner, showed at once and +unmistakably, her foreign birth and breeding. As Mrs. Treherne +had once said, she had not, and never would have, an English +air and complexion; but her beauty was not the less refined +and rare that the clear, fair cheeks were without a tinge of +colour, that one had to seek it in the pure red lips, the soft +brown hair, the slight eyebrows and dark lashes, the lovely +eyes that had learnt to express the thought they had once only +suggested, but still retained something of the old, childish, +wistful look. And yet Graham watched her with a vague sense of +disappointment. + +"What do you think of Madeleine?" Mrs. Treherne said to him +the following afternoon; he had come in early, and they were +together alone in the drawing-room. "Do you not find her grown +and improved? Do you think her pretty? She is perhaps rather +pale, but----" + +"She has certainly grown, Aunt Barbara, but this is not +astonishing--young ladies generally do grow between the ages of +thirteen and eighteen: and I think her the prettiest girl I +ever saw--not at all too pale. As for being improved--well--I +suppose she is. She wears very nice dresses, I observe, and +holds herself straight, and I daresay knows more geography and +history than when we last parted." + +"You are disappointed in her," said Mrs. Treherne. "Do you +know I suspected as much, Horace, from the way in which you +look at her and speak to her. Tell me in what way--why you are +not satisfied?" + +"But I am satisfied," cried Graham; "why should I not be? +Madelon appears to me to have every accomplishment a young +lady should have; she sings to perfection, I daresay, dances +equally well, and I have no doubt that on examination she +would prove equally proficient in all the ologies. I am +perfectly satisfied, so far as it is any concern of mine, but +I don't see what right I have to be sitting in judgment one +way or the other." + +"You have every right, Horace; I have always looked upon you +as the child's guardian in a way, and in all my plans +concerning her education I have considered myself, to a +certain extent, responsible to you." + +"It was very good of you, Aunt Barbara, to consider me in the +matter. I thought my responsibility had ceased from the moment +you took charge of her; but for her father's sake--does Madelon +ever speak of him, by-the-by?" + +"Never." + +"Never alludes to her past life?" + +"Never--we never speak of it; I have carefully avoided doing +so, in the hope that with time, and a settled home, and new +interests, she could cease to think of it altogether; and I +trust I have succeeded. The memory of it can only be painful +to her now, poor child, for, though I have never referred to +the subject in any way, I feel convinced she must have learnt +by this time to see her father's character in its true light." + +"It is possible," said Graham. "Well, as I was saying; Aunt +Barbara, for the sake of the promise I made her father on his +death-bed, if for no other reason, I shall and must always +take an interest in Madelon." + +"And I for her mother's sake," replied Mrs. Treherne, stiffly. +"If you have no other interest in Madelon than----however, it is +useless to discuss that. I want to know how we have +disappointed you--Madelon and I--for you are disappointed; tell +me, Horace--I am really anxious to know." + +"Dear Aunt Barbara, I am not at all disappointed; or, if I am, +it is not your fault or hers--quite the reverse. Nothing but +the perversity of human nature. Shall I own the truth? All +these years I have kept in my mind a dear little girl in a +shabby old frock which she had outgrown--a dear, affectionate +little soul, with so few ideas on people and things, that she +actually took me for one of the best and wisest of human +beings. See how much vanity there is in it all! I come back, +and find a demure, well-drilled, fashionable young lady. I +might have known how it would be, but it gave me a sort of +shock, I own--my little wild Madelon gone for ever and a day, +and this proper young lady in her place." + +"You are unreasonable, Horace," said Mrs. Treherne, half +laughing, half vexed; "and ungrateful too, when Madeleine has +been working so hard, with the hope, I know, of pleasing and +astonishing you with her doings." + +"But I am pleased," said Graham. "Astonished? No, I cannot be +astonished that Madelon, with you to help her, should +accomplish anything; but I am delighted, charmed. What more +shall I say? So much so, Aunt Barbara, that when I am married-- +as I mean to be shortly, and set up a house of my own--you and +Madelon will have to pay me visits of any length. I _shall_ +always feel that I have a sort of property in her, through +early associations." + +"Are you going to be married shortly?" said Mrs. Treherne; +"have you anything definite to do? Where are you going to +settle?" + +"Do you not know?" he answered. "Dr. Vavasour has offered me a +partnership." + +"And you have accepted it?" + +"Not yet. He has given me six months to think it over; so I +need not hurry my decision; and, in the meantime, I have +plenty to do with my book. In fact, I need the rest." + +"It seems a pity--" began Mrs. Treherne. + +"What seems a pity, Aunt Barbara?" + +"That with your talents you should settle down for life in a +country village. You could surely do something better." + +"I don't know," he answered with a sigh. "There is nothing +else very obvious at present, and I cannot be a rover all my +life. For one thing, my health would not allow of my taking up +that sort of thing again just at present; and then there is +Maria to be considered. She hates the idea of leaving Ashurst, +and it has been her dream for years that this partnership +should be offered me, and that I should accept it. I owe it to +her to settle down into steady married life before long." + +He rose, as he said these last words, and walked to the +window. Mrs. Treherne was called away at the same moment, and +he stood gazing out at the strip of garden before the house, +the Birdcage Walk beyond, the trees in the Park blowing about +against the dull sky. His thoughts were not there; they had +wandered away to the tropics, to the glowing skies, the +strange lands, the wild, free life in which his soul +delighted. He was glad to find himself in England once more, +amongst kindred and friends, but he loathed the thought of +being henceforth tied down to a life from which all freedom +would be banished, which must be spent in the dull routine of +a country parish. Graham was not now the lad who had once +looked on the world as lying at his feet, on all possibilities +as being within his grasp; he had long ceased to be a hero in +his own eyes; he had learnt one of life's sternest lessons, he +had touched the limits of his own powers. But in thus gaining +the knowledge of what he could not do, he had also proved what +he could be--he had recognised the bent of his genius, and he +knew that of all the mistakes of his life he had committed +none more grievous than that of binding himself to a woman who +neither sympathised nor pretended to sympathise with him and +his pursuits; and in compliance with whose wishes he was +preparing to take up the life for which, of all others within +the limits of his profession, he felt himself the least +suited. And she? Did she care for him?--did she love him enough +to make it worth the sacrifice?--was there the least chance of +their ever being happy together? Ah! what lovers' meeting had +that been that had passed between them at his sister's house! +What half-concealed indifference on her side, what +embarrassment on his, what silence falling between them, what +vain efforts to shake off an ever-increasing coldness and +constraint! It was five years since they had parted--was it +only years and distance that had estranged them, or had they +been unsuited to each other from the beginning? Not even now +would Graham acknowledge to himself that it was so, but it was +a conviction he had been struggling against for years. + +"Will you take some tea, Monsieur Horace?" said a voice behind +him. He turned round. The grey daylight was fading into grey +dusk, afternoon tea had been brought in, and Madelon was +standing by him with a cup in her hand. "Aunt Barbara has gone +out, and will not be home till dinner-time," she added, as she +returned to the tea-table and fireside. + +"Then you and I will drink tea together, Madelon," said +Graham, seating himself in an arm-chair opposite to her. +"Where have you been all this afternoon? Have you been out +too?" + +"I have been to a singing-class. I generally go twice a-week +when we are in town." + +"And do you like it?" + +"Yes, I like it very much." + +So much they said, and then a silence ensued. Madelon drank +her tea, and Graham sat looking at her. Yes, a change had +certainly come over her--this Madelon, who came and went so +quietly, with a certain harmonious grace in every movement-- +this Madelon, who sometimes smiled, but rarely laughed, who +spoke little, and then with an air of vague weariness and +indifference--this was not the little impetuous, warm-hearted +Madelon he remembered, who had clung to him in her childish +sorrow, who had turned from him in her childish anger, who in +her very wilfulness, in her very abandonment to the passion of +the moment, had been so winning and loveable. It was not +merely that she was not gay--gaiety was an idea that he had +never associated with Madelon; it had always been a sad little +face that had come before him when he had thought of her; but +in all her sadness, there had been an animation and spring, an +eagerness and effusion in the child, that seemed wholly +wanting in the girl. It was as if a subtle shadow had crept +over her, toning down every characteristic light to its own +grey monotonous tint. + +Madelon had not the smallest suspicion of what was passing in +her companion's mind. During all these years, in whatever +other respects she might have altered, the attitude of her +heart towards him had never changed. What he had always been +to her, he was now; the time that had elapsed since they +parted had but intensified and deepened her old feeling +towards him--that was all. He had been in her thoughts day and +night; in a thousand ways she had worked, she had striven, +that he might find her improved when he came home, less +ignorant, less unworthy, than the little girl he had parted +with. His return had been the one point to which all her hopes +had been directed; and, poor child, with a little unconscious +egotism, she took it for granted that just then she occupied +almost as large a share in Graham's mind as he did in hers. He +had always been so good, so kind to her, he must surely be +glad to see her again, almost as glad as she was to see him. +She, on her side, was ready to go on just where they had left +off; and yet now, when for the first time they were alone +together, a sort of shyness had taken possession of her. + +She was the first to break the silence, however. "Why do you +look at me so?" she said, setting her tea-cup down, and +turning to Horace with a sudden smile and blush. + +"I am trying to adjust my ideas," he answered, smiling too; "I +am trying to reconcile the little Madelon I used to know with +this grand young lady I have found here." + +"Ah, you will never see that little Madelon again," said the +girl, shaking her head rather sorrowfully; "she is gone for +ever." + +"How is that?" said Graham. "You have grown tall, you wear +long gowns, and plait up your hair, I see; but is that a +reason----" + +"Ah, how can one survive one's old life?" said Madelon, +plaintively; "one ought not, ought one? All is so changed with +me, things are so different, the old days are so utterly gone-- +I try not to think of them any more; that is the best; and my +old self is gone with them, I sometimes think--and that is best +too." + +She sat leaning forward, staring at the dull red coals; and +Graham was silent for a moment. + +"Then you have forgotten the old days altogether?" he said at +last. + +"I never speak of them," she answered slowly; "no, I have not +forgotten--it is not in me to forget, I think--but I do not +speak of them; of what use? It is like a dream now, that old +time, and no one cares for one's dreams but oneself." + +"Am I part of the dream too, Madelon? For I think I belong +more to that old time you talk about, which is not so very +remote, after all, than to the present. I had a little friend +Madelon once, but I feel quite a stranger with this +fashionable Miss Linders before me." + +"You are laughing at me," said Madelon, opening her eyes wide. +"I am not at all fashionable, I think. I don't know what you +mean; what should make you think such a thing, Monsieur +Horace?" + +"Well, your general appearance," he answered. "It suggests +balls, fetes, concerts, operas----" + +Madelon shook her head, laughing. + +"That is a very deceptive appearance," she said. "Aunt Barbara +and I never go anywhere but to classes, and masters, and to a +small tea-party occasionally, and to see pictures sometimes." + +"But how is that?--does Aunt Barbara not approve of society?" + +"Oh, yes, but she thinks I am not old enough," answered +Madelon, demurely. "So I am not out yet, and I have not been +to a ball since I was ten years old." + +"And do you like that sort of thing? It does not sound at all +lively," said Graham. + +"It is rather dull," replied Madelon, "simply; but then I think +everything in England is--is _triste_--I beg your pardon," she +added, quickly, colouring, "I did not mean to complain." + +"No, no, I understand. You need not mind what you say to me, +Madelon; I want to know what you are doing, what sort of life +you are leading, how you get on. So you find England _triste?