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| author | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-09-01 04:22:02 -0700 |
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| committer | pgww <pgww@lists.pglaf.org> | 2025-09-01 04:22:02 -0700 |
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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/76781-0.txt b/76781-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cfda0e --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4874 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76781 *** + + + + + + A BROKEN BLOSSOM. + + =A Novel.= + + + BY + + FLORENCE MARRYAT, + + AUTHOR OF “LOVE’S CONFLICT,” ETC., ETC., ETC. + + IN THREE VOLUMES. + + VOL. III. + +[Illustration] + + =London:= + + SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., + + 10, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. + + 1879. + + [_All Rights Reserved._] + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CONTENTS OF VOL. III. + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. A LITTLE QUARREL 1 + II. MR. CHARTERIS 27 + III. THE WOLF 51 + IV. THE BARON’S STORY 77 + V. THE BLACK CLOUD 115 + VI. SALLE DU SABBAT 145 + VII. MASTER FRED 171 + VIII. ACCEPTED 201 + IX. THE DEATH-BLOW 225 + X. BROKEN 253 + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + A BROKEN BLOSSOM. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + A LITTLE QUARREL. + + +St. Pucelle never looked more beautiful than it did on the day that I +took that walk with Charlie Sandilands. The summer glories, yet unfaded, +had been overtaken by those of autumn, and the rich clusters of purple +grapes that hung upon the walls of my guardian’s house made a brilliant +contrast to the scarlet and white and rose-coloured geraniums that still +bloomed luxuriantly on the window-sills. The purple heather reigned +alone upon the hill-side, but ferns of various sorts were arching their +graceful fronds above it, and the merry brown hares were leaping amongst +the brushwood and filling the place with life. As I led Charlie up the +hill (for I would not let Tessie’s silly remark deter me from showing +him the glorious expanse of scenery to be gained from the summit) I +pointed out the beauties of the country to him with so much interest as +to excite the remark that I appeared entirely to have forgotten poor old +Norwood in my new love for St. Pucelle. + +This was exactly the sort of thing I had hoped Charlie would say to me, +for I had had two reasons in inviting him to a confidential interview: +one was to ask his advice about writing to Mr. Warrington; the other to +find out if he intended to be sensible during his stay in our +neighbourhood, and permit me to enjoy his company without being annoyed +by his sentimentality. So I answered briskly: + +‘I never cared for Norwood itself, you know, Charlie, and you would +scarcely expect me to get up an enthusiastic admiration for a suburb of +London, composed of bricks and mortar and stunted trees. Its +recollections are sacred to me, because my dear mother lies there, but +that is all.’ + +‘I was sure that coming abroad would give you a distaste for all the old +things,’ he said, in a desponding manner. + +‘Don’t talk rubbish, Charlie! You were sure of no such thing! If you ask +me if I was happy at Norwood, I answer “_yes_” most fervently. If you +ask me if I liked the place as a residence, I answer, as fervently, +“_no_.” I should have been happy with my mother in St. Giles’s; but I +should not have admired the locality.’ + +‘Ah well! Let us return to St. Pucelle,’ he said, with a sigh. + +‘No! I refuse to return to St. Pucelle until I have spoken a few words +to you. Do you mean to enjoy your holiday here, Charlie, and to let me +enjoy it, or not?’ + +‘I don’t understand what you’re driving at.’ + +‘I’m driving at you, or rather at that receptacle for nonsense you call +your brain. Now you know I am very fond of you, Charlie, and have been +for years. You are so associated with my darling mother, that you seem +like a link with the past to me; and I should like to treat you like a +younger brother, and to feel that you looked upon me as a sister. But +that can never be whilst you attempt to stuff any of your sentiment down +my throat.’ + +‘Really, Hilda——’ + +‘Really, Charlie, please to hear me out first, and have your say +afterwards. If I thought that what you told me at Norwood proceeded from +a feeling such as men conceive in their maturity, and preserve for their +whole lives, I should not dare broach the subject to you again. But I am +sure it did not.’ + +‘You imagine, in fact, that I am such a _boy_,’ with a withering accent +on the word, ‘that I am incapable of a lasting passion.’ + +‘Just so! That is just what I do think; at least, I am sure the fancy +you took for me was born entirely of association and compassion.’ + +‘I confess I do not follow you.’ + +‘Oh yes, you do! There are several kinds of love, Charlie, but only one +is the right one with which to enter upon a partnership for life. You +had known me for so long: you had become so _used_ to me, in fact, that +when you thought of our separation, and under such melancholy +circumstances, the pain seemed too hard to bear, and your mind flew to +the only means by which you could have kept me with you. I have often +and often thought of it since, and I am sure I am right. It was very +good and sweet and true of you, Charlie, and I love you the better for +it, but you should thank God I was more clear-sighted than yourself, for +we should have been a very miserable couple.’ + +‘Do you think so, Hilda?’ + +‘I am _sure_ of it! My dear boy, you are just at that age when men think +they can live happily with any woman who is young and passably +good-tempered and passably good-looking. But the daily companionship of +a married life is a terrible crucible through which to pass the +affections, and only the true ore will bear the test of it.’ + +‘I suppose you have found the “true ore” in St. Pucelle,’ he grumbled. + +‘Don’t be impudent, Charlie! Every word you say convinces me more and +more of the truth of my conviction. Now do be reasonable, my dear +child——’ + +‘I won’t be called your “dear child.”’ + +‘My dear boy, then.’ + +‘Nor your “dear boy.”’ + +‘What then, my dear Mr. Sandilands? Oh, you baby! If you were fifty-two +instead of twenty-two, you would be skipping with pleasure at being +called a child. However, I will try not to hurt your feelings again. I +won’t call you “dear” at all.’ + +‘No, Hilda! don’t say that.’ + +‘Confess, then, that you made a mistake the other day at Norwood, and +that I, with my independent spirit and intolerance of control, would +never have made you happy in the way you wished me to do.’ + +‘I will confess no such thing!’ + +‘But your heart is not broken, Charlie. Come!’ I said, looking round +into his face. + +He caught my glance and smiled. + +‘Eureka!’ I exclaimed; ‘I knew I should get at the truth at last.’ + +‘Well! of course it’s not _broken_,’ he replied, in a foolish, +half-shamed manner; ‘or I shouldn’t be walking here, but you made me +very miserable, you know, Hilda! I am sure I hardly ate anything for a +month after you left. But you had said it was of no use, and you never +should change your mind, and so I tried to make the best of it. A man +cannot go on crying over spilt milk for ever, can he?’ + +‘Of course not,’ I said energetically; ‘and it is so brave and nice of +you to tell me the truth, Charlie. It makes me feel we shall be such +real friends henceforward. And I want your friendship so much. I should +have been unhappy to think that you had put it out of my power to +confide in you; for things are not quite so straight here as they ought +to be.’ + +‘What! with the Lovetts! Aren’t they kind to you?’ + +‘The girls are sweetness itself. I never had more lovable companions.’ + +‘The one I saw first seemed very jolly; the pretty one, I mean!’ + +‘What, Tessie? the one with fair hair?’ + +‘Yes!’ + +‘Oh! we call little Ange the beauty! Her face is perfectly lovely when +you look into it.’ + +‘I didn’t see so much of her. She kept right behind her sister. But Miss +Lovett appeared the prettiest girl I had ever seen, to me—except +yourself, Hilda, of course,’ added Charlie, pulling himself up with a +sudden recollection of the proprieties. + +I laughed so heartily that I entirely discomposed him. + +‘Oh, Charlie! you have not half learned your lesson yet! I know I’m a +very pretty girl, because you’ve so often told me so; but I do not +expect nor wish that you should never meet somebody you think much +better-looking than myself. And Tessie Lovett and I are formed upon two +such entirely opposite models! How could you think my wounded vanity +would require that little postscript of yours as salve?’ + +‘I’ll tell you what I _do_ think, Hilda,’ said Charlie, with sudden +bluntness, ‘and that is, that you are the most honest and +straightforward woman I’ve ever known; and I’m sure the man who gets you +will be an out-and-out lucky fellow, whoever he may be.’ + +‘Well, never mind him, Charlie; he has not appeared upon the scene as +yet, so we can go on very well without him. Tessie has, as you say, a +very sweet and pretty face, and the goodness of her heart shines through +her eyes and makes it beautiful. She has a great deal of trouble and +anxiety to bear, and she bears it with the utmost meekness and patience. +I have a great affection for her, and I hope I shall live to see her the +wife of some good man whose love will make up for the sorrows of her +youth. And as this brings me to the very point on which I want to +consult you, Charlie, suppose we sit down on this bank whilst I tell you +my difficulties.’ + +We had reached the Calvary now, the very place where I had first met the +Mère Fromard, and were as much alone and more secure from listeners than +if we had been shut up within four walls. So I commenced to recount the +perplexity in which I found myself with regard to money—the attempts I +had made to procure it and the failures that had succeeded them—and +ended by asking him to tell me whether it would be advisable to +communicate with Mr. Warrington on the subject, or to wait and see what +time might bring me. + +I had called Charlie Sandilands a ‘baby,’ and in some things a young man +in love, or supposing himself to be so, is a very great baby compared to +an energetic and helpful woman with all her wits about her. Yet I knew +when it came to a question of business, _pur et simple_, that his +decision would be worth twenty of mine, being less likely to be actuated +by any other feeling than a desire to see justice done to his friend. +His advice was that I should write without any delay to Mr. Warrington, +and tell him all I knew. + +‘Who had the management of your mother’s affairs during her lifetime, +Hilda?’ + +‘Mr. Lovett entirely, I believe; at least, you see it was on this wise, +Charlie. My mother had a small pension granted to her by Government, on +account of my father’s scientific discoveries being adopted by the +nation, but that dies with her. The only real property my father left +behind him consists of shares in a tea-raising company in the Himalayas, +producing annually one hundred and fifty pounds, and that is the money +for which Mr. Lovett is still trustee for me.’ + +‘But there should be two trustees, Hilda.’ + +‘There were two, I think; but the other one died, and mamma never +appointed a successor to him. Mr. Warrington mentioned something about +it to me, I remember, but I forgot it again. Will you be the other +trustee, Charlie?’ + +‘I should like to be so very much, but I cannot say if I am fitted for +such a post. You had better ask Warrington. Used Mr. Lovett to send you +mamma the interest of these shares regularly?’ + +‘I don’t think he did, of late years; but it always came eventually, or +we should not have been able to live. It seems very strange, though, +that now he should be unable to lay his hand on a few pounds for me, +does it not?’ + +‘I don’t like it at all, Hilda, and I wish you would write to Warrington +about it by this night’s post.’ + +‘Suppose my letter should bring him over here?’ + +‘All the better if it is necessary! You may be sure he will not come +unless he considers it so.’ + +‘I shall tell him with twice the confidence now that I have had your +advice, Charlie. I was so very undecided whether to write to him or your +mother. In fact, I had begun a letter to Mrs. Sandilands when you +arrived.’ + +‘Mother couldn’t have advised you on her own responsibility. It isn’t a +matter for a woman’s decision—nor for a man’s, except he be a lawyer. I +hope Warrington may ask you to sell out your shares and invest them in +something else. I don’t like tea; it’s so very uncertain. A rainy +season—or a dry one—might deprive you of half your income.’ + +‘That would be awkward! But I confess to an entire and appalling +ignorance concerning shares and selling out and all that kind of thing. +I am afraid I did not even know where the money came from till Mr. +Warrington told me.’ + +‘That is not like your usual sense, Hilda; and since it is all you have +to depend upon, I should think the sooner you made yourself acquainted +with its source and securities the better.’ + +‘Yes, I feel I have been foolish. There is another thing, Charlie. Do +you think I could get my money into my own hands? Mr. Warrington +promised me I should be quite independent, and I should feel so much +more so if I paid Mr. Lovett what we agreed upon, instead of having it +kept back from me like a child.’ + +‘I should say it would be not only feasible but right that you should +manage your own income. I don’t think you have been treated at all +fairly, Hilda, and I have not conceived a very high idea of your +reverend guardian in consequence.’ + +‘You had better wait till you see him and judge for yourself, Charlie. +You know the old adage, “What is one man’s meat is another man’s +poison.” I may have been viewing the old gentleman through distorted +lenses. But I fear the rosiest glasses would never make him look a saint +to me again.’ + +‘Who’s that foreign-looking chap staring at you, Hilda?’ interposed +Charlie, abruptly. + +I followed his glance and encountered the graceful form of the Baron de +Nesselrode. He was attired in a velveteen shooting-suit of a +golden-brown hue; had a game-bag slung across his shoulder, and carried +a gun in his hand. Following at his heels were several dogs, amongst +which the two gaunt wolf-hounds that we had seen at the château +contributed to form a most picturesque group. + +As the Baron met my gaze, he smiled slightly, lifted his _sombrero_, and +with a low bow passed on his way. But not before I had caught the look +of decided dissatisfaction he threw towards my companion, who was +sitting very close to me upon the bank. The look annoyed me, though I +scarcely knew why. I certainly did not wish Monsieur de Nesselrode nor +anybody else in St. Pucelle to think I was indulging in a flirtation +with Charlie Sandilands, but at the same time I liked him too well to +see any slight cast upon him without inwardly resenting it. So a blight +fell on my spirits as the Baron passed out of sight. + +‘Who is he? do you know him?’ asked Charlie, as soon as we were alone +again. + +‘Of course I know him, or I should not have returned his bow. That is +the Baron de Nesselrode—a great friend of all the Lovetts—and a +particular one of Tessie’s.’ + +‘A particular friend of Miss Lovett’s!’ repeated my companion. ‘How do +you mean?’ + +‘I mean what I say; and I hope and think that at some future time he +will be more than a friend to her. They would make a charming couple, +for he is so thoroughly well-bred and courtier-like, and she has been +reared in the atmosphere of a Court, although her father is now too poor +to permit them to mix in society.’ + +‘Do you mean that he’ll marry her?’ demanded Charlie, who was rather +dull of comprehension. + +‘What else do you suppose I could mean? Nothing is settled, remember; +but the Baron wants a wife terribly, and Tessie is so sweet, I think she +would love anybody who was kind to her.’ + +‘Well, I should have thought she could do a deal better than that for +herself.’ + +This disparaging remark was a signal-match for my bad temper, and I +fired up immediately. + +‘What a commonplace manner you have of expressing your ideas, Charlie. +Besides, you do not know what you’re talking about. Monsieur de +Nesselrode belongs to one of the first and oldest families of France. +His ancestors have been barons by feudal right ever since the days of +Charlemagne; and if it were not that he had been a little wild and +careless of his money, you would not have seen him in a place like St. +Pucelle at all. The Château des Roses, which he occupies here, is the +least important portion of his estates. He possesses land in +Switzerland, and Normandy, and Anjou, and is the owner of extensive +house property in Paris. The De Nesselrodes have been attached to the +King’s service ever since one of their ancestors saved a royal life. I +believe you would not find better blood in all France than runs in the +veins of the gentleman who has just passed us.’ + +‘Well, you seem to know all about him, at any rate, Hilda,’ replied +Charlie, when want of breath compelled me to stop my running commentary +on the Baron’s pedigree. ‘I dare say it’s all true, but his title and +estates don’t alter my opinion one bit. I should still think Miss Lovett +a great deal too good for him.’ + +‘But why? He is very handsome and accomplished, and you know nothing +against his character?’ + +‘He’s a Frenchman! that’s quite enough for me,’ said Charlie, with +beautiful British depreciation of everybody who did not belong to the +same nation as himself. ‘And an English girl must be too good for him, +if he’s a lord or a costermonger.’ + +‘What absurd prejudice!’ I replied, with a curling lip; ‘and I should +have credited you with more good taste than to speak of a noble of +France in that way.’ + +‘Noble of fiddlesticks! Does he ever wash himself, that’s the question, +Hilda? I don’t believe any of these foreigners do.’ + +‘Why don’t you call him a “frog” at once, or a “Johnny Crapeau”?’ I +returned witheringly. ‘It would be about as brilliant and as much in +accordance with modern enlightenment as what you are saying now. I +declare you put me out of all patience. And to think, too, that a man +like Armand de Nesselrode should have been laid open, by his own folly, +to the animadversions of a—a—Somerset House clerk!’ + +‘Hullo, Hilda! are you really angry with me? Why, what is this fellow to +you, even if he should be going to marry the pretty Miss Lovett?’ + +‘Tessie is my friend, Charlie, and if she ever becomes the Baronne de +Nesselrode, her husband will be my friend also. You can judge for +yourself, then, if it is very pleasant for me to sit by and hear you +talk in that way of him.’ + +‘You must have enough to do if you take up the cudgels for all your +friends’ friends after this fashion. However, I am very sorry if I have +offended you, Hilda, and I will try and believe that your fine Baron +_does_ wash himself, if it pleases you I should do so.’ + +‘Please not to mention the subject again; it disgusts me,’ I said +loftily, as I rose from my seat and commenced to descend the hill. + +Poor Charlie walked by my side in silence till we had got nearly +half-way home, when he said: + +‘You’re not cross with me still, are you, Hilda?’ + +‘I have no right to be cross, but you disappoint me. Are these old +prejudices never to be done away with, and the two finest nations in the +world to meet on terms of perfect amity and mutual esteem? The greater +intellects of earth have abandoned them long since, and it is lowering +to one’s conceptions of human generosity to find they still linger in +the breasts of one’s intimate friends. Why, I suppose, in the whole +course of your life, you have never associated with so intellectual and +highly-bred a man as Monsieur de Nesselrode; indeed, I am _sure_ you +have not. Men like himself are not to be met with in the purlieus of +Somerset House, or amongst the “snobbery” of London suburbs. And yet you +think you have a right to laugh at him, simply because he is not an +Englishman. You make me hate British patriotism! Displayed in this +fashion, it is vulgar, offensive, coarse! You would receive more +politeness and appreciation yourself from the commonest labourer you met +on these country roads than you have accorded to-day to Monsieur de +Nesselrode.’ + +‘Hilda, I’m awfully sorry! I had no idea you thought so much of this +chap as all that.’ + +This insinuation nettled me still further. + +‘I wish to goodness you wouldn’t call him a “chap”—your cockneyisms +grate on my ears like a file,’ I said angrily. ‘Please to remember that +for the last three months I have been unused to hear the elegancies of +the English language.’ + +This put a summary end to all conversation between us until we reached +the Lovetts’ house, when Charlie timidly offered me his hand, and said +he supposed he had better go back to the hotel. + +‘Good-bye,’ I answered curtly, without any comment on his remark, and +the poor young fellow turned away and walked down the street with a very +crestfallen air. + +I think I was a little _too_ hard upon him, but the conviction did not +strike me until some hours afterwards. I don’t remember feeling at all +penitent until I went to bed that night, and then, on reviewing the +day’s proceedings, I was not only sorry but surprised to think that I +should have quarrelled with Charlie Sandilands, and for the first time +in the course of our long acquaintanceship. + +Why was it? What could have made me so quick and peppery? It could never +have been a foolish disappointment because Armand de Nesselrode had +passed me without speaking. As that thought struck me I buried my +burning face in the pillows for shame, and resolved that I would +apologise to dear old Charlie, and make it up with him again the very +first thing in the morning. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER II. + MR. CHARTERIS. + + +I hoped all the next day that Charlie would come, but he didn’t. My +rough speech had hurt his feelings too much, and I heard afterwards that +he wandered about the country in a melancholy mood, from sunrise to +sunset, making fierce resolutions to return home by the very next +opportunity, which, of course, never came to anything. + +I sat indoors all the morning,inditing my letter to Mr. Warrington, in +which I told him exactly what had occurred, and begged him to let me +have the management of my money in my own hands. I gave him a most +faithful account of torn dresses, worn-out gloves, and shabby bonnets, +and assured him that the very stamp I used to convey my wishes to him, I +should not have been able to procure, had I not found a few centimes +lying on the mantelpiece in the _salle à manger_, and annexed them +boldly, under Mr. Lovett’s own eyes. + +Having finished my epistle I put it in my pocket, ready for the post, +and went downstairs to join the girls. As I passed through the kitchen, +I saw Madame Marmoret leaning her two elbows on the open window-sill, +whilst she talked with the same tradesman, in the peaked cap and the +belted blue blouse, who had drawn my trustee aside for a private +conference as he was conducting me from the diligence to the house, on +the occasion of my arrival in St. Pucelle. + +‘_Tiens_, m’sieu!’ she was saying in a friendly and confidential tone, +as I placed my foot on the top step of the stairs. ‘You are not worse +off than I am: we must wait, wait, wait! There is no other chance for +us. The time cannot be far off now. Sooner or later it must come.’ + +‘But what will there be for us when it _does_ come?’ grumbled the man; +‘that is the question, Madame! I heard a great deal of this demoiselle +Anglaise and all the money she was to bring with her, but where is it? I +should like to see some in my hand, were it ever so little.’ + +‘Bah! you are a fool to have believed the old man. You know him of old. +What would he not say to silence your importunities? The demoiselle +Anglaise has nothing—next to nothing! She is a pauper, _une avare_, and +close-fisted as a German; and the sooner she goes back to her own +country, I say, the better! We shall make nothing out of her.’ + +This was a pleasant speech to overhear made of myself by an insolent old +woman who chose to resent her master’s impecuniosity upon me. But I +resolved Madame should know that I _had_ overheard it, and stamped my +foot in consequence. + +‘_Tiens!_ there is some one,’ exclaimed the man, drawing backwards. + +Madame turned her brown face with its wicked-looking eyes towards me +without altering the position of her elbows on the window-sill. + +‘_Eh bien_, mamselle!’ she said, without the slightest appearance of +confusion. ‘You have a light foot! I hope your heart corresponds to it!’ + +‘Thank you, Madame!’ I replied, in the same manner. ‘I have a light step +I believe, and a quick ear, and a retentive memory. You will never find +me forget one compliment you are kind enough to pay me!’ + +‘That is well,’ she laughed, as though she took my words in perfect good +faith, ‘for I am very poor, you see, and any little remembrance mamselle +sees fit to bestow upon me will be gratefully acknowledged.’ + +Really, this woman’s insolence was past bearing! That, and the +conversation I had overheard, which so plainly betrayed what use my +arrival at St. Pucelle had been put to, made my cheeks flame with +indignation, and I walked past her to the sitting-room with the air of a +queen. I had expected to find Tessie and Ange there, engaged in +needlework, but I was mistaken. Except for Cave Charteris, sitting in +the window reading a French novel, the room was empty. + +I have already attempted to describe the terms on which I found myself +with this gentleman, but they are not easy of portraiture. We were +perfectly friendly and polite to one another, but he was already more +intimate and confidential with the girls than with myself. The new +acquaintanceship appeared to be terribly kept back by the remembrance of +the old friendship, and the mutual fear we secretly entertained, lest a +free intercourse might lead to some allusion to the past, deterred us +from ever seeking the company of one another. + +Confidence was at an end between us, and ease had followed it. I liked +him still—thought him very handsome—and wished him no evil, but there my +interest ended. The advice which I had sought from Charlie Sandilands, +and which could have been so much better accorded me by a man of thirty, +I had never dreamed of asking at the hands of Cave Charteris. I should +have left the room again now, not directly I perceived he was in it, but +at the first reasonable opportunity, had he not deterred me by broaching +the very subject that had set my face in a flame. + +‘There appears to be a very animated conversation going on in the +kitchen, Miss Marsh,’ he commenced. ‘Is anything wrong there?’ + +‘Nothing worse than the tongue of Madame Marmoret, which is a continual +scourge,’ I answered hotly. ‘The impertinence of that woman knows no +bounds. How the Lovetts can endure it as they do, I can’t imagine; but +for my own part I shall be compelled to make a formal complaint on the +subject, if it is not put a stop to. I have not been accustomed to be +insulted by servants, and I will not submit to it.’ + +‘Has she dared to insult you?’ he asked quickly. + +Then I remembered the exact bearing of the affront I had overheard, and +wished I had not mentioned it. Of all people in the world, I would not +have told Mr. Charteris my money troubles. He might have offered to +assist me out of them. + +‘I overheard part of the conversation you have alluded to, and it was +not complimentary to myself. Madame Marmoret hates me and says so +openly, though I am not aware I have ever given her cause of offence. It +is nothing to me what she thinks or does not think, but I will not +suffer it to be bawled out of a kitchen window loud enough for the whole +of St. Pucelle to hear.’ + +‘I should think not, indeed! You should speak to Mr. Lovett about it. +Hilda, are you happy here?’ + +I started. It was the first time he had called me by my Christian name +since the moment he recognised me in the _salle à manger_. + +‘Yes,’ I answered quietly. ‘I am quite happy, thank you.’ + +‘I do not know, of course, anything of your private affairs, neither +have I the right to ask, but I don’t consider things are as comfortable +here as they ought to be. I am only on a shooting excursion myself, and +prepared to live “in the rough,” but even I could wish for a few more of +the luxuries of civilisation. Mr. Lovett calls you his adopted daughter, +still——’ + +‘I am not his adopted daughter,’ I interrupted quickly, ‘nor have I any +desire to be so. I do not know what motive he has in saying it. I pay +for my board and lodging here, just as you do. Mr. Lovett offered me the +home, after my mother’s death, and I accepted it, for the sake of rest +and quiet. But I do not at all know how long I shall remain with them.’ + +‘Is it so? The old gentleman made me understand quite differently. But I +am very glad to hear you are independent, Hilda. Forgive me for being so +bold as to say so; but I know of old what a proud spirit you have, and +can imagine nothing more galling to you than to eat the bread of +charity.’ + +‘Nothing would have induced me to do so. I would have scrubbed floors +first.’ + +‘I am sure of it. Neither does our reverend friend appear to me to be in +a position to extend hospitality to his friends. I have been assailed +more than once since my sojourn here, by people entreating me to use my +influence with him to make him pay what he owes them.’ + +‘Have you really, Mr. Charteris!’ + +This was a subject on which I felt I _could_ speak with him—on which, +too, he might give me some valuable advice. + +‘Oh, it is no secret! The old man is in debt all over this town and a +dozen others. I knew that before I had been here a week. But it is no +concern of ours. All we have to do is to pay our way as long as it suits +our convenience, and to leave him when it ceases to do so. But the old +sinner has contrived to book me for the next two months, anyway!’ + +‘How so?’ I demanded, with interest. + +‘Why, the second or third day I was here—before I knew all this, you +know—he asked me, as a great favour, to advance him fifty pounds—for +something that he wanted on _your_ account, I believe.’ + +‘On _my_ account!’ I cried, flaring up. ‘How _dared_ he? Oh, Mr. +Charteris, I hope you will believe this is perfect news to me! I owe Mr. +Lovett nothing. He is my trustee, and has all my money in his own hands. +It was shameful of him to use my name in the matter!’ + +‘Now, don’t agitate yourself in that fashion. I knew at once it was a +ruse of the old boy’s, but it was not my business to say so, and it made +no difference to me if he had the money in advance or not.’ + +‘And you paid him fifty pounds for two months’ board!’ I said +incredulously. + +‘Something like it. I believe the agreement was that I should pay five +pounds a week.’ + +At this I could not help laughing. + +‘You must be very rich to be able to afford to throw your money away in +that way.’ + +‘I am not poor,’ he answered slowly; and I wondered where his money had +come from. + +He had not been independent in the old days—far from it; for he had +often talked to me of the necessity of his working to provide a home +before he could take a wife to himself. Perhaps his father had died in +the silent interim that stretched between the present and the past. +Before I quite knew what I was about, I had asked the question: + +‘Is your father alive still?’ + +‘Yes. Why do you ask?’ + +‘I don’t know. Merely for the sake of talking, I suppose. I am not above +that womanly weakness.’ + +‘I have thought, since I have been here, that you had got altogether +above it. It seems as if I had hardly heard your voice: you are so +unusually silent and reserved.’ + +‘I have had a great sorrow, you must remember, Mr. Charteris, and I +cannot yet laugh and talk as I used to do.’ + +‘Ah, how you used to laugh in the old days! I fancy I can hear you now! +Hilda, do you ever think of that time, and of the hours we spent +wandering up and down the Crystal Palace Gardens together? How beautiful +those gardens were! They have nothing like them abroad, unless we except +the grounds at Versailles, after which, I believe, they were modelled.’ + +We were getting on dangerous ground now, and I felt it. I had no desire +to renew anything like a sentimental flirtation with Mr. Charteris; the +scar, which his past conduct had left upon my heart, though now +painless, was too deep for trifling even with memory; and therefore I +did my best to turn the conversation. + +‘Ah, Versailles! I have never seen those gardens, though I have heard so +much about them. I am a great ignoramus, Mr. Charteris, you must know, +in all things connected with travel. This is actually the first time I +have ever set my foot out of England!’ + +‘So much the better! You have all your pleasure to come, instead of +having exhausted before you know how to appreciate it. I can well +imagine how an intelligent mind like yours will expand beneath the +wonders of nature and art with which it has still to become acquainted. +You are marvellously young and fresh for your age, Hilda.’ + +‘You are the first person who has ever said so. I think, on the +contrary, that I am marvellously old and used-up. To judge from my +general feelings, I might be sixty.’ + +‘Just at present I dare say you might. You must have felt your late loss +terribly!’ + +My lip trembled, and I turned away from him. I could not have answered +even ‘Yes’ at that moment without breaking down, and I would have died +sooner than break down before Cave Charteris. + +‘I can’t tell you what a shock it was to me to hear it!’ he went on +softly. ‘It seemed to revive the past, and bring it back as if it had +occurred only yesterday. She was always good and kind to me, and you +too, Hilda—indeed, I used to dare to think at that time that you +regarded me as a _very dear_ friend.’ + +_He used to dare to think!_ He cast his calculating untrue eyes upon me +as he spoke; and I knew that he remembered as vividly as I did, and was +only trying how far he could impose on my credulity and make me think +him blameless. The idea nerved me for action. Had I followed the bent of +my inclinations, I should have hurled indignant reproaches on his head, +and made him, in consequence, believe that his conduct had still the +power to pain me. But I stamped on my inclination, and answered him as +coolly as if the subject were of the utmost indifference, and revived no +recollections whatever, pleasant or unpleasant, with regard to himself. + +‘And so I did,’ I replied. ‘I had so few companions of my own age at +Norwood, I remember hailing your advent as a perfect godsend. It was a +very dull place for a girl to live in, particularly in the quiet way we +used to do.’ + +‘I never thought it dull,’ he sighed—‘that is, when I was with you.’ + +‘Oh, you forget! It happened such a long time ago! But I can remember +some very dull afternoons we spent there, when the roads were all mud +and it rained continuously, and we had no resource indoors except +playing at cards and singing over those eternal old songs of mine.’ + +‘You never sing now,’ he said eagerly. ‘How charmed I should be to hear +some of the dear old songs! Won’t you sing them to me, Hilda?’ + +‘No, I never sing now, Mr. Charteris. My voice is not strong, and I have +too many other things to do.’ + +‘You might sing for _me_ though, just to revive that happy memory. I +suppose the _reality_ will never come over again, will it?’ + +I looked in his face with well-feigned surprise. + +‘How can what is past come over again? and with my dear mother gone, +too! I think you are talking nonsense, Mr. Charteris.’ + +‘You must know what I mean. Will the old feelings we had for each other +never be revived?’ + +I knew as well as he did what he meant. He wanted to make love to me +again—to make me believe once more that his soft tones and looks and +words were good for what they seemed. But the spell was broken, the old +glamour had faded away. I saw him as the world saw him, and I was not to +be taken in a second time. + +‘I don’t see that they want reviving, Mr. Charteris. We liked each other +very well then, and I suppose we like each other very well now. We +haven’t quarrelled, have we? Perhaps I am a graver woman than you +expected to see; but five years is a long interval, you know: and it is +more likely you have forgotten what I was, than that I have altered as +much as you seem to suppose.’ + +‘You don’t see it in the same light as I do,’ he said, with a deep sigh +that he pumped up from the lowest depths of his waistcoat. + +He wanted me to blush and look conscious and uncomfortable, and then he +would have seized the opportunity to swear he had been loving me through +all the period of our separation, and should be miserable until he heard +that I loved him in return. + +But with all his desire to get up a small excitement, wherewith to while +away the hours when he could not be shooting in the forest of Piron, Mr. +Charteris was not so foolish as to commit himself where there appeared +no chance of remunerating his trouble; and so he gave me up as a bad +job, and, with a gesture of impatience, resumed the study of his French +novel. But I would not leave one stone unturned by which I thought to +convince him that he was utterly mistaken in thinking I had ever given a +second thought to his heartless desertion of me. + +‘How is your cousin Fred Stephenson, Mr. Charteris?’ I asked, with a +jaunty air. + +‘Oh, he’s well enough,’ he replied sulkily. + +‘I thought you were going to ask him over here for a day. I wish you +would—I should like to see him again. He seemed such a nice pleasant +boy. I took quite a fancy to him.’ + +‘And I suppose you are afraid, if you don’t see him soon, that your +fancy will evaporate. It is “out of sight, out of mind” with you, Miss +Marsh, like the generality of women.’ + +‘Well, you wouldn’t have me in the minority, would you? I always stick +up for my sex, and have no desire to fare better than the rest of them. +Since I am a woman, I’ll be one all over. I don’t like half and half +animals.’ + +‘You need have no fear of being mistaken for anything else, Miss Marsh. +You have all the sex’s attributes strongly marked upon you, even to +asserting the right to change your mind as often as you choose.’ + +‘I am so glad!’ I said gleefully. ‘I like to claim my privileges, and a +masculine woman never gets any. But what has all this to do with your +cousin Fred Stephenson?’ + +‘Why, that as you have taken a fancy to him, I don’t think I shall ask +him over here. I am a sort of guardian of his whilst abroad, and he is +of a susceptible age when the heart is more readily affected by +unkindness and neglect than at any other.’ + +‘And you think I shall be unkind to the boy.’ + +‘I think you will be too kind, and then you will forget all about him. +Some carroty-haired creature will come in the way’—this was a hit at +poor Charlie Sandilands, whose hair, _en passant_, was not a bit more +carroty than his own—‘and then Fred will be forgotten and left out in +the cold, and will be as little able, perhaps, to read the meaning of +the riddle as some other of your friends have been who have suffered a +similar neglect at your fair hands.’ + +This was very pretty fencing, but I felt I must put a stop to it. It was +becoming ridiculous to me, which was proof sufficient how entirely it +had lost its sting. + +‘Look here, Mr. Charteris,’ I said decidedly, ‘you can do as you like +with regard to your cousin, but I wish you would not talk such nonsense +to me. I have never left anybody out in the cold. If you are alluding to +yourself, all I can say is that I feel for you exactly what I did +before’—I was really obliged to make a little reservation here, and +whisper inwardly ‘before you spoke to me to-day’—‘we were always +excellent friends in my dear mother’s lifetime, and I have no wish to be +less to you now. But it is hardly reasonable to suppose that during a +separation of five years our tastes may not have grown a little apart. I +don’t say they have, but meeting as we have done is really like making a +fresh acquaintance, and the old ground has to be gone over again. I wish +you would believe, however, that I have none but kindly feelings towards +you—why should I have?—and am quite ready to be as good friends as you +are.’ + +I did it very well, I think, because the only effect my communication +had was to turn him still more sulky. ‘Pray don’t make any apologies,’ +he replied, without looking up from his book; ‘I perfectly understand +all you would say, and I think I perfectly understand you into the +bargain.’ + +He was going to be rude now. Cave Charteris was the sort of man who +becomes rude directly his self-love is wounded, and that is what I have +never put up with from any one. So I gathered my work together, and +walked out of the room with dignity, and did not return to it again +until the sound of the girls’ voices assured me that I should not be +left alone with Mr. Charteris. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER III. + THE WOLF. + + +The day wore on, and Charlie Sandilands did not come. I was standing at +the window towards evening, wondering at his absence, and blaming my +folly in having spoken to him as I did, when I perceived the white hat +and red cherries of Miss Markham bobbing up the street. I had taken +quite an aversion to this woman. I had detected her in so much falsehood +and exaggeration, and I knew her to be so malicious and ill-natured, +that I avoided her company whenever it was possible to do so. I should +have been obliged, however, to live in my bedroom had I contrived to +elude her altogether; for hardly a morning passed without her spending +two or three hours at our house. The only days she did not honour us +were those on which she knew that Mr. Charteris would be shooting in the +forest. On his fishing excursions she was almost sure to track and +follow him. When her dear friend, Mrs. Carolus, had told me that her +conduct with this gentleman was a scandal, I had been quite unable to +believe that any woman of middle age and mediocre attractions could +possibly be so foolish as to think herself capable of touching the heart +of a young, handsome, worldly man like Cave Charteris. But it was easy +for any one to believe it now. + +I had seen Mr. Charteris laugh at or repulse her, just as the humour +took him; but, apparently impervious to either ridicule or rudeness, she +still pursued him, indoors or out of doors, although he often put on his +hat as soon as she appeared, and left the house by the back way. To +Tessie, and Ange, and myself, Miss Markham had become a perfect +nuisance, for, wherever she might be, she monopolised the conversation, +which always ran in the most egotistical manner on herself, her +admirers, and her triumphs. Mr. Lovett was the only creature who +welcomed her; and whether it was that they were equally vain, +self-seeking, and fond of flattery I know not, but they always seemed to +get on together. The old man continued to affirm that Miss Markham was +one of the most intelligent and agreeable ladies he knew, and she never +lost an opportunity of lauding his personal merits and his talents, or +of rebuking the girls for not paying him sufficient attention. Until at +last I began to fear whether she might not turn the foolish old man’s +brain to that extent that he would really imagine his daughters were not +as devoted and loving and obedient as they possibly could be. + +It had become a joke with Tessie and Ange and me to give Mr. Charteris +warning of Sophy Markham’s approach, but I was angry with him and angry +with myself that evening, and I watched the bobbing cherries draw nearer +and nearer without saying a word. So she was flung into the midst of us +like a grenade. + +‘How d’ye do! how d’ye do! to everybody,’ she exclaimed, nodding to the +company in general, and then she pounced upon the unhappy Cave in +particular. ‘Ah! you naughty fellow, come and make confession of your +sins at once! What did you mean by cutting me this morning after that +fashion? I’ve a great mind to give you a dreadful penance, one that you +will not forget in a hurry; only you mustn’t make those saucy eyes at +me, or I shall forget all about it.’ + +‘Cutting _you_, Miss Markham,’ he replied with serio-comic gravity. ‘How +_can_ you think so? Where was it, and when?’ + +‘Where indeed?—why, close by the _Grotte de S. Jean_, of course. Now +don’t pretend you didn’t see me, because I know you did. You began to +run directly I turned the corner.’ + +‘That must be a mistake! I never run.’ + +‘Well, you walked very fast then, so fast that I couldn’t overtake you. +And you dropped a rose-bud from your button-hole in your flight, and I +picked it up, and here it is,’—displaying it in the bosom of her +dress—‘and you shan’t have it back again,’ with infantine fervour, ‘no! +not if you begged on your bended knees for it, you naughty boy! So +there—there!’ ended Miss Markham playfully, as she struck his face two +or three times with the flower which she had taken in her hand. + +‘I believe you’ve put my eye out,’ he said quite crossly, as he covered +the injured member with his hand. + +‘Oh, poor little eye! let me see,’ cried Miss Markham, as she bent over +his chair. ‘Shall I try and make it well again?’ + +‘No! leave me alone!’ he answered, in a tone which caused even her +unsensitive cheek to grow red as she attempted to cover her confusion by +addressing herself to the rest of the party. ‘Dear Mr. Lovett! I have +not spoken to you yet. But I always keep the best to the last, you know. +You’re my _bong bouche_! How tired you look this evening. Tessie, you +should take more care of your papa! I don’t at all hold with running +after poor people and forgetting those at home.’ + +‘I hope we don’t do that. Do we, papa?’ said Tessie, with her quiet +smile. + +‘No, my dear! certainly not! But I think I overwalked myself a little +this morning. These warm days in autumn are more enervating sometimes +than those of summer.’ + +‘But you shouldn’t overwalk yourself, dear Mr. Lovett, and you should +have broth or something good prepared for you against your return. Do +you have broth made for your father, Tessie?’ + +‘Papa has everything he requires, thank you, Miss Markham,’ replied +Ange, briskly. ‘If he asked for the Coliseum at Rome, Tessie would get +it for him if she could.’ + +‘Ah! but you mustn’t wait till he asks for it. You should anticipate his +wishes. That is not a very tidy fashion of wearing your hair, Ange. It +is half-way down your back.’ + +‘I know it is,’ said Ange, bluntly. + +‘Go and put it up, my dear! go and put it up!’ said her father, with +kindly authority. + +And the girl, little pleased at an order which had originated with Miss +Markham, left the room with a lingering step and a grimace. + +‘I passed you last evening, Miss Marsh,’ continued our visitor; ‘but you +appeared to be so _deeply_ engaged that I wouldn’t stop to speak, for +fear of spoiling sport.’ + +‘You were wise, perhaps,’ was my reply. + +‘Not that I envied you your admirer, you know; he, he, he! He was rather +too bucolic-looking for my taste. I should say he had never been farther +than a turnip-field in his life before.’ + +‘You’re quite right, Miss Markham, as you always are.’ + +‘Well, my penetration is not often in fault.’ + +‘I am sure of it! Considering that Mr. Sandilands is a regular cockney +and has lived in London all his life, you have made a first-rate shot!’ + +She reddened somewhat and began to sniff, after a peculiar manner she +had whenever she found herself in the wrong. + +‘Ah, well! his looks belie the fact, that’s all! if it _is_ a fact. Is +that little black monkey off your back yet, Mr. Charteris?’ + +‘I am not aware it was ever there, Miss Markham.’ + +‘Never mind; we won’t say anything more about it, but make it up next +time we are alone. Have you heard the last rumour about those dreadful +Johnstones, Mr. Lovett? They actually say that she was nothing but a +milliner’s apprentice, whom he picked up in the streets carrying a +bandbox in her hands. What shall we come to next, I wonder, when such +creatures are permitted to move about society without being labelled?’ + +At this juncture I slipped out of the room to put on my hat and see if I +could shake off some of the unholy influence this woman shed around her, +in the open air. As I passed through the garden and quietly unlatched +the gate, a figure started up from the shadow of the wall as if to join +me. It was Mr. Charteris. + +‘May I walk a little way with you, Hilda, and smoke my cigar in your +company?’ he asked. + +‘No, thank you,’ I replied abruptly.’ I would rather not.’ + +‘Yet you spent two or three hours in Mr. Sandilands’ society yesterday,’ +he said, with a reproachful air. + +‘I know I did; but I had not seen him for some time, and we had much to +talk of. To-night I would rather be alone.’ + +‘As you will. I have no desire to intrude my company upon you. _Bon +voyage!_’ + +I saw he was offended, but I could not help it. The conversation we had +held that morning was too fresh in both our minds. He would have renewed +the subject, which, as far as I was concerned, was exhausted. I had +nothing more to say about it, and I feared lest in discussion I might be +led to betray my past regard for him. Besides, although I wished him no +harm, I did not consider that Mr. Charteris’s behaviour to me entitled +him to rank as one of my friends. He had proved himself false, fickle, +and cold-hearted. No man can have worse attributes for any position in +life. He was not worthy of any woman’s confidence or regard, and I was +quite sure he could never have more from me than my acquaintance. + +It was a luscious, balmy evening, with just sufficient coolness to make +walking a pleasure. To leave the clang of that woman’s tongue behind me, +and to encounter the soft stilly atmosphere, was like entering a church +from a public-house. I breathed more freely as I found myself alone, at +liberty to think without disturbance. It was but just six o’clock. The +shadows had not yet fallen to blot out the beautiful, delicate hues of +the wild-flowers that bordered the roadway; nor to hush the evening +hymns of the birds that were singing from every bough. + +I would not take my favourite walk, which led towards the Château des +Roses, because I was alone, and a silly fear of ridicule from Tessie and +her sister always made me avoid anything that looked like a desire to +meet the Baron de Nesselrode. So, as soon as the house I had quitted was +out of sight, I struck up a side-path which led in the opposite +direction and towards the forest of Piron. This forest, which has been +rendered so celebrated by poets and writers of romance, is still the +great point to which the eyes of all sportsmen in the Wallon are +lovingly directed, although the march of civilisation has here, as +everywhere else, driven the larger game farther and farther back into +the recesses of their covert, until it is now as difficult to find them +as it was once to extirpate them. + +Many stories had been told me of the difficulties encountered even by +the royal sportsmen of the realm, in their desire to obtain good +specimens of wolves, boars and wild turkeys from the forest of Piron; +and Armand de Nesselrode had been quoted in my presence as the most +successful hunter that had been known to penetrate it. The floor of his +hall at the château was covered with wolf-skins, the contemplation of +which had more than once made me shudder as I thought of the risks he +must have run in procuring them. + +Cave Charteris and he were constantly together at this time, shooting on +horseback and on foot, and the bags of small game which the former used +to bring home for our table proved that there were plenty of other marks +in the forest besides those dangerous wolves and thrice dangerous wild +boars. + +I knew the road to it well. It was lonely; but we never associated +danger with loneliness at St. Pucelle; and at one point of it there +stood a wayside shrine, a pretty, romantic, ruined piece of +architecture, that I had sketched more than once, and from which a +narrow path led through fields of grass and turnips back to my home +again. + +The Piron road had not much in it to attract the eye before this little +shrine was reached, and I walked along its side-path rapidly, as was my +custom to walk when alone, with my eyes cast down and my brain working +away as fast as it could go, at every subject that passed through it. + +I had left St. Pucelle a mile—perhaps a mile and a half—behind me, when +something, I knew not what, impelled me suddenly to look up and scan the +surrounding landscape. I had reached the centre of a long straight road, +on either side of which ran a narrow footpath, fringed by the smallest +of hedges, in many places trampled down by feet passing over it into the +fields beyond. Not a tree sheltered the road anywhere, it was simply a +highway to the next town. The dark mass of trees composing the forest +loomed in the distance, but so far off as to appear like one clump +against the greyish-blue sky of evening; behind me lay St. Pucelle, but +I had placed a hill between us, and could only see the top of the spire +of St. Marie and the wreaths of smoke that ascended from a little +factory at the bottom of the town. I cast my eyes again in front. What +was that dark figure advancing to meet me, that was sometimes in the +light and sometimes in the shade, and seemed so uncertain in its +movements and designs? Could it be a donkey? I smiled as the idea +crossed my mind. + +How could a donkey slouch in that absurd manner, and move with a +shuffling, trotting gait, as though its shoulders were higher than its +head! But the next moment I had turned as pale as death, and my heart +almost stopped its beating from terror. Could it be—was it possible it +could be—_a wolf_? + +Directly I had conceived the thought I felt sure that I was right. Here, +in the gloaming, without shelter of any kind, alone and unarmed, I was +to meet one of these fearful beasts out of the forest, whose very names +were sufficient to fill my breast with terror. + +I don’t think I ever felt so frightened in my life as I did at that +moment. Where should I run? What could I do? + +I looked across the fields on either side. They were sown with turnips, +and stood upon a slope. If I attempted to plod my way through them I +should only be impeding my progress, and making my presence more +conspicuously apparent to the animal than it was now. + +Was I deceiving myself through fear? I strained my sight again to make +sure what it was that advanced upon me. + +Oh! there was no doubt about it! I could distinguish the brute’s +appearance perfectly as he shambled along the pathway. And he was coming +faster. He had broken into a swinging trot, with his nose to the ground. +He had scented me, there was no hope but in flight. + +All this, which takes so long to write, had taken but a second to flash +through my brain, and in another I had turned, and was running back to +St. Pucelle as fast as ever my legs could carry me. I dared not stop to +look round, but in my terror I fancied I heard the breathing of the +animal close behind me, and his steps gaining upon mine. After a quarter +of a mile, perhaps, I had run myself out of breath; each step seemed as +if it would choke me, and I believed that I was lost, and must succumb. +‘I shall never see St. Pucelle again,’ I thought sobbingly, as I flew +along. ‘I shall be torn to pieces in the most horrible manner, and no +one will even hear of my fate. I shall never know if Armand and Tessie +are happy—or if——’ + +But here some great obstacle interposed itself between my blinded eyes +and the pathway, and I fell with a loud scream of terror into the very +arms of Monsieur de Nesselrode. + +‘Mademoiselle Marsh!’ he exclaimed, in accents of the greatest surprise. +‘What is the matter? who has dared to frighten you?’ + +‘The wolf! the wolf!’ I cried, struggling with him. ‘Let me go—save +yourself—it is close upon us!’ + +‘A wolf—and here! _Mais, mademoiselle, c’est impossible!_ it is not to +be credited. Some one has been wicked enough to frighten you without +cause.’ + +His words and manner somewhat reassured me, but I was still very much +alarmed. + +‘Indeed—indeed I am right. Look up the road for yourself! It is coming +fast from the forest.’ + +Without relinquishing his hold of me, I saw him glance from right to +left, over my shoulder, trying to distinguish the cause of my fear. + +‘_Sacré_, Mademoiselle! you are correct. Something does advance this +way.’ + +‘I told you so!’ I exclaimed, in a fresh paroxysm of terror. ‘Oh! leave +me, monsieur, leave me! Run for your life—it is impossible both of us +can be saved.’ + +‘_Je ne veux pas te quitter_,’ he answered, using the soft personal +pronoun that with a Frenchman means so much; and then he shouted aloud: +‘_Hillo! hillo! à bas la! Hillo!_’ + +‘You cannot frighten it away,’ I said imploringly. ‘Oh, go—for my sake! +Armand, pray go!’ + +‘It is not a wolf at all, mademoiselle,’ he replied calmly. ‘I see it +now plainly, but I do not wonder at your taking it for one.’ + +‘What is it, then?’ + +‘One of our half-bred sheep-dogs finding his way home to his master. +See! here he comes. He is about to pass us. Do not tremble any longer, +mademoiselle. Your enemy has just trotted by, looking like a veritable +wolf indeed, and very much ashamed of himself for doing so.’ + +I glanced up, and there, shambling along the road peaceably enough, but +looking very dangerous notwithstanding, with his huge size, rough coat +and glaring red eyes, was one of those creatures, half wolf, half dog, +which the shepherds of the Piron prize so much as guardians of their +flocks against the very animals from which they sprung. + +‘What must you think of me?’ I said, as the huge brute shuffled out of +sight, and I remembered what an exhibition I had made of myself. + +‘I think that you are a brave woman who would have persuaded me to save +myself, and leave you to what you believed would prove a terrible +death.’ + +‘I hope I said nothing absurd—I entirely forget what I did say,’ I +stammered, with vivid consciousness that I had called him by his +Christian name. ‘And all for a stupid sheep-dog, too; I am so ashamed of +myself.’ + +‘But you are trembling still, and you must sit down for a little while +before you attempt to return to St. Pucelle. Do you often take such +solitary walks, mademoiselle?’ + +‘Yes, I like to walk alone, and I did not think there could be any +danger.’ + +‘Neither is there. These dogs look very formidable, but they have never +been known to attack anybody unprovoked. The next time you meet one, all +you have to do is to stand aside and let him pass.’ + +‘Oh! I hope I shall not meet another,’ I said, shuddering. ‘I do not +like them. We have no such dogs in England, and I shall never forget the +fright it gave me.’ + +Monsieur de Nesselrode had selected a grassy knoll by the roadside for +me to rest upon, and my heart was beating more in its proper time. What +a difference a few seconds had effected in my feelings! A minute ago I +firmly believed myself to be in the jaws of death. Now it seemed as if +nothing could have the power to hurt or alarm me. I turned towards +Armand de Nesselrode gratefully. + +‘I wish you would not look so pale,’ he observed; ‘you are not still +frightened, I hope?’ + +‘Oh no! that is all passed away, and I am quite at my ease again. How +good it was of you, monsieur, to stand by me as you did.’ + +He smiled at me. His was such a beautiful smile. It came rarely, but +when it did, it lighted up all his features like a glory. There was no +mirth in it—I think self-reproach at that period had chased away from +his spirit all the merriment which later I saw shine forth—but it was +thoroughly appreciative and genuine. On the present occasion his smile +seemed to say much more than he chose his lips should utter. + +‘You will not let me thank you,’ I continued, ‘but I must. Thank God! my +fears were not well founded, and we did not both perish. For I feel you +would have died sooner than let me be torn from your grasp.’ + +‘Of course I would!’ + +‘Oh! I think a brave man is the most wonderful and beautiful thing God +ever made. Why should you have sacrificed your life for me, of whom you +know nothing?’ + +‘It would have been my duty to lay it down under such circumstances, +mademoiselle, for any woman—and of all women——’ + +But here he stopped short, as though ignorant how to finish his +sentence, and I did not see the way to help him. Presently he began +again: + +‘You were good enough to say once, mademoiselle, that it would interest +you to hear the means by which I was brought down to my present +position. Shall I tell you the story now?’ + +‘Do, monsieur,’ I said, turning my eyes upon him. + +He was seated at a little distance from me, with both his hands between +his knees, digging up the earth under his feet with the light cane he +usually carried. His eyes were downcast, and I noticed the length of the +dark lashes that lay upon his cheek, and contrasted with the grave +pallor that seemed suddenly to have overspread his countenance. Whatever +this story might be, it was evidently hard to tell, and I prepared +myself to hear a confession of much folly and evil, and +perhaps—dishonour. Should I like him the less, I asked myself, when his +tale was finished? + +I did not believe I should like him the less. I felt so confident that +whatever his sins might have been, Armand de Nesselrode possessed the +power of rising above them. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER IV. + THE BARON’S STORY. + + +‘I am afraid you will weary of me before I have finished my recital,’ +commenced the Baron. + +‘I shall not weary, monsieur,’ I answered simply. + +‘You will keep my confidence, I know! This is the first time I have ever +told the history of my folly to a living creature.’ + +I wondered for a moment, then, why he should have elected to tell it to +me. But he went on too rapidly for me to put the question to him. + +‘I have never had the happiness to possess a mother, a sister, or even a +female relation sufficiently near to whom I could confide my sorrows or +my perplexities. From a little child I was brought up in the society of +men, and taught, as far as possible, to guide myself. That circumstance +has been a terrible drawback to me, mademoiselle.’ + +‘Yes—so long as you were a little child.’ + +‘And not afterwards?’ + +‘Not so much afterwards! The mother is the God of the child, monsieur, +and if a boy has a good, true, pure-hearted mother who loves him, he can +have no better friend nor _confidante_ than herself, until he becomes a +man. But then their positions should alter. The _man_ who leans upon his +mother is a milksop. He should be her protector—her guide—even her +counsellor. It is thus that women are rewarded for the care and pains +with which they have watched over the infancy of their little ones.’ + +‘How true a woman you are!’ he said, earnestly. + +‘I hope so, monsieur! I should be sorry to deserve any other name. But +we are wandering from your story.’ + +‘My mother died when I was quite a baby. She was very beautiful, and my +father, who held a high position at Court, was so distracted by her loss +that he threw up his appointment, left all his friends, and wandered for +many years in foreign countries. Meanwhile, I was transferred from my +nurse’s arms to those of a private tutor, whose house I left only to go +to college. I had an uncle on the mother’s side, Le Sieur de Beaupré, +the father of the cousin to whom I told you I was once betrothed. This +betrothal was contracted when I was very young—not yet sixteen, whilst +Blanche had only completed her fourteenth year. We were betrothed with +the consent and at the desire of my father, who was at that time +wandering about the Brazils, and expressed his intention of not +returning to Paris until I had passed through the _Athénée_, and was +ready to be married. I had grown, therefore, up to eighteen years of age +without ever having seen my father.’ + +‘What a sad, desolate childhood!’ I exclaimed; ‘and how different from +mine, monsieur! My father died, it is true, but my dear mother never +left me, day nor night, from the hour of my birth. No wonder that you +should have gone wrong, without affection, counsel, or home. Those who +left you so are more to blame for what followed than you are.’ + +‘You pity me, mademoiselle?’ + +‘I do indeed! From the bottom of my heart! I see you as a child and a +growing man, lonely and unloved, and I could weep for the many desolate +and unhappy hours you must have passed.’ + +‘_Que le bon Dieu te bénisse!_’ he said softly, as he lifted the hand +that was lying idly on my lap to his lips, and let it quickly drop +again. The action sent the blood rushing to both our faces, and for a +minute or two we were silent altogether. + +‘Yes! I was very unhappy at that period,’ continued the Baron. ‘It +seemed to me that Heaven was unjust in so unequally dividing its +favours. I had every luxury, because my father was rich, but I would +have exchanged them all for a caress when I went to bed at night, or for +the touch of a soft hand upon my head. I saw other fathers proud of +their sons, and I wondered what I had done that mine should never care +to see or hear from me, and scarcely took the trouble to write home to +ask if I were dead or alive. Such thoughts embittered my mind and made +it callous, and after I entered the _Athénée_ and joined the wild band +of students assembled within its walls, I soon became the wildest of +them all, and well known to the authorities as a dangerous leader into +all sorts of mischief. Why should I not be? what was there to restrain +me? No mother’s look of pain—no father’s frown—nothing but a +remonstrance from Monsieur de Beaupré, that my allowance did not last +long enough, and that if I could not moderate my expenses he should be +obliged to inform his brother-in-law. So things went on till I was +twenty-one, when the news reached Paris of my father’s death. I came +into my title and my fortune, and was considered to be one of the best +matches in Paris. But, mademoiselle, I am fatiguing you. Why should I be +so vain as to imagine that all these paltry details can hold any +interest for you?’ + +‘Indeed, monsieur, I am deeply interested. Pray believe me when I say +so.’ + +‘Why should I tell this tale of folly and dissipation to you?’ he went +on, musingly; ‘I knew I should have to confess it some day, to the woman +I should make my wife—if such an event ever happens—but I never thought +to disclose it before. _Hélas!_ this world brings strange things to +pass! As soon as my uncle Beaupré heard of my father’s death, he tried +to persuade me to complete the marriage with his daughter at once, but I +was averse to the idea of tying myself down so soon, and refused to do +so until the time named in the contract, which was on the attainment of +my twenty-fourth year. I left the _Athénée_, of course, and, settling in +my own _hôtel_, on the Boulevards des Tuileries, plunged, with the aid +of my old college companions, into every sort of dissipation. Will +mademoiselle pardon me for mentioning such a thing?’ + +‘We are better used to the mention of it in England, monsieur, than your +ladies are in Paris, although we recognise its necessity less, and +deplore its existence more. We Englishwomen are permitted to know that +our men lead very different lives from ourselves, but we are taught at +the same time that, for that very reason, it behoves us to be all the +purer and more discreet, in order to win them back to a right and +virtuous living.’ + +‘And you do so win them! In all the world there are no such lovers of +domestic life as there are in England.’ + +‘I believe it,’ I answered, for I am very proud of and very devoted to +my own country-people, whatever friends I may have found in other +nations. + +‘I am speaking now, mademoiselle, of ten years ago—when the first notes +of that terrible discord that shook France to her foundations were +beginning to be heard, and Paris was in a state of ferment and +expectation. The revolution had not commenced, but disaffection was +already pre-evident amongst the labouring classes, and _émeutes_ and +brawls were of hourly occurrence in the city. It was on the occasion of +the last night of the old year, which devotees celebrate in the churches +and roysterers in the streets. I was returning home after the theatre +with some of my friends, about the hour of midnight mass, when, just +outside the church of the Madeleine, I saw a young girl standing up +against the wall, and prevented from passing on her way by a band of +tipsy artisans who surrounded her, calling out, “_A bas_ the +aristocrat!”—“Pull off her hood and rub her face in the mud!”—“Down on +her knees and make her pray for the _bonnets rouges_!” and other phrases +of similar import. You may suppose that was more than I and my friends +could stand, and we went at once to her rescue. The poor child caught +hold of my arm, crying, “Oh! save me, monsieur; I am no aristocrat. My +father is a commoner, and lives but a couple of streets from here.” A +few blows and rough words soon dispersed the rioters, and I took the +young lady home under my protection. I found that her name was Corinne +Duplat, and her father was a man of letters. She was very beautiful——’ + +‘Oh yes, I know! You needn’t tell me,’ I interrupted him, impatiently. +‘She was the loveliest creature you had ever seen, and you became +enamoured of her at once. You can skip all that! I have heard it so +often before.’ + +The Baron fixed his dark eyes upon me with an expression of the greatest +surprise. After all my amiability and interest, he did not know what to +make of the sudden change. I suppose I looked as sulky as a bear, for he +immediately began to apologise. + +‘I felt I should weary mademoiselle. Let me say no more than to thank +you for the patience with which you have listened to me.’ + +But this was not what I wanted. + +I sat there, biting my lip and feeling very much as if I should cry; +whilst Armand de Nesselrode looked deeply annoyed and a little bit +wounded. + +‘I have abused your goodness,’ he continued, ‘and I shall never forgive +myself.’ + +‘No, no, monsieur! Do not think so. It was only because I was in such +haste to hear the end of the story. Go on about Corinne! She was very +beautiful, and you loved her!’ + +‘I _thought_ I loved her,’ he corrected me, gently. ‘I was very young +and knew no better; I have found out since what true love is.’ + +‘Yes, monsieur?’ + +‘Her father neglected her dreadfully, and let her go anywhere alone, +which is unheard of amongst young ladies in Paris. It was natural that +after a while I should constitute myself her protector. She was only +seventeen, and very fragile—almost ethereal in appearance; and when I +had known her for about six months, I felt I should like to make her my +wife. I forgot my betrothal to my cousin Blanche. All my wishes centred +in the hope of marrying Corinne. I broached the subject one day to her +father, almost timidly. He was taken aback by my communication. + +‘“Marry my daughter!” he exclaimed. “You cannot know what you are asking +for.” + +‘“I know I am not worthy of her,” I began, but he cut me short. + +‘“My dear Baron, such an alliance as you would offer Corinne is beyond +all my hopes. But it is impossible.” + +‘“Why?” + +‘“Because she is doomed. She carries in her the seeds of a disease which +must terminate her existence within a few years. She can marry no one.” + +‘This intelligence was a great blow to me. I would not believe it—she +looked so healthy, though delicate. I urged Monsieur Duplat to permit +the marriage to take place, and I believe it would have been +accomplished, had a sudden chill not taken the poor child off before +another month was over her head.’ + +‘She is _dead_!’ I exclaimed, pity taking the place of all other +feelings. ‘Oh, how you must have grieved for her!’ + +‘Yes, I was very inconsolable for a time, and it was this grief, +mademoiselle, that led to all my subsequent misfortunes. Monsieur Duplat +was a _littérateur_ whose very uncertain income was dependent on his +humour for writing, and unfortunately his humour too often took the +direction of drinking instead. In my sorrow for the loss of Corinne, I +conceived the romantic idea of being a son to her father, and invited +the old man to come and live with me in my hôtel. I had so much money, +there was plenty for us both. Why should he not enjoy it also? Amidst +all my former dissipations I had never been a gambler, and it was +Monsieur Duplat himself who had on our first acquaintanceship introduced +me to the gaming-tables of Paris. After he came to live with me, +idleness and regret for his daughter’s death seemed to drive him to them +oftener than before, and wherever he went I accompanied him. I felt +reckless too at that time, and quite indifferent as to my future. I +believed, like most young mourners, that I should never be happy again, +and it did not signify what became of me. This is how I contracted the +spirit of gaming. Two of us were drawing on my (apparently) +inexhaustible fortune at the same moment, for you may be sure I paid all +Duplat’s debts before my own. My uncle Beaupré was not long in hearing +of my lavish expenditure, and remonstrated with me in his daughter’s +name. But a devil seemed to have entered into me—and when I found that I +had caused a large portion of my fortune to disappear, I attempted to +remedy the evil by staking more recklessly than before. At last the +crash came, and my eyes were opened. Monsieur Duplat had persuaded me to +stand security for an extravagant sum of money by which, as he said, he +was to be made independent for life, and the day after he got it he +decamped, leaving me in the lurch to meet all his liabilities as well as +my own. The creditors swooped down upon me like birds of prey. I found +that Duplat had procured valuables all over the town in my name, besides +forging it for a large amount of ready money from my bankers, and I was +literally ruined.’ + +‘What an ingrate!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh, monsieur! I am sure that, with your +generous spirit, the ingratitude of it was the hardest part to bear.’ + +‘It was not calculated to raise my opinion of human nature, +mademoiselle, and when I thought of poor little Corinne, and how it +would have broken her heart to see her father’s conduct to me, I was +glad that she was safe in heaven, and freed from it all. My uncle came +to Paris as soon as he knew of my ruin, and informed me that all idea of +a marriage between _mademoiselle ma cousine_ and myself was at an end, +which I was not sorry to hear. It was found that twelve years’ income +would only suffice to discharge the debts for which I was liable; my +estates in Versailles and Lausanne being entailed and consequently not +marketable. I had the choice, therefore, of two alternatives—to +expatriate myself to this place and live upon a yearly sum of six +thousand francs allowed me by my creditors, or to go to gaol. I chose +the former, though there is but little to choose between them. St. +Pucelle is like a prison to me, and I have only vegetated since I came +here. Conceive if you can, mademoiselle, the change from the life I led +in Paris, and the solitude I now enjoy.’ + +‘But it will not last for ever, monsieur. How many years have you lived +at the château?’ + +‘Nine. I was thirty on my last birthday.’ + +‘Then the time of your probation will soon be up, will it not?’ + +‘There are three or four years more to run. _Three or four years! Mon +Dieu!_ what an eternity it seems in prospect!’ + +I hardly knew how to answer him. I longed so much to give him comfort, +but if he could not see the lesson this trial was calculated to teach +him in the same light that I did, I feared my words might irritate +instead of soothe him. So I only said: + +‘Monsieur le Baron, don’t despair! There is one person feels very deeply +for you, and that is myself.’ + +‘You do not despise me, then! You have heard all, and you can still be +my friend.’ + +‘Most certainly! You have been very weak, but you have not been wicked. +The money you wasted was your own. It was that base ungrateful creature +Duplat that caused your ruin.’ + +‘Remember that I have told it you in confidence. Even Monsieur Beaupré +does not know the extent to which he robbed me. He was Corinne’s father, +and for her sake I wish, as far as possible, to spare him.’ + +‘I respect you for the wish; but, monsieur, now that the worst is over, +will you not take courage and look forward to the time that is coming, +when you will begin life anew, and be able to show the world that you +are capable of upholding the honour of your name and of your family?’ + +‘These terrible years that must intervene,’ he groaned. ‘Sometimes I +wonder if I shall live through them.’ + +‘Oh yes, you will! You are young and strong. Why should you fear +otherwise? I wish you were married, monsieur! and had a nice wife at the +château, to make it pleasant and cheerful for you. Then the time of +waiting would not seem so long.’ + +‘Where am I to find a wife, mademoiselle, who will consent to bury +herself in St. Pucelle, on six thousand francs a year, for the next four +years? Tell me, and I will offer her my hand and heart upon the spot.’ + +Now, I thought, is the time to put in a word for Tessie. His eyes have +but to be opened to see all her virtues for himself. + +‘I know of several,’ I answered confidently: ‘sweet good girls, who +would love you for your own merits, and care nothing about your money. +There is Tessie Lovett, for instance. Where could you find a woman that +would make a better wife than she?’ + +His face fell to about a yard long. + +‘Miss Lovett! the very pale one, you mean, with blond locks. Why, she is +like a statue, mademoiselle! She hardly ever opens her mouth. She has no +spirit—no _chic_ about her. I don’t think she would brighten up the old +château very much—nor me either, for the matter of that.’ + +Oh, the insolence of men! I really began to believe they were all alike, +and never too miserable nor unfortunate to lose their self-conceit. Here +was a young fellow, who had just acknowledged himself to be everything +that was bad and wicked, and unworthy the regard of any woman, turning +up his nose at one of the best and sweetest creatures God ever made, +just because she had not got cheeks as red as peonies, and a tongue that +clacked like a water-mill all day! + +‘Why, she is all the better for not talking!’ I exclaimed indignantly. +‘Do you mean to tell me that you like a woman who chatters like a +magpie?’ + +‘No, mademoiselle. But I like a woman who can converse with me and +sympathise with me; who can scold me a little when I do wrong, and +advise me for my good; and who is brave and unselfish, and has been +brought up by a good mother in whose footsteps she will follow.’ + +I blushed at this eulogium, because it sounded so much as if it was +meant for myself. But I was true to Tessie notwithstanding. + +‘And how do you know, monsieur, that Miss Lovett is not all that you +say?’ I inquired. + +‘I do not know—but I have my opinions.’ + +‘I thought you liked her so much,’ I said disappointedly. + +‘So I do. But I will not _like_ my wife, I will _love_ her.’ + +‘_Petite_ Ange is more sprightly and talkative than her sister,’ I +observed. + +‘_Petite_ Ange is a lovely child,’ he answered: ‘nothing more. She is +open and innocent as the day. Any one might deceive her who had the mind +to do so. She loves birds and flowers and the poor, and considers +_monsieur son père_ to be a saint from heaven. _Voilà!_ that is _petite_ +Ange.’ + +‘Do you think she will make the worse wife for being so sweet and +innocent?’ + +‘Not for a good man, mademoiselle, who can guide her aright; but I am a +bad man who requires guidance. And the woman who can do that must be +something very much higher and better than the ordinary run of women.’ + +‘Oh, then you had better marry old Denise,’ I said, out of patience with +his trifling. ‘She is old enough and steady enough to keep you straight, +and as she whipped you when you were in petticoats, it will come quite +naturally to her.’ + +How he laughed at the idea! I had never heard Armand de Nesselrode laugh +before, but now his voice rang out sweet and clear along the deserted +road, and woke the echoes in the hills beyond. + +‘I am glad you approve of my proposal,’ I continued, fain to laugh with +him, though I tried hard to prevent it. + +‘Mademoiselle, you do me too much honour! I have never yet aspired to a +Baronne de Nesselrode without a tooth left in her head. Now, have +patience whilst I give you a description of the sort of woman I want to +win for my wife.’ + +But something in his eyes alarmed me, and I would not let him speak. + +‘No, no, no!’ I exclaimed hastily, as I jumped up from my grassy seat, +and shook the dust from my skirts. ‘I don’t want to hear it, monsieur: I +have not time. It is very late, and I must go home at once. What will +they all say when they hear of my adventure?’ + +‘You must not come this way again alone, since you are easily +frightened, mademoiselle. But if you will let me know—me only, you +understand, it is not necessary we should tell our private affairs to +all the world—when you intend to make your promenade upon the Piron +road, I will take care to be within call—not to intrude upon your +privacy, but to be ready in case you desire to appeal to me for +assistance.’ + +Was he laughing at me, or did he imagine it possible I could permit him +to follow at my heels like a dog or a lacquey, waiting to receive my +orders? I glanced up at his face, expecting to see a twinkle in his eyes +which should prove he was only in jest, but they were solemn as those of +a judge. The Baron de Nesselrode, in his beautiful chivalry and devotion +to the weaker sex, had been really in earnest in making this offer. But +of course I rejected it. + +‘It is impossible!’ I replied. ‘You must not dream of such a thing. You +would set all St. Pucelle talking about me!’ + +‘You think I would be barbarous enough to take advantage of such a trust +by forcing my conversation upon you! Ah, mademoiselle, you do me wrong! +No saint in her niche could be farther removed from the annoyance of my +presence than you should be, if you thought fit to accept my protection +in your solitary rambles.’ + +‘But I shall not come this way again, monsieur, when I am by myself. And +I could not think of putting you to all the trouble you propose. I am +not used to be attended on, nor to have a _preux-chevalier_ at my heels, +thank you all the same for thinking of it!’ + +We were walking back to St. Pucelle together now, through the field-path +that I have mentioned. It was a very narrow way; there was scarcely room +sometimes for us to walk abreast, and our conversation was necessarily +impeded. + +‘I have not touched a card since the evening that we spoke of it +together,’ said the Baron presently. + +‘I thought so, monsieur, and I am so glad to hear it. I am sure you will +never regret your determination. How do you employ your evenings now?’ + +‘I read and write and smoke; but I am very lonely. Sometimes I almost +think that I shall cut my throat.’ + +‘Hush! don’t say that! You hurt me.’ + +‘At first I considered the possibility of turning my talents, such as +they are, to account, in any post of responsibility that a gentleman +might accept. But whilst I remain under the black cloud of debt, there +is no chance of my procuring a Court appointment such as my father held; +and the De Nesselrodes have never stooped to anything lower.’ + +‘There is no “stooping” in honest labour, monsieur.’ + +‘I believe you; but caste has its prejudices. No member of my family has +ever been a tutor or a secretary; and if I became so, I should cut off +all hope of reconciliation with my relations when my term of penal +servitude is ended.’ + +‘Cannot you write and employ your time in instructing or amusing others? +You can see no degradation in that! Men of the noblest blood have been +authors before now.’ + +‘Oh yes! and raised themselves by the distinction. But one must have +talents to shine before the world, and I am not clever.’ + +‘Are you not? Mr. Lovett considers you have a mind of a very high order, +and having been intimately associated with some of the first in Europe, +he ought to be a good judge.’ + +‘He flatters me. But if I have a mind, or any gift for teaching others, +I know how I should like to employ it.’ + +‘In what way?’ + +‘You will not be offended, nor say I am very presumptuous?’ + +‘I think not.’ + +‘Then I should like to teach you how to speak French.’ + +If the evening shadows had not fallen by this time, the Baron would have +seen that his remark made me redden. I knew I spoke his language with a +horribly Anglicised accent, but I was ashamed to be told so. + +‘I am quite aware I pronounce it like a barbarian,’ I said bluntly. + +‘Ah, mademoiselle, now I have offended you. You do not speak it like a +barbarian. Your voice is very sweet, and makes every word that comes +from your mouth sweet also. But there are certain little niceties, the +lights and shades of our language, that it is impossible to acquire +except from conversing with a Parisian; and it is on these points, +unnecessary as they may appear, that I should like to see you perfect. +There is so little to correct, it is but a word or an expression here +and there that betrays you have not acquired the language abroad; and +since I know you have the ambition to speak it well, I thought, if you +would permit me, to aid you——’ + +‘Monsieur!’ I interrupted him, for my false shame had evaporated by this +time, ‘pray say no more. I know that my accent and my grammar must set +your teeth on edge every time you hear them, and it is very good of you +to wish to correct them. I am infinitely obliged, but what am I to say +about it? What would your relations think if they heard that a De +Nesselrode had turned French tutor to a raw English girl?’ + +‘Let them say what they will! Only say yourself that I may give you a +few lessons.’ + +‘But where am I to take them?’ + +‘Here—anywhere—so it be out in the beautiful country, with the blue sky +over our heads and the flowers springing around us, and not shut up in a +dull room in the house.’ + +This seemed so much like making appointments with him, that I hardly +knew what to answer. + +‘I cannot agree to meet you at any particular time, monsieur, without +telling my guardian. It would not be _comme il faut_. We English girls +are allowed more liberty than our French sisters, but to make +appointments with gentlemen without the knowledge of our friends is +going a little too far. If we meet by accident, however, I shall always +be glad to take any hints you may be good enough to give me.’ + +‘I will walk about every day and all day till I _do_ meet you,’ he +replied fervently. + +I laughed, but I felt flattered. Why should Armand de Nesselrode take +such an interest in my rough unmusical tongue? + +‘And what are you going to charge for your lessons?’ I asked him +jestingly; ‘I am not very rich, you know, so you must not lead me into +extravagance.’ + +‘_What am I to charge for my lessons!_’ he repeated after me slowly. +‘Ah! mademoiselle, the price will be very, _very_ high, but you shall +take your own time to pay me.’ + +I was just going to ask what he meant, when we came within sight of +another couple advancing to meet us. Not really to meet us though, but +creeping slowly along the pathway deeply engaged in talk, with their +heads close together and their eyes cast on the ground. The Baron and I +were walking one after the other, duck fashion, but our two friends were +side by side. + +‘It is Monsieur Charteris!’ exclaimed my companion, who had the eye of a +hawk. + +‘_Is_ it?’ I returned incredulously. ‘Are you sure? Who can the lady +be?’ + +As I mooted the question, I thought of Miss Markham. I knew how silly +and romantic she was, delighting in moonlight walks and secret +assignations, and could imagine how she had waylaid Cave Charteris +smoking under the garden wall, and dragged him out into the fields, with +his will or against it. A man can hardly refuse a woman’s request point +blank to her face. + +Silly creature that she was! How could she possibly remain so blind to +the fact that her attentions were not agreeable to him! + +As I meditated somewhat in this strain, we came right upon the +opposition couple before they were aware of our propinquity, and I +almost ran into Mr. Charteris’s arms. + +‘Here is an encounter!’ I said merrily. The woman by his side lifted her +head, and, to my utter astonishment, I saw the beautiful face of Angela +Lovett. ‘_Ange!_’ I exclaimed, ‘what are you doing here—where is Tessie? +Why didn’t she come with you?’ + +There was such a ring of wonder and, I suppose, dissatisfaction in my +voice, that Mr. Charteris at once took up the cudgels in defence of his +fair companion. + +‘I think we shall be justified in putting the same question, Miss Marsh. +What are _you_ doing here, walking alone with Monsieur de Nesselrode?’ + +‘Oh! _our rencontre_ was a mere accident,’ I replied, with vexation. ‘I +was on the Piron road when I met a horrid animal, half wolf and half +dog, and I thought it was a real wolf and was terribly frightened, and +the Baron happened to meet me, and so——’ + +‘Oh! did you see one of those savage-looking sheep-dogs, Hilda dear!’ +exclaimed Ange, who appeared as ready as myself to drop the subject of +the company she had been detected in keeping. ‘I do not wonder it +alarmed you. I was very nearly bitten by one once. It flew out of a +cottage and attacked me. Papa was so frightened, he wanted to have it +killed; but it wasn’t mad, you know. The village children had been +teasing it, and it took fright at a stick I carried in my hand. But I am +surprised you have not seen one before. There are so many about St. +Pucelle.’ + +She had left Mr. Charteris’s side and linked her arm in mine, and she +leaned on me with a confiding pressure which seemed to say, ‘Don’t tell +of me.’ I didn’t quite like it, and yet it would have been hard to say +why I was annoyed, for Ange ran about St. Pucelle as she listed, and +gave account of her proceedings to no one. + +‘Where is Tessie?’ I reiterated, looking down into the soft violet eyes +that were raised so confidingly to mine. + +‘At home, dear, reading to papa. It was so hot indoors, I thought I +should prefer the fields.’ + +‘Did you come this way to meet me?’ + +‘No! I didn’t know where you were. Tessie thought you had gone to see +Mrs. Carolus. It is more than two hours since you left home.’ + +I started guiltily. Put upon my oath to guess the time of my absence, I +should really have thought it had been about thirty or forty minutes. + +‘Let us go back as fast as we can then, Ange, or they will begin to +think we have eloped altogether.’ + +We were both so evidently anxious to have nothing more said about the +companions of our pilgrimage, that we talked on every subject but that +of our evening stroll, and left the gentlemen to amuse each other in the +rear whilst we scuttled home together arm-in-arm, like two rabbits that +had taken fright and were hurrying back to the warren. + +But after I had retired to rest that night, I could not help thinking of +dear little Ange, and wondering how she came to choose Mr. Charteris for +her cavalier. I supposed it was very natural she should do so. I had +left him smoking sulkily under the garden wall, and when she came out +for her evening stroll, he had probably proffered the same request to +her that he did to me, and she could hardly have refused him. What +nonsense it was to think twice about such a trifle! Yet I did think of +it, many more times than twice. + +Ange was too good and pious to derive any harm from ordinary intercourse +with Cave Charteris, whose opinions on most subjects would be more +calculated, I thought, to shock than to charm her; but she was very +young and unsophisticated, and her father was far too careless of her. +Yet what business was it of mine? The fear of being thought meddlesome +has more than once deterred me from doing what I considered right in +life. It deterred me now. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER V + THE BLACK CLOUD. + + +I find I have arrived at an epoch in my story—an epoch from which I can +date a remarkable change in the character of my surroundings—I seemed to +have got on the black books of the entire household. In the first place, +Mr. Lovett had scarcely spoken to me since the day that I had extracted +the twenty-five francs from him wherewith to pay my debt to Mrs. +Carolus. Whether he considered my subsequent silence dangerous, or read +a determination in my eye which did not accord with his own intentions, +I know not; but he assumed a great distance towards me, and never +addressed me except it were absolutely necessary. He did not parade his +altered feelings before the others, but, all the same, they were evident +enough to me. The studied politeness of his manner and the increased +blandness of his tone, when we met in public, would have betrayed the +truth of themselves to my understanding, had not the ominous silence +that reigned between us, whenever we found ourselves alone together, +made it still more patent. + +My guardian’s suspicions or distrust, however, did not seriously affect +me. I had a rod in pickle for the old gentleman, and thought it just as +well he should be a little prepared for what was coming. But I did think +it hard that Tessie should avoid me. + +Since the day that we had visited the Fromards’ cottage together, I had +not breathed a word to her of the disclosures that had been made me +there. Poor Guillaume had been taken to his last home. And the funeral +_cortége_, followed by half the town, had passed our door without my +making the slightest reference to the unpleasant topic which the sight +brought to my mind. I had even listened with patience to the beautiful +and touching discourse which Mr. Lovett had given us on that occasion, +and in which he set forth the folly of the poor in not husbanding their +resources against a time of want and emergency. + +Tessie had looked painfully shy and uneasy, whilst her father bade us +all pray for the bereaved widow and orphans, but I had stood the +exordium manfully, although I could have boxed Ange’s ears for dilating +her eyes as though she were gazing at a saint from heaven. + +Yet Tessie shunned my company in the most evident manner, and was very +subdued, not to say melancholy, at all seasons. Why was it so? Did she +suspect me of treachery, and was afraid that, notwithstanding my +promise, I should enlighten Ange upon the subject? Or had her father +represented my conduct to her in his own light, and made her feel +resentment on his account? I could not tell. I only knew that something +had arisen between us, and we were not on the friendly terms we had been +hitherto. Mr. Charteris was another defaulter, though regarding his +temper I troubled myself but little. My rebuffs of him, trifling as they +were, had evidently upset his equanimity; and if a gentleman who omits +none of the common courtesies of society can be called rude, I should +have said that Cave Charteris’s behaviour to me amounted to rudeness. + +Anyway, from that day he devoted himself to outdoor amusements, and +scarcely seemed to be in the house for ten minutes together. Last, but +not least, dear little Ange began to brood and be melancholy, in common +with the rest. The season was not a healthy one, and there was a great +deal of fever and sickness amongst the poor people. Perhaps this +somewhat accounted for the decrease of brilliancy in her eyes, and lack +of power in her limbs. Her slight delicate frame was weakened by the +long hot summer, and required the dry frost of winter to brace and set +it up again. There was too much feverish colour, I thought, in her +cheeks for health, and too much languor in her usually active body. + +Tessie did not see it as I did. She said that St. Pucelle was always +considered to be rather enervating in the autumn months, and Ange looked +much the same as usual. From the ‘little maid’ herself I could get no +satisfactory information. She had become as shy of me as her sister, and +seemed quite nervous of being left in the same room. + +I began to think I must be a species of Jonah, got aboard by haphazard +in this peaceful foreign ark, and that the sooner I was cast forth into +the sea the better. Even Monsieur de Nesselrode appeared to have been +frightened by my proposal to get him a wife, and to come less often to +the house than before. + +My only resource was Charlie Sandilands, who had, of course, reappeared +upon the scene of action, faithful as ever. Charlie was just that sort +of man who might be counted upon to reappear, never mind how often he +was snubbed, always amiable and forgiving, and for that very reason he +was the sort of man that I never could have submitted my judgment to. + +But he was an immense comfort to me at that period, and having once +thoroughly knocked the truth into his stupid old head that he could be +nothing more, we got on capitally together, and scarcely passed a day +without meeting, either in the house or out of it. + +I had received an answer to my letter from Mr. Warrington; one that made +me feel both comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. In it he +had enclosed a draft for twenty pounds, with the intimation that for the +next few weeks imperative business would keep him in London, but that as +soon as it was concluded he should run over to St. Pucelle, and inquire +into my money affairs himself. + +Meanwhile, he trusted that what he sent would free me from any further +annoyance until his arrival. This was just what I had dreaded; and had +it not been for Charlie Sandilands, I should foolishly have written +back, and begged Mr. Warrington to try first what he could do by letter. +But my friend dissuaded me from interfering in the matter. In the first +place, he pointed out that the lawyer must know his own business best; +in the second, that an epistolary war between him and Mr. Lovett would +be none the pleasanter for me than a wordy one, and I should be +compelled to bear the brunt of it without the weight of Mr. Warrington’s +presence to back me. + +There was much good sense in this advice, which I resolved to take, and +Charlie and I had many discussions as we trod the lonely environs of St. +Pucelle together, as to what future course of life it would be advisable +for me to adopt, for that I should be able to continue in any comfort +with the Lovetts after the exposure that must follow the solicitor’s +visit, I never for a moment anticipated. + +Somewhere near Tessie and Ange I resolved if possible to stay, but not +under the same roof-tree. Charlie talked of Germany and Italy, and the +delight the art treasures of these countries would afford to my æsthetic +tastes, but somehow I could not make up my mind to leave St. Pucelle. It +was a stupid, pottering little town, true enough, and I knew every inch +of it by that time, and I had no ties to keep me there; still, whatever +the reason, I always came back to the same decision, that, for the +present at least, I did not fancy the idea of quitting it. + +One day, on an unusually oppressive afternoon, about the middle of +October, I substituted a white cambric dressing-gown for the heavy +mourning robes I still wore, and sat down in my own room for a couple of +hours’ quiet reading. I had been thinking of all the disagreeable things +of which I have just written, and resolved to try and banish them from +my mind. + +Charlie had brought over several cheap novels with him for the +nourishment of his mental appetite, and I had greedily pounced upon one +of Miss Braddon’s, and carried it off for my own delectation. I had met +Ange dressed for walking as I entered the corridor, on her way to the +kitchen to fetch the basket which she usually carried when visiting the +poor, and I had remonstrated with the child for exposing herself to such +heat, and prophesied all sorts of fevers and horrors for her if she +insisted upon being so obstinate. + +But she had only shaken her head at me in reply, and I had considered my +good advice wasted, and made myself very comfortable in the society of +Miss Braddon. I had heard light steps traverse the corridor and leave +the house by way of the garden, and thought what a little saint of love +and charity the child was, and how far behind her I came in all things +worthy of praise, when the latch of my door was softly raised (all the +doors in St. Pucelle were latched instead of locked), and lo! the face +of St. Ange, not pale but feverishly red, like the opened heart of a +great crimson rose, was thrust silently into view. + +‘Why, Ange! I thought you had left the house ten minutes ago.’ + +‘No, it was Tessie. I felt so tired that she took the basket from my +hands and went instead of me. How cool you look in here, Hilda! The sun +is glaring in on the other side of the house till it is like an oven.’ + +‘Come in then, dear, and sit with me. I have got one of the most +charming stories that was ever written, here, and if you like I will +read aloud to you.’ + +She almost dragged herself across the room to where I sat. I saw at once +that she was not well. + +‘What is the matter, darling?’ + +‘Nothing in particular, Hilda. Only I have such a headache, and feel so +tired.’ + +‘Take my chair, Ange; you will catch the breeze from the hill-top as it +blows across the courtyard. It is deliciously cool.’ + +‘No, I would rather sit here,’ she answered, as she sunk down upon a +stool at my feet and rested her head against my knee. + +I read aloud for a few minutes, but I soon found that even Miss Braddon +had not the power to-day to chain Ange’s wandering thoughts, which, it +was plain to see from the expression of her dreamy eyes, were far away +from the matter in hand. + +‘Ange, you are very sad to-day. What makes you so?’ + +‘I _am_ a little sad. Jeanne Guillot’s little baby Fanchon is dead, and +I nursed her the very day she was born. Such a dear, fat little thing +she was, Hilda, and only just two years old. I feel almost as if she had +belonged to me.’ + +‘What did she die of?’ + +‘I don’t know—some kind of fever, I think. Several children in the town +are ill with it.’ + +‘Is it safe for you to go amongst them so constantly as you do, Ange?’ + +‘Why?’ + +‘The fever may be infectious—you might catch it yourself.’ + +‘What then, Hilda? One can die but once, you know, and I often think +those who die are much better off than those who are left in this +world.’ + +‘Perhaps so, but you are too young to believe it. You have all your life +before you, child, and should look forward to a sunny one. Why, what has +come to my light-hearted laughing Ange this afternoon?’ + +‘I have a headache,’ she repeated wearily. + +I let her rest in peace then, though I could not help stealing an +occasional glance at the marvellously pretty face that was pillowed on +my knee. Was it my fancy, or had a look of greater age really come over +Ange’s childlike features during the last few weeks? I thought her nose +seemed longer and thinner than before, and that her brows were not quite +so smooth and open as they had been. But it must have been my fancy, or +the appearance was merely evanescent. No storm, domestic or otherwise, +had occurred to ruffle the even tenor of her life. The unusual look of +care must have been the effect of the headache only. It was she who +broke the silence between us. + +‘Hilda, are you going to marry Mr. Sandilands?’ + +‘Marry Charlie Sandilands? certainly _not_, my dear Ange. Whatever can +have put such an idea into your head?’ + +‘Miss Markham said you were engaged to him.’ + +‘What rubbish! Pray don’t put faith in anything that woman tells you. +She has no authority for her assertions. I am not going to marry +anybody, Ange; rest sure of that.’ + +I was vexed at this retailed piece of scandal, nevertheless; though what +else could I have expected at the hands of a set of chattering old +women, who had seen me walking out every afternoon with the same +gentleman? + +‘I suppose I have no right to be angry,’ I continued; ‘but it is always +vexatious to be talked about. I have known Charlie Sandilands for years, +Ange. He is younger than I am, and I look upon him as a brother. Don’t +let any one connect our names together again in your presence, will +you?’ + +‘No, I will not, Hilda. But I thought Mr. Charteris would be sure to +know.’ + +‘You said Sophy Markham had been your informant.’ + +‘So she was, but when I repeated it to Mr. Charteris, he said nothing +was more likely.’ + +‘Mr. Charteris ought to know me better,’ I returned, with ridiculous +heat, considering that I had not condescended to inform that gentleman +of any of my private affairs. + +It seemed hopeless to engage in conversation that afternoon. Every +subject we started came to a dead-lock, and I returned to my novel with +an impatient sigh. Presently Madame Marmoret’s harsh voice rung out +across the courtyard in expostulation with some one unseen. + +‘_Eh bien!_ you are there again, pig! Have you come to bring me what I +asked for?’ + +‘Madame sweetly singing, as usual!’ I remarked, as the tones reached us. + +I suppose my words drowned the reply to the woman’s question, for she +continued rapidly: + +‘Lies, as usual! I know you have it! I saw you borrow one hundred and +twenty-five francs from Monsieur Charteris this morning. It cannot be +gone already. _Pauvre homme!_ he has not yet found out what it is to +lend money to those that will never return it!’ + +‘_Tais toi!_’ responded the voice of my guardian; ‘mind your own +business. He will be repaid, never fear!’ + +‘Ah! yes, certainly, when the Lord comes to judgment,’ replied Madame, +sarcastically. + +Ange had not appeared to hear the first two sentences as she lay with +her head upon my knee, her eyes closed and the deep crimson mantling on +her cheek. But when her father’s voice was heard in answer, I watched +her colour fade to a dull white, and she opened her eyes and knit her +brows as though she were listening with all her soul. + +‘Hilda!’ she inquired eagerly, ‘is that papa’s voice?’ + +‘Yes, Ange, I think so.’ + +‘What was he saying?’ + +‘I don’t know. I didn’t hear.’ + +She raised herself and looked at me in a scared, half-comprehending +manner. + +‘You are deceiving me, Hilda! You must have heard! What is it? What does +it mean? Did Marmoret say that papa owed Mr. Charteris money?’ + +I remembered my promise to Tessie, and resolved that Ange should learn +the truth through any lips but mine. + +‘I know nothing about it, Ange,’ I repeated firmly; ‘you heard what +passed just as well as I did. And if it were the case,’ I added, with +beautiful inconsistency, ‘it is no such great matter. Men borrow money +of one another constantly.’ + +‘_It is no such great matter!_’ she repeated slowly; ‘no matter that +dear papa should be so poor as to be obliged to borrow of Mr. Charteris: +papa, who holds such strict views on all money matters that he thinks +people should lie down and starve sooner than beg or borrow of their +friends. Oh! we must be very poor indeed—much poorer than I have ever +dreamed of—if papa has been obliged to do this thing.’ + +I saw the proud blood rush back again to her face, though only for a +moment, and thought, with a pang, what a blow the disclosure of the +truth, when it came, would be to her! At that moment the bedroom door +opened, and Tessie appeared. The sight of her sister seemed to rouse +Ange to action, for she leapt to her feet and rushed into her arms, +crying: + +‘Tessie! Tessie! tell the truth. Does papa owe money to Mr. Charteris?’ + +Tessie looked over the child’s shoulder at me with a reproachful air, +which I read too well. + +‘You wrong me,’ I said, in answer; ‘I am not the delinquent. Ange has +overheard your father and Madame squabbling in the courtyard.’ + +At these words Tessie’s face became as white as the ‘little maid’s.’ + +‘Why did I not tell Madame I was going to carry Ange’s basket to the +poor?’ she said, with a self-condemnatory air. + +I knew what she meant. That if Madame had known that _petite_ Ange was +anywhere within hearing, she would have placed some restraint upon her +unruly tongue. + +‘Well, it cannot be helped, Tessie; and, after all, Ange is making a +great fuss about a very little thing. She merely heard Madame say that +Mr. Lovett had borrowed a five-pound note of his boarder.’ + +‘Five pounds,Tessie; one hundred and twenty-five francs!’ said Ange, +with open eyes of horror; ‘and how will he ever pay it back again, so +poor as we are?’ + +‘Oh! leave papa to find out the ways and means, darling,’ replied +Tessie, cheerfully; ‘it is no concern of ours, you know, and he would +not like, perhaps, to think that we knew about his private concerns.’ + +‘That is just what I have been telling her, Tessie; but Ange is such a +little goose, she seems to think five pounds a perfect fortune. +Gentlemen constantly accommodate each other in such trifles. Mr. +Charteris is sure to have his money back in a day or two, and, for my +part, I think we have wasted too much time already in discussing the +business.’ + +So I said, in my desire to reassure them both, but Ange still continued +to look up in her sister’s face with wide, imploring eyes. + +‘Tessie, how can he pay him back? I heard papa tell the _facteur_ this +morning that he must wait till to-morrow for the money for the unpaid +letter.’ + +‘That was because he had no change,’ I interposed quickly. + +‘Tessie, how will he ever be able to pay back five pounds?’ continued +Ange, without heeding my interruption; ‘there are so many things to buy +each day, and Madame killed our best pair of pigeons this morning +because she had no money to go to market with.’ + +‘Oh, Ange! you do not understand such things. You have had no +experience. People may have very little money to-day and plenty +to-morrow. It _comes in_, you know. The richest are sometimes out of +pocket for a few days, aren’t they, Hilda?’ + +‘Of course,’ I answered stoutly. ‘I dare say the Duke of Westminster has +to borrow sometimes. The more we have, the more we spend. How very much +amused Mr. Charteris would be if he could hear the debate we are holding +over his stupid bank-note. By the way, is he home from shooting yet, +Tessie?’ + +‘I don’t know; I have not seen him,’ she replied, as she gently put her +sister from her, and, walking up to the mirror, removed her hat and +arranged her tumbled hair. Ange stood where she had left her for a few +seconds motionless, and then, with a deep sigh, walked out of the room. + +‘Oh, Hilda! how could you let her hear it?’ exclaimed Tessie, as soon as +she was gone. + +‘How could I help it, rather? If you will gag Madame Marmoret, or reduce +her brazen clarion of a voice to whispering music, I may be able to +avoid such things, but not before.’ + +‘How impudent of her to shout in that way across the yard, and why does +dear papa provoke her tongue by infringing on her premises? Why doesn’t +he keep out of her way?’ + +‘Don’t ask me. Why does everything in this world go by contraries? The +best thing we can do now is to try and make Ange forget what she +overheard as soon as possible.’ + +‘Oh! she is sure to forget it. After all, it is not much. The only thing +is to prevent its leading to more.’ + +‘You had better arrange that with Madame Marmoret, since she is at the +bottom of all the mischief.’ + +When we met at the dinner-table I thought that Ange had already +forgotten the little episode we had alluded to. The lovely damask colour +bloomed once more on her cheek; her soft eyes beamed with light, and her +manner to her father was even more tender and caressing than usual. + +As soon as the meal was concluded, she perched herself upon his knee, +and kept on fondling him to an unusual degree as she stroked down his +silver locks, calling him ‘Poor dear papa,’ and ‘Poor darling old +father,’ accompanying each phrase of affection with a kiss. + +I fancied that Mr. Lovett palled of this excess of filial devotion, but +the girl could not see it. Her little soft heart was full to the brim +with compassion for what she considered the deplorable condition to +which he had been brought, and she was powerless to perceive that his +did not beat in unison with hers. + +At last he twitched his venerable head from under her smoothing hands to +turn it towards Madame Marmoret, who entered the _salle_ with a message +from Jean Marat, the cobbler; a humble message, delivered in the most +respectful manner, to the effect that if it were quite convenient to +Monsieur le Curé, would monsieur oblige Jean Marat with a few +francs—just a few francs—on account of his bill, because madame _sa +femme_ had laid-in that morning of the eighth little Marat, and money, +under the circumstances, would be very acceptable. + +To listen to Madame’s oily voice at that moment, who would have dreamt +it could ever be so harsh and virulent as we had heard it at other +times! + +She looked the personification of a respectable servant as she stood at +the open door with her hands rolled up in her apron; and with all my +dislike for the woman, I recognised something touching in the restraint +she put on her naturally evil nature for the sake of _petite_ Ange. + +Mr. Lovett, however, saw nothing ‘touching’ about the matter. His brows +contracted as the message was delivered to him, and he put Ange off his +lap with a brusqueness that was almost rough. + +‘What do you mean by bringing such a message in to me in the midst of +dinner?’ he demanded. ‘Tell Jean Marat to go——’ + +But there he remembered himself and came to a full stop. Whatever he may +have been in private, he was always very particular in keeping up the +name of his profession in public. + +‘Tell Jean Marat that it is _not_ convenient, that I am occupied at +present—and he must wait,’ he continued, correcting the former sentence. + +‘If monsieur could spare but five francs,’ pleaded Marmoret. ‘The Marats +are very poor.’ + +‘_Ciel!_’ exclaimed Mr. Lovett, losing his temper entirely. ‘What do you +mean by talking to me in that manner when I haven’t got a five-franc +piece in the house? Give it to them yourself if you are so anxious for +their comfort; but get out of this room, and leave me in peace to finish +my repast.’ + +Madame Marmoret immediately disappeared, and harmony was restored +amongst us. But an ominous silence succeeded her departure. + +Tessie sat with eyes downcast upon her lap. Mr. Charteris whistled and +looked out of the window. Ange seemed restlessly miserable. + +The cause of the disturbance tried to cheer up the spirits of his +family, but, finding his remonstrances of no avail, took his hat and +stick discontentedly and walked off to visit some of his friends. + +The girls disappeared together, as I thought, to their garden or the +kitchen, and I retreated to the inner _salle_ to have another chat with +Miss Braddon. When it grew too dusk to read I went upstairs, intending +to finish some needlework or writing in my bedroom by the light of a +little lamp which I had purchased for my own use with some of the money +Mr. Warrington had sent me. But, passing the room occupied by the +sisters, my attention was arrested by the sound of a low sobbing, and I +entered it expecting to find my poor friend Tessie bewailing in secret +the troubles she had to bear. To my surprise, however, it was not Tessie +who was cast prostrate on the bed. It was Ange! + +‘Ange, my child!’ I exclaimed. ‘What is the matter that you should weep +like this?’ + +‘Oh! don’t speak to me, Hilda,’ she said mournfully; ‘leave me to +myself. It seems as if a great black cloud had come down over +everything.’ + +Poor Ange! Dear, innocent Ange! + +So the curse had begun to work here also, and her fresh young life was +to be involved in trouble like the rest. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER VI. + SALLE DU SABBAT. + + +How we all came to visit the _Grottes de S. Jean_ in one large party, I +never quite made out, but the fact remains that we went. Some one +proposed it, probably Miss Markham (for that gay young creature was +always on the alert to concoct a plan by which she should secure the +privilege of Mr. Charteris’s company), and some one agreed to it, but +neither of them was I. + +I found myself one morning in the centre of a group consisting of Mr. +and Mrs. Carolus, Sophy Markham, Arthur Thrale and Charlie Sandilands, +Cave Charteris, and Ange and Tessie, all habited in walking costumes, +and armed with thick sticks, ready to start on an expedition to these +famous grottoes of stalactites, and I was told to put on my hat and +accompany them. + +There was no particular interest to me in the expedition; indeed, had I +been given my choice, I would much rather have stayed at home on the +chance of getting a lesson in French from the Baron de Nesselrode—the +public will see that I am frank in these records, even to detailing my +errors of judgment—but consciousness that it was so, and that I showed +weakness in encouraging it, urged me to the opposite course, and I +agreed, with alacrity, to do all that they required of me. So in a few +minutes we had started on our way. Sophy Markham clinging close, of +course, to Charteris’s side, as Charlie Sandilands did to mine, and the +rest walking, as Ange expressed it, _heegledy-peegledy_. How well I +remember that morning: we were all so terribly young. Mrs. Carolus +skipped round and about her Willy, whom, more than once, she nearly +knocked over in her airy evolutions, as a bride of sixteen might have +done; whilst Miss Markham hung upon Charteris’s arm and gazed up into +his face with the rapture of a first attachment. The boys caught the +youthful infection, and raced Tessie and me down the green slopes we had +to traverse, until I told them they reminded me of Greenwich fair. Of +all the company only two seemed unequal to taking part in the general +hilarity. These two were Cave Charteris and _petite_ Ange. + +He walked along with his head in the air, without appearing to take much +interest in the conversation of his self-elected companion. Did he or +did he not care for the attentions which this woman was always pressing +upon him? To love her I was quite sure would be impossible to him—the +great difference in their ages alone would render it most unlikely—but +he had certainly been more polite and amiable to her lately than he had +ever been before. + +What motive could he have for it? for I was certain Cave Charter never +did anything without a motive. Did he entertain any thoughts of marrying +her? Miss Markham was reported at that time to have money, and Madame +Marmoret had more than once openly expressed her disgust to see the +lady’s favours transferred to the wrong quarter. But Mr. Charteris had +told me he was rich; he could never be so mean as to sell his liberty to +an old woman when he was not even in want of pecuniary assistance. Yet +on what other grounds, except the desire to ingratiate himself with her, +could one account for his former rudeness being changed to a curt +familiarity? The other dullard of our party, dear Ange, was not so +melancholy as she was silent. The burst of grief she had given way to, +now more than a week ago, had been succeeded by an unusually subdued +manner—an _older_ manner if I may express it so. It was as if the +discovery of that day had swept her youth away before it. So I believed, +at least, then—now I know that subtler influences were at work to +destroy her gaiety. + +I tried on that morning, by every means in my power, to make Ange like +her former self, but it was in vain. She laughed, it is true, and when +we pulled her down the steep hills, the crimson blood mantled in her +peachy cheeks and made her beautiful, but there was a sense of care +underlying the laughter that spoilt the joyousness of its echo, and the +colour faded too fast after each exertion to have been called there by +healthy exercise. + +The grottoes we were about to visit extended for a great distance under +the grounds of Monsieur de Condé, whose property they were, and who +charged a certain sum for admission to them. They had been discovered by +some workmen whilst excavating on his estate, and had been quite a +source of profit to their owner ever since. The visitors to St. Pucelle, +naturally, had already heard a great deal about these famous grottoes, +and Sophy Markham ‘gushed’ over them to her heart’s content. + +‘Oh! I am so _anxious_ to see them! I am anticipating so much pleasure +from this little excursion!’ she exclaimed, with a violent and most +palpable squeeze of Mr. Charteris’s arm. ‘I have been looking over the +book in the hotel where visitors have written down their impressions of +them, and they are so terribly tantalising. A Persian describes himself +as having been suddenly transported into fairyland—didn’t he, Lizzie +dear?—positively into fairyland, and says he can compare the vast +caverns to nothing but the palace of his great master the sultan, and +the forms of the stalactites to lovely houris frozen around him. Isn’t +it poetical? _Frozen houris!_ Oh! I do love poetry so! It is the very +life of my soul.’ + +Tessie laughed quietly. + +‘I’m afraid if you do not lessen your anticipations, Miss Markham, that +you will be disappointed. I went over the grotto years ago with some +friends, but I saw nothing at all like “frozen houris” there.’ + +‘Ah! but then, my dear Tessie, you are not imaginative. Now, I _am_. I +always have been, and it is my _métier_ to make the very best of +everything I see. You don’t blame me for it, or think me foolish, Mr. +Charteris, do you?’ + +Of course Mr. Charteris assured her that folly and herself were the two +things in his ideas farthest removed from one another, and just as he +had given vent to this opinion, we came in sight of the mouth of the +grotto, where two _guides_, each bearing a petroleum lamp, awaited our +arrival. They tendered us little hats made of grey linen, each trimmed +with a cockade and a bunch of red feathers in front, very much after the +pattern of those adopted by the monkeys on the organs, and for which we +were expected to exchange those we wore, which were liable to be damaged +by the drippings from the cave. + +They were comical-looking head-dresses, and I hardly wondered at Mrs. +Carolus and the fair Sophia hesitating to surmount their hard-lined and +puckered faces by them, although Ange and Tessie looked all the prettier +from the contrast. + +Miss Markham in particular, I could see, would rather have spoiled a +dozen hats than assumed the unbecoming linen one, had she not been +ridiculed into doing so. + +‘Oh! Lizzie dear, we never _can_ wear such things—now can we?’ + +‘I’m sure I don’t know, dear. I’d much rather keep on my bonnet, but +then it cost five guineas, and I shall be crazy if it gets hurt. I +really think I must venture to try one of the caps.’ + +‘Oh! my dear girl, you do look so comical! Excuse my laughing—but you’ve +no idea—and grey never did suit your complexion, you know.’ + +‘Well, I don’t think you need talk, Sophy. So plain a headdress is by no +means suited to your own style of features, I can tell you!’ + +‘Oh! the horrid thing—I will never, never wear it!’ cried the childish +Sophia, as she threw the offending cap upon the ground; and I believe, +if she had not overheard Mr. Charteris grumble at being kept waiting so +long, that she would have been as good as her word. + +But, finding that we were all wearing them and she would be singular if +she did not do the same, she consented at last to crown her _chignon_ +with it, and came simpering forth like a bashful girl that was afraid of +being looked at. + +No one troubled her, however, and the whole party being ready, we began +to descend the first flight of wooden steps which were steep but easy, +and went down, down, down, until the ivy and fern covered entrance was +left far above us, and we had reached the very centre of the cave, which +was yet light enough to let us see that there were several more such +flights to be descended before we could touch level earth again. + +This was a fine opportunity for Miss Markham and Mrs. Carolus to shriek +and laugh hysterically, and cling like grim death to whoever happened to +be nearest to them, and they made every use of it. But Mr. Charteris and +Mr. Carolus had been wise in their generation, and insisted upon going +down first, leaving their women-kind to struggle in the rear with any +one they could lay hold of. So poor Charlie and Arthur Thrale had them +all to themselves, whilst Tessie and I laughed wickedly in each others’ +ears. + +At last we stood on level ground, in a cavern as dark as Erebus; there +was no light anywhere, except from the lamps of the guides, who waved +them over their heads and introduced us to _la grande salle_. I looked +up and down and round about me; but all was black as pitch. I felt that +I was standing on broken flints and thick mud, and as the guides’ lamps +threw their faint gleam here and there, I perceived that the cave we +stood in was very vast and damp, and uncommonly like a huge cellar, but +I can’t say that I saw anything more. + +‘Are these the “frozen houris?”’ asked Cave Charteris, sarcastically. + +‘Oh no! I should hardly think so,’ replied Miss Markham, quickly; +‘and—where are you, Mr. Charteris? I feel so dreadfully timid, I can’t +tell you—and would give anything to have hold of the hand of some one +that I knew!’ + +‘Take mine!’ I said, with _malice prepense_; ‘it’s quite strong enough +to keep you from slipping.’ + +‘Oh no! I couldn’t think of it. I might fall and pull you down with me. +But if Mr. Charteris would help me——’ + +‘All right! You can take my arm if you wish it. But we can’t walk +abreast through the passages,’ he answered, with anything but lover-like +alacrity, and something made me turn to Ange and whisper: + +‘Are you not frightened, dear, too? If so, I can hold you up.’ + +But she said calmly: + +‘There is nothing to be frightened of, Hilda. We are on the solid ground +now, and can fall no lower.’ + +In another minute the guides had turned and led us through a passage cut +in the rock. We were not going up nor down stairs now, but picking our +way over slippery stones, and between places sometimes so narrow and so +low, that gaunt Mr. Carolus knocked his head more than once, as he +disregarded the guides’ warning cry of ‘_Tête!