_ +In what way?" + +"I don't know--not in one way or another--it is everything. +There is no life, no movement, no colour, or sunshine--yes, the +sun shines, of course, but it is different. Ah, Monsieur +Horace, you who have just come back to it, do you not +understand what I mean?" + +"I think I do in a way; but then, you know, coming to England +is coming home to me, Madelon, and that makes a great +difference." + +"Yes, that makes a great difference; England can never be home +to me, I think. I will tell you, Monsieur Horace--yesterday at +that Exhibition I went to with Aunt Barbara, you know, I saw a +picture; it was an Italian scene, quite small, only a white +wall with a vine growing over the top, and a bit of blue sky, +and a beggar-boy asleep in the shade. One has seen the same +thing a hundred times before, but this one looked so bright, +so hot, so sunny, it gave me such a longing--such a longing----" + +She started up, and walked once or twice up and down the room. +In a moment she came back, and went on hurriedly:-- + +"You ask me if I have forgotten the past, Monsieur Horace. I +think of it always--always. I cannot like England, and English +life. Aunt Barbara will not let me speak of it, and I try to +forget it when she is by, but I cannot. Aunt Barbara is very +kind--kinder than you can imagine--it is not that; but I am +weary of it all so. When we walk in the Park, or sit here in +the evening, reading, I am thinking of all the beautiful +places there are in the world; of all the great things to be +done, of all that people are seeing, and doing, and enjoying. +I wish I could get away; I wish I could go anywhere--if I could +run away--I have a voice, I could sing, I could make money +enough to live upon. I think I should have done so, Monsieur +Horace, if I had not known you were coming home. Yes, if I +could run away somewhere, where I could breathe--be free----" + +"You must never do that," cried Graham hastily--he was standing +opposite to her now, with his back to the fire; "you don't +know what you are saying, Madelon. Promise me that you will +not think of it even." + +"I was talking nonsense, I don't suppose I meant it really," +she answered; "I could not do it, you know; but I promise all +the same, as you wish it." + +"And you always keep your promises, I know," said Graham, +smiling at her. + +"Ah, do not," she cried, suddenly covering her face with her +hands, "don't speak of that, Monsieur Horace--I know now--ah, +yes, I understand what you must have thought--but I did not +then; indeed I was only a child then, I did not know what I +was doing." + +"I don't think you are much more than a child now," said +Graham, taking one of her hands in his; "you are not much +altered, after all, Madelon." + +"Am I not?" she said. "But I have tried to improve; I have +worked very hard, I thought it would please you, and that you +would be glad to find me different--and I am different," she +added, with a sudden pathetic change in her voice. "I +understand a great deal now that I never thought of before; I +think of the old life, but it is not all with pleasure, and I +know why Aunt Barbara--and yet I do love it so much, and you +are a part of it, Monsieur Horace--when you speak your vice +seems to bring it back; and you call me Madelon--no one else +calls me Madelon--" Her voice broke down. + +"You are not happy, my dear little girl," said Graham, in his +old kind way, and trying to laugh off her emotion. "I shall +have to prescribe for you. What shall it be?--a course of balls +and theatres? What should Aunt Barbara say to that?" + +"She would not employ you for a doctor again, I think," said +Madelon, smiling. "No, I am not unhappy, Monsieur Horace--only +dull sometimes; and Aunt Barbara would say, that is on account +of my foreign education. I know she thinks all foreigners +frivolous and ill educated; I have heard her say so." + +When Madelon went to her room that night, she sat long over +her fire, pondering, girl-fashion, on her talk with Horace +Graham. The tones of his voice were still ringing in her ears; +she seemed still to see his kind look, to feel the friendly +grasp of his hand; and as she thought of him, her familiar +little bed-room, with its white curtained bed, and pictured +walls, and well-filled bookshelves, seemed to vanish, and she +saw herself again, a desolate child, sitting at the window of +the Paris hotel that hot August night her father died, weeping +behind the convent grating, crouched on the damp earth in the +dark avenues of the Promenade a Sept Heures. He had not +changed in all these years, she thought; he had come back kind +and good as ever, to be her friend and protector, as he had +always been; and he had said she was not altered much either, +and yet she was--ah! so altered from the unconscious, +unthinking, ignorant child he had left. She began to pace up +and down the room, where indeed she had spent many a wakeful +night before now, thinking, reflecting, reasoning, trying to +make out the clue to her old life--striving to reconcile it +with the new life around her--not too successfully on the +whole. How was it she had first discovered the want of harmony +between them? How was it she had first learnt to appreciate +the gulf that separated the experiences of her first years, +from the pure, peaceful life she was leading now? She could +hardly have told; no one had revealed it to her, no one had +spoken of it; but in a thousand unconsidered ways--in talk, in +books, in the unconscious influences of her every-day +surroundings, she had come to understand the true meaning of +her father's life, and to know that the memory of these early +days, that she had found so bright and happy, was something +never to be spoken of, to be hidden away--a disgrace to her, +even, perhaps. Aunt Barbara never would let her talk of them, +would have blotted them out, if possible; she had wondered why +at first--she understood well enough now, and resented the +enforced silence. She only cherished the thought of them, and +of her father the more; she only clung to her old love for him +the more desperately, because it must be in secret; and she +longed at times, with a sad, inexpressible yearning, for +something of the old brightness that had died out one mournful +night nearly eight years ago, when she had talked with her +father for the last time. + +"I think I must be a hundred years old," the girl would say to +herself sometimes, after returning from one of those little +parties of which she had spoken to Graham, where she had spent +the evening in the company of a dozen other young ladies of +her own age, all white muslin and sash-ribbons. "These girls, +how tiresome they all are!--how they chatter and laugh, and +what silly jokes they make! How can it amuse them? But they +are still in the school-room, as Aunt Barbara is always +telling me; and before that, they were all in the nursery, I +suppose; they do not know anything about life; their only +experiences concern nurses and governesses; whilst I--I--ah! is +it possible I am no older than they are?" + +She would lean her arms on the window-sill, and look out on +the midnight sky; the Abbey chimes would ring out over the +great city, overhead the stars would be shining perhaps, but +down below, between the trees in the Park, a great glare would +show where a million lamps were keeping watch till dawn. Shall +we blame our Madelon, if she sometimes looked away from the +stars, and down upon the glare that brightened far up into the +dark sky? All the young blood was throbbing and stirring in +her veins with such energy and vigour; the world was so wide, +so wide, the circle around her so narrow, and in that bright, +misty past, which, after all, she only half understood, were +to be found so many precedents for possibilities that might +still be hidden in the future. Shall we blame her, if, in her +youthful belief in happiness as the chief good, her youthful +impatience of peace, and calm, and rest, she longed with a +great longing for movement, change, excitement? Outside, as it +seemed to her, in her vague young imagination, such a free, +glorious life was going on--and she had no part in it! As she +stood at her window, the distant, ceaseless roar of the street +traffic would sound to her, in the stillness of the night, +like the beat of the great waves of life that for ever broke +and receded, before they could touch the weary spot where she +stood spell-bound in isolation. And through it all she said to +herself, "When Monsieur Horace comes home,"--and now Monsieur +Horace had come, would he do anything to help her? + +Graham, indeed, was willing enough to do what he could do for +her; and before he went to bed that night he wrote the +following letter to his sister, Mrs. Vavasour: + + +"My dear Georgie, + +"The butter and eggs arrived in safety, and Aunt Barbara +declared herself much pleased with your hamper of country +produce; but you will, no doubt, have heard from her before +this. She is looking wonderfully well, and not a day older +than when I left England. As for Madeleine Linders, I hardly +recognised her, she is so grown and so much improved. I find I +have at least a fortnight's business in London, and then I +will run down to you for another visit, if I may. Would it put +you out very much if I brought Madeleine with me for a time? I +should like you and her to know each other, and a change would +do her good. Aunt Barbara seems to have been giving her a +high-pressure education, with no fun to counterbalance it, and +the poor child finds it horribly dull work; and no wonder--I +know I should be sorry to go through it myself. A few weeks +with you and the children would brighten her up, and do her +all the good in the world. Let me know what you think of it. + +"Ever yours, + +"Horace Graham." + + +CHAPTER III. + +At Ashurst. + + +It was two days after Graham's talk with Madelon, that some +people of whom mention has once or twice been made in this +little history, were sitting chatting together as they drank +their afternoon tea in Mrs. Vavasour's drawing room at +Ashurst, a low, dark-panelled, chintz-furnished room, with an +ever-pervading scent of dried rose-leaves, and fresh flowers, +and with long windows opening on to the little lawn, all shut +in with trees and shrubberies. Mrs. Vavasour, who sat by the +fire knitting, was a calm, silent, gentle-looking woman, with +smooth, fair hair under her lace cap, and those pathetic lines +we sometimes see in the faces of those who through +circumstances, or natural temperament, have achieved +contentment through the disappointments of life, rather than +through its fulfilled hopes. She was the mother of many +children, of whom the elder half was already dispersed--one was +married, one dead, one in India, and one at sea; of those +still at home, the eldest, Madge, an honest, sturdy, square- +faced child of eleven or twelve, was in the room now, handing +about tea-cups and bread-and-butter. Dr. Vavasour was a big, +white-haired man, many years older than his wife, who had +married him when she was only seventeen; he was a clever man, +and a popular doctor, and having just come in from a twenty +miles' drive through March winds and rain, was standing with +his back to the mantelpiece, with an air of having thoroughly +earned warmth and repose. He was discussing parish matters +with Mr. Morris the curate, who was sitting at the small round +table where Maria Leslie, a tall, rosy, good-humoured-looking +young woman of five or six-and-twenty, was pouring out the +tea. + +"If the Rector is on your side, Morris," said the Doctor, "of +course I can say nothing; only I can tell you this, you will +lose me. I will have nothing to do with your new-fangled +notions; I have said my prayers after the same fashion for the +last sixty years, and as sure as you begin to sing-song them, +instead of reading them, I give up my pew, and go off to +church at C----, with my wife and family." + +"Not with Miss Leslie, I trust, Doctor," said the Curate; "we +could not get on without Miss Leslie, to lead the singing." + +"Miss Leslie does as she likes, and if she prefers sham +singing to honest reading, that's her concern, not mine. But I +tell you plainly, sir, I am an old-fashioned man, and have no +patience with all these changes. I have a great mind to see if +I can't get made churchwarden, and try the effect of a little +counter-irritation. Madge, my child, bring me a cup of tea." + +"I hope _you_ do not hold these opinions, Miss Leslie," said the +Curate, in an under tone to Maria Leslie; "we could not afford +to lose you from amongst us; you must not desert us." + +"Oh, no, I could not give up my Ashurst Sundays," answers +Maria, fidgeting amongst her cups and saucers; "I have too +many interests here, the schools, and the church--and the +preaching--not that the Rector's sermons are always very +lively; and then I like chanting and intoning." + +"And can you not convert the Doctor?" + +"I think that would be impossible; Dr. Vavasour always held to +his own opinions. Will you have some more tea?" + +"No more, thank you. I should have thought, Miss Leslie, you +might have converted any one; I cannot fancy any arguments you +might use being other than irresistible." + +"Mr. Morris," said Mrs. Vavasour, breaking in upon this little +tete-a-tete, "have you seen those curious spiders that my +brother brought home from South America? You might fetch Uncle +Horace's case, Madge, and show them to Mr. Morris; they are +worth looking at, I assure you." + +An hour later this little party had dispersed. Mr. Morris had +taken leave, Maria had gone to dress for dinner, Madge to her +school-room; Dr. Vavasour and his wife were left alone. + +"I had a letter from Horace this afternoon," she said, taking +it out of her pocket, and giving it to the Doctor to read. +"What do you say to our having Miss Linders here for a time? I +have often thought of asking her, and this will be a good +opportunity. Do you object?" + +"Not in the least, my dear; she is some sort of a cousin of +yours; is she not?" + +"A remote one," said Mrs. Vavasour, smiling. "However, I am +very willing to make her acquaintance, especially if the poor +girl wants a change. I agree with Horace, that a too prolonged +course of Aunt Barbara must be trying." + +"Why, I thought Mrs. Treherne was everything that was perfect +and admirable; she has never troubled us much with her +society, but I am sure I understood from you----" + +"So she is," said his wife, interrupting him; "that is just +it--Aunt Barbara is quite perfect, a kind of ideal gentlewoman +in cultivation, and refinement, and piety, and everything +else; but she is, without exception, the most alarming person +I know." + +"Well, let Miss Linders come by all means," repeated the +Doctor. "Isn't it nearly dinner-time? I am starving. I have +been twenty miles round the country to-day, and when I come in +I find that long-legged fellow Morris philandering away, and +have to listen to his vacuous nonsense for an hour. Whatever +brings him here so often? He ought to have something better to +do with his time than to be idling it away over afternoon tea. +Is he looking after Madge?" + +"Poor little Madge!" answered Mrs. Vavasour, laughing. "No, I +wish I could think Mr. Morris had nothing more serious on +hand: but it is much more likely to be Maria." + +"Maria!" cried the doctor; "is that what the man is up to? But +surely he knows she is engaged to Horace." + +"Indeed I much doubt it," Mrs. Vavasour answered; "the +engagement was to be a secret, and I am not aware that any one +knows of it but ourselves, and Aunt Barbara--and Miss Linders +probably--and if Maria will not enlighten Mr. Morris as to how +matters stand, I do not see what any one else can do." + +"Then Molly is very much to blame; and I have a great mind to +tell her so." + +"I think you had better let things take their own course," +said Mrs. Vavasour. "Maria is quite old enough to know what +she is about, and Horace will be down here in a few days to +look after his own interests." + +"Well, but--bless my soul!" cried the doctor, "I can't make it +out at all. Do you mean that Maria is allowing this fellow +Morris's attention? I thought she and Graham were devoted to +each other, and had been for the last five years?" + +"I think they thought they were, five years ago, when Horace, +fresh home from the Crimea, was all the heroes in the world in +Molly's eyes; and he was just in the mood to fall in love with +the first pretty bright girl he saw. But all that was over +long ago, and in these five years they have grown utterly +apart." + +"Then the sooner they grow together again the better," said +the Doctor. + +"I don't believe it is possible," answered his wife. "I don't +see how they can ever pull together; they have different +tastes, different aims, different ideas on every conceivable +subject. I am very fond of Molly; she is an excellent, good +girl in her way, but it is not the way that will fit her to +become Horace's wife. She will weary him, and he will--not +neglect her, he would never be unkind to a woman--but he will +not be the husband she deserves to have. For my part, I think +it will be a thousand pities if a mistaken sense of honour +makes them hold to their engagement." + +"That may be all very well for Horace," said the Doctor; "but +what about Molly? When a girl has been looking forward to +marrying and having a house of her own, it is not so pleasant +for her to have all her prospects destroyed." + +"Then she can marry Mr. Norris, if she pleases." + +"Indeed! Well, if Maria's mistaken sense of honour does not +stand in the way of a flirtation with Morris, I shall be much +astonished if Horace's does not make itself felt one way or +another. However, it is no concern of mine; manage it your own +way." + +"Indeed I have no intention of interfering," said Mrs. +Vavasour. "I can imagine nothing more useless, especially as +Horace will be here in less than a fortnight. But I will write +to-night to Aunt Barbara about Miss Linders." + +"Oh, yes, ask Miss Linders down here, by all means; and if +Morris would only fall in love with her, that might settle all +difficulties; but I suppose there is not much chance of that." +And so saying, the Doctor went to dress for dinner. + +It was a new world, this, in which our Madelon found herself, +after the still leisure of her home in Cornwall, with its +outlook on rocks, and sea, and sky, after the unbroken +regularity of her London life, with its ever-recurring round +of fixed employments--a new world, this sheltered English +village, lying amongst woods, and fields, and pastures, +divided by trim brown hedges, whose every twig was studded +with red March buds, and beneath which late March primroses +were blowing--and a new world, too, the varied life of this +bright, cheerful house, where people were for ever coming and +going, and where children's footsteps were pattering, and +children's voices and laughter ringing, all day long. + +It was with the children especially that Madelon made friends +in the early days of her visit. From Mrs. Vavasour she had the +kindliest welcome; but the mistress of this busy household had +a thousand things to attend to, that left her but little time +to bestow on her guest. She had deputed Maria Leslie to +entertain Madelon; but Maria also had her own business--school- +teaching, cottage-visiting in the village; nor, in truth, even +when the two were in each other's society, did they find much +to say to each other. It had never been a secret to Madelon +that Graham was engaged to Maria Leslie, and the girl had +looked forward, perhaps, to making friends with the woman who +was accounted worthy of the honour of being Monsieur Horace's +wife; but the very first day she had turned away disappointed. +There was, both instinctively felt, no common ground on which +they could meet and speak a common language intelligible to +both; memories, interests, tastes, all lay too wide apart; and +as for those larger human sympathies which, wider and deeper +than language can express, make themselves felt and understood +without its medium, something forbade their touching upon them +at all. There was, from the first, a certain coolness and +absence of friendliness in Maria's manner, which was quite at +variance with her usual good-humoured amiability, and which +Madelon felt, but did not understand. She could not guess that +it was the expression of a vague jealousy in Maria's mind, +excited by Madelon's beauty and graciousness of air and +manner, and by a knowledge of her past relations with Horace +Graham; Maria would hardly have acknowledge it to herself, but +it raised an impassable barrier between these two. + +As for Graham, no one saw much of him. He was shut up all day +in his brother-in-law's study, writing, copying notes, sorting +and arranging specimens, preparing the book that was to come +out in the course of the next season; and, when he did appear, +at breakfast or dinner, he was apt to be silent and moody, +rarely exchanging more than a few words with any one. Madelon +wondered sometimes at this taciturn Monsieur Horace, so +different from the one she had always known; though, indeed, +in speaking to her the old kindly light would always come back +to his eyes, the old friendly tones to his voice. But, like +every one else, she saw but little of him; and, in fact, +Graham in these days, a grim, melancholy, silent man, brooding +over his own thoughts, his own hopes, plans, disappointments +perhaps, was no very lively addition to a family party. + +There was one small person, however, whom our Madelon at once +inspired with a quite unbounded admiration for her. A few +evenings after her arrival, some one knocked at her bedroom +door as she was dressing for dinner; she opened it, and there +stood Madge in the passage, her hands full of red and white +daisies. + +"I have brought you some flowers, Cousin Madelon," said the +child shyly. + +"They are beautiful," said Madelon, taking them from her; +"won't you come in? I will put some of them in my hair." + +She sat down before the looking-glass, and began arranging +them in her hair, whilst Madge stood and watched her with +wide-open eyes. + +"They are out of my own garden," she said presently. + +"I might have guessed that, they are so pretty," said Madelon, +turning round and smiling at her; it was in the girl's nature +to make these little gracious speeches, which came to her more +readily than ordinary words of thanks. "I like them very +much," she went on; "they remind me of some that grew in the +convent garden." + +"Were you ever in a convent?" asked Madge, with a certain awe. + +"Yes, for two years, when I was about as old as you are." + +"And were there any nuns there?" asked Madge, whose ideas were +not enlarged, and who looked upon a nun as the embodiment of +much romance. + +"To be sure," answered Madelon, rather amused; "they were all +nuns, except some little girls who came every day to be taught +by them." + +"Then you were at school there?" said Madge. + +"Not exactly; my aunt was the--what do you call it?--Lady +Superior of the convent; that was why I went there." + +"And did you like it?" inquired Madge, who was apparently of +opinion that such an opportunity for gaining exceptional +information should not be wasted. + +"I don't know," answered Madelon; "I don't think I did at the +time; I used to find it very dull, and I often longed to be +away. But the nuns were very kind to me; and it is pleasant to +look back upon, so quiet and peaceful. I think we don't always +know when and where we are happy," she added, with a little +sigh. + +She sat leaning against the table, her head resting on her +hand, thinking over the past--as she was for ever thinking of +the past now, poor child! How sad, how weary they had been, +those years in the convent--yes, she knew that she had found +them so--and yet how peaceful, how innocent, how sheltered! +Reading her past life in the new light that every day made its +shadows darker, she knew that those years were the only ones +of her childhood which she could look back upon, without the +sudden pang that would come with the memory of those others +which she had found so happy then, but which she knew now +were--what? Ah, something so different from what she had once +imagined! But as for those days at the convent, they came back +to her, softened by the kindly haze of time, with the +strangest sense of restfulness and security, utterly at +variance, one would say, with the restless longing with which +she looked out on the world of action--and yet not wholly +inconsistent with it perhaps, after all. Did she indeed know +when and where she would be happy? + +Madge, meanwhile, stood and looked at her. She had fairly +fallen in love with this new cousin of hers; her beauty, and +gracious ways, her foreign accent, and now her experiences of +nuns and convents had come like a revelation to the little +English girl in her downright, everyday life. With a comical +incongruity, she could compare her in her own mind to nothing +but an enchanted princess in some fairy tale; and she stood +gazing first at her and then at the glass, where soft wavy +brown hair and red and white daisies were reflected. + +"What are you thinking of?" said Madelon, looking up suddenly. + +"I--I don't know," replied Madge, quite taken aback, colouring +and stammering; and then, as if she could not help it--"Oh! +Cousin Madelon, you are so pretty." + +"It is very pretty of you to say so," said Madelon, laughing +and blushing too a little; then holding out both hands she +drew Madge towards her, and kissed her on her two cheeks. "I +think you and I will be great friends; will we not?" she said. + +"Yes," says unresponsive Madge shortly, looking down and +twisting her fingers in her awkward English fashion. + +"I would like you to be fond of me," continued Madelon, "for I +think I shall love you very much; and I like you to call me +Madelon--nobody else calls me so--except--except your Uncle +Horace." + +"It was Uncle Horace told me to," cried Madge. "I asked him +what I should call you, and he said he thought Cousin Madelon +would do." + +"I think it will do very well," said Madelon, rising. "To- +morrow will you take me to your garden? I should like to see +your daisies growing." + +After this Madge and Madelon became great friends; and when +the former was at her lessons, there was a nurseryfull of +younger children to pet and play with, if Madelon felt so +disposed. Sometimes in the morning, when she was sitting alone +in the drawing-room, little feet would go scampering along the +floor upstairs, shrill little voices would make themselves +heard from above, and then Madelon, throwing down book or +work, would run up to the big nursery, where, whilst the two +elder children were in the school-room with their mother, +three round, rosy children kept up a perpetual uproar. It was +quite a new sensation to our lonely Madelon to have these +small things to caress, and romp with, and fondle, and she +felt that it was a moment of triumph when they had learnt to +greet her entrance with a shout of joy. Down on the floor she +would go, and be surrounded in a moment with petitions for a +game, a story, a ride. + +Graham came up one day in the midst of a most uproarious romp. +"Nurse," he said, putting his head in at the door, "I do wish +you would keep these children quiet--" and stopped as suddenly +as the noise had stopped at his appearance. Madelon, all +blushing and confused, was standing with the youngest boy +riding on her back, whilst the little girls, Lina and Kate, +were holding on to her skirts behind; they had pulled down all +her hair, and it was hanging in loose waves over her +shoulders. + +"I beg your pardon, Madelon," said Graham, coming in, and +smiling at her confusion. "I had no idea that you were here, +and the instigator of all this uproar; where is nurse? I shall +have to ask her to keep you all in order together." + +"Nurse has gone downstairs to do some ironing," says Lina. +"Oh, Uncle Horace, we were having such fun with Cousin +Madelon." + +"Uncle Horace, will you give me a ride? You give better rides +than Cousin Madelon," cries Jack, slipping down on to the +ground. + +"Uncle Horace, Cousin Madelon has been telling us about South +America, and we have been hunting buffaloes." + +"I am sorry," says Madelon; "I quite forgot how busy you are, +Monsieur Horace, and that you could hear all our noise. We +will be quieter for the future, and not hunt buffaloes just +over your head." + +He looked at her without answering; there was a flush on her +pale cheeks under the shadow of the heavy waves of hair, a +smile in her eyes as she looked at him with one of her old, +shy, childish glances, as if not quite sure how he would take +her apology. He could not help smiling in answer, then laughed +outright, and turned away abruptly. + +"Come here, then Jack, and I will give you a ride," he said, +lifting the boy on to his shoulder. "This is the way we hunt +buffaloes." + +Half-an-hour later, Maria, just come in from the village, +looked into the nursery, attracted by the shouts and laughter. +"It is really very odd," she said afterwards to Mrs. Vavasour, +in a somewhat aggrieved tone, "that when Horace always +declares he cannot find time to walk with me, or even to talk +to me, he should spend half his morning romping with the +children in the nursery." And Mrs. Vavasour, who had also gone +upstairs with Madge and Harry when they had finished their +lessons, had not much to say in answer. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Ich kann nicht hin! + + +One day, Madelon said to Mrs. Vavasour, "Please let me have +all the children for a walk this afternoon." + +"What, all! my dear girl," said Mrs. Vavasour; "you don't know +what you are undertaking." + +"Oh, yes, I do," Madelon answered, smiling; "they will be very +good, I know, and Madge will help me." + +So they all set out for their walk, through the garden, and +out at the gate that led at once into the fields which +stretched beyond. They walked one by one along the narrow +track between the springing corn, a little flock of brown- +holland children, and Madelon last of all, in her fresh grey +spring dress. Harry had a drum, and marched on in front, +drubbing with all his might; and Jack followed, brandishing a +sword, and blowing a tin trumpet. Madge would have stopped +this horrible din, which indeed scared away the birds to right +and left, but Madelon only laughed and said she liked it. + +Graham, coming across the fields in another direction, saw the +little procession advancing towards him, and waited on the +other side of a stile till it should come up. The children +tumbled joyfully over into Uncle Horace's arms, and were at +once ready with a hundred plans for profiting by the unwonted +pleasure of having him for a companion in their walk; but he +distinctly declined all their propositions, and sending them +on in front with Madge, walked along at Madelon's side. + +"Why do you plague yourself with all these children," he said, +"instead of taking a peaceable walk in peaceable society?" + +"I like the children," she answered, "and I should have found +no society but my own this afternoon, for Mrs. Vavasour was +going to pay visits, she said, and Maria went out directly +after lunch." + +"And you think your own society would have been less peaceable +than that of these noisy little ruffians?" + +"I don't know," she answered; "I like walking by myself very +much sometimes, but I like the children, too, and Madge and I +are great friends." + +"I think Madge shows her sense--she and I are great friends, +too," said Graham, laughing. + +"Madge thinks there is no one in the world like Uncle Horace-- +she is always talking about you," said Madelon, shyly. + +"That is strange--to me she is always talking about you--she +looks upon you as a sort of fairy princess, I believe, who has +lived in a charmed world as strange to her as any she reads +about in story-books. Madge's experiences are limited, and it +does not take much to set her little brain working. If Maria +and I are abroad next winter, I think I must get Georgie to +spare her to me for a time." + +"Are you going abroad again?" said Madelon; and as she asked +the question, a chill shadow seemed to fall upon the bright +spring landscape. + +"It is possible-- I have heard of an opening." + +He paused for a moment, and then went on,-- + +"I don't know why I should not tell you all about it, Madelon, +though I have said nothing about it to any one yet--but it will +be no secret. I had a letter this morning telling me that +there is an opening for a physician at L----, that small place +on the Mediterranean, you know, that has come so much into +fashion lately as a winter place for invalids. Dr. B----, an old +friend of mine, who is there now, is going to leave it, and he +has written to give me the first offer of being his +successor." + +"And shall you go?" asked Madelon. + +"Well, I should like it well enough for a good many reasons, +for the next two or three years, at any rate. It is a lovely +place, a good climate, and I should not feel myself tied down +if anything else turned up that suited me better; but there +are other considerations--in fact, I cannot decide without +thinking it well over." + +"But at any rate, you would not go there till next winter, +would you?" said Madelon, with a tremor in her voice which she +vainly tried to conceal. + +"Not to stop; but if I accept this offer, I should go out +immediately for a week or two, so as to get introduced to B---- +'s patients before they leave. A good many will be returning +next winter probably, and it would be as well for me, as a +matter of business, to make their acquaintance; you +understand?" + +"Yes, I understand--but then you would have to go at once, +Monsieur Horace, for it is already April, and the weather is +so warm that people will be coming away. I remember how they +used to fly from Nice and Florence--every one that we knew as +soon as it began to get hot." + +"Yes, I have not much time to lose, and if I decide to go at +all, I shall start at once. But it is very doubtful." + +They had reached the end of the field whilst talking; a heavy +gate separated it from a lane beyond, and the children, unable +to open it, had dispersed here and there along the bank, +hunting for primroses. + +"Shall we go on?" said Graham, "or would you like to turn back +now? You look tired." + +Madelon did not answer; what was the use of going on? What did +it matter? Everything came to the same end at last--a sense of +utter discouragement and weariness had seized her, and she +stood leaning against the gate, staring blankly down the road +before her. There were about twenty yards of shady, grassy +lane, and then it was divided by a cross-road, with a cottage +standing at one of the angles. Graham, who was looking at +Madelon, saw her face change suddenly. + +"Why, there are----" she began, and then stopped abruptly, +colouring with confusion. + +Graham looked; two figures had just appeared from one of the +cross-roads, and walking slowly forward, had paused in front +of the cottage; they were Mr. Morris the curate and Maria +Leslie. The clergyman stood with his back to Graham and +Madelon, but they could see Maria with her handkerchief to her +eyes, apparently weeping bitterly. The curate was holding one +of her hands in both his, and so they stood together for a +moment, till he raised it to his lips. Then she pulled it away +vehemently, and burying her face completely in her +handkerchief, hurried off in a direction opposite to that by +which she had come. Mr. Morris stood gazing after her for a +moment, and then he also disappeared within the cottage. + +This little scene passed so rapidly, that the two looking on +had hardly time to realize that they were looking on, before +it was all over. There was a sort of pause. Madelon gave one +glance to Graham, and turned away--then the children came +running up with their primroses. "Here are some for you, Uncle +Horace; Cousin Madelon, please may I put some in your hat?" + +Madelon took off her hat, and stooped down to help Madge +arrange the flowers; she would not try to understand the +meaning of what they had just witnessed, nor to interpret +Monsieur Horace's look. + +"You are going home," said Graham, unfastening the gate +without looking at her; "then we part company here; I have to +go further." And without another word he strode off, leaving +the children disconcerted and rebellious at this abrupt +termination of their walk. + +"Madge," said Madelon, caressing the little square perplexed +face, "you won't mind having a short walk to-day, will you? +Let us go home now, and we will play in the garden till your +tea-time;" and wise little Madge agreed without further demur. + +It was on the evening of the same day that Madelon, coming in +from the garden where she had been wandering alone in the +twilight, found Horace discussing his plans with Mrs. +Vavasour, who was making tea. She would have gone away again, +but Graham called her back, and went on talking to his sister. + +"I must send an answer as soon as possible," he was saying; "I +can't keep B---- waiting for a month while I am making up my +mind; I will speak to Maria this evening." + +"It would be as well," answered Mrs. Vavasour; "she ought to +be told at once. But must an answer be sent immediately? I +think you will see that it will be useless to hurry Maria for +a decision; she will want time for consideration." + +"She shall have any reasonable time," he replied shortly; "but +that is why I shall speak at once--she can think it over." + +"And if you have in a measure made up your mind," continued +her sister, "she will be better pleased, I am sure; she will +wish in some sort to be guided by your wishes." + +"That is just what I am anxious to avoid," he answered +impatiently. "I do not desire to influence her in any way; I +would not for the world that she should make any sacrifice on +my account, and then be miserable for ever after." + +"My dear Horace, you do not suppose Maria----" + +"My dear Georgie, I know what Maria is, and you must allow me +to take my own way." + +He began to stride up and down the room with his hands in his +pockets, Madelon watching him in silence. Presently he began +again:-- + +"I know what Molly is; if she imagined that I wanted to go to +this place, she would say 'Go,' without thinking of herself +for a moment; but ten to one, when we got there, she would be +for ever regretting England, and hating the society, and the +mode of life, and everything, and everybody; and it would be +very natural--she has never been abroad, and knows nothing of +foreign life and manners." + +"Then you do not mean to go?" said Mrs. Vavasour. + +"I have not said so," he answered--"I shall put the matter +calmly before Maria; tell her what I think are the reasons for +and against, and leave her to decide. I suppose she cannot +complain of that." + +"I do not imagine for a moment she will complain," replied +Mrs. Vavasour; "but I think she will want your judgment to +help her." + +He only muttered something in answer to this; and Madelon +asked in a low voice, "Is it about going abroad that Monsieur +Horace is doubting?" + +"Yes, he told you about it, did he not?" said Mrs. Vavasour. +"I hope he may decide to go--it would be the very thing for +him." + +"Do you think so?" said Graham, who had overheard this last +remark; and turning to Madelon with rather a melancholy smile, +"Listen to the description, Madelon, and tell me what you +think of it--a little town on the shores of the Mediterranean, +sheltered on every side by hills, so that all the winter is +spring, and flowers bloom all the year round. The gardens are +full of pomegranate and orange trees, and the hills are +terraced with vineyards, and covered with olives and chestnuts +everywhere else. Do you think that that sounds inviting?" + +"A great deal too good to be true," said Mrs. Vavasour, +laughing. "I never believe thoroughly in these earthly +paradises." But Madelon did not laugh; her eyes lighted up, +her cheeks glowed. + +"Ah!" she cried, "I can imagine all that. I believe in such +places; they exist somewhere in the world, but one cannot get +to them." + +"One can sometimes," said Graham; "for perhaps Maria and I are +going to this one, and then you had better become an invalid +as fast as possible, Madelon, that Aunt Barbara may bring you +there too." + +"And you are really going?" she asked, with a sad sick feeling +at her heart. + +"Perhaps," he said, "we shall see what Maria says. I am afraid +she may not take the same view of it all that you do;" and +Maria coming in at that moment, the conversation dropped. + +After tea they were all sitting, as usual, in the drawing- +room; a wood fire burnt and crackled on the low hearth, but +the evening was warm, and the long windows were open to the +lawn, where Graham was walking up and down, smoking a pipe. +Dr. Vavasour was dozing in an arm-chair, Mrs. Vavasour sat a +the table stitching, Maria in the shade knitting cotton socks, +and Madelon was leaning back in her chair, the lamplight +falling on her brown hair and white dress, a piece of +embroidery between her fingers, but her hands lying in her +lap, and such sad thoughts in her poor little weary head. So +this was the end of it all? Monsieur Horace was going to be +married, and then live abroad--yes, she was certain he would +live abroad--who would stay in England if they could help it?-- +and she would never, never see him again! The one thought +revolved in her brain with a sort of dull weariness, which +prevented her seizing more than half its meaning, but which +only required a touch to startle it into acutest pain. No one +spoke or moved, and this oppressive silence of a room full of +people seemed to perplex her as with a sense of unreality, and +was more distracting for the moment than would have been the +confusion of a dozen tongues around her. + +Presently, however, Graham came in from the garden, and walked +straight up to her. + +"Will you not sing something?" he said. + +She rose at once without speaking or raising her eyes, and +went to the piano. + +"What shall I sing?" she said then, turning over her music. + +"Anything--it does not matter," said Graham, who had followed +her; "never mind your music--sing the first thing that comes +into your head." + +She considered a moment, and then began. + +When Madelon sang, her hearers could not choose but listen; in +other matters she had very sufficient abilities, but in +singing she rose to genius. Gifted by nature with a superb +voice, an exceptional musical talent, these had been carefully +cultivated during the last two or three years, and the result +was an art that was no art, a noble and simple style, which +gave an added intensity to her natural powers of expression, +and forbade every suspicion of affectation. As she sang now, +the Doctor roused up from his doze, and Mrs. Vavasour dropped +her work; only Maria Leslie, sitting in the shadow of the +window-curtain, knitted on with increased assiduity. + +It was a German song, Schumann's "Sehnsucht," that she was +singing; it was the first that had come to her mind at +Graham's bidding, and, still preoccupied, she began it almost +without thought of the words and sentiment; but she had not +sung two lines, when some hidden emotion made itself felt in +her face with a quite irresistible enthusiasm and pathos. +These were the words:-- + + + "Ich blick' im mein Herz, und ich blick' in die Welt, + Bis vom schwimmenden Auge die Thraene mir faellt: + Wohl leuchtet die Ferne mit goldenem Licht, + Doch haelt mich der Nord, ich erreiche sie nicht. + O die Schranken so eng, und die Welt so weit! + Und so fluechtig die Zeit, und so fluechtig die Zeit. + + Ich weiss ein Land, wo aus sonnigem Gruen + Um versunkene Temple die Trauben bluehn, + Wo die purpurne Woge das Ufer besauemt, + Und von kommenden Saengern der Lorbeer traeumt; + Fern lockt es und winkt dem verlangenden Sinn, + Und ich kann nicht hin--kann nicht hin!" + + +As Madelon sang these last words she looked up, and her eyes +met Graham's, as he stood leaning against the piano, gazing at +her face. She blushed scarlet, and stopped suddenly. + +"I--I don't think I can sing any more," she said, letting her +hands fall from the keys into her lap. She turned round, and +saw Maria looking at her also, watching her and Graham +perhaps. "How hot it is!" she cried, pushing the hair off her +forehead with a little impatient gesture. "_J'etouffe ici!_" And +she jumped up quickly and ran out of the room. + +Out of the atmosphere of love, and suspicion, and jealousy +that was stifling her, into the hall, up the shallow staircase +to the long matted passage which ran the length of the house, +the bed-rooms opening on to it on either side. Madelon paced +it rapidly for some minutes, then opened a door at the end, +and entered the nursery. Nothing stifling here; a large, cool, +airy room, with white blinds drawn down, subduing the full +moonlight to a soft gloom, in which one could discern two +little beds, each with its small occupant, whose regular +breathing told that they had done, for ever, with the cares +and sorrows of at least that day. + +Madelon stood looking at them, the excitement that had made +her cheeks burn, and her pulses throb, subsiding gradually in +presence of this subdued, unconscious life. She smoothed the +sheets and counterpane of one little sleeper, who, with bare +limbs tossed about, was lying right across the bed, all the +careful tuckings-up wofully disarranged; and then, passing on, +went into an inner room, that opened out of the larger +nursery. The window was open here to the cool, grey sky, the +moonlight shining in on the white curtains, the little white +bed at the further end. + +"Is that you, Cousin Madelon?" says Madge, raising a brown, +shaggy head as Madelon softly opened the door. "Won't you come +in, please? I am not asleep." + +Madelon came in, and went to the window. It looked down upon +the lawn, with the still tree-shadows lying across it, and +some other shadows that were not still--those of two people +walking up and down, talking earnestly. She could distinguish +Monsieur Horace's voice, and then Maria's in answer, and then +Monsieur Horace again, and a sudden pang seemed to seize the +poor child's heart, and hold it tight in its grasp. How happy +they were, those two, talking together down there, whilst she +was all alone up her, looking on! + +"Do come here, Cousin Madelon," said Madge's impatient voice +from the bed. "I want you to tuck me up, and give me a kiss." + +Madelon went up to the bed, and kneeling down by it, laid her +cheek wearily by Madge's on the pillow. The child passed her +arm round her neck, and hugged her tight, and the innocent, +loving caress soothed the girl's sore heart, for the moment, +more than anything else could have done. + +"Little Madge," she said, drawing the child closer to her, as +if the pressure of the little, soft, warm limbs had power to +stop the aching at her heart. "Oh! Madge, I wish I were no +bigger and no older than you. One is happier so." + +"Do you?" said Madge, wondering. "I should like to be grown- +up, as tall and beautiful as you are, and to sing like you. +You were singing just now downstairs; I opened the window, and +could hear you quite plainly. Why did you stop so soon?" + +"It was hot," said Madelon, her face flushing up again at the +recollection; "and one is not always in the mood for singing, +you know, Madge." + +"Ah, but do sing me just one song, now, Cousin Madelon--just +here, before I go to sleep." + +Still kneeling, with Madge's head nestling on her shoulder, +Madelon began to sing a little half-gay, half-melancholy +French romance of many verses. The tune seemed to grow more +and more plaintive as it went on, a pathetic, monotonous +chant, rising and falling. Before it was ended, Madge's hold +had relaxed, her eyes were closed--she was sound asleep for the +night. Madelon rose gently, kissed the honest, rosy, freckled +face; and then, as if drawn by some invincible attraction, +went back to the window. + +Yes; they were still there, those two, not walking up and down +now, but standing under the big tree at the end of the lawn +still talking, as she could see by their gestures. "Ah, how +happy they are!" thinks our Madelon again, forgetting the +scene of the afternoon, her doubts, her half-formed +suspicions--how happy they must be, Monsieur Horace, who loves +Maria, Maria who is loved by Monsieur Horace, whilst she--why, +it is she who loves Monsieur Horace, who has loved him since +he rescued her, a little child, from loneliness and despair-- +she, who for all these years has had but one thought, Monsieur +Horace, one object, Monsieur Horace, and who sees herself now +shut out from such a bright, gleaming paradise, into such +shivering outer darkness. Ah, she loved him--she loved him--she +owned it to herself now, with a sudden burst of passion--and he +was going away; he had no thought of her; his path in life lay +along one road, and hers along another--a road how blank, how +dreary, wrapped in what grey, unswerving mists. + +"Ah, why must I live? Oh! that I could die--if I could only +die!" cries the poor child passionately in her thoughts, +stretching out her hands in her young impatience of life and +suffering. "I love him--is it wrong? How can I help it? I loved +him before I knew what it meant, I never knew till----" + +She stopped suddenly, with a blush that seemed to set her +cheeks all a-flame--she had never known till half-an-hour ago, +when she had looked up and met his eyes for that one moment. +Ah! why had he looked at her so? And she--oh, merciful heavens! +had she betrayed herself? At the very thought Madelon started +as if she had been stung. She turned from the window, she +covered her face with her hands, and escaping swiftly, she +fled to her own room, and throwing herself on the bed, buried +her face in the pillow, to wrestle through her poor little +tragedy of love, and self-consciousness, and despair. + +And while Madelon is crying her heart out upstairs, this is +what has been going on below. There had been an uncomfortable +pause in the sitting-room after her swift retreat; Mrs. +Vavasour neither moved nor spoke, Maria knitted diligently, +and Graham stood gloomily staring down on the music-stool +where Madelon had sat and sung, and looked up at him with that +sudden gleam in her eyes, till, rousing himself, he walked +through the open window, into the garden, across the lawn, to +the shrubbery. He stood leaning over the little gate at the +end of the path, looking over the broad moonlit field, where +the scattered bushes cast strange fantastic shadows, and for +the first time he admitted to himself that he had made a +great, a terrible mistake in life, and he hated himself for +the admission. What indeed were faith, and loyalty, and honour +worth, if they could not keep him true to the girl whose love +he had won five years ago, and to whom he was a thousand times +pledged by every loving promise, every word of affection that +had once passed between them? And yet, was this Maria to whom +he had come back, this Maria so cold and indifferent, so alien +from him in tastes, ideas, sympathies, was she indeed the very +woman who had once won his heart, whom he had chosen as his +life-long companion? How had it all been? He looked back into +the past, to the first days after his return from the Crimea, +when, wounded and helpless, worn out with toil and fever, he +had come back to be tended by Englishwomen in an English home. +A vision rose before him of a blooming girl with blue ribbons +that matched blue eyes, who came and went about him softly +through the long spring and summer days, arranging his +cushions, fetching his books, and reading to him by the hour +in gentle, unvarying tones. Yes, he understood well enough how +it had all come to pass; but those days had gone by, and the +Maria who had brightened them, was not she gone also? or +rather, had she ever existed except in the eyes that had +invested the kind girl-nurse with every perfection? And now +what remained? Graham groaned as he bowed his head upon his +crossed arms, and suddenly another vision flitted before him--a +pale face, a slender form, a pair of brown eyes that seemed to +grow out of the twilight, and look at him with a child's +affection, a woman's passion--Graham was no boy, to be tossed +about on the tempestuous waves of a first love; he had long +held that there were things in life, to which love and +courtship, marrying and giving in marriage, might be looked +upon as quite subordinate--and yet he felt, at that moment, as +if life itself would be a cheap exchange for one touch of the +small hand that had clung so confidingly to his, years ago, +for one more look into the eyes that had met his, scarcely ten +minutes since. + +Such a mood could not long endure in a man of Graham's stamp +and habit of mind; and in a moment he had roused himself, and +begun to walk slowly back towards the house. What he might +feel could have no practical bearing on the matter one way or +another, and feeling might therefore as well be put out of +sight. He was bound to Maria by every tie of honour, and he +was no man to break those ties--if she were disposed to hold by +them. But was she indeed? Graham had not been blind to what +had been going on round him during the last few weeks, and he +felt that some explanation with Maria was due. Well, there +should be an explanation, and if he found that she was still +willing to hold to their engagement--why, then they would be +married. + +He went up to Maria, sitting at the window. + +"It _is_ very warm in-doors," he said; "suppose you come and +take a turn in the garden." + +"As you like," she answered; "I don't find it particularly +warm;" but she laid down her work at once, and joined him in +the garden. + +They took two or three turns up and down the lawn in silence, +till at last Graham, trying to speak cheerfully, said, "I had +a letter this morning, Maria, that I want to consult you +about, as it concerns you as well as me." + +"Does it?" she said indifferently. "Well?" + +"There is an opening for a physician at that winter place for +invalids on the Mediterranean," said Graham, explaining, "and +I have the offer of it; it would suit me very well, for the +next year or two at any rate, and would enable us to marry at +once; but my doubt, Maria, is, whether you would not object to +leaving England." + +"I don't see what that has to do with it," answered Maria, +shortly and coldly. "Of course you will do what you think +best." + +"What I might think best in the abstract, Maria, is not the +point; what I want to ascertain are your wishes in the +matter." + +"I should have thought you might have known already," she +replied; "you are very well aware that, for years, it has been +my wish that you should have this partnership with Dr. +Vavasour." + +"I am aware of it," he said, and paused. "Listen to me, +Maria," he continued in a moment, "let me put the case fairly +before you. If I accept Dr. Vavasour's offer, it closes, so to +speak, my career. I shall be bound down to this country +practice for life probably, for years at any rate, since, +after making the arrangement, I could not feel justified in +altering it again during Dr. Vavasour's lifetime. If, on the +other hand, I go to L----, I shall be bound to no one, and free +to take anything else that might suit me better." + +"Go, then!" cried Maria, hastily, "I will not stand in your +way. I should have thought, Horace, that after all these +years, you would have been glad to look forward to a quiet +home and a settled life; but I see it is different, so go to +L----, and never mind me. If it becomes a question between me +and your career, I should think your choice would not be a +difficult one." + +Her voice began to tremble, but she went on vehemently: "Why +do you ask my opinion at all? It can make no difference to +you; you have gone your own way these five years past without +much regard for my wishes, one way or another; and since your +return home, you have hardly spoken to me, much less consulted +me----" + +It was at that moment that Madelon, kneeling at Madge's +bedside, began to sing, and the sound of her voice ringing +through the open window of her little upper room, Graham +involuntarily stopped, and lost the thread of Maria's speech. +She perceived it at once. + +"Ah! yes, that is it," she cried passionately, hardly knowing +what she said. "Do you think I do not see, that I cannot +understand? Do I not know who it is you care to listen to now, +to talk to, to consult? Ask her what she thinks, ask +Madeleine's advice----" + +"Be silent!" cried Horace, with sudden anger, "I will not have +Madeleine's name mentioned between us in that way. Forgive me, +Maria," he went on, more calmly, "but this sort of talk is +useless; though, if I cared to recriminate, I might perhaps +ask you, how it happens that Mr. Morris comes here so +frequently." + +"Mr. Morris!" faltered Maria; "who told you----" + +Her momentary indignation melted into tears and sobs; she +turned, and put out her hand to Graham, as they stood together +under the big plane-tree. + +"Oh, Horace," she said, "I am very unhappy, and if you blame +me, I cannot help it--I daresay I deserve it." + +"My poor Molly," he answered, taking her hand in his. "Why +should I blame you? and why are you unhappy? Let me help you-- +unless, indeed, I am altogether the cause of it all." + +Meanwhile, Mrs. Vavasour, left all alone in the sitting-room, +stitched away in the lamplight, looking out from time to time +into the dewy garden, where the two figures were pacing up and +down. The murmur of their voices reached her, and presently +she also heard Madelon singing up above, and then the two went +away out of hearing, and she could distinguish nothing in the +silence but the rustling of her own work and the soft, +inarticulate sounds of the early night. She could guess pretty +well what the result of that talk would be. That very +afternoon, going to Maria's room on her return home, she had +found the girl in an agony of weeping, and had learnt from her +that Mr. Morris had just made her an offer, and that she had +been obliged to tell him that she was already engaged--and 'Oh! +what could Mr. Morris think of her, and what would Horace +think?' cried poor Maria, filled with remorse. And Mr. Morris +cared for her so much; he had been so miserable when she had +told him they must part, and said she was the only woman he +had seen that he could care for; and that was the only +reproach he had uttered, though she had treated him so badly. +And Horace did not care for her one bit now--she could see it, +she knew it, he was tired of her, and she was not clever +enough for him, and would never make him a good wife. All this +our little-reticent Maria had sobbed out in answer to Mrs. +Vavasour's sympathising questions, with many entreaties to +know what she had better do next. Mrs. Vavasour could only +advise her to say to Horace just what she had said to her, and +she had sufficient confidence in Maria's courage and good +sense to trust that she would do so now, when matters had +evidently come to a crisis. But it was with the keenest +interest she awaited the end of their conversation. + +She had not to wait very long. In a few minutes she saw Maria +coming quickly across the lawn; she passed through the window +and the room without looking up or speaking, and, with a +little sob, disappeared. Graham followed more slowly, and +sitting down by the table, moodily watched his sister's +fingers moving rapidly to and fro. + +"That is all over," he said at last. + +"What is all over?" inquired Mrs. Vavasour. + +"Everything between Maria and me. We have agreed upon one +thing at last, at any rate." + +"I am sure it is for the best, Horace," said Mrs. Vavasour, +looking at him with her kind, gentle eyes. + +"I don't see how anything should be for the best when one has +behaved like a brute, and knows it," he answered, getting up, +and beginning to walk up and down the room. + +"Is it you who have been behaving like a brute, Horace? I +cannot fancy that." + +"I don't know why not," he answered gloomily; then, pausing in +his walk, "No one knew of our engagement except ourselves and +Aunt Barbara?" he asked. + +"No one else was told." + +"Well, then, no great harm is done, so far as gossip goes. You +had better write to Aunt Barbara. I shall go abroad at once." + +"To this town on the Mediterranean?" + +"Yes, I shall write to-night to B----; and I will start by the +seven o'clock train to-morrow morning for London. No one need +get up; I will tell Jane to let me have some breakfast." + +"We shall hear from you?" + +"Yes, I will write when I am across the water. Good-bye." + +He stooped down and kissed her as he spoke. She laid her hand +on his arm, and detained him for a moment. + +"Horace," she said, "you must not vex yourself to much about +this; you and Maria have only discovered in time what numbers +of people discover when it is too late--that you are not suited +to each other. Believe me, it is far better to find it out +before marriage than after." + +"I daresay you are right," he said. "Don't be afraid, Georgie, +I shall not vex myself too much, but at present the whole +thing appears hateful to me, as far as I am concerned." + +The next morning he was gone before any one of the family was +stirring. + + +CHAPTER V. + +Er, der Herrlischste von Allen. + + +"Ashurst, July, 186--, + +"Dear Uncle Horace,--Mamma has a bad headache, and says I am to +write and ask you whether you have quite forgotten us, and if +you are never coming to see us again. She says, cannot you +come next week, because Lady Lorrimer's great ball is on the +31st. She and cousin Madelon are going, and she would be very +glad if you could escort them, as papa says he will not go. +Cousin Madelon is here still, and Aunt Barbara is coming on +Monday to stay with us for a little while before she goes back +with her to Cornwall. Cousin Madelon has been reading French +with me, and giving me music-lessons. We had a pic-nic in the +woods last week, and my holidays begin to-morrow. I wish you +would come back, Uncle Horace, and then we could have some fun +before Cousin Madelon goes away. I wish she would never go, +but stay here always, as Maria used. I have been reading some +of your book; mamma said I might, and I like it very much. +Mamma sends her love, and I am + +"Your affectionate niece, + +"Madge Vavasour." + + +"Mamma says that she received yesterday the note that I +enclose, and that she sends it to you to read." + + +The note was from Maria Leslie, and was dated from a country- +town whither she had gone to stay with some friends, shortly +after Graham's departure from Ashurst. + + +"Dearest Georgie, + +"I feel that you are the first person to whom I should write +the news that I am engaged to be married to Mr. Norris. He has +just had the offer of a living in the north, and lost no time +in coming to tell me of his prospects, and to invite me to +share them. To you, who know him so well, I need say nothing +of my own great happiness. I only fear that, after all that +has passed, you may think I have been a little precipitate; +but I could not but feel that something was due to Mr. Morris, +and that it would be wrong to keep him in suspense. Send me +you good wishes and congratulations, dear Georgie, for I +cannot feel that my happiness is complete without them. + +"Ever your affectionate, + +"Maria Leslie." + + +Graham arrived by the last available train on the evening of +the 31st, and was told by Madge, who came running into the +hall to meet him, that Mamma and Cousin Madelon were dressing, +and would Uncle Horace have some dinner, or go and dress too? +Uncle Horace said he had dined already, and would dress at +once, and so disappeared upstairs with his portmanteau. + +When he came down to the drawing-room, he found Mrs. Treherne +sitting alone in the summer twilight at the open window. + +"Is that you, Horace?" she said, putting out her hand; "you +are quite a stranger here, I understand. Georgie says she has +been jealous of my seeing so much of you in London." + +"I think Georgie has no right to complain of me," he answered; +"if there is a thing on earth I hate it's a ball--are you +going, too, Aunt Barbara?" + +"Indeed, no--I think you will have enough to do with two +ladies; here comes one of them." + +A tall, slender figure, moving through the dusk with her soft +trailing draperies, and water-lilies in her brown hair. Graham +had not seen her since that evening, more than three months +ago, when she had looked up at him, and escaped in the midst +of her unfinished song. They took each other's hands in +silence now; a sudden consciousness and embarrassment seemed +to oppress them both, and make the utterance of a word +impossible. + +Madelon was the first to speak; she went up to Mrs. Treherne. + +"Can you see my flowers, Aunt Barbara?" she said; "are they +not pretty? Madge walked three miles to-day to the sedge +ponds, on purpose to get them for me." + +"Is Madge still your devoted friend?" Horace asked. + +"Oh! yes, Madge and I are always great friends. I must not +expect all her attentions though, now that you are come back, +Monsieur Horace." + +The old childish name seemed to break the spell, and to bring +back the old familiarity. + +"And so you are going to a ball at last, Madelon," Graham +said. "For the first time in my life I am sorry I cannot +dance, for I shall be deprived of the pleasure of having you +for a partner." + +"Thank you," she said, "I should have liked to have danced +with you very much; but, after all, it is in the intention +that is the greatest compliment, so I will not mind too much. +I think I will be very happy even if I do not dance at all." + +She looked up at him for the first time, and even in the dusk +he seemed to see the light in her eyes, the smile on her lips, +the colour flushing in her cheeks. It was not of the ball she +was thinking--it was of him; she had felt the grasp of his kind +hand, his voice was sounding in her hears, he has come back at +last--at last. + +"You have been away a long time, Monsieur Horace," she said +softly, "but we have heard of you often; we have read your +book, and the critiques upon it; it has been a great success, +has it not? And then we have seen your name in the papers--at +dinners, at scientific meetings----" + +"Yes," said Graham, "I have been doing plenty of hard work +lately; but I have come down into the country to be idle, and +have some fun, as Madge would say. We will take our holidays +together, will we not, Madge?" he added, as the child, +followed by her mother, came into the room. + +Lady Lorrimer's ball was the culminating point of a series of +festivities given in honour of the coming of age of an eldest +son. To ordinary eyes, I suppose, it was very like any other +ball, to insure whose success no accessory is wanting that +wealth and good taste can supply; but to our Madelon there was +something almost bewildering in this scene at once familiar +and so strange; in these big, lighted, crowded rooms; in this +music, whose every beat seemed to rouse a thousand memories +and associations, liking the present with the so remote past. +As for Madelon herself, she made a success, ideal almost, as +if she had indeed been the enchanted Princess of little +Madge's fairy tale. Something rare in the style of her beauty-- +something in her foreign air and appearance, distinguished her +at once in the crowd of girls; she was sought after from the +moment she entered the room, and the biggest personages +present begged for an introduction to Miss Linders. The girl +was not insensible to her triumphs; her cheeks flushed, her +eyes brightened with excitement and pleasure. Once, in a pause +of the waltz, she was standing with her partner close to where +Graham was leaning against a wall. He had an air of being +horribly bored, as indeed he was; but Madelon's eye caught +his, and he was obliged to smile in answer to her look of +radiant pleasure. + +"You are enjoying yourself, I see, Madelon," he said. + +"I never was so happy!" she cried. "Ah! if you knew how I love +dancing!--and it is so many years since I have had a waltz!" + +Later on in the evening, Lady Lorrimer, the fashionable, gay, +kind-hearted hostess, came up to her. + +"Miss Linders," she said, "I have a favour to ask of you. My +aunt, Lady Adelaide Spencer, is passionately fond of music, +and Mrs. Vavasour has been telling us how beautifully you +sing. Would it be too much to ask you for one song? It is not +fair, I know, in the midst of a ball, but the next dance is +only a quadrille, I see----" + +"I shall be most happy," says Madelon, blushing up, and +following Lady Lorrimer down a long corridor into a music- +room. There were not above a dozen people present when she +began to sing, but the room was quite full before she rose +from the piano. She sang one song after another, as it was +asked for--French, German, English. The excitement of the +moment, the sense of triumph and success, seemed to fill her +with a sort of exaltation; never had her voice been so true +and powerful, her accent so pure, her expression so grand and +pathetic; she sang as if inspired by the very genius of song. + +"We must not be unconscionable, and deprive Miss Linders of +all her dancing," said Lady Lorrimer at last--"you would like +to go back to the ball-room now, would you not? But first let +me introduce you to my aunt; she will thank you better than I +can for your singing." + +Lady Adelaide Spencer, the great lady of the neighbourhood, a +short, stout, good-natured old woman in black velvet, and a +grizzled front, gave Madelon a most flattering reception. + +"Sit down and talk to me a little," she said. "I want to thank +you again for your lovely voice and singing. It is not every +young lady who would give up her dancing just for an old +woman's caprice." + +"Indeed I like singing as much as dancing," says Madelon. + +"And you do both equally well, my dear; you may believe me +when I tell you so, for I know what good dancing is, and I +have been watching you all the evening. You must come and see +me and sing to me again. You live with your aunt, Mrs. +Treherne, Mrs. Vavasour tells me." + +"Yes," replied Madelon. + +"I knew Mrs. Treherne well years ago; tell her from me when +you go home, that an old woman has fallen in love with her +pretty niece, and ask her to bring you to see me. She is +staying at Ashurst, I believe?" + +"Yes," said Madelon, "we are both at Dr. Vavasour's house. I +have been there all the spring and summer, and Aunt Barbara +has come for a few weeks before we go home to Cornwall." + +"Do you live always in Cornwall?" asked Lady Adelaide. "Have +you never been abroad? Your French and German in singing were +quite perfect, but you seem to me to speak English with a +foreign accent, and a very pretty one too." + +"I was born abroad," answered Madelon--"I spent all the first +part of my life on the Continent. I have been in England only +five years." + +"Ah, that accounts for it all, then. What part of the +Continent do you come from?" + +"I was born in Paris," says unthinking Madelon, "but we--I +travelled about a great deal; one winter I was in Florence, +and another in Nice, but I know Germany and Belgium best. I +was often at Wiesbaden, and Homburg, and Spa." + +"Very pretty places, all of them," said Lady Adelaide, "but so +shockingly wicked! It is dreadful to think of the company one +meets there. Did you ever see the gambling tables, my dear? +But I dare say not; you would of course be too young to be +taken into such places." + +"Yes, I have seen them," said Madelon, suddenly scarlet. + +"My health obliges me to go to these baths from time to time," +continued the old lady; "but the thought of what goes on in +those Kursaals quite takes away any pleasure I might otherwise +have; and the people who frequent the tables--the women and the +men who go there night after night! I assure you my blood has +run cold sometimes when one of those notorious gamblers has +been pointed out to me, and I think of the young lives he may +have ruined, the young souls he may have tempted to +destruction. I myself have known some sad cases--I am sure you +sympathise with me, Miss Linders?" + +"Lady Adelaide," said a portly gentleman, coming up, "will you +allow me to take you into supper?" + +"You will not forget to come and see me, my dear," cried Lady +Adelaide, with a parting wave of her fan as she moved away, +leaving the girl sitting there, silent and motionless. People +brushed by her as they left the room, but she paid no heed. +Mrs. Vavasour spoke to her as she passed on her way to supper, +but Madelon did not answer. All at once she sprang up, looking +round as if longing to escape; as she did so, her eyes met +Graham's; he was standing close to her, behind her chair, and +something in his expression, something of sympathy, of +compassion perhaps, made her cheeks flame, and her eyes fill +with sudden tears of resentment and humiliation. He had heard +them, he had heard every word that had been said, and he was +pitying her! What right had he, what did she want with his +compassion? She met his glance with one of defiance, and then +turned her back upon him; she must remain where she was, she +could not go out of the room alone, but, at any rate, he +should not have the opportunity of letting her see that he +pitied her. + +Horace, however, who had in fact heard every word of the +conversation, and perhaps understood Madelon's looks well +enough, came up to her, as she stood alone, watching the +people stream by her out of the room. + +"There is supper going on somewhere," he said; "will you come +and have some, or shall I bring you an ice here?" + +"Neither," she answered, quickly. "I--I don't want anything, +and I would rather stay here." + +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "We shall have the room to +ourselves in a minute, and then it will be cooler." + +In fact, the room was nearly deserted--almost every one had +gone away to supper. Madelon stood leaning against the window, +half hidden by the curtain; the sudden gleam of defiance, of +resentment against Horace, had faded; it had vanished at the +sound of his kind voice, which she loved better than any other +in the world. But there were tears of passion still in her +eyes; her little moment of joyousness and triumph had been so +cruelly dashed from her; she felt hurt, humiliated, almost +exasperated. + +"How hot it is!" she said, glancing round impatiently. "Where +is every one gone? Cannot we go too? No, not in to supper. +What is going on in that little room? I have not been there." + +"It leads into the garden, I think," answered Graham. "Shall +we see? Wait a moment. I will fetch you a shawl, and then, if +you like, we can go out." + +He strode off quickly. There was vexation and perplexity in +his kind heart too. He understood well enough how the girl had +been wounded--his little Madelon, for whom it would have seemed +a small thing to give his right hand, could such a sacrifice +have availed her aught. And he could do nothing. His +compassion insulted her, his interference she would have +resented; no, he could do nothing to protect his little girl. +So he thought as he made his way into the cloak-room to +extract a shawl. He was going his way in the world, and she +hers, and she might be suffering, lonely, unprotected, for +aught that he could do, unless--unless---- + +"Those cloaks belong to Lady Adelaide's party," cried the +maid, as Graham recklessly seized hold of one in a bundle. +"You must not take those, sir; Lady Adelaide will be going +immediately." + +"Confound the cloaks, and Lady Adelaide too!" cried Graham, +impatiently. "Here, give me something--anything. Where is Miss +Linders' shawl? Which are Mrs. Vavasour's things?" + +Madelon had stood still for a moment after Horace had left +her, and then, as he did not immediately return, she left her +station behind the window-curtain, and began walking up and +down the room. "How tired I am!" she thought wearily. "Will +this evening never end? Oh! I wish I have never come. I wish I +were going away somewhere, anywhere, so that I should never +see or hear again of anybody, that knows anything about me. +Why cannot we go home? It must be very late. I wonder what +time it is? Perhaps there is a clock in here." + +The door of the room which Graham had said led into the garden +stood ajar; she pushed it open, and went in. It was a small +room, with a glass door at the further end, and on this +evening had been arranged for cards, so that Madelon, on +entering, suddenly found herself in the midst of green-baize- +covered tables, lighted candles, packs of cards, and a dozen +or so of silent, absorbed gentlemen, intent upon the trumps +and honours, points and odd tricks. The girl, already excited, +and morbidly susceptible, stopped short at this spectacle, as +one struck with a sudden blow. Not for years, not since that +evening the memory of which ever came upon her with a sudden +sting, when she had met Monsieur Horace at the gambling-tables +of Spa, had Madelon seen a card; Mrs. Treherne never had them +in her house; in those little parties of which mention has +been made as her only dissipation, they had formed no part of +the entertainment, and the sight of them now roused a thousand +tumultuous emotions of pain and pleasure. A thousand +associations attached themselves to those little bits of +pasteboard, whose black and red figures seemed to dance before +her eyes--recollections of those early years with their for- +ever-gone happiness, of her father, of happy evenings that +she, an innocent, unconscious child, had passed at his side, +building houses with old packs of cards, or spinning the +little gold pieces that passed backwards and forwards so +freely. She was happy then, happier than she could ever be +again, she thought despairingly, now that she had been taught +so sore a knowledge of good and evil. The last evening of her +father's life came suddenly before her; she seemed to hear +again his last words to herself, to see the scene with Legros, +the cards tumbling in a heap on the floor, his dying face. A +kind of terror seized her, and she stood gazing as though +fascinated at the dozen respectable gentlemen dealing their +cards and marking their games, till Graham's step and voice +aroused her. + +"Here is your shawl, Madelon," he said, putting it round her +shoulders; "did you think I was ever coming? That woman----" + +He stopped short in his speech; she turned round and looked at +him with her white, scared face, her wide-open, brown eyes, as +if she had seen a ghost. Ghosts enough, indeed, our poor +Madelon had seen during these last five minutes; but they were +not visible to Graham, who stood sufficiently astonished and +alarmed, as she turned abruptly away again, and disappeared +through the glass door into the garden. + +"Stay, Madelon!" he cried and followed her out into the night. + +It was raining, he found, as soon as he got outside. The +garden had been prettily illuminated with coloured lamps hung +along the verandah, and amongst the trees and shrubs, but they +were nearly all extinguished now. It was a bleak mournful +night, summer time though it was, the wind moaning and +sighing, the rain falling steadily. Graham, as he passed +quickly along the sodden path, had a curious sensation of +having been through all this before; another sad, rainy night +came to his mind, a lighted street, a dark avenue, and a +little passionate figure flying before him, instead of the +tall, white one who moved swiftly on now, and finally +disappeared beneath the long shoots of climbing plants that +overhung a sort of summer-house at the end of a walk. The +lamps were not all extinguished here; the wet leaves glistened +as the wind swept the branches to and fro, and Horace, as he +entered, could see Madelon sitting by the little table, +trembling and shivering, her hair all blown about and shining +in the uncertain light. What had suddenly come over her? +Graham was fairly perplexed. + +"Madelon," he said, going up to her, "what is the matter? has +anything happened, or any one vexed you?" + +"_Non, non_," she cried, jumping up impatiently, and speaking in +French as she sometimes did when excited, "_je n'ai rien--rien du +tout;_ leave me, Monsieur Horace, I beg of you! How you weary +me with your questions! I was rather hot, and came here for a +little fresh air. That was all." + +"You are cooler now," said graham, as she stood drawing her +shawl round her, her teeth chattering. + +"Yes," she said, with a little shiver, "it is rather cold +here, and damp; it is raining, is it not? Let us go back and +dance. I adore dancing; it was papa who first taught it to me; +do you know, Monsieur Horace? He taught me a great many +things." + +"You had better not dance any more," said Graham, taking her +little burning hand in his. "You are overheated already, and +will catch cold." + +She snatched away her hand impatiently. + +"Ah! do not touch me!" she cried. "Let us go--why do we stay +here? I do not want your prescriptions, Monsieur Horace. I +_will_ go and dance." + +"Wait a minute," said Graham; "let me wrap your shawl closer +round you, or you will be wet through: it is pouring with +rain." + +The friendly voice and action went to her heart, and seemed to +reproach her for her harsh, careless words. They walked back +in silence to the house; but when they reached the empty +music-room again, she put both hands on his arm with an +imploring gesture, as if to detain him. + +"Don't go--don't leave me!" she said; "I am very wicked, +Monsieur Horace, but--" + +And then she dropped down on to a seat in the deep recess +formed by the window. + +The sight of her unhappiness touched Graham's heart with a +sharper pang than anything else had power to do. He loved her +so--this poor child--he would have warded off all unhappiness, +all trouble from her life; and there she sat miserable before +him, and it seemed to him he could not raise a finger to help +her. + +"You are not happy, Madelon," he said, at length. "Can I do +nothing to help you?" + +She raised her head and looked at him. + +"Nothing, nothing!" she cried. "Ah, forgive me, Monsieur +Horace, for speaking so to you; but you do not know, you +cannot understand how unhappy I am." + +"Buy why, Madelon? What is it? Has any one spoken unkindly to +you?" + +"No, no, it is not that. You do not understand. Why do you +come to me here? Why am I here at all? If people knew who and +what I am, would they talk to me as they do? Supposing I had +told Lady Adelaide just now--yes, you heard every word of that +conversation--she would have despised me, as you pitied me, +Monsieur Horace. Yes, you pitied me; I saw it in your eyes." + +"My pity is not such as you need resent, Madelon," said +Graham, with a sigh. + +"I do not resent it," she answered hastily. "You are kind, you +are good; you do well to pity me. What al I? The daughter of +a--a--yes, I know well enough now--I did not once, but I do now-- +and I am here in your society, amongst you all, on +sufferance." + +"You are wrong," answered Graham quickly, scarcely thinking of +what he said. "In the first place, it can make no difference +to any one that knows you who your father was; and then you +are here as Mrs. Treherne's niece----" + +"I am my father's daughter!" cried Madelon, blazing up, "and I +must not own it. Yes, yes, I understand it all. As Mrs. +Treherne's niece I may be received; but not as---- Oh, papa, +papa!" her voice suddenly breaking down, "why did you die? why +did you leave me all alone?" + +Graham stood silent. He felt so keenly for her; he had so +dreaded for her the time when this knowledge of her father's +true character must come home to her. In his wide sympathy +with everything connected with her, he had regrets of that +poor father also, dead years ago, who in his last hours had so +plainly foreseen some such moment as this, and yet not quite, +either. + +"Monsieur Horace," Madelon went on wildly, "I did so love +papa, and he loved me--ah, you cannot imagine how much! When I +think of it now, when I see other fathers with their children, +how little they seem to care for them in comparison, I wonder +at his love for me. He nursed me, he played with me, he took +such care of me, he made me so happy. I think sometimes if I +could only hear his voice once more, and see him smiling at me +as he used to smile--and I must not speak of him, I must not +even mention him. It is unjust, it is cruel. I do not want to +live with people who will not let me think of my father." + +"You may speak of him to me, Madelon----" + +"To you?" she said, interrupting him; "ah, you knew him--you +know how he loved me. But Aunt Barbara--she will not let me +even mention his name." + +"Then she is very wrong and very foolish," Graham answered +hastily. "Listen to me, Madelon. You are making yourself +miserable for nothing. To begin with, if everybody in the room +to-night knew who your father was, and all about him, I don't +suppose it would make the least difference; and as for the +rest, you have no occasion to concern or distress yourself +about anything in your father's life, except what relates to +yourself. Whatever he may have been to others, he was the +kindest and most loving of fathers to you, and that is all you +need think about." + +"But Aunt Barbara----" + +"Never mind Aunt Barbara. If she chooses to do what you and I +think foolish we will not follow her example. You may talk to +me, Madelon, as much as ever you please. I should like to hear +about your father, for I know how often you think of him. Now, +will you go back to the ball-room? I give you leave to dance +now," he added, smiling. + +She did not move nor answer, but she looked up at him with a +sudden change in her face, and he saw that she was trembling. + +"What is it now, Madelon?" he said. + +"You are so good," she said. "When I am unhappy, you always +comfort me--it has always been so----" + +"Do I comfort you?" said Graham--"why, that is good news, +Madelon." + +"Ah! yes," she cried, in her impulsive way, "you have always +been good to me--how can I forget it? That night when papa +died, and I was so unhappy all alone--and since then, how +often--" + +Graham turned away, and walked twice up and down the room. +There was a distant sound of music, and footsteps, and voices, +but people had drifted away into the ball-room again, and they +were alone. He came back to where Madelon was sitting. + +"If you think so, indeed, Madelon," he said, "will you not let +it be so always? Do you think you can trust me enough to let +me always take care of you? I can ask for nothing dearer in +life." + +"What do you mean?" she cried, glancing up at him startled. + +"Do you not understand?" he said, looking at her, and taking +one her little hands in his--"do you not understand that one +may have a secret hidden away for years, and never suspected +even by oneself, perhaps, till all at once one discovers it? I +think I must have had some such secret, Madelon, and that I +never guessed at it till a few months since, when I found a +little girl that I knew years ago, grown up into somebody that +I love better than all the world----" + +"Ah! stop!" she cried, jumping up, and pulling her hand away. +"You are good and kind, but it is not possible that you--ah! +Monsieur Horace, I am not worthy!" + +"Not worthy! Good heavens, Madelon, you not worthy!" He paused +for a moment. "What is not possible?" he went on. "Perhaps I +am asking too much. I am but a battered old fellow in these +days, I know, and if, indeed, you cannot care enough for me----" + +He held out his hand again with a very kind smile. She looked +up at him. + +"Monsieur Horace," she said, "I--I do--" + +And then she put both hands into his with her old, childish +gesture, and I daresay the little weary spirit thought it had +found its rest at last. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +Mrs. Treherne's Forgiveness. + + +Mrs. Treherne was sitting in the drawing-room of her London +house. The window was open to the hot dusty street, long +shadows lay upon the deserted pavement, the opposite houses +were all closed, and no sound disturbed the stillness of the +September evening but the shouts of the children, as they +played up and down the steps, and under the porticoes of the +houses, and the bells of the Westminster clocks chiming one +quarter after another. Through the half-drawn curtains that +hung between the two drawing-rooms she could see Graham and +Madelon sitting together, looking out upon the Park, as they +talked in low tones, and a sudden sadness filled her heart. +They were to be married next week, and go abroad at once, +whilst she returned to Cornwall; and the even current of a +lonely life, that had been stirred and altered in its course +five years ago, would return to its original channel, to be +disturbed, perhaps, no more. + +It was of these five years that Mrs. Treherne was thinking +now, and of others, perhaps, beyond them again, when she too +had been young, and beloved, and happy. There are some lives +which, in their even tenour of mild happiness, seem to glide +smoothly from one scattered sorrow to another, so that to the +very end some of the hopefulness and buoyancy of youth are +retained; but there are others in which are concentrated in +one brief space those keen joys and keener sorrows that no one +quite survives, which, in passing over us take from us our +strongest vitality, our young capacity for happiness and +suffering alike. Such a life had been Mrs. Treherne's. She had +been a woman of deep affections and passions, and they all lay +buried in those early years that had taken from her husband, +and children, and friend, and it was only a dim shadow of her +former self that moved, and spoke, and lived in these latter +days. + +It was an old story with her now, however. She did not envy +these two happy people who were talking together in the next +room. It was of Madelon she was thinking most, thinking sadly +enough that in all these years she had not been able to win +the girl's heart. When she had first seen the child of the +friend who in all the world had been most dear to her, she had +promised herself that, for Magdalen's sake, she would take her +home and bring her up as her own daughter; and she had kept +her promise, but she had failed in making her happy. She knew +it now, when she contrasted the Madelon of to-day, going about +with the light in her eyes, and the glad ring in her voice, +with the Madelon of six months ago. She had not been able to +make her happy, and she would leave her without a regret; and +the thought gave Mrs. Treherne a sharper pang than she had +felt for many a day. + +And meanwhile this was what Madelon was saying,-- + +"In another month, Madelon," Graham had said to her, "we shall +be at L----, and you will be looking out on the blue skies that +you have so often longed for." + +"Yes," she replied, "and then perhaps I shall be thinking of +the grey ones I have left behind; I shall be sorry to leave +England after all. I will pay your country so much of a +compliment as that, Monsieur Horace, or rather I shall be +sorry to leave some of the English people--Aunt Barbara, I do +not like to think of her alone; she will miss me, she says." + +"I should not wonder if she did, Madelon." + +"I do not know why she should; I think I have been ungrateful +to her; she has been so good, so kind to me, why have I not +been able to love her more? Where should I have been if she +had not taken care of me? and such care! If I lived to be a +hundred I could never repay all she has done, and now I am +going away to be happy, and she will be lonely and sad." + +"We will ask her to come and see us, some day, at L----. I saw a +house when I was there, that would suit us exactly, and it has +a room, which shall be sometimes for Aunt Barbara, sometimes +for Madge. It has an open gallery, and an outside staircase +leading down to the garden, which will delight Madge's small +mind." + +"Like my room at Le Trooz," cried Madelon. "Ah! how glad I am +that you can go there first, and that I shall see Jeanne-Marie +again; if only we do not find her ill--it is so long since I +have heard from her, and she used to write so regularly." + +"For my part," said Graham, "I wish to see the hotel at +Chaudfontaine, where I first met a small person who was very +rude to me, I remember." + +"And your wish will not be gratified, sir, for the season will +be over by next month and the hotel closed for the winter. I +am sorry for that, but I wonder you can wish to see a place +where any one was rude to you--now with me of course it is +different." + +"In what way, Madelon?" + +"Ah! that I will not tell you--but we will go to the convent at +Liege, Monsieur Horace; I would like to see Soeur Lucie again. +Poor Soeur Lucie--but it is sad to think that she is always +there making her confitures--there are so many other things to +be done in the world." + +"For example?" + +"Joining a marching regiment," she said, looking at him half- +laughing, half-shyly. "Monsieur Horace, where will you go when +you are tired of L----? You will be tired of it some day, I +know, and so shall I. Where will you go next?" + +"I don't know," he answered; "you see, Madelon, in taking a +wife, I undertake a certain responsibility; I can't go +marching about the world as if I were a single man." + +"You don't mean that!" she cried, "if I thought you meant +that, I--I--ah, why do you tease me?" she added, as Graham could +not help laughing, "you know you promised me I should go with +you everywhere. I am very strong, I love travelling, I want to +see the world. Where will you go? To America again? I will +adopt the customs and manners of any country; I will dress in +furs with a seal-skin cap, and eat blubber like an Esquimau, +or turn myself into an Indian squaw; would you like to have me +for a squaw, Monsieur Horace? I would lean all their duties; I +believe they carry their husband's game, and never speak till +they are spoken to. My ideas are very vague. But I would +learn--ah, yes, I could learn anything." + +Mrs. Treherne was still sitting, thinking her sad thoughts +when she felt an arm passed round her neck, and turning round, +saw Madelon kneeling at her side. "Horace has gone out," she +said; "we have been talking over our plans, Aunt Barbara; we +have settled quite now that we will first go to Liege and Le +Trooz, and see Jeanne-Marie, and then go on to the south. It +is good of Monsieur Horace to go to Liege, for it is all to +please me, and it is quite out of his way." + +"And you go on to L---- afterwards? You will be glad to find +yourself abroad again, Madeleine." + +"Yes," she said, hesitating; "but I shall be sorry to leave +you, Aunt Barbara." + +"Will you, my dear? I am afraid, Madeleine, that I have not +made you very happy, though I have only found it out in these +last few weeks." + +"Aunt Barbara, how can you say such a thing?" cried Madelon. +"What have you not done for me? Why, I could never, never +thank you for it all; it is for that--because it is so much-- +that I cannot say more. One cannot use the same words that one +does for ordinary things." + +"I know, my dear," said Mrs. Treherne, smoothing the girl's +hair, "but nevertheless I have not made you happy, and I now +know the reason why. Yes, I have been talking to Horace, and I +understand your feeling; and if it were all to come again, +perhaps I might act differently; but it is too late now, and +it matters little, since you are happy at last." + +"Aunt Barbara, I have been happy----" + +"You see, Madeleine, your mother was my very dearest friend; +all your love has been for your father, and that is only +natural; but some day, perhaps, you will understand what a +mother might have been to you, and then, my dear, you will +care for me also a little, knowing how dearly I loved yours." + +"I know," said Madelon, "and I do love you, Aunt Barbara, but +I must always care for papa most of all." + +"I know, my dear; it is only natural, and from what Horace +tells me, he must have deserved your love." And with those +words, Mrs. Treherne in some sort forgave the man who had been +the one hatred of her life, and won the heart of the girl +beside her. + +"Aunt Barbara," she cried again, "I do love you." And this +time Mrs. Treherne believed her. + + +CHAPTER VII. + +Conclusion. + + +The hotel at Chaudfontaine was closed for the winter. Every +window in the big white building was shuttered, every door +barred; the courtyard was empty; not a footstep, nor a voice +was resounded. Nevertheless, an open carriage from Liege +stopped in front of the gate, and two people getting out, +proceeded to look through the iron bars of the railing. + +"Was I not right?" said Madelon. "I told you, Horace, it would +be closed for the winter, and so it is." + +"I don't care in the least," he replied. "If it affords me any +gratification, Madelon, to look through the railings into that +courtyard, I don't see why I should not have it." + +"Oh! by all means," she answered; "but it is just a little +tame, is it not?--for a sentimental visit, to be looking +through these iron bars." + +"That is the very place where I sat," said Graham, not heeding +her, "and took you on my knee." + +"I don't remember anything about it, Monsieur Horace----" + +"Nothing, Madelon?" + +"Well, perhaps--you gave me a fish, I remember--it was the fish +that won my heart; and I have it still, you see." + +"Oh! then, your heart was won?" + +"A little," she answered, glancing up at him for a moment; and +then, moving on, she said, "See here, Horace, this is the +hawthorn bush under which I slept that morning after I had run +away from the convent. How happy I was to have escaped! I +remember standing at this gate afterwards eating my bread, and +that dreadful woman came out of the hotel." + +"Is there no way of getting in?" said Graham, shaking the +gate. + +"None, I am afraid," Madelon answered. "Stay, there used to be +a path that led round at the back across a little bridge into +the garden. Perhaps we might get in that way." + +They were again disappointed; they found the path, and the +wooden bridge that crossed the stream, but another closed gate +prevented their entering the garden. + +"This, however, becomes more and more interesting," said +Graham, after looking at the spot attentively. "Yes, this is +the very place, Madelon, where I first saw you with a doll in +your arms." + +"Really!" she said. + +"Yes, really; and then some one--your father, I think--called +you away." + +They were silent for a minute, looking at the trees, the +shrubs, the grass growing all rough and tangled in the +deserted garden. + +"We must go," Graham said at last; "it is getting late, +Madelon, and we have to drive back to Liege, remember, after +we have seen Jeanne-Marie." + +They got into the carriage again, and drove on towards Le +Trooz, along the valley under the hills, all red and brown +with October woods, beside the river, gleaming between green +pastures in the low afternoon sun. They had arrived at Liege +the day before, and that morning was to have been devoted to +visiting the convent; but the convent was gone. On inquiry, +they learnt that the nuns had removed to another house ten +miles distant from Liege, and on the hills where the old farm- +house, the white, low-roofed convent had once stood so +peacefully, a great iron-foundry was smoking and spouting fire +day and night, covering field and garden with heaps of black +smouldering ashes. + +"How places and things change!" said Madelon, as they drove +along; "we have had two disappointments to-day--shall we have a +third, I wonder? Supposing Jeanne-Marie should have gone to +live in another house? Ah! how glad I shall be to see her +again!--and she will be pleased to see me, I know." + +As she spoke, the scattered houses, the church, the white +cottages of Le Trooz came in sight. Madelon checked the driver +as they approached the little restaurant, the first house in +the village, and she and Graham got out of the carriage. The +bench still stood before the door, the pigeons were flying +about, and the bee-hives were on their stand, but the blue +board was gone from the white wall, and the place had a +deserted look. + +"It is strange," said Madelon. She pushed open the door that +stood ajar, and went into the little public room; it was +empty; the table shoved away into one corner, the chairs +placed against the wall--no signs of the old life and +occupation. + +"Can Jeanne-Marie have gone away, do you think?" said Madelon, +almost piteously. "I am sure she cannot be here." + +"I will inquire," said Graham. + +He went out into the road, and stopped a little girl of ten or +twelve years, who was walking towards the village with a +pitcher of water. + +"Do you know whether the woman who lived in this house has +left?" he asked. "Jeanne-Marie she was called, I think?" + +The child stared up at the strange gentleman with the foreign +accent: + +"Jeanne-Marie that used to live here?" she said. "She is +dead." + +"Dead?" cried Madelon. The tears came rushing into her eyes. +"Ah! why did I not know? I would have come if I had known. +When did she die?" + +"More than a month ago," the girl answered; "she died here in +this house." + +"And who lives here now?" inquired Graham. + +"Jacques Monnier--he that works at the factory now. He is out +all day; but his wife should be here." + +And in fact, at the sound of the voices, the door leading into +the kitchen opened, and a young woman appeared. + +"Pardon," said Madelon, going forward; "we came here to +inquire for Jeanne-Marie; but she--she is dead, we hear." + +"Yes, she is dead," the woman replied; then, in answer to +further questions, told how Jeanne-Marie, when she was taken +ill, had refused to let any one be written to, or sent for; +and had died alone at last with no one near her but a hired +nurse. "She left enough money for her burial, and to have a +wooden cross put on her grave," said the woman, "and asked M. +le Cure to see that all her things were sold, and the money +given to the poor." + +"Is she buried here?" said Madelon. "Horace, I should like to +see her grave." + +"Louise, there, can show it to you," says Madame Monnier, +pointing to the child; "run home with your water, _ma petite_, +and then come back and show Monsieur and Madame the road to +the churchyard." + +"And I have a favour to beg," said Madelon, turning to the +woman again. "I knew Jeanne-Marie well; she was very kind to +me at one time. Might I see the room in which she died? It is +upstairs, is it not, with the window opening on to the steps +leading into the garden?" + +The woman consented civilly enough, concealing any +astonishment she might feel at this tall, beautiful lady, who +had come to inquire after Jeanne-Marie; and Madelon left +Graham below, and went up alone to the little bed-room, where +she had spent so many hours. It was hardly altered. The bed +stood in the old place; the vines clustered round the window. +Madelon's heart was full of sorrow; she had loved Jeanne-Marie +so much, and more and more perhaps, as years went on, and she +had learnt to understand better all that the woman had done +for her--and she had died alone--she who had saved her life. + +When she came down again Louise had reappeared, and was +waiting to conduct them to the churchyard. The child went on +in front, and they followed her in silence down the village +street. It was already evening, the sun had sunk behind the +hills; the men were returning from their work; the children +were playing and shouting, and the women stood gossiping +before their doors. All was life and animation in the little +village, where a strange, silent woman had once passed to and +fro, with deeds and words of kindness for the suffering and +sorrowful, but who would be seen there no more. + +"There is the grave," says Louise, pointing it out to them. It +was in a corner of the little graveyard; the earth was still +fresh over it, and the black cross at its head was one of the +newest amongst the hundred similar ones round about. Graham +dismissed the child with a gratuity, and he and Madelon went +up to the grave. There was no name, only the initials J. M. R. +painted on the cross beneath the three white tears, and the +customary "_Priez pour elle!_" Some one had hung up a wreath of +immortelles, and a rose-tree, twined round a neighbouring +cross, had shed its petals above Jeanne-Marie's head. + +Madelon knelt down and began to pull out some weeds that had +sprung up, whilst Graham stood looking on. Long afterwards, +one might fancy, would that hour still live in his memory--the +peaceful stillness brooding over the little graveyard, the +sunset sky, the sheltering hills, the scent of the falling +roses, and Madelon, in her dark dress, kneeling by the grave. +Her task was soon accomplished, but she knelt on motionless. +Who shall say of what she was thinking? Something perhaps of +the real meaning of life, of its great underlying sadness, +ennobled by patient suffering, by unselfish devotion, for +presently she turned round to Graham. + +"Oh, Horace," she said, "help me to be good; I am not, you +know, but I would like to be----and you will help me." + +"My little Madelon!" he raised her up, he took her in his +arms. "We will both try to be good, with God's help. The world +is all before us, to work in, and do our best--we will do what +we can; with God's help, I say, we will do what we can." + +They drove swiftly back towards Liege; the air blew freshly in +their faces, the sunset colours faded, the stars came out one +by one. As they vanish from our sight, they seem to fade into +the mysterious twilight land. For them, as for us, other suns +will rise, other days will dawn, but we shall have no part in +them; between them and us falls the darkness of eternal +separation. + + +THE END. + + + + +PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. + + + + + + +Typographical errors silently corrected by the transcriber : + +Part 1 chapter 3 : =Ou est-il donc, ce petit drole?= silently +corrected as =Ou est-il donc, ce petit drole?= + +Part 1 chapter 3 : =ton pere nous attends= silently corrected as +=ton pere nous attend= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =large porte-cocheres at intervals= silently +corrected as =large portes-cocheres at intervals= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =went to the grande messe= silently corrected +as =went to the grand' messe= + +Part 1 chapter 5 : =for a late dejeuner= silently corrected as +=for a late dejeuner= + +Part 2 chapter 4 : =bursts of passionate crying?= silently +corrected as =bursts of passionate crying.= + +Part 2 chapter 8 : =Ecoutes, Madelon= silently corrected as +=Ecoute, Madelon= + +Part 2 chapter 11 : =his late dejeuner= silently corrected as +=his late dejeuner= + +Part 2 chapter 12 : =quite irrevelant= silently corrected as +=quite irrelevant= + +Part 2 chapter 14 : =said so many things;= silently corrected as +=said so many things,= + +Part 3 chapter 2 : =he said, but one of the children= silently +corrected as =he said, "but one of the children= + +Part 3 chapter 3 : =but she is; without exception= silently +corrected as =but she is, without exception= + +Part 3 chapter 4 : =je m'etouffe ici= silently corrected as +=j'etouffe ici= + +Part 3 chapter 5 : =aret hey not pretty= silently corrected as +="are they not pretty= + +Part 3 chapter 5 : ="Yes, you pitied me= silently corrected as +=Yes, you pitied me= + +Part 3 chapter 6 : =like an Esquimaux= silently corrected as =like an +Esquimau= + +Part 3 chapter 7 : =lived in this house has left!= silently +corrected as =lived in this house has left?= + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's My Little Lady, by Eleanor Frances Poynter + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY LITTLE LADY *** + +***** This file should be named 16788.txt or 16788.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/7/8/16788/ + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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