_’ and the majority of us +got bruised arms and shoulders. Every now and then we came upon a larger +excavation which was called a _salle_, and bore some name consequent on +the likeness assumed by the stalactites it contained. One was termed +_Salle de Brahma_, because it held a lump of crystal somewhat resembling +the idol of that name. Another _Salle du Sacrifice_, its principal +attraction being a large flat stone, at the foot of which was another, +shaped like a sausage and entitled _tombeau de la victime_. + +We paced after the guides through these cavernous passages for what +appeared to me to be miles, my mind, meanwhile, being divided between +fear that I should leave my best pair of boots behind me in the slushy +clay, and apprehension as to the appearance my crape would present when +I reached home again. I heard Mrs. Carolus, every now and then, +querulously complaining to ‘Willy’ of the pains she was acquiring in her +back from the constant stooping, and I knew that Sophy Markham was +dogging Mr. Charteris’s steps as closely as the circumstances would +admit of, and that Tessie and Ange plodded behind me silent and +uncomplaining. + +I was beginning to think that we had come on a very foolish expedition +and were likely to have more pain than pleasure for our trouble, when I +found we were ploughing our way up again, on fungus-covered ladders and +wet slippery stairs upon which it was most difficult to keep a footing, +until we arrived at what was decidedly the finest sight there, the +_Salle du Sabbat_. Here the guides proposed to send up a spirit balloon, +in order to show us the height and extent of the vast cavern, and went +away, taking the lamps with them, having first planted us in a row on +the edge of a precipice, and conjured us not to stir until their return. +I think we felt little inclination to do so. The blackness about us was +so thick that we could almost _feel_ it, and the silence was that of +death. Ange slipped her little hand in mine, and whispered: + +‘Hilda, suppose they should never come back!’ and I could not say the +supposition was a pleasant one. She had been standing between Sophy +Markham and myself, but as she said the words, she slipped round my back +and linked her arm in mine on the other side. + +Miss Markham, for a wonder, was silent, but Mrs. Carolus was plaintively +trying to make her spouse partake her girlish fears, and he was +ridiculing them with a kind of rough good sense that made me laugh. +Under cover of their expostulations with one another, a mouth approached +my ear on the side left vacant by Ange, and I heard a voice say gently: + +‘My own darling! How much I love you!’ + +The announcement took me so completely by surprise, that, for the +moment, I imagined it had proceeded from Charlie Sandilands, and it was +quite a mercy that, under cover of the darkness, I did not turn round +and smartly box his ears in return for his impudence. But before I had +had time to prepare the weapon of chastisement, the speaker continued, +still in the same soft tones: + +‘What a nuisance it is having to play propriety before all these bores! +How I long to be alone with you again, and able to tell you what I +feel!’ + +Before this sentence was concluded, I had recognised the voice as that +of Cave Charteris, and was bristling with indignation. + +‘What do you mean by speaking to me like that?’ I said angrily. + +‘Good God, Hilda!’ he rejoined, ‘is it you?’ + +‘Yes, it is I! Who did you take me for?’ + +‘Then—where—where—’ he stammered, in order to give himself time to think +of what to say, ‘where is Miss Markham?’ + +We had both raised our voices in our mutual surprise, and his last +question was overheard. + +‘Here I am, Mr. Charteris!’ ejaculated the fair Sophy, from his other +side—I know she had shifted her quarters in hopes of extracting some +familiarity from him before the lights came back. ‘Close to you—see!’ + +The order to ‘see’ was apparently accompanied by a playful pinch, for +Charteris gave a sudden yell, and a step forward that might have sent +him over the precipice. + +‘Do be careful, Miss Markham,’ I exclaimed, with an expression of +annoyance, ‘and keep your facetiæ until we stand on safer ground. You +might have caused Mr. Charteris to make a false step.’ + +‘Oh, you needn’t be so alarmed, Miss Marsh,’ she answered meaningly; ‘I +assure you I am quite as anxious for Mr. Charteris’s safety as you can +be, and I should think you had quite enough to do to look after Mr. +Sandilands without troubling yourself about other people!’ + +‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I retorted; but at that moment the spirit +balloon rose in the air, and half a dozen voices joined in a chorus of +admiration at the height and depth and length and breadth of the cavern +we stood in, and the glittering clusters of stalactites which the light +momentarily revealed as it majestically sailed past them. I looked with +the rest, but my thoughts were far away from the scene around me. A +question was puzzling my brain which I felt I could not give up until I +had unravelled. _For whom_ had Cave Charteris intended the whisper which +by mistake he addressed to me? + +It worried me all the way home, and long after I had reached it. His +subsequent query seemed to imply that he had believed Sophy Markham +stood next him, but I could not credit that he had said those words +except with the intent to mislead me. Was it possible that he could have +seriously called Miss Markham by such a term of endearment, or addressed +her with so much earnestness in his voice? And if it were not possible, +then—did he intend that speech for Ange, who would have been standing +between us had she not slipped round to my other side at the very moment +we were left in darkness? + +_Cave Charteris and Ange!_ The very combination of names seemed like +sacrilege in my ears. The man who had made love to me, and left me in +years gone by—who had tried to make love to me only a few weeks back—to +have the happiness of that innocent trusting child in his hands! It was +too horrible to think of. Whatever his protestations or passions for the +moment might be, he was cold and cruel by nature. I could read it in his +eyes and the sentiments in which he expressed his opinions, and I +trembled to think what Ange’s fate might prove, if he aroused all her +deepest feelings, and then basely deserted her as he had deserted me. +What was I to do? What was it my duty to do—both towards her and him! If +the sentences I heard were meant for Ange, it was not the first time Mr. +Charteris had addressed her as a lover. That was evident. + +‘My own darling!’ he had said, ‘how much I love you!’ + +Men don’t call women their ‘own’ until they have proved they are willing +to be so. I knew enough of human nature to know that. And then he had +added, ‘How I long to be alone with you _again_,’ which showed that +whoever he spoke to had already kept appointments with him. + +Oh! could it—could it be our little Ange? All my knowledge of her +childish manner, her shyness and her modesty, seemed to refute the +suspicion as an impossibility; but it was still more impossible to +believe that Mr. Charteris had seriously addressed those lover-like +speeches to old Sophy Markham. My mind became distracted in its +ignorance what to think, and how to act. If he were making love to Ange, +I felt as if, at all risk, I ought to fly to her rescue; but if he were +only making fun of Miss Markham’s undisguised _penchant_ for himself, +why my interference would appear very ridiculous, and bring not only +discredit on me as a busybody and meddler, but perhaps lay me open to a +false inference of jealousy. + +It was evening—nine or ten o’clock—and I was sitting in my own room, +leaning my elbows on the open window-sill, and gazing up into the +starless sky. The night was very dark—I remember thinking _how_ dark, as +I sat and mused there, sadly. I had seen Madame Marmoret, arrayed in her +best gown, with her scarlet shawl across her shoulders, her gold +earrings dangling from her ears, and the broad strings of her snow-white +cap pinned carefully together at the back of her neck, leave the +courtyard some time ago, on a visit of ceremony, I presumed, to some of +her friends. I knew that Mr. Lovett was busily engaged in the _salle_ +playing _écarté_ with Monsieur Condé, who had looked in to hear if we +had enjoyed our visit to his immortal grotto: and I had left Tessie and +Ange ironing their father’s shirts in the kitchen. Mr. Charteris I was +unable to account for, as he had left the house immediately after +dinner, and was probably smoking the calumet of peace with his friend +Monsieur de Nesselrode, or perhaps repeating the words which so much +troubled me for the benefit of Miss Sophy Markham. + +Whose then was the figure, decidedly a man’s, which had just entered the +courtyard by way of the stables and cow-house, and leant up against the +wall outside the kitchen-door? He was smoking a cigar, for I could +distinguish the red light as he blew the thin wreaths of smoke into the +air; but that was no guide to his personality, since every man in St. +Pucelle enjoyed the same privilege. The kitchen window was full in view +from where I sat, but the shutters were closed, so I could not see if +the girls were still at work within or no. But why did not the stranger, +whoever he might be, knock for admittance? Could he have entered the +yard with any nefarious intentions? In another moment I am sure I should +have spoken to him, had not the kitchen-door opened suddenly, and a +second figure stepped out into the darkness. + +‘Don’t stay here!’ said a tender voice, which I recognised at once; ‘I +cannot come to you. Tessie wants me in the little _salle_!’ + +‘Cannot my angel spare me _one_ minute?’ asked Cave Charteris. + +‘No! not one, until to-morrow! You will not try to keep me now, will +you?’—imploringly, as if to say that if he _did_ try, he would certainly +succeed—‘because they might hear of it and be angry.’ + +‘You shall do just as you think best, my darling, on one condition.’ + +‘What is that?’ + +‘That you tell me you love me before you go—I cannot sleep without it.’ + +I could not see, but I fancied, from her stifled tones, that he had +clasped his arms about her. + +‘Oh! my love! my love!’ she repeated fervently; ‘_I do love you!_’ + +And then she slipped away and closed the kitchen-door softly, and after +an interval of half a minute I heard the other figure step carefully +across the paved court and pass into the open street again. + +And I turned from the window and sank down on my knees beside my bed, +and prayed for a long, long time, for _petite_ Ange and for myself, and +judgment to know what best to do. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER VII. + MASTER FRED. + + +The reverie which followed this, to me, astounding revelation resulted +in the decision that it was my duty to tell Mr. Lovett what I had +overheard. I hardly know, at this period, whether I did right or +wrong—whether I should have shown more wisdom in speaking to Tessie or +to Ange herself—whether, in fact, any other course of action could have +averted the calamity that so quickly followed it. But it can be well +understood how difficult a part I had to play in warning my friends +against the man who had wronged me. A thousand times during that night I +told myself that I could not do it; that my motives would be +misinterpreted, and that if Cave Charteris had failed in his allegiance +to me, it was no reason he should be untrue to Angela Lovett. She +evidently liked him. No girl of her modesty and virtuous bringing up +could have said the words I had heard her say unless she meant them from +the bottom of her heart. Yet she was so easily deceived. She was so much +too credulous of the goodness of human nature to be fit to judge for +herself. Had it been Tessie whom Charteris had selected for his +attentions, I should have left them to their own devices. Tessie knew +something of the world: her eyes had been opened to a part, at least, of +its iniquity; but Ange was a perfect child, both in mind and experience. +The complete faith she put in her father’s saintliness was a proof of +this, and I felt sure, upon reviewing the discovery I had made, that she +would never have kept her relations with Mr. Charteris a secret from +those she so much loved and trusted, had he not brought some powerful +motive to bear upon her reticence. + +What could he have said to persuade this child, who was all frank, +ingenuous simplicity, that it was right to hold secret appointments with +himself? And why, if his intentions towards her were what they should +be, had he not at once avowed them to Mr. Lovett? He was free and +independent—at liberty to choose a wife as he listed—and he could have +no fear that the poverty-stricken minister would object to see one of +his daughters well provided for. + +The more I thought of it, the more I felt persuaded that something was +wrong. A terrible fear took hold of me that Ange was in similar danger +to that I had passed through—perhaps worse, Heaven only knew. And when +daylight dawned I had made up my mind, whatever happened, to inform my +reverend guardian of what I had seen and heard. + +The task was anything but a pleasant one. As I have already mentioned, +since the adventure of the twenty-five francs, I had had little or +nothing to say to Mr. Lovett, and I saw that he regarded me with +suspicion and dislike. It was for the sake of Ange alone that I +conquered my aversion to enter upon any but general topics with him, and +small thanks as I expected to receive in return for my moral courage, +the event proved that I had over-rated the little interest he had left +in me. + +Breakfast was over, and the moment had arrived in which to attack him. +Ange, who had been looking unusually pale and languid during the meal, +and had scarcely eaten anything, announced her intention of spending the +morning with Jeanne Guillot, the mother of the little child that had +died of fever, though I wronged the poor girl by believing that she was +going to walk with Cave Charteris instead. + +‘Why do you let your sister go to those infected cottages?’ I demanded, +almost sharply, of Tessie; ‘you had much better keep her at home. She +will catch her death there some day, and then you will be sorry.’ + +Tessie regarded me with mild surprise. + +‘Why, Hilda, the fever is not infectious! The doctor says it is purely +due to the effects of the long dry summer we have had! And where should +Ange be, but amongst those who have suffered from it? The people would +not know what had come to St. Pucelle if they missed _petite_ Ange from +their sides when they were in trouble.’ + +‘Oh! very well! Do as you choose, but don’t blame me afterwards,’ I +responded curtly; for I felt very sore on the subject, and was ready to +think Tessie a fool for not being more alive to the moral and physical +risks which her sister ran. + +They all disappeared after this, and I would not inquire even where they +were going. Mr. Lovett and I were left alone in the _salle_, and I might +have spoken to him, perhaps, without interruption, but I wished him to +attach as much importance as possible to the communication I was about +to make. + +‘Mr. Lovett,’ I commenced, ‘I have something of the greatest consequence +to tell you. When will it be convenient for you to listen to me?’ + +I suppose he thought I was going to speak again about my money matters, +for I could see the impatient jerk of the shoulders with which he +answered: + +‘I can anticipate what you are about to say, my dear Hilda; and can +assure you that as soon as your dividends——’ + +‘No, no, it is not that!’ I interrupted eagerly. ‘I don’t want money, +because Mr. Warrington has sent me some to go on with.’ + +I am afraid this was a false move. I saw that my guardian took it in +anything but good part by the way in which he frowned at me. + +So you have applied to Mr. Warrington on the subject.’ + +‘I did not ask him for any money, if that is what you mean. He sent it +me spontaneously. But that has nothing to do with my present business. +Can I speak to you alone?’ + +‘You can say what you wish, although I cannot imagine what else of a +private nature you can have to communicate to me.’ + +‘You will soon find out. But I cannot tell it to you here, with every +door and window open.’ + +‘This is very strange,’ he remarked. ‘Where would you have me go?’ + +‘Will you come into my bedroom, or may I accompany you in your walk?’ + +‘The last will be the least remarkable proceeding,’ he replied, as he +rose to find his hat and stick. + +In a few minutes we were on the highroad together. When it came to the +point I found it very difficult to begin; but I had made up my mind that +I was right, and was determined to go through with it. + +‘Mr. Lovett,’ I said, ‘do you approve of confession?’ + +‘Well, that is rather a difficult question to answer. I approve of it +for the Church of which it forms a law, but not for its own particular +merits.’ + +‘But do you hold with the sacredness of its obligations to secrecy?’ + +‘Certainly.’ + +‘Then will you consider that what I am about to tell you is under the +seal of confession, and promise me beforehand to keep my communication +private?’ + +‘If it relates to yourself, I will.’ + +‘I only claim your secrecy on behalf of myself. You have heard that Mr. +Charteris and I knew each other many years ago; and perhaps I ought to +have told you before now, Mr. Lovett, that in those days he professed to +be attached to me.’ + +‘I don’t see what business that is of mine, my dear Hilda.’ + +‘Yes, it is your business, because he greatly deceived me, and you have +daughters whom he might treat in the same manner. For months my mother +and I believed that Cave Charteris intended to marry me; but it all came +to nothing, and for many years his desertion was the source of my +bitterest trouble.’ + +‘In that case, I should think the less you say about it the better; and +I cannot at all imagine why you should have chosen to make me the +confidant of so unpleasant a portion of your history.’ + +There was so much coldness and selfishness in his words, so little +sympathy or interest in his voice, that I looked at him with +astonishment. Was this the bland, soft-toned old gentleman whom I had +heard talking with such benign pity and charity for all mankind, and who +now had apparently not one syllable of compassion or reproach for the +heartless marring of a young girl’s life? I was so angry with him for +the manner in which he had received my communication, that I did not +care what I said. + +‘Then I will tell you, sir,’ I went on hotly. ‘The reason I have +troubled you with an account of my sufferings at Mr. Charteris’s hands, +is because I have every reason to believe that he is carrying on the +same game with your daughter Ange.’ + +Mr. Lovett stopped short in his walk, and, leaning on his stick, turned +round and regarded me fully. I can recall the cold light in his blue +eyes, and the fixed look of his marble features as he did so, to this +day. + +‘What proofs have you to advance for the truth of what you say?’ he +demanded, in the most frigid tones. + +‘I was sitting at my bedroom window last night when they met in the +courtyard. I could not help overhearing their conversation, and I am +quite convinced that he is persuading Ange to love him. I lay awake all +night, thinking what was best for me to do; and I decided that, at all +events, you ought to be told of what is going on between them.’ + +‘You lay awake all night, you mean, plotting how you might best destroy +an innocent young girl’s happiness, in revenge for having missed your +own.’ + +‘Oh, Mr. Lovett!’ I cried, horrified at the interpretation he had put +upon my words. ‘How can you think so! I love Ange dearly: I would do +anything to secure her happiness; and as for my own, it is very long +since it was connected with Cave Charteris. I believe him to be neither +good nor true. I do not consider he is capable of making any girl happy; +and all I beg of you is to watch over Ange, and to see he does not teach +her what is wrong. If he is an honourable suitor, why should he not make +known his wishes concerning her to you?’ + +‘I am not prepared to discuss such delicate questions with a young lady, +and one who evidently bears no goodwill towards the supposed offender. +You seem to have overlooked one thing, Miss Marsh, in mentioning Mr. +Charteris: and that is, that you were speaking of a friend of mine.’ + +‘Is it possible you are going to take his part against your own child!’ +I exclaimed, in amazement. + +‘I have yet to be convinced that I _am_ taking it against my own child. +All the information I have received has come through a woman who, by her +own account, has every motive for jealousy, and is an eavesdropper into +the bargain.’ + +‘Thank you, Mr. Lovett!’ I said grandly. ‘I am much obliged to you for +your good opinion. I shall not soon forget that I tried to do you a +benefit, and you credited me with the worst of feelings in return. I see +what I believe to be wrong, and I tell you of it, simply from a sense of +duty, and a desire to preserve your daughter from a similar fate to +mine. But since you choose to misinterpret my meaning in so gross a +manner, I shall interfere no further in the matter.’ + +‘I beg you will _not_,’ he replied sternly. ‘I have every faith in the +honour of Mr. Charteris and of my daughter, and require no assistance in +looking after their interests.’ + +‘You resent my confidence, then, as an insult.’ + +‘I cannot help seeing that it has been actuated by lower motives than +you would have me believe. I do not discredit what you have told me; but +I am perfectly content to leave such things to Providence and the good +principles in which Ange has been brought up.’ + +‘You wish her, in fact, to marry Cave Charteris?’ + +‘I know nothing as yet to make me _not_ wish it.’ + +‘You do not consider his dishonourable conduct to myself any drawback to +his becoming the lover of Ange?’ + +‘I should like, before I pronounced any opinion on the subject, to be +assured that you did not deceive yourself in the matter. Young women are +sometimes apt to make a mistake about gentlemen’s attentions. And even +if you are right, by your own showing it happened several years ago, and +we may charitably conclude that Mr. Charteris’s character has +strengthened and improved during the interval.’ + +‘I am very sorry I took the trouble to speak to you,’ I said bitterly. + +And I was exceedingly sorry. I had meant to do good, and I had done +nothing but harm. Mr. Lovett evidently liked the idea of Cave Charteris +entangling himself with Ange, and perhaps he had even seen what was +going on and encouraged it; and I stood in the despicable light of an +eavesdropper and scandalmonger, who was actuated by jealousy to play the +spy! I could have cried with vexation and indignation, and, indeed, for +a while I had not sufficient command over myself to continue the +conversation. + +‘There is one thing I must request of you, my dear Hilda,’ Mr. Lovett +went on mildly: ‘and that is, not to mention this subject to my +daughter. It is neither necessary nor delicate—and, in fact, I must +forbid it.’ + +‘You need not be afraid, sir. I shall never interfere with anything +concerning either of them again.’ + +‘That is right. It would vex Tessie beyond measure to hear her sister’s +actions discussed in this free manner, and it might ruin Ange’s +prospects for life.’ + +‘I shall leave you to manage them both for the future without any +assistance from me,’ I said, turning away, ‘but, mark my words, Mr. +Lovett, you will live to regret this day.’ + +As I walked homewards by myself I wondered I had been so bold, but I +would not have said one word less had the interview come over again. I +read the old man’s selfishness at a glance. He was afraid of losing +Charteris as a boarder and money-lender if he brought him to book for +his actions, and he preferred to risk his innocent little daughter’s +happiness to giving up a few of his creature-comforts. + +How despicable and mean he appeared to me as I reviewed the conversation +that had just taken place between us. + +I was hurrying home, with my eyes on the ground and my thoughts all +engrossed with the subject in hand, when I was attracted by a loud +shouting and hallooing, and, looking up, perceived some one in front of +me long and lanky, waving his arms round and round like a windmill. + +‘Hollo, Miss Marsh! don’t you know me?’ he exclaimed; and then I +recognised my youthful companion of the steamboat, Master Frederick +Stephenson. + +‘Why, Master Fred, is that really you?’ I said, as I shook hands with +him. ‘I believe you have grown, even in the short time since I saw you. +And does your cousin expect you? He said nothing to us about it.’ + +‘Expect me! Not he, the scrubby fellow! He promised a dozen times that +he’d ask me over here for a day’s shooting, and I’ve written almost +every week to remind him, but ’twas no go. So I got old Felton to give +me a holiday, and took French leave; and here I am, and if Cave don’t +like it, he can do the other thing, for I don’t mean to go back till my +time’s up.’ + +‘And when will that be?’ + +‘Last train this evening; but I say, by Jove! Miss Marsh, how jolly you +look! You’re twice as fat as you were when we crossed over together, and +you’ve got such a colour. You’re first rate, you are.’ + +‘Am I?’ I said, hardly able to help laughing at the rough compliment, +though I felt so sad. ‘I am glad you think so, Fred, for I would much +rather look nice to my friends than nasty.’ + +‘Well, you do look nice, then, and no mistake. And are both the Miss +Lovetts at home?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘I’m in luck, by George! won’t that beggar Charteris be surprised to see +me walk in! I’d a mind to show him I was not going to be humbugged in +that way. He thought he’d keep all the fun to himself, I suppose.’ + +‘I am afraid you have not come on a shooting-day, at least I heard +nothing about it this morning.’ + +‘I don’t mind. I’d rather stay with you. Is that the house? It _is_ +pretty! Just like an old Swiss châlet. And, by the way, Miss Marsh, how +do you get on with old Lovett?’ concluded the young gentleman, with a +peculiar twinkle in his eye. + +‘Oh! very well. How should I get on with him?’ + +‘Isn’t he a good, pious, benevolent, amiable old gentleman, eh? Isn’t he +self-denying, and prudent, and saving, and all that sort of thing?’ + +‘Hold your tongue, sir,’ I replied, ‘and don’t speak in that way of your +betters.’ + +For all the windows and doors were open, and I had no wish that Tessie +or Ange should overhear the remarks of my impudent young friend. + +‘My _betters_!’ reiterated Master Fred. ‘Oh! come now, Miss Marsh, do +draw it mild.’ + +‘I hope you are not going to indulge us with that sort of schoolboy +slang all dinner-time, or you will shock the Miss Lovetts,’ I told him, +‘and, if I am not much mistaken, you will offend your cousin also.’ + +‘Ah! the elegant and accomplished Cave. Yes, I shouldn’t wonder if I +did, and it would not be the first time either. But I see his cropped +flaxen poll bobbing up at the window. By Jove! didn’t he look black when +he caught sight of me! I’m in for it, Miss Marsh, and no mistake; but I +rather like a row than otherwise. There’s so little excitement about +here, that one’s digestion is ruined for want of it.’ + +‘Oh! I hope you won’t have a row,’ I replied; but when we entered the +_salle_, where Mr. Charteris was seated with the two girls, I was really +afraid Master Fred’s prophecy would come true. I could not account for +the extreme annoyance that clouded his cousin’s face at the sight of +him. It could not have arisen simply from the fact of the boy having +made his appearance without leave, and yet one would have thought he had +committed the most serious offence by doing so. + +‘Well, Cave, you don’t look over and above pleased to see me!’ exclaimed +the lad, as soon as he had renewed his acquaintance with the Lovett +girls. + +‘I can’t say I am. Why didn’t you wait till I sent for you, instead of +running over in this unceremonious fashion?’ + +‘Wait till you sent for me! I fancy I might have waited till the crack +of doom, in that case. Why, how much longer do you intend to remain here +yourself?’ + +‘I don’t know, and it’s no concern of yours,’ replied Charteris, with +visible annoyance. + +‘Of course not! You’re your own master, and the longer you stay away the +better, at least for those at home.’ + +‘Now, Fred, I don’t want any of your nonsense. Please to understand +that.’ + +‘I can’t give you sense if I haven’t got it. But my dad writes me word +that they’ve a clean bill of health down at Parkhurst now, and that Mary +is very anxious to see you back again.’ + +If Charteris had been suddenly shot he could hardly have jumped up more +quickly than he did at these words. + +‘Fred, my boy!’ he exclaimed, with a total change of manner, ‘don’t you +want to have a little shooting in the forest?’ + +‘Well, of course I do, if it’s possible! But I didn’t expect to get it, +as I came over without warning.’ + +‘I should like to oblige you if I can, but if we are to do anything we +must start at once. I left my guns up at the château, and we must call +for them on our way. Are you game for a long walk, Fred?’ + +‘Pretty well! but is there any such hurry?’ Can’t we get an hour or two +after _goûter_? I’m no great shakes with a gun, you know, Cave—not a +bigwig like you or the Baron—so that I dare say I shall have had enough +of it long before you have. And I’m so hungry.’ + +‘Bother your hunger! we can get something up at the château. If you want +to shoot, say so; and if you don’t, you’d better go back to Rille, for +there’s no other amusement for you at St. Pucelle.’ + +I could not imagine why he should be so cross with the lad, and Tessie +and Ange seemed as puzzled as myself. Fred Stephenson was nothing but a +boy—troublesome, no doubt, and often saucy, as boys will be—but a frank, +gentlemanly young fellow that no man need have been ashamed to own as a +relation. As Mr. Charteris spoke to him in the rough way related, he +stood silent for a moment, and then said with a kind of nervous laugh: + +‘There’s evidently no room for me here, so perhaps I should be wiser to +go back.’ + +‘No, no!’ I urged; ‘stay and shoot. Mr. Charteris only wants you to make +up your mind.’ + +‘If he’s got one!’ sneered his cousin. + +‘Blowed if I haven’t got as big a one as you!’ exclaimed the lad; ‘and a +better temper into the bargain. I’m sure I pity your people at home——’ + +But before he could finish his sentence Charteris had turned on him with +a face pale with passion. + +‘Are you going to hold your tongue or not?’ he said. + +‘I see no reason why I should.’ + +‘Then I shall have to make you.’ + +‘You’d better try!’ + +Their conversation was so inevitably leading to a quarrel that I thought +it time to interfere. I had no clue to the mystery that had raised Mr. +Charteris’s temper, but I was sorry for Fred Stephenson, whom I could +see was feeling all a boy’s disappointment at the prospect of having his +holiday cut short. So I attempted the _rôle_ of peacemaker. + +‘Mr. Charteris, pray don’t have any words with your cousin. You are +frightening Ange and all of us. And, Fred, you shouldn’t speak in that +way; you are spoiling your holiday, and making everybody uncomfortable. +Mr. Charteris, won’t you take him to the forest?’ + +‘If he wishes it I will. I have already said so.’ + +‘I am sure he wishes it. He only came over for that purpose; didn’t you, +Fred?’ + +‘I shan’t care to go if Charteris speaks to me in that manner,’ grumbled +the boy. + +‘I shall not do it if you keep a civil tongue in your head. Will you +come out shooting, then, or not?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘Very well; I shall be ready in half a minute.’ + +Charteris turned on his heel as he spoke and left the room, but I +detected an uncomfortable look of suspicion on his face as he did so. + +This unpleasant episode had made us all feel conscious, and not tended +to increase the hilarity of my temperament. Fred stood thoughtfully at +the window after his cousin had disappeared, and I drew near to speak a +few words of comfort to him. + +‘I am sorry this has happened, but it will all blow over in the forest. +I suppose you will come back to dinner with him.’ + +‘I don’t know. If I don’t get on his black books again, I may. What +makes him so grumpy, Miss Marsh?’ + +‘I have no idea! He seemed annoyed at your mentioning Parkhurst. Is that +where his family live?’ + +‘Yes! And you know it’s such a shame, he’s been away from home now for +nearly six months, and of course it’s put them out, and my dad says it’s +all a pretence his being afraid of the scarlet fever. Only two had it, +and they were well weeks ago, and poor Mary——’ + +‘That’s his sister, isn’t it?’ I interposed. + +But Cave Charteris re-entered the room at that very moment, and Fred did +not answer my question. I was sorry for it, for I wanted to learn +something about his cousin’s family, for Ange’s sake. But he was hurried +off to the château, and there was no further opportunity to exchange a +word with him. He departed with many _au revoirs_, promising himself to +meet us again at dinner; but when that meal was served, to our great +surprise Mr. Charteris walked in alone. + +‘Where is your cousin?’ we simultaneously asked him. + +‘My cousin!’ he ejaculated, as if he had quite forgotten his existence. +‘What! Fred Stephenson! I’ve sent him back to school by the diligence.’ + +‘Without his dinner?’ said Tessie, in a voice of pity. + +‘Oh! he had an excellent lunch at the Baron’s—ate enough for two, I can +assure you; and I knew if I brought him back here that he would outstay +his leave. Mr. Felton is very particular about the boys being punctual, +and Master Fred is _not_ particular about anything at all; and so, as I +am a sort of guardian of his, responsible to his father for his good +behaviour and all that sort of thing, I thought it better to take the +law into my own hands and see him safely off before I sat down to +dinner.’ + +It sounded plausible. There was no particular fault to find with the +man’s anxiety to save his young cousin from getting into a scrape with +his master, still, coupling it with the reception he had given the lad +that morning, and the haste with which he had hurried him out of the +house, I could not help suspecting that Cave Charteris had some other +reason beside what he stated for trying to keep Master Fred Stephenson +out of the way. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER VIII. + ACCEPTED. + + +‘Why do you go up to the convent every morning, dear? It is far too long +a walk for you.’ + +I was standing in the little _salle_, holding Ange’s hot hand in my own. +Six days had elapsed since Master Fred Stephenson had appeared and so +mysteriously disappeared from amongst us, and on each one of them Ange +had toiled up to the Convent des Petites Sœurs, which was situated on +the brow of a hill, two miles on the road to Artois, and not come back +again until it was time for dinner. + +I believed that in her feverish and unsettled state of mind, and with +her loose notions of theology, she was doing some sort of penance to +satisfy her self-accusing conscience, and I so much wished that the dear +child would open her mind to Tessie and me instead, and let us give her +all the sisterly counsel in our power. But each day she seemed to shrink +more and more from us, as well she might, whilst that man was persuading +her to stain her fair soul with the blot of deceit. + +But there were other reasons for my trying to dissuade Ange from going +to the convent. She was very far from well, or fit for the exertion. +Whether it proceeded from mind or body, I could not tell, but since the +day she had overheard Madame Marmoret’s speech to her father, in the +courtyard, she had been quite unlike her former joyous, light-hearted +self. Her cheeks were always either unnaturally flushed or unnaturally +pale, she complained of a dull headache, and all the bounding elasticity +I had so much admired seemed to have deserted her limbs. She was very +particular about her religious services at this time, poor dear little +Ange, spending an hour almost every evening in the church of St. Marie, +and poring over her Bible long after Tessie and I had gone to rest. + +Still, neither religion nor exercise and fresh air made any palpable +difference in the appearance of the little maid, and I felt sure that +something was very wrong. My expostulations on the subject with Tessie +only brought to light another instance of Mr. Lovett’s selfishness. She +looked very grave over the details of her sister’s symptoms, but was +afraid to mention them to her father, because it would seem as though +Ange required a doctor, and there was none nearer than Rille. + +He visited St. Pucelle once a week, and when he next came she would ask +him to prescribe for Ange; but to send for him especially to visit her +was to entail an expense which she was sure ‘dear papa’ could not +afford. The time was past for disguising my sentiments in Tessie’s +presence, and I told her plainly what I thought on this occasion. + +Yet she was too timid to move in the matter. ‘Dear papa’ had evidently +inspired her with so much wholesome dread of provoking his annoyance, +that she preferred to shut her eyes to the fact of there being any +danger in delay. But all this time I am standing in the inner _salle_ +with that little hot feverish hand in mine. + +‘Why must you go to the convent, Ange?’ + +‘There is no particular necessity, Hilda,’ she answered, yet she would +not meet my eyes as she did so, ‘but it is a pleasure to me, and I feel +as if I could not breathe in the house this weather. I know all the +sisters well, and their parlours are so cool and pleasant. I feel like +another creature inside the convent walls.’ + +‘I hope you are not thinking of joining their community, Ange?’ + +‘Oh no—oh no!’—with a vivid blush; ‘I am not good enough.’ + +‘I don’t know about that, but we certainly can’t afford to lose you! +However, if you are bent upon going this morning, may I go with you?’ + +A startled look came into her eyes. + +‘Into the convent, do you mean?’ + +‘No! not so far as that! Only to walk to the gates with you.’ + +‘Oh! do, Hilda! I shall be very glad of your company. It is a lonely +path over the hill.’ + +So I was mistaken, after all, and had wronged the little maid in +thinking that Mr. Charteris must be her cavalier on these occasions. + +We walked together through the blazing light over the fern covered hill, +and conversed pleasantly on all the topics that interest young women +most. Once I tried to sound her on the subject of Charteris, but she +shrunk from it so visibly that I had not the heart to try again. It was +as if I had plunged a surgeon’s probe into a bleeding wound. + +When I had kissed her pretty face for the last time, and left her behind +the great iron grille of the convent, I could not help believing that my +former supposition was correct, and Ange was brooding over the prospect +of shutting herself up for ever within its walls. This idea worried me +sadly. It would be like a living death for her! + +And what else but the burden of a committed wrong could have made Ange’s +thoughts turn that way? Could she have discovered more of her father’s +pecuniary affairs than Tessie and I knew of? and did the knowledge of +disgrace and debt weigh her mind down to that extent that she longed to +bury herself from the sight of the world? Or did the poor child imagine +that the burthen of one less to keep and provide for would be of any +substantial benefit to the family purse? + +These questions occupied my mind for half the way back again—until I +came, indeed, upon a figure in a velveteen shooting-suit, stretched out +at full length upon the thyme-scented grass, and lazily inhaling the +light breeze that was wafted across the stream in the valley, and just +lifted occasionally a curl of dark hair from his brow. + +It was that of my French master, Armand, Baron de Nesselrode. + +I feel I have reached a point when I must make a confession—namely, that +since the memorable day upon which I was frightened by the dog-wolf on +the Piron road, I had received more than one French lesson from the +gentleman in question. I had never made a single appointment with him +for the purpose; but he seemed to be ubiquitous, and to pop up wherever +I went, so that although the verbs I mastered with him were +_accidentals_, I had acquired quite a remarkable fluency in +conversation, and never felt at a loss to express what I meant. + +He said I learned quicker than anybody he had known before; but I +suppose, if ‘practice makes perfect,’ there was not so much credit due +to me as he would have made me believe. Once I remember I stopped to ask +myself if I were studying the French language so diligently _for +Tessie’s sake_, and I was fain to answer ‘No.’ + +Indeed, I am afraid that by this time Tessie’s interests had been +withdrawn from the firm altogether. She was very stupid so I inwardly +decided; she would not come forward and make the best of herself in the +Baron’s presence, and in consequence it was impossible he could discover +what a good wife he would gain in her, and so I had given them both up +as a bad job. + +If people _wouldn’t_ find out what was best for themselves, it was +useless wasting my time upon them. So Tessie’s merits had ceased to be +dragged in by the head and shoulders, as a topic of conversation between +Armand and me, and we only talked of such things as were most agreeable +to ourselves. + +‘Well, monsieur,’ I exclaimed, as I came up with him, ‘and what may you +be doing here?’ + +‘I followed you, mademoiselle.’ + +‘That is a pretty confession! How could you tell I had come this way?’ + +‘I saw Mademoiselle Ange and you leave the curé’s house together.’ + +‘And so you have been dogging our footsteps,’ I said, as I threw myself +down on the grass he had just quitted. + +The Baron accepted my action as an invitation to resume his seat. + +‘It is about time you accounted for yourself,’ I continued jestingly. ‘I +don’t think we have seen you for two whole days.’ + +‘Is it only two days?’ he said, in a melancholy voice. ‘It seems like +two weeks to me.’ + +‘Why, monsieur, what is the matter with you? Not moping again, I hope! I +thought you promised me to be brave and keep your heart up, in hope of +better times.’ + +He sighed deeply. + +‘That was a week ago,’ he answered. + +‘And what of that? You are talking mysteries to me.’ + +‘Mademoiselle,’ said the Baron, suddenly changing the topic, ‘do you +remember telling me the day we talked together on the road to Piron, +that there is no “stooping” in honest labour?’ + +‘I do.’ + +‘I have thought much and earnestly of your words since then. I look back +on the years that have passed since my great misfortune, and I see they +have all been spent in idleness and waste of mind and body! I cannot +recall them: they are gone and done for: they must be left to give their +own account hereafter. But for the few that remain before I hope to take +my station in society again I am determined, if possible, not to blush. +I have made up my mind, mademoiselle. I am going to work.’ + +‘I am sincerely glad to hear you say so!’ I exclaimed. + +‘If you are glad, it is all I ask. I will try to be glad also.’ + +‘But what are you going to do?’ + +‘I wrote to a friend at Court some weeks ago, telling him all, and +asking his assistance to procure me fit employment until I should hold +my own again. His answer arrived three days back. In it he offers me the +post of _Ministre d’affaires_ in—in—Algiers.’ + +‘_Algiers!_’ + +As I repeated the word after him, all the broad smiling landscape of +hill and dale and stream which lay spread out before me seemed to be +enveloped in a black mist that hid it from my view. A hoarse sound like +the rushing of water was in my ears, and a horrid ‘whirring’ like wheels +in my brain; then it all cleared off again. The sun broke out over the +valley, my senses had returned; but I thought that the earth would never +look the same to me again. + +‘Do you not congratulate me?’ inquired Monsieur de Nesselrode, quietly. +‘It is a charming climate, I understand, and the place is peopled with +French. The salary is almost nominal, so are the duties; but the +position is one that I can accept without blushing, and I shall, at all +events, have an arena for work amongst my countrymen, small as it may +be.’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘Does not the appointment meet your views for me? Will it not be better +than dragging out four more years of idleness and false shame at the +Château des Roses?’ + +‘Oh yes.’ + +‘I am not capable of much at present, you know, whatever I may be +hereafter. You—in the goodness of your heart and friendship—may think me +fit for a higher post, but I feel I am not. I have crippled my powers by +nonusage: I must crawl now before I can fly. Perhaps, after a year or +two, I may be fit for something better than the ministration of affairs +in such a place as Algiers.’ + +‘I am sure you will.’ + +I was so angry with myself for not being able to say something better to +him than this. I saw he wanted encouragement to take up this paltry +appointment in a strange country. He had applied for it solely on my +recommendation, and now that it had come, I had no words in which to +praise and thank him for the compliment he had paid to my advice. + +But Algiers—a place so far removed from all his friends, and replete, as +I ignorantly imagined, with dangers from climate and people—I did not +expect that my counsel would have taken so unwelcome a form. + +‘You do not congratulate me, mademoiselle,’ he repeated presently. ‘Do +you not consider the prospect a good one?’ + +‘Oh yes,’ I answered nervously; ‘very good indeed—that is, it is rather +far from here, is it not, monsieur?’ + +‘It is very far,’ he said gravely. ‘I do not suppose, when I have once +left it, that I shall ever see St. Pucelle again; for the remembrances +of the old château have no charm for me. A few weeks back, I would have +declared myself ready to bear anything sooner than go to Algiers; but +things that have come to my knowledge lately have made me think that the +greater distance I put between myself and this place the better.’ + +‘Have you any fresh trouble?’ I inquired anxiously, for he was my best +friend in St. Pucelle, and I had come to be interested in all that +befell him. + +‘Yes, a very deep trouble!’ + +‘What is it, monsieur? Will you not tell me?’ + +He turned round upon his side, so that his face could look directly into +mine. + +‘If I tell you, will you promise not to be angry with me, nor to feel +less my friend than you do now?’ + +‘I promise!’ + +But there was an expression in his eyes that made me drop my own, I +could not look at him. + +‘Remember, before I speak, how much I wish you well. Hilde!’ (he had +never called me by that name before), ‘if I could give you happiness by +cutting off my right arm, I would do it at this moment. So that I am +really and honestly glad to know that you are glad. The pain only is +mine, _amie chérie_; and I can bear that bravely, so long as all is well +with you.’ + +‘Monsieur, I do not understand what you mean!’ + +‘When this appointment was first offered me, I thought I could not take +it. I thought it would be impossible to leave St. Pucelle and you. But +only a few hours afterwards I met Mademoiselle Markham, and she told me +all about your _affaire de cœur_, and I was happy it should be so; only +I felt I could not stay and see it.’ + +‘What did she tell you?’ I asked quickly. + +‘That you are _fiancée_ to Monsieur Sandilands. Ah, you need not blush, +Hilde! It is all right if you wish it so. But for me it is better I +should go to Algiers, and forget the pleasant times that we have spent +together.’ + +‘Armand!’ I said vehemently, ‘it is a lie! I am not _fiancée_ to Mr. +Sandilands, nor to anybody.’ + +How his face changed from quiet melancholy to radiant hope. The dullest +eye might have interpreted that look. + +‘What!’ he exclaimed. ‘You are free!’ + +‘I _am_ free.’ + +‘And you are sorry I am going to Algiers?’ + +‘I _am_ sorry!’ + +I do not know if there ever lived any women in this world (such as some +novelists depict for us) who could cast away the whole of their lives’ +happiness for want of a single word to clear up a misunderstanding—but +if so, I am not one of them. Armand de Nesselrode looked me full in the +face as he put that question, and I should have been ashamed of myself, +if I had not answered him truthfully. + +‘Hilde!’ he said passionately, ‘will you go with me?’ + +Then I felt that my woman’s victory was won, and I could afford to be +silent and let silence speak for me. + +‘I should not have dared to ask for this,’ he went on rapidly, ‘had it +not been for the sweet encouragement your words have given me. You have +told me that you despise wealth in comparison with love; that you rank a +true heart and a strong arm above any earthly advantage, and that you +think my honour still unstained. Will you take me, then, beloved Hilde, +a poor man, disgraced in the eyes of the world, and with nothing to +offer the woman he would make his wife, except a true affection and an +earnest desire to prove himself worthy of hers? Oh, Hilde! do not keep +me in suspense. I have loved you ever since the day you prayed for me in +St. Marie?’ + +I raised my eyes and looked at the dear face lifted so pleadingly to my +own, and felt that nothing on this earth could repay me for the loss I +should sustain in losing him. + +‘Armand,’ I said tremblingly, ‘I must go with you to Algiers—because I +don’t pronounce French half as well yet as you would wish to hear me do +it, you know!’ + +And then I put my head down in my hands and burst into tears, from sheer +excess of happiness. + +I shall not write down here how he soothed me. Were I not my own +biographer I might be able to tell it, but from the moment Armand said +he loved me, our affection has been too sacred a thing for me to make +public. In half an hour we were still sitting on that grass, chatting +away as if we had been engaged for years, and making all sorts of plans +for the future. + +I confided to him my money matters and Mr. Lovett’s strange dealings +with me regarding them, and he told me how much his card transactions +with the reverend gentleman had got him into debt, and how he proposed +to liquidate it so that we might start free when we were married. + +And we mutually agreed not to say a word of what had passed between us +that morning, until after Mr. Warrington’s visit had been paid to St. +Pucelle, and my affairs with my guardian set straight again. + +‘Oh, how charming it was sitting in that lovely sunlight, and talking of +the happy days to come! Algiers no longer seemed a horrid desert, +situated a thousand leagues away from St. Pucelle. Our love had drawn it +closer, and peopled it with pleasant forms and faces, until it looked +like fairyland! I had but one regret amidst my pleasure: that my dear +mother had not lived to see it! Bear witness for me, best beloved of +parents, that you were not forgotten in your lonely grave in Norwood at +that most ecstatic moment of my existence, for the tears ran down my +cheeks as I recalled your love for me, and I told Armand what he had +lost in never knowing it.’ + +‘I will be thy mother and thy father and thy everything to thee, +_chérie_,’ he answered, with the sweet _tu-toy_ that sounded like music +in my ears; ‘only let me wipe away those tears, and see my Baronne smile +again!’ + +It was difficult to remain subject to any melancholy long, whilst under +the influence of Armand’s new-born happiness. His face positively beamed +with joy. I had never caught even a glimpse of such an expression on his +countenance before. + +‘I let thee go, my Hilde!’ he said, when I had persuaded him that after +four hours’ absence from the house I ran the risk of being questioned as +to how I had spent my time, ‘but I shall count the moments till we meet +again.’ + +‘But thou wilt never feel lonely now, Armand,’ I replied. ‘Thou wilt +look forward to the future we shall spend hand-in-hand.’ + +‘I shall look forward to the time, my friend, when the angel who watches +over me shall fold her wings upon my heart,’ he answered. + +It is very nice to be called an angel! I almost believed I was one by +the time we got back to the house. But we had to walk with the utmost +propriety through the town—at least three feet apart—and to bow to each +other most politely as we parted at the door. + +‘Art thou sure thou art not _fiancée_ to Monsieur Sandilands?’ whispered +Armand, as he doffed his hat to me, and the look of perfect happiness +upon his face as he said so, gave me the strangest joy my life had ever +known. + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER IX. + THE DEATH-BLOW. + + +I had been hugging this dear delicious secret to my breast for the last +three days; going apart at intervals to gaze upon it and assure myself +that it was mine; and quite unable to believe in so much joy after the +hopeless desolation of the last few months when that happened, which any +one with discernment must have foreseen long ago, _petite_ Ange +succumbed to the illness which had been hanging over her for weeks past. + +It was one morning when she had left the room as usual, _en route_ to +her convent, and Mr. Lovett had set off on a round of what he called his +parochial duties, that Tessie and I were startled by the sound of a loud +clamour and confusion arising from the courtyard. + +‘Good gracious!’ I exclaimed, as it struck my ears; ‘what on earth is +that?’ + +Tessie, who had turned as white as a sheet, would have detained me in +the little _salle_, but I broke from her grasp, and rushing into the +kitchen, looked through the open window. There I saw assembled in the +court a group of about a dozen men and women, amongst whom I immediately +distinguished the figures of Madame Marmoret, the Mère Fromard, and Jean +Marat, who were all surrounding my reverend guardian and preventing his +egress from his own domains. They had evidently waited to waylay him on +his leaving the house, and were screeching or howling, according to +their various sexes, as they made their fierce demands upon him for +justice. + +Mutiny was strongly marked on every countenance, and they pressed upon +the old man as though they would lay violent hands upon him. Of course I +guessed the reason of the uproar. It was the old story; they wanted +their money, and he had none to give them! I glanced from the crowd +towards my guardian, and for the first time I pitied him. He looked so +pale and crestfallen as he leaned against the courtyard wall, fending +off his creditors with the stick on which he supported himself. It was a +sickening and humiliating spectacle, and I thanked Heaven in that moment +that no blood of his ran in my veins. + +‘Where are the twelve francs you owe me, monsieur?’ shouted Marat the +cobbler. ‘I tell you I must have them. My wife is ill in bed, and +requires broth and white bread to get up her strength again. Do you +think I am going to let her want for lack of that which is my own? Hand +them out, I say, for I will have them.’ + +‘Bah!’ cried the scornful voice of Mère Fromard. ‘What is thy wife’s +illness to him? Didn’t he steal my poor Guillaume’s money, and the +little _dot_ I brought him on our marriage day? Five hundred and fifty +francs, messieurs—every _sou_ owed us by that black-hearted old villain! +and he let my husband die for want of bread and meat. I wish I could +tear him in pieces, and would be too good an end for him. _Sacré!_’ + +‘And much good you’d get out of his carcase, Mère Fromard!’ interposed +Madame Marmoret; ‘better wait, I tell you, till it’s all over, and then +the law must give us our rights!’ + +‘Madame! Madame!’ said her master, in a mildly reproachful voice, ‘is it +you that can say no better of me than that! You, who have lived under my +roof and eaten my bread for more than twenty years!’ + +‘Lived under your roof—pig! Aye! that I have, and done you good service +for it too! Haven’t I baked and boiled and mended and cleaned for you +and yours for twenty-two years last Candlemass! And what wages have I +received in return? None! Not a _sou_—not a _centime_! I have gone on +and on, because I knew if I left you I should get nothing, and you have +promised and promised till I’m sick of the sound of your voice or the +sight of your face. I should have summoned you before the _préfet_ and +had my rights years ago if it hadn’t been for _la petite_ Ange, and you +know it—_vaurien_ as you are—and have held the child as a threat over my +head in consequence.’ + +‘Down with him!’ shouted half a dozen voices; ‘down with the man who +uses his own child as an instrument wherewith to scourge the poor, whom +she is so good to! Don’t show him any pity! He has never shown any for +our wives or children!’ + +They pressed so closely upon him, and their faces were so distorted by +passion, that I became horribly alarmed for his safety. Had Mr. +Charteris been in the house, I should have summoned him at once to my +assistance, but he had gone out shooting with Armand, and was miles and +miles away. Mr. Lovett’s face was as pale and set as marble, but he +continued in the same position and evinced no outward signs of fear. + +‘Cannot you speak a little lower, my friends?’ he expostulated, in a +firm voice. ‘I suppose you do not wish the whole town to hear your +complaints?’ + +‘What do we care who hears us?’ replied the man in the blouse and the +peaked cap, whose name was Dubois; ‘all St. Pucelle knows you to be a +robber! The wider the truth is spread the better!’ + +‘I know I owe you all some money,’ said Mr. Lovett, ‘and when I can pay +you, I will. At present it is impossible, and you will get no good by +keeping me a prisoner in my own yard. You had much better disperse +quietly, and leave me in peace to see what arrangements I can make to +satisfy you.’ + +‘Aye—aye!’ responded Dubois, ‘leave you to go out and order in more +champagne and burgundy, and truffled turkeys and smoked hams, for your +own table, whilst we go home to feast on rye-bread and water. That’s +what you’ve been doing for the last twenty years. Eating your head off +on honest people’s credit, and giving them buttered words instead of +cash. But you’ve come to the end of your tether at last.’ + +‘_Ahi! Ahi! Ahi!_’ yelled the rest, as they brandished their bare arms +and made grimaces at him. + +‘Truffled turkeys and champagne!’ screamed the Mère Fromard; ‘I’ll give +him a truffled turkey to remember me by!’ and, seizing a huge wooden +_sabot_ from her foot, she prepared to hurl it at his head. + +In a moment I had dashed through the kitchen-door, and was standing in +front of the old man. My sudden and unexpected appearance created +somewhat of a diversion. + +‘How dare you attempt violence!’ I cried excitedly; ‘put down that +_sabot_, Mère Fromard, or I will send at once for the _gendarme_. You +are fools, every one of you, to risk a prison for the sake of indulging +your venomous tongues.’ + +‘Mamselle does not understand,’ commenced the cobbler, with a view to +explanation. + +‘I understand everything, Jean Marat, and I see that you are a set of +cowardly ruffians instead of respectable tradespeople as I took you to +be. Twelve to one! That is a brave proceeding, isn’t it? Why, if you +hadn’t watched Monsieur Charteris out of the house, you wouldn’t have +dared to enter the yard.’ + +‘We want our money, mamselle,’ squeaked a woman’s voice. + +‘Well, you shan’t have it! not until you have apologised to Monsieur le +Curé for the indignities you have put upon him, and gone quietly away to +your own homes. If you will do that, I promise you your bills shall be +paid.’ + +‘Aye! but have you any right to promise?’ grumbled one of the men. + +‘I have money of my own, and I will pay them myself. Will that satisfy +you?’ + +‘You may trust the word of mamselle,’ said Madame Fromard, addressing +the crowd. ‘I know a true face when I see it, and she has been very good +to me since Guillaume died.’ + +‘And nicely you have requited my kindness, Madame Fromard,’ I retorted. +‘You, who call yourself a Christian, to attempt to injure an old man +like this, and a minister of religion. Are you not afraid of bringing +down the anger of Heaven upon your family? What would Monsieur l’Abbé +say to such a disgraceful proceeding?’ + +‘Monsieur l’Abbé owes no man anything,’ grumbled the woman. + +‘And because he is good, is that any reason you should be bad? I’m +ashamed of the whole lot of you. Come now! clear out of this courtyard +at once. If there is a single man or woman left here in two minutes’ +time, I shall send for the _gendarme_ to restore order. And you, +Marmoret, go back to your kitchen and remain there!’ + +I suppose my determined voice and manner had some effect in making them +obey me, for they certainly disappeared with marvellous alacrity. But I +was terribly frightened the while, and when the last one had filed out +of the yard, I was trembling all over from excitement. + +‘Mr. Lovett,’ I said quickly, as I turned to my guardian; ‘pray come +back into the house. I am sure you must want a glass of wine after such +an unpleasant scene.’ + +The old man looked just the same as he had done before: very pale and +fixed, but unmoved; and I could not help admiring his British +determination not to show the white feather. Yet, when he answered me, I +saw that his lip trembled, and I could hardly understand what he said. + +‘Thank you, my dear Hilda,’ were his first words; and then I think he +added, in a lower tone, ‘I have not deserved this at your hands.’ + +We passed through the kitchen arm-in-arm, and I threw a defiant glance +at Madame Marmoret, in exchange for the scowl with which she honoured +me, and led my guardian to the little _salle_, where Tessie, who had +nearly frightened herself into a fit, was waiting to receive us. + +‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ she exclaimed, as she flung herself into her +father’s arms and burst into tears. ‘What _shall_ we do? Are those +horrid people gone? Is there nothing we can say to keep them quiet?’ + +But Mr. Lovett had quite recovered himself by this time, and was ready +to rebuke his daughter for her folly in making a mountain out of a +mole-hill. + +‘Calm yourself, my dear Tessie,’ he said, as he patted her on the back; +‘there is nothing to be so agitated about. These poor souls are +certainly very ignorant of etiquette, and we must make allowances for +them, although they must be taught that they cannot take the law in +their own hands. They appear to have a little misunderstanding amongst +them, and to fancy I do not intend to pay them their money. I must set +this straight at once, and for that purpose I think it will be better if +I go to Rille for a few days and consult my man of business, Monsieur +Richet. Let me see, to-day is Tuesday, and I shall be back, at the +latest, on Friday. Will you put a couple of shirts into my small black +bag, my dear, and anything else you may think necessary, whilst our dear +Hilda pours me out a glass of burgundy, for I really require something +after all that talking.’ + +I had not been his ‘dear Hilda’ for many a long day, but I was in no +frame of mind to resent the liberty then. My reverend guardian’s +coolness took me completely aback. Did he think that Tessie and I were +to be gulled by his proposals to see his man of business, or had he +talked in that pompous manner so long that he had outgrown the +perception of its absurdity? At any rate, however, I was thankful he was +going to Rille. To get him out of the way for the present was the chief +thing, and whilst there, we might come to some conclusion as to the best +way to patch up his affairs, which were so evident a scandal in the +parish. + +‘Let us walk with your father to the diligence, Tessie,’ I suggested, as +she reappeared with his travelling-bag, for I felt quite afraid lest +something might happen in the middle of the town if he were allowed to +go by himself. + +Every one was agreeable to this arrangement, so we accompanied him as +far as the Hôtel d’Etoile, and saw him safely seated in the coach and +started on the road to Artois. And then we returned home again, I +exhorting Tessie all the way to try and control her feelings, and keep +her own counsel with respect to the morning’s alarm, lest some report of +it should reach the ears of Ange. + +When we arrived at the house we ran upstairs together to make the beds, +a domestic duty which we had taken upon ourselves and should have +accomplished directly after breakfast had it not been for the +unfortunate interruption to which we had been subjected. The first room +we entered was that occupied by Ange and Tessie. The first thing I saw +on entering it was a black heap upon the floor. + +‘Hullo!’ I exclaimed, thinking it was a fallen dress, and about to +reprimand the Miss Lovetts for their untidiness; but the next moment my +voice had changed to a shrill alarm. ‘Tessie, Tessie! look here—for +God’s sake! _it is Ange!_’ + +We rushed up to the figure on the floor and knelt beside it. I raised +the head and laid it gently back upon my arm. The girl was in a state of +complete unconsciousness. + +‘She has fainted!’ cried Tessie. ‘Oh, my poor darling, how ill she +looks! And how did she come here? I thought she had gone to the +convent.’ + +‘So did I! She certainly said good-bye to us as she left the _salle_. +Can she have felt ill and returned whilst we were absent?’ + +‘But then Marmoret would have seen her, Hilda. The door of the corridor +is locked; I have the key in my pocket.’ + +‘Well, we mustn’t stay to speculate how it happened. Put a pillow under +her head, Tessie. We must lay her flat down on the ground and loosen her +clothes. Oh! how I wish you had sent for Dr. Perrin when I asked you.’ + +‘How could I tell she was so ill?’ asked Tessie, weeping. + +‘Any one could have told it! She has been ill and feverish for weeks +past, and I am not sure if her mind or body are suffering the most. What +a pity we didn’t find her before your father left the house. He might +have sent Monsieur Perrin back from Rille at once.’ + +‘We must write and tell him by this afternoon’s post, Hilda. Oh! why +doesn’t she open her eyes? What shall we do?’ + +‘Set the door and window wide open, and run down and fetch some spring +water to sprinkle her face with. Don’t cry so, Tessie; it can do no +good, and will distress her when she is coming to herself again.’ + +Tessie flew downstairs to do my bidding, and returned in company with +Madame Marmoret, to whom she had confided her sister’s condition. To see +that woman as she bent over the insensible form of her nursling, with +all the rancour faded out of her black eyes, and her hard-lined, brown +face twitching with emotion, one would never have believed she was the +same creature who had urged on her master’s creditors to take their +vengeance with the malignity of a she-devil. + +‘_Eh! bah! ma petite Ange!_’ she exclaimed, in a tone of anguish, as she +kissed the unconscious face. ‘What art thou dreaming of? It is not time +to go to heaven yet, _bébé_, though thou art fitter for that than for +such an earth as ours. What can have brought thee to such a state, +_enfant chérie_? _Ay mi, ay mi!_’ + +‘It is my belief you have only yourself to thank for it, Madame,’ I said +curtly, as I unceremoniously thrust her to one side. + +‘Does mamselle wish to insult me?’ she demanded. + +‘I wish to tell you the truth. I believe that Mademoiselle Ange never +went to the convent at all this morning, but came up to her room +instead, and then overheard the disgraceful tumult you permitted in the +courtyard. You may fancy how that would affect her when she has been +kept in ignorance even of her father’s debts.’ + +‘_Mon Dieu!_’ cried Madame, aghast. ‘You do not mean to tell me the +child was _here_ the while?’ + +‘I feel sure she was. She could not have left the house and returned to +it without our notice. We forgot all about her in our excitement, while +she stood here and received a sword in her tender little heart. Poor +Ange!’ + +‘Oh, my _bébé_, my _bébé_!’ said Madame, with the tears running down her +cheeks; ‘it is not true—it cannot be true! For nineteen years have I +borne it patiently for her sake, and would have bitten my tongue out +sooner than have told her what I suffered. And now, through my own +wickedness, in an evil moment, she has heard all!’ + +‘Hush!’ I exclaimed authoritatively. ‘She is coming to herself. Don’t +make her worse by the sight of your agitation.’ + +As I spoke the words, Ange slowly unclosed her violet eyes—dimmed +violets they looked now, as if a cloudy mist had spread over them—and +turned them inquiringly upon me. + +‘It is all right, darling,’ I said cheerfully, to reassure her. ‘You +have been a stupid girl and fainted, but now that you have revived +again, we will lift you on the bed, and let you lie still and rest’ + +We all three raised her as I concluded, and helped to lay her on her +bed, but the only sign of consciousness she gave was the visible shudder +with which she greeted Madame Marmoret’s touch. + +The woman stooped down and kissed her hand, but I saw Ange draw it +away—very feebly it is true, but sufficiently to mark her dislike of the +action—and then I knew that I had guessed aright, and she had been +witness to the indignities heaped upon her father. + +‘Hilda,’ said Tessie to me that afternoon, in a frightened whisper, ‘we +_must_ write for Dr. Perrin.’ + +I quite agreed with her; for though four hours had gone by since we had +laid Ange upon her bed, she had not spoken a single word to either of +us; and, except that her eyes were open, and she occasionally heaved a +deep sigh, she appeared almost as unconscious as when we found her on +the floor. + +We had not left her for a moment since that time, but had been unable to +persuade her either to speak or swallow nourishment; and I, for one, was +becoming seriously alarmed. + +‘We must not only send for the doctor, but your father must come home +again, Tessie,’ I answered, ‘for I am afraid that Ange is going to be +very ill. If you will write the letter at once, I will run down with it +to the post before the afternoon diligence starts for Artois.’ + +‘What a pity Mr. Charteris is away to-day. He might have been so useful +to us,’ sighed Tessie. + +‘Oh! we can do very well without _him_,’ I responded impatiently. + +I don’t know how it was, but at that moment I hated the thought of Cave +Charteris in connection with our little Ange more than I had ever done +before. + +Some people might imagine that in an emergency Madame Marmoret, being +our servant, might have taken a letter to the post for us; but such +people could never know what Madame Marmoret was like. + +She was far too fine and mighty to run menial errands, and this was +certainly not the day on which I should have asked her to do so. + +So, without taking any notice of her as she sat in the kitchen, dropping +tears into the _potage_ she was preparing for our dinner, I ran through +the house into the street, and made my way to the post-office with +Tessie’s letter. + +It was quite at the bottom of the town, and as I reascended the steep +hill I came in collision with Mrs. Carolus, evidently bristling with +some news of importance. + +‘My dear Miss Marsh, how fortunate I am to meet you! I have just called +at your house, but, hearing you were out, I refused to enter, though +Sophy insisted upon going in to see Miss Lovett.’ + +‘I am afraid she will hardly find it worth her while, for Tessie could +not stay to talk to her. We are in great distress at home to-day, Mrs. +Carolus. Ange has been suddenly taken very ill, and I have just posted a +letter for the doctor.’ + +‘Oh! indeed! I am most distressed to hear it. There seems nothing but +misfortune in St. Pucelle to-day. Sophy has been nearly out of her mind +all the morning, and, to tell truth, I was glad of any excuse to be rid +of her company for a little while, for she quite drives me distracted by +the way in which she goes on.’ + +‘Miss Markham has had no bad news, I hope.’ + +‘Well, my dear, it _ought_ not to have been bad news to her, for of what +moment can the doings of a young man like Mr. Charteris be to a woman of +the age of Sophy Markham? But you know how ridiculous she makes herself, +and the absurd notions she gets into her head, and I suppose she was +really persuaded that the man liked her and so forth, and now she says +that he has blighted her whole life, and she can never be happy again.’ + +‘But _why_, Mrs. Carolus? You have not yet told me the reason.’ + +‘Oh! I suppose you have known it all along, as Mr. Charteris has been +living with the Lovetts, but poor Sophy never heard till yesterday, when +she was in Rille and met young Frederick Stephenson, that his cousin was +a married man.’ + +‘Mr. Charteris _married_!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh no! she must be mistaken. It +is _impossible_. It cannot be the case.’ + +‘What! _You_ had not heard it either, then?’ inquired Mrs. Carolus, +curiously. ‘This beats everything! But you may rely on the truth of my +assertion. Young Mr. Stephenson told Sophy who his wife had been—a Miss +Mary Ferrier, a great heiress, and they have a beautiful place called +Parkhurst in Devonshire, and two children, and they’ve all had the +scarlet fever, and that is the reason that Mr. Charteris was afraid to +go home. Shabby of him, _I_ call it, to desert his family in an +extremity like that; but men are all selfish, my dear. Yet why he should +have considered it necessary to come amongst us as a bachelor, puzzles +me altogether.’ + +‘_Married!_’ I repeated, as various recollections tending to confirm +Mrs. Carolus’s statement floated in upon my mind, and then, a sudden +fear seizing me, I exclaimed: ‘Oh! I hope Miss Markham has not gone into +the Lovetts’ especially to tell them this!’ + +‘I can’t say, Miss Marsh, but she is very full of it, and you know what +Sophy is over a piece of news. But where are you going?’ + +‘Home—home!’ I cried, as I commenced to run up the hill. ‘Don’t try to +detain me. I must get home if I can, and prevent this story reaching +Ange’s ears.’ + +I have no doubt I left Mrs. Carolus in a state of the utmost perplexity +and bewilderment, but I had no time for explanation. All my desire was +to reach Tessie’s side before she had communicated Miss Markham’s news +to her sister. As I raced towards the house, I met Sophy tripping +downwards, but I would not stop even to inquire how much mischief she +had done. I gained the door, panting and breathless, and came upon +Tessie in the _salle_, still more tearful and alarmed than she had been +before. + +‘Oh, Hilda! I am afraid that Ange is worse.’ + +‘How? why? Who has been here?’ + +‘Only Sophy Markham, and she didn’t stay a minute. And she told us the +most wonderful news——’ + +‘Never mind the news! Where did you see her?’ + +‘She came up to Ange’s bedroom! I couldn’t leave her, you know.’ + +‘And she told her wonderful news by that child’s bedside, and Ange heard +every word of it! Oh! Tessie—Tessie! you have killed your sister!’ + + + + +[Illustration: [Fleuron]] + + + CHAPTER X. + BROKEN. + + +It was a hard thing to say to Tessie, who knew nothing of Ange’s love +for Charteris, but it was wrung from me in the extremity of my fear and +pity for the child. + +Tessie naturally demanded an explanation of my words, and then and there +I made a clean breast of it, telling her what I had seen and heard, and +how I had told her father of my discovery, and the unsatisfactory result +of my communication. + +We flew into each other’s arms when the recital was finished, and wept +together over the misery of it all, as it behoved us, like true friends +and sisters, to do. + +‘And now, Tessie!’ I said, as I wiped my streaming eyes, ‘hide nothing +from me. Let me know how much she heard and how she heard it, that we +may be able to judge what is best to do to avert the consequences from +her.’ + +‘I never left her side for a minute,’ sobbed Tessie, ‘but Sophy Markham +pushed her way into the bedroom, and I could not turn her out. Ange was +lying just as you left her, quite still and quiet, with her eyes fixed +upon the ceiling. I whispered her condition to Miss Markham, and +cautioned her to speak in a low voice, and I believe she did so. She was +full of the news of Mr. Charteris turning out to be a married man, and +of the shock it was to her; and how he had spent all his evenings lately +in the billiard-room of the Hôtel d’Etoile, and everybody had remarked +upon his pronounced attentions to herself. She was talking a great deal +of nonsense about wishing she had a brother to bring him to book for his +scandalous behaviour to her, though I don’t believe a word of all that, +you know, Hilda.’ + +‘I should think not, my dear! Cave Charteris may be a villain, but he is +not a fool. But go on. What did Ange say to it all?’ + +‘She never said a word; but as Miss Markham was running on at this rate, +I thought I heard a rustle on the bed, and, turning round, I saw Ange +sitting bolt upright with her eyes fixed upon us. Oh, Hilda! her face +looked dreadful! You would never have forgotten it. It seemed as if her +cheeks and her jaws had suddenly fallen in. I rushed to her side and +laid her down again, and she never uttered a syllable, but only stared +at me with those melancholy wide-open eyes. I hurried Miss Markham out +of the room, although I knew nothing of what you have now told me, and +had no idea that Ange’s appearance was due to anything she had said. Oh! +do you really think it will hurt her?’ + +‘How is she now, Tessie?’ + +‘I think she must be asleep, but I cannot tell. She began to moan so, +that I got frightened, and ran down here to watch for your return.’ + +‘Let us go to her at once; and mind, not a word, even to one another, of +this wretched business. We must hope that Ange did not hear or +understand it, or that, if she did, she may forget it again. It is most +important to keep the news from her till she is stronger. I am afraid +that, at the best, it will prove a terrible blow to her.’ + +We hastened back to the bed-chamber, but there was no apparent change in +our patient. She still lay on her side, staring into vacancy and +occasionally moaning in a low tone to herself. I felt her head and +hands; they were burning hot, and her lips had become dry and cracked. +There was no doubt of it—Ange was in a raging fever, and every hour we +became more alarmed. + +‘What a mistake it is to live such a distance from a doctor!’ I +exclaimed impatiently, as the evening drew on. ‘I wish I had gone into +Artois myself by the diligence this afternoon, or sent Charlie +Sandilands, and got Monsieur Perrin to ride over to-night. Is there no +help nearer at hand, Tessie? Cannot the _petites sœurs_ administer +medicines on an emergency?’ + +‘I never heard of their doing so, Hilda. Monsieur Perrin is their +hospital surgeon. If it were not for the convent, I don’t think we +should get him in St. Pucelle at all.’ + +‘Just listen to her moans!’ I said, in despair. ‘Do ask Madame Marmoret +to bring up another pitcher of spring water, Tessie. We must keep wet +bandages round her head continually. I know of nothing better to do.’ + +With dinner-time came home Cave Charteris from shooting, and hearing the +state of affairs upstairs from Madame Marmoret, he asked to speak to me. +One may fancy the blazing eyes with which I went to meet him. + +‘What do you want?’ I demanded brusquely, as I entered the little +_salle_. + +‘Only to hear how much of this sad account that Madame has given me is +true. Is it really the case that Mr. Lovett has gone to Rille, and Ange +is so ill she can see nobody?’ + +‘Certainly, she can see nobody. She is in a strong fever, and confined +to her bed. Have you anything more to say?’ + +‘Yes! That I am not aware what I have done that you should speak to me +in such an uncourteous manner!’ + +‘Are you not? Then you must have a tougher conscience than even I gave +you credit for.’ + +‘What do you mean, Miss Marsh?’ he inquired. ‘You appear to resent my +taking an ordinary interest in Miss Lovett’s health. If you knew all, +you would see that——’ + +‘I _do_ know all!’ I interrupted him sternly, ‘and a great deal more +than you have any idea of. I know that you are a married man, and that +you had much better be at home with your wife and children than +affecting this interest in a girl who can never be anything to you +_again_.’ + +I put in _again_, that he might see we had already guessed something of +his philandering with poor Ange. + +‘Has _she_ heard of this?’ he asked me quickly, with the colour flaming +in his face. + +‘What is that to you?’ I replied angrily; ‘if you are an honest man, why +should you be ashamed to tell the world that you are a married one? I +refuse to inform you if Ange has heard the truth or not, but you may +rest assured that she will not hear it from you. Her father will be home +to-morrow, and the first thing I shall do will be to caution him to +protect the interests of his daughter!’ + +Something very like an oath passed Mr. Charteris’s lips at this +juncture, but he was at my mercy. + +‘You are shooting very wide of the mark,’ he replied, with an attempt at +nonchalance, ‘and, forgive me for adding, talking of what you know +nothing. I am not in the habit of confiding the details of my domestic +life to everybody I meet in this world, but had the fact of my marriage +been likely to affect Mr. Lovett or his daughters, I should certainly +have announced it. Since you refuse to gratify my curiosity any further, +may I ask to see Miss Lovett?’ + +‘She will not consent to see you,’ I replied, ‘for she is as well aware +as I am of the way in which you have treated her sister.’ + +‘Under these circumstances, I presume that I had better relieve you both +of my presence until Mr. Lovett’s return.’ + +‘You can do as you choose about that,’ I said, as I left him standing +there and took my way upstairs again. + +In another minute he had passed into the street and was on his road, as +I concluded, to the Hôtel d’Etoile, where he had been in the habit of +spending his evenings since Armand had given up playing cards; and +Madame Marmoret informed me that he did not return to the house that +night. + +It was a sad and anxious vigil that we spent beside the bedside of poor +Ange, who, towards the small hours, began to toss her arms and head +about and mutter rapid incoherent words of which we could not catch the +import. + +As morning dawned, she lay more quiet, but the cruel fever still raged +on, and she was very, very weak. + +‘How soon can the doctor arrive, Tessie?’ I inquired, as we met over a +melancholy breakfast at a side-table in the kitchen. ‘When does the +diligence come in?’ + +‘At eleven o’clock, Hilda. It is the only one, you know, so they are +both sure to be with us by that time. What a comfort it will be to have +papa at home once more!’ + +We sat together, anxiously waiting the advent of the diligence, and +scarcely daring to make a surmise as to the probable issue of the +doctor’s verdict on our poor little sister’s case. + +Eleven o’clock struck! Half-past eleven, and then there was a sound of +feet in the _salle_ below. I did not stop to let Madame Marmoret +announce any names, but flew past her on the stairs and into the room. +Neither Monsieur Perrin nor Mr. Lovett awaited me there. The new arrival +was Mr. Warrington. In my astonishment at seeing him, I forgot for a +moment the absence of the others. + +‘Why! Mr. Warrington! You are the last person in the world I expected to +see.’ + +‘And yet I sent Miss Hilda notice of my intended visit,’ he answered, +shaking hands with me. + +‘True! but not of the probable time. However, I am very glad you are +come. If I needed your advice when I wrote to you, I want it tenfold +more now. I am in a sad tangle and perplexity, Mr. Warrington.’ + +‘Sorry to hear that! I must have a long talk with your trustee about +your financial concerns. I have come over for no other purpose. Do you +wish your money to remain invested as it is at present?’ + +‘No, I think not. The fact is, Mr. Warrington, I—I—(I have not told the +Lovetts yet, as it is no concern of theirs) but—I am engaged to be +married.’ + +‘Hallo! That is sharp work, Miss Hilda. Not to a foreigner, I hope!’ + +‘Now, Mr. Warrington, I thought you would be above such vulgar +prejudice. He _is_ a foreigner—Baron Armand de Nesselrode—but he is +better than all the Englishmen put together.’ + +‘Oh! that of course. And do you intend to settle your income upon this +gentlemen, then?’ + +‘I have not decided that yet; but I do want to have it transferred to my +own keeping. And oh! Mr. Warrington, you will have to pay a few debts of +Mr. Lovett’s out of it too, because I promised the poor people I would +be responsible for their money.’ + +At this announcement the solicitor looked grave. + +‘We must speak further on that subject, Miss Hilda. I can do nothing in +a hurry. Where is Mr. Lovett, and how soon shall I be able to see him?’ + +Then I remembered that my guardian ought to have arrived with the doctor +from Rille by the same conveyance as Mr. Warrington had travelled in. + +‘Why, he was at Rille, and didn’t he come with you in the diligence?’ I +exclaimed hastily. ‘An old man with white hair and very blue eyes, and +accompanied by a foreign doctor?’ + +‘No; there were no gentry at all in the diligence. Only a few peasants +and a sister of mercy.’ + +‘What can have delayed them?’ I said, in distress. ‘We are in great +trouble here to-day, Mr. Warrington. The youngest Miss Lovett was taken +ill yesterday, and we have no medical assistance nearer than Rille. I +wrote to her father by last night’s post, begging him to return this +morning and bring a doctor with him, and I cannot imagine what should +have prevented their arrival. What shall we do?’ + +‘Is the case serious, then?’ + +‘I fear it is—very serious!’ + +‘Can I do nothing to help you, Miss Hilda?’ + +‘Nothing, thank you, Mr. Warrington! We can but watch her and wait. Are +you staying at the Etoile?’ + +‘No, at the Cloche. The other looked too noisy for me. I will say +good-bye now, then, as you are busy, and you must let me know as soon as +Mr. Lovett returns.’ + +‘I will—good-bye!’ + +I was so glad to see the last of the dear little man who looked as +dapper as if he had travelled up from London in a sealed envelope, for +my mind was too much occupied to attend to him. As soon as ever his back +was turned, I flew to Tessie to speculate on what unforeseen accident +could possibly have occurred to prevent her father joining us. + +But speculation was of no use. We were utterly helpless. Wringing our +hands would not abate one breath of the dreadful fever that was burning +in Ange’s veins. All we could do was to pray to God. + +Madame Marmoret had spread the news through St. Pucelle, and many a poor +peasant woman came up that afternoon and pleaded for admission, only +just to look upon the face of _petite_ Ange. But I would let no one pass +the threshold of her door, for her delirium was now at its height, and +she talked continually. + +Tessie, who had no stamina, looked worn out with one night’s watching; +and I persuaded her to go to my room and sleep, whilst I sat with her +sister. It was a melancholy task to listen to the poor child’s ravings, +and I had to call up all my dearest thoughts of Armand, and to try and +look steadily forward to the future that was opening for me, in order to +keep my courage up to the sticking-point. + +‘I do not believe it,’ Ange muttered rapidly—‘I do not believe it. I +cannot believe it! He is _not_ married. Well, then, I will ask him +myself. Where is he? At the Hôtel d’Etoile. I will go at once and ask +him. It is but a step. What do my bare feet signify! I do not feel the +stones. I only want to ask Cave if he is married. Yes, yes, I will go at +once!’ and in a moment she was half out of bed, with her fevered feet +upon the floor. + +‘Dear, _dear_ Ange!’ I expostulated with her. ‘Get into bed again! Where +would you go to, my darling? You are not dressed. You cannot leave the +room. You must lie down like a good child and go to sleep.’ + +She stared at me as if I had been a stranger. + +‘Who is it? Why would you keep me? I do not mind the cold. I must go to +the Hôtel d’Etoile. Sophy says he is there every evening, and perhaps he +is waiting for me. He used to be angry sometimes because I did not go to +meet him; but I was afraid papa would hear of it. And papa is so good! +Oh, he is so good! so good! He is like a bright saint from heaven. Do +you believe he would do anybody a wrong? If people tell lies, that is +not his fault. He has a glory round his head. Now it is a rainbow +bridge, stretching right into heaven! Let me climb up it—up—up—up—till +we go through the shining gates together! But there is such a pain in my +head! It dazzles me to look at them.’ + +‘Lie down, my darling Ange! and let me bathe your poor head with this +cold water.’ + +‘Oh, sister Celeste, is it you? I have not finished the priest’s +vestment yet, _ma sœur_. There are so many stitches in it, and the gold +thread sparkles so, it makes my head ache. But I shall finish it soon! +very, very soon! and then dear papa shall pay Cave the hundred and +twenty-five francs he owes him. They will give me all that, will they +not, _ma sœur_—and perhaps more? Yes, yes; I know—you said so; and then +Cave shall have one hundred and twenty-five francs—one hundred and +twenty-five francs—one hundred and twenty-five francs! Oh, don’t ask me +to count them over any more! They shine so, they make my head ache!’ + +So this was the secret of the little maid’s daily visits to the convent. +She had been assisting the nuns in the embroidery orders they executed +for the church, with the intention of paying back to Cave Charteris the +money her father had borrowed from him. + +Sweet, tender, self-denying little heart! Had it broken in the effort to +sacrifice itself? + +‘Oh, Cave!’ she screamed suddenly, as the fever made a fiercer grasp +upon her brain, ‘tell me you are _not_ married! You cannot be! It is +impossible, because you love me so! And you are going to tell papa! You +have promised me that you will tell papa directly you receive that +letter from England. Why can’t you tell him now? Is he busy? Who are +those people in the yard? How fierce and strange their faces look! Do +they want to kill him? Oh, Cave, save my father! save my poor father! +Look at all the wolves round him! Save him from the wolves!’ + +She was becoming so terribly excited, that I was obliged to hold her +down in her bed by main force. + +‘Down, down!’ I heard her mutter. ‘Look at the gold pressing me +down—till I sink into the earth! Napoleons—bright yellow Napoleons! How +nice and cool they feel! but they are very heavy—much too heavy for me! +I am not very old, you see. I was eighteen on the day I had those silver +earrings you like so much—and you are thirty! How can you love me when I +am so much younger than yourself? Yet you do, don’t you? You have sworn +it so many times! Oh yes, yes; I understand. You needn’t be afraid. I +shan’t tell Hilda!’ + +The fever was running so high, and the dear child was becoming so +violent, that I felt desperate. What could I do to quiet her? I had a +bottle of laudanum in my room that I kept in the event of toothache, and +I poured twenty or thirty drops of it in a little water, and gave it her +to drink. + +Rightly or wrongly done, it had the effect of making her doze off for an +hour, during which time I sat with bated breath and folded hands, lest I +should disturb the charm. + +At seven o’clock Tessie crawled into the room again, looking like a +washed-out rag. She seemed as if she wanted almost as much care as her +sister, although I do not believe she at all realised the danger Ange +was in. + +‘Oh, I am so weary!’ were the first words she said to me. + +‘I see you are. Well, look here, Tessie: I am going downstairs now to +make you a good strong cup of coffee, and then I shall lie down till +twelve o’clock, when you must come and call me again.’ + +‘Oh, that won’t be fair, Hilda! You sat up all last night.’ + +‘Never mind! I am stronger than you are, and a few hours’ rest will make +me quite fresh. Ange is sleeping quietly now, and I hope she may +continue to do so. But, at any rate, you are to wake me at twelve.’ + +Notwithstanding my boasted strength, however, I was very glad to close +my eyes in sleep; for to hold a night’s vigil is very trying when one is +unaccustomed to it. But I have always possessed the ability to wake +myself at any given hour. I lay down that evening, expecting to be +roused at midnight: and at midnight I roused myself, without giving any +one the trouble to call me. I waked in the darkness, struck a match, and +perceived the hands of my little clock stood at fifteen minutes past the +hour. + +‘Just like Tessie!’ I thought. ‘She thinks to cheat me into snoring till +six o’clock in the morning. But I am one too many for her!’ + +I lit my candle, slipped on the shoes, which were the only articles of +dress I had disencumbered myself of, and stole noiselessly across the +corridor into the sisters’ room. + +How quietly Ange must be sleeping! There was not a sound but her +breathing to be heard. Surely she must be better! The room was wrapt in +gloom; it was foolish of Tessie not to have procured a lamp. I threw the +light of my taper across the bed. The first thing I perceived was the +form of Tessie, seated on the ground, with her head against the +counterpane, and fast asleep. The words of Scripture flashed across my +mind, ‘Could ye not watch one hour?’ But I excused her. + +‘Poor girl,’ I thought, ‘she is really weak! It is a physical +impossibility for her to keep awake.’ + +The next moment I had thrown my light _upon_ the bed to see how Ange +fared. + +Merciful heavens! _Where was she?_ I rushed up to the couch and pulled +down the clothes impetuously. It was empty—void! + +I glanced round the room: it was in the same condition. _Ange was gone!_ + +‘Tessie, Tessie!’ I exclaimed loudly, as I shook that young lady into +consciousness again. ‘Where is your sister? Where is Ange?’ + +She waked with a start of bewilderment, and became as horrified as +myself. + +‘But she was _here_—she was _here_!’ she kept on repeating. ‘I only went +to sleep for a minute, indeed, Hilda! I left her sleeping safely here.’ + +‘I believe it; but while you slept she has escaped. We must search every +corner of the house at once. Come with me! there is not a moment to +lose!’ + +We rushed from room to room without success. Ange was apparently nowhere +on the premises. I clasped my hands upon my forehead to try and decide +what to do next. Escaped! and in the middle of the night! Where could +she have gone to? Where could she _wish_ to go? I had it! Like an +inspiration the answer came to me: ‘To the Hôtel d’Etoile!’ + +‘Tessie!’ I cried, ‘you must stay here, in case Ange returns. Go and +wake Madame Marmoret to keep you company. And I will go and search for +her in the town.’ + +‘_In the town!_ Oh, Hilda, how could she be in the town? It is +impossible!’ + +‘Find her in the house then!’ I exclaimed, as I ran out of the front +door, which was never fastened, night nor day, and flew down the steep +stony street, in the direction of the Hôtel d’Etoile, as fast as my feet +could carry me. + +It was the principal hotel in the place, and boasted of a billiard-room, +which was on the ground-floor and fronted the street. The young men in +St. Pucelle made this billiard-room their nightly rendezvous: and it was +here that Sophy Markham had averred that Charteris spent all his +evenings. + +Long before I reached it I could see the stream of light which its lamps +threw across the road, and hear the sound of men’s voices, laughing and +talking together, and the click of the billiard-balls cannoning each +other on the table. I felt sure it was here that Ange’s delirious fancy +would lead her, and I was right. As I arrived opposite the open window +of the billiard-room, I caught sight of a dark figure half hidden in the +shadow of the wall, and springing towards it, I clasped her in my +arms—Ange, with only her black dress covering her nightgown, her +bronze-coloured hair floating over her shoulders, and her poor naked +feet upon the ground. + +‘Ange! Ange! my darling!’ I exclaimed, as I folded her to my heart. +‘Come back! Come home with me! You will be so ill if you remain here!’ + +‘_Hush! Hark!_’ she said, with such wide-open, fixed and solemn eyes, +and in such a tone of awe, that I felt constrained to obey her. + +There were perhaps a dozen men or more, knocking the billiard-balls +about and filling the atmosphere with smoke, but Cave Charteris’s voice +was to be distinguished above them all. + +‘Reckless old dog, that _Papa_ Lovett,’ I heard him say. ‘He’s a regular +out-and-out swindler! I’ve lent him more cash myself since I’ve been +here than his whole carcase would pay for, but I knew I should never see +the colour of it again when I parted with it.’ + +‘Took the change out in other ways, I suppose, _mon cher_?’ suggested a +foreigner. ‘The _bon papa_ has two pretty daughters, _n’est ce pas_? and +it is said you have evinced a decided predilection for the little one.’ + +‘_Ah! fi donc_, monsieur!’ cried Charteris, jestingly; ‘don’t make +profane remarks! I am a married man! and other men’s pretty daughters +are of no further use to me.’ + +‘_Vraiment!_ I shouldn’t have thought it!’ rejoined the other, +incredulously. + +I had felt the slight form in my clasp shiver under these words, as if +it had been struck, and I could bear it no longer. + +‘Ange!’ I exclaimed vehemently, ‘you _must_ come home! this is no place +for you! and you will catch your death of cold if you remain here any +longer. I _insist_ upon your returning with me!’ + +But there was no answer to my appeal, only the form I held seemed to +sink lower and lower, until I could support it no longer. + +‘Ange! Ange!’ I went on in terror, ‘try and hold yourself up, or I must +call for assistance. I cannot carry you. Oh, darling! make one effort +and let me get you home!’ + +Still she sunk down—down—heavier each moment in my arms. + +‘Mr. Charteris!’ I screamed in my alarm; ‘Mr. Charteris! Come here! Come +at once—Ange is dying!’ + +There was a sudden commotion in the billiard-room as my voice reached +its occupants—a few exclamations of surprise—a cessation of sound—and +then Cave Charteris came flying through the open window to my aid. + +‘Hold her up!’ I panted; ‘I have no strength left! She escaped from us +in her delirium, and I must have her carried home at once.’ + +He seized the little figure from me and laid the head against his arm. +The light from the billiard-room streamed over her pallid face: her +violet eyes were closed and sunken: there was a grey shade about the +mouth that was not to be mistaken. + +‘Ange! Ange! speak to me!’ I cried, in my anguish and dismay. + +‘Ange! _petite_ Ange! say you forgive me,’ chimed in the deeper tones of +Cave Charteris’s voice. + +At that sound she opened her eyes, very, very slowly, as if the action +gave her pain, and fixed them upon his. I saw the words, ‘I _forgive_,’ +tremble upon the quivering lips, which closed again and then fell open +as her spirit passed away upon the wings of Night! + + * * * * * + +I feel that no description I can append to this simple recital can +increase its pathos. Ange died—just as I have told you—and I never +looked upon the face of Cave Charteris after that night. I never wish to +look upon it. He ranks in my memory as one of the worst men I ever met. + +Mr. Lovett arrived home on the next day, with the doctor in his train, +when _petite_ Ange was lying stretched and still upon her bed, with her +waxen hands filled with the autumn flowers the poor of St. Pucelle had +placed in them. Her father’s grief was naturally very violent—such +saintly mourners usually mourn noisily. Yet he had not considered his +child’s illness of sufficient importance to oblige him to give up a +dinner at Rille, which he had been pledged to attend on the previous +day. + +I almost wondered, as I watched him bury her in the little strip of +ground appropriated to those of her faith, in the Abbé Morteville’s +cemetery, that he did not fall headlong on the coffin and denounce +himself as Ange’s murderer. But no such idea ever entered his venerable +head. He lived for several years afterwards, to talk of virtue and +practice vice, and when he died, his creditors howled like hungry wolves +above his grave, and had to recoup themselves by abusing him for the +rest of their lives. Some few got their money—those to whom I had +promised it in the courtyard—but their demands were but as a drop in the +ocean. Mr. Warrington’s advent in St. Pucelle was a terrible blow to Mr. +Lovett, especially when his legal research on my behalf resulted in the +discovery that a large portion of my little patrimony had been wasted or +spent. But I would not let him prosecute my guardian, for Tessie’s sake. +I felt that she had sorrows enough to bear, poor girl, without this open +disgrace being added to them. By the time that Mr. Lovett died, my +Armand’s term of probation in Algiers was ended, and he had got his own +again, so I made Tessie come and live with us. + +That was a happy period. It was so delightful to watch the roses return +to her cheeks, and the roundness to her form, and to feel that the +saddest part of her life was over, and she was free to choose her future +destiny. But we did not keep her with us long. In Paris that was hardly +to be expected! Every one prophesied she would marry a foreigner, yet +she married—— + +Stay! Armand and I are going over next week to England, to spend a whole +month in Norwood, with my dear old friend Mrs. Sandilands, to whom I am +very anxious to introduce my husband and my son, Godefroi de +Nesselrode—who is already seven years old. + +And Charlie, dear old boy! is anticipating our arrival as if he were +still my mother’s ‘blue-eyed baby’ of twenty-two, instead of a sober +citizen of thirty, because he wants me, not to be introduced to, but to +renew my acquaintance with, _his wife_—Mrs. Sandilands Number Two—my +dear friend Tessie! + +It all came about as naturally as possible, although it sounds so +romantic, for Charlie came to stay with us in Paris, and popped the +question to her there, without even asking my advice upon the subject, +and took her home with him to be his mother’s eldest daughter! + + * * * * * + +So they all lived happy ever afterwards. Yes, that is true—strictly and +literally true—because they were not such fools as to expect, or wish +for, unalloyed happiness in this world of shadow. They had been hungry, +and they were filled—they had been naked, and they were clothed—they had +suffered, sometimes very acutely—and they were loved and looked after, +and guarded by good and true men, and would have been ingrates as well +as fools, not to recognise how much more fortunate they were than many +of their fellows. + +But there is one dark passage in Tessie’s life and mine which we shall +never forget—the night that Ange’s spirit spread its wings and flew away +from us. Sometimes I wonder, when Armand is more than usually tender to +me, or little Godefroi more than usually good, if _she_ is hovering +round us who are so happy, and rejoices because we rejoice. Or does she +stand by Cave Charteris’s side, for the sake of the love she bore him, +to urge him on to better thoughts and a higher career? Or is she +wandering through the Elysian fields with the old father whom she +believed in so faithfully, until his blazoned disgrace snapped her +tender heartstrings! + +Who can tell me? No parson, no priest, no book! Nothing but the great +mystery that bore her from us—the solver of all our doubts, the cure for +all our sorrows: Death! + +Let us thank God that amidst the troubles He ordained for this earthly +pilgrimage, He left us a sure and certain remedy that cannot fail to +come to every one at last! + +Ange and Tessie and I shall walk together once more, through flowery +paths, more beautiful than those in St. Pucelle, and talk of everything +that may have befallen us since we last parted! And my mother—my +unforgotten, lamented mother, shall smile on us there, and bid us +welcome. Reader! do you not believe it? + +Then, I pity you! Farewell! + + + THE END. + + + BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + Page Changed from Changed to + + 227 leaned against the courtyard leaned against the courtyard + wall, fencing off wall, fending off + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76781 *** diff --git a/76781-h/76781-h.htm b/76781-h/76781-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16a477f --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/76781-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7142 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + <head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title>A Broken Blossom, Vol. 3 of 3 | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } + h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; 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page-break-before: always; } + body {font-family: Garamond, Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; } + table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; + clear: both; } + div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; } + div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } + .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; + page-break-before: always; } + .blackletter {font-family: 'Old English Text MT', serif; font-weight:bold; + font-style: normal; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76781 ***</div> + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div> + <h1 class='c001'>A BROKEN BLOSSOM.</h1> +</div> +<p class='c002'><span class='xlarge'><span class='blackletter'>A Novel.</span></span></p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='large'>FLORENCE MARRYAT,</span></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF “LOVE’S CONFLICT,” ETC., ETC., ETC.</span></div> + <div class='c004'>IN THREE VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c004'>VOL. III.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id001'> +<img src='images/title_page.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='blackletter'>London:</span></div> + <div class='c004'><span class='large'>SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO.,</span></div> + <div class='c004'>10, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND.</div> + <div class='c004'>1879.</div> + <div class='c004'><span class='small'>[<em>All Rights Reserved.</em>]</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<img src='images/i_toc.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS OF VOL. III.</h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c006'>CHAPTER</th> + <th class='c007'> </th> + <th class='c008'>PAGE</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>I.</td> + <td class='c007'>A LITTLE QUARREL</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>II.</td> + <td class='c007'>MR. CHARTERIS</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>III.</td> + <td class='c007'>THE WOLF</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>IV.</td> + <td class='c007'>THE BARON’S STORY</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_77'>77</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>V.</td> + <td class='c007'>THE BLACK CLOUD</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>VI.</td> + <td class='c007'>SALLE DU SABBAT</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_145'>145</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>VII.</td> + <td class='c007'>MASTER FRED</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_171'>171</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c007'>ACCEPTED</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_201'>201</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>IX.</td> + <td class='c007'>THE DEATH-BLOW</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_225'>225</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'>X.</td> + <td class='c007'>BROKEN</td> + <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_253'>253</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> +<img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c009'> + <div><span class='xxlarge'>A BROKEN BLOSSOM.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I.<br> <span class='c010'>A LITTLE QUARREL.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>St. Pucelle never looked more beautiful +than it did on the day that I took that walk +with Charlie Sandilands. The summer +glories, yet unfaded, had been overtaken +by those of autumn, and the rich clusters of +purple grapes that hung upon the walls of +my guardian’s house made a brilliant contrast +to the scarlet and white and rose-coloured +geraniums that still bloomed luxuriantly on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>the window-sills. The purple heather reigned +alone upon the hill-side, but ferns of various +sorts were arching their graceful fronds +above it, and the merry brown hares were +leaping amongst the brushwood and filling +the place with life. As I led Charlie up the +hill (for I would not let Tessie’s silly remark +deter me from showing him the glorious +expanse of scenery to be gained from the +summit) I pointed out the beauties of the +country to him with so much interest as to +excite the remark that I appeared entirely +to have forgotten poor old Norwood in my +new love for St. Pucelle.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was exactly the sort of thing I had +hoped Charlie would say to me, for I had +had two reasons in inviting him to a confidential +interview: one was to ask his advice +about writing to Mr. Warrington; the other +to find out if he intended to be sensible during +his stay in our neighbourhood, and permit +<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>me to enjoy his company without being annoyed +by his sentimentality. So I answered +briskly:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I never cared for Norwood itself, you +know, Charlie, and you would scarcely +expect me to get up an enthusiastic admiration +for a suburb of London, composed of +bricks and mortar and stunted trees. Its +recollections are sacred to me, because my +dear mother lies there, but that is all.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I was sure that coming abroad would +give you a distaste for all the old things,’ he +said, in a desponding manner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Don’t talk rubbish, Charlie! You were +sure of no such thing! If you ask me if I +was happy at Norwood, I answer “<em>yes</em>” most +fervently. If you ask me if I liked the place +as a residence, I answer, as fervently, “<em>no</em>.” +I should have been happy with my mother in +St. Giles’s; but I should not have admired the +locality.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>‘Ah well! Let us return to St. Pucelle,’ +he said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No! I refuse to return to St. Pucelle +until I have spoken a few words to you. Do +you mean to enjoy your holiday here, Charlie, +and to let me enjoy it, or not?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t understand what you’re driving at.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I’m driving at you, or rather at that +receptacle for nonsense you call your brain. +Now you know I am very fond of you, +Charlie, and have been for years. You are +so associated with my darling mother, that +you seem like a link with the past to me; +and I should like to treat you like a younger +brother, and to feel that you looked upon me +as a sister. But that can never be whilst +you attempt to stuff any of your sentiment +down my throat.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Really, Hilda——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Really, Charlie, please to hear me out +first, and have your say afterwards. If I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>thought that what you told me at Norwood +proceeded from a feeling such as men conceive +in their maturity, and preserve for their +whole lives, I should not dare broach the +subject to you again. But I am sure it did +not.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You imagine, in fact, that I am such a +<em>boy</em>,’ with a withering accent on the word, +‘that I am incapable of a lasting passion.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Just so! That is just what I do think; +at least, I am sure the fancy you took for me +was born entirely of association and compassion.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I confess I do not follow you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes, you do! There are several +kinds of love, Charlie, but only one is the +right one with which to enter upon a partnership +for life. You had known me for so +long: you had become so <em>used</em> to me, in fact, +that when you thought of our separation, and +under such melancholy circumstances, the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>pain seemed too hard to bear, and your mind +flew to the only means by which you could +have kept me with you. I have often and +often thought of it since, and I am sure I am +right. It was very good and sweet and true +of you, Charlie, and I love you the better for +it, but you should thank God I was more +clear-sighted than yourself, for we should +have been a very miserable couple.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Do you think so, Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am <em>sure</em> of it! My dear boy, you are +just at that age when men think they can +live happily with any woman who is young +and passably good-tempered and passably +good-looking. But the daily companionship +of a married life is a terrible crucible through +which to pass the affections, and only the true +ore will bear the test of it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I suppose you have found the “true ore” +in St. Pucelle,’ he grumbled.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Don’t be impudent, Charlie! Every word +<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>you say convinces me more and more of the +truth of my conviction. Now do be reasonable, +my dear child——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I won’t be called your “dear child.”’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My dear boy, then.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nor your “dear boy.”’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What then, my dear Mr. Sandilands? +Oh, you baby! If you were fifty-two instead +of twenty-two, you would be skipping with +pleasure at being called a child. However, +I will try not to hurt your feelings again. I +won’t call you “dear” at all.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, Hilda! don’t say that.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Confess, then, that you made a mistake +the other day at Norwood, and that I, with +my independent spirit and intolerance of +control, would never have made you happy +in the way you wished me to do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I will confess no such thing!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But your heart is not broken, Charlie. +Come!’ I said, looking round into his face.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>He caught my glance and smiled.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Eureka!’ I exclaimed; ‘I knew I should +get at the truth at last.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well! of course it’s not <em>broken</em>,’ he +replied, in a foolish, half-shamed manner; +‘or I shouldn’t be walking here, but you +made me very miserable, you know, Hilda! +I am sure I hardly ate anything for a month +after you left. But you had said it was of no +use, and you never should change your mind, +and so I tried to make the best of it. A man +cannot go on crying over spilt milk for ever, +can he?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Of course not,’ I said energetically; ‘and +it is so brave and nice of you to tell me the +truth, Charlie. It makes me feel we shall be +such real friends henceforward. And I want +your friendship so much. I should have +been unhappy to think that you had put it out +of my power to confide in you; for things are +not quite so straight here as they ought to be.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>‘What! with the Lovetts! Aren’t they +kind to you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘The girls are sweetness itself. I never +had more lovable companions.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘The one I saw first seemed very jolly; +the pretty one, I mean!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What, Tessie? the one with fair hair?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! we call little Ange the beauty! Her +face is perfectly lovely when you look +into it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I didn’t see so much of her. She kept +right behind her sister. But Miss Lovett +appeared the prettiest girl I had ever seen, to +me—except yourself, Hilda, of course,’ added +Charlie, pulling himself up with a sudden +recollection of the proprieties.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I laughed so heartily that I entirely discomposed +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Charlie! you have not half learned +your lesson yet! I know I’m a very pretty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>girl, because you’ve so often told me so; but +I do not expect nor wish that you should +never meet somebody you think much better-looking +than myself. And Tessie Lovett +and I are formed upon two such entirely +opposite models! How could you think my +wounded vanity would require that little +postscript of yours as salve?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I’ll tell you what I <em>do</em> think, Hilda,’ said +Charlie, with sudden bluntness, ‘and that is, +that you are the most honest and straightforward +woman I’ve ever known; and I’m +sure the man who gets you will be an out-and-out +lucky fellow, whoever he may +be.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, never mind him, Charlie; he has +not appeared upon the scene as yet, so we +can go on very well without him. Tessie +has, as you say, a very sweet and pretty face, +and the goodness of her heart shines through +her eyes and makes it beautiful. She has a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>great deal of trouble and anxiety to bear, and +she bears it with the utmost meekness and +patience. I have a great affection for her, +and I hope I shall live to see her the wife of +some good man whose love will make up for +the sorrows of her youth. And as this brings +me to the very point on which I want to +consult you, Charlie, suppose we sit down +on this bank whilst I tell you my difficulties.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We had reached the Calvary now, the +very place where I had first met the Mère +Fromard, and were as much alone and more +secure from listeners than if we had been shut +up within four walls. So I commenced to +recount the perplexity in which I found myself +with regard to money—the attempts I +had made to procure it and the failures that +had succeeded them—and ended by asking +him to tell me whether it would be advisable +to communicate with Mr. Warrington on the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>subject, or to wait and see what time might +bring me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had called Charlie Sandilands a ‘baby,’ +and in some things a young man in love, or +supposing himself to be so, is a very great +baby compared to an energetic and helpful +woman with all her wits about her. Yet I +knew when it came to a question of business, +<em>pur et simple</em>, that his decision would be +worth twenty of mine, being less likely to be +actuated by any other feeling than a desire to +see justice done to his friend. His advice +was that I should write without any delay to +Mr. Warrington, and tell him all I knew.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Who had the management of your +mother’s affairs during her lifetime, Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Lovett entirely, I believe; at least, +you see it was on this wise, Charlie. My +mother had a small pension granted to her +by Government, on account of my father’s +scientific discoveries being adopted by the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>nation, but that dies with her. The only +real property my father left behind him consists +of shares in a tea-raising company in +the Himalayas, producing annually one +hundred and fifty pounds, and that is the +money for which Mr. Lovett is still trustee +for me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But there should be two trustees, +Hilda.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There were two, I think; but the other +one died, and mamma never appointed a successor +to him. Mr. Warrington mentioned +something about it to me, I remember, but I +forgot it again. Will you be the other +trustee, Charlie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should like to be so very much, but I +cannot say if I am fitted for such a post. +You had better ask Warrington. Used Mr. +Lovett to send you mamma the interest of +these shares regularly?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t think he did, of late years; but it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>always came eventually, or we should not +have been able to live. It seems very +strange, though, that now he should be unable +to lay his hand on a few pounds for me, +does it not?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t like it at all, Hilda, and I wish +you would write to Warrington about it by +this night’s post.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Suppose my letter should bring him over +here?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘All the better if it is necessary! You may +be sure he will not come unless he considers +it so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I shall tell him with twice the confidence +now that I have had your advice, Charlie. I +was so very undecided whether to write to +him or your mother. In fact, I had begun a +letter to Mrs. Sandilands when you arrived.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mother couldn’t have advised you on her +own responsibility. It isn’t a matter for a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>woman’s decision—nor for a man’s, except he +be a lawyer. I hope Warrington may ask +you to sell out your shares and invest them +in something else. I don’t like tea; it’s so +very uncertain. A rainy season—or a dry +one—might deprive you of half your income.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That would be awkward! But I confess +to an entire and appalling ignorance concerning +shares and selling out and all that +kind of thing. I am afraid I did not even +know where the money came from till Mr. +Warrington told me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That is not like your usual sense, Hilda; +and since it is all you have to depend upon, I +should think the sooner you made yourself +acquainted with its source and securities the +better.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, I feel I have been foolish. There is +another thing, Charlie. Do you think I +could get my money into my own hands? +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>Mr. Warrington promised me I should be +quite independent, and I should feel so much +more so if I paid Mr. Lovett what we agreed +upon, instead of having it kept back from me +like a child.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should say it would be not only feasible +but right that you should manage your own +income. I don’t think you have been treated +at all fairly, Hilda, and I have not conceived +a very high idea of your reverend guardian +in consequence.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You had better wait till you see him and +judge for yourself, Charlie. You know the +old adage, “What is one man’s meat is +another man’s poison.” I may have been +viewing the old gentleman through distorted +lenses. But I fear the rosiest glasses would +never make him look a saint to me again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Who’s that foreign-looking chap staring +at you, Hilda?’ interposed Charlie, abruptly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I followed his glance and encountered the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>graceful form of the Baron de Nesselrode. +He was attired in a velveteen shooting-suit +of a golden-brown hue; had a game-bag +slung across his shoulder, and carried a gun +in his hand. Following at his heels were +several dogs, amongst which the two gaunt +wolf-hounds that we had seen at the château +contributed to form a most picturesque +group.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As the Baron met my gaze, he smiled +slightly, lifted his <em>sombrero</em>, and with a low +bow passed on his way. But not before I +had caught the look of decided dissatisfaction +he threw towards my companion, who was +sitting very close to me upon the bank. The +look annoyed me, though I scarcely knew +why. I certainly did not wish Monsieur de +Nesselrode nor anybody else in St. Pucelle +to think I was indulging in a flirtation with +Charlie Sandilands, but at the same time I +liked him too well to see any slight cast upon +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>him without inwardly resenting it. So a +blight fell on my spirits as the Baron passed +out of sight.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Who is he? do you know him?’ asked +Charlie, as soon as we were alone +again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Of course I know him, or I should not +have returned his bow. That is the Baron de +Nesselrode—a great friend of all the Lovetts—and +a particular one of Tessie’s.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘A particular friend of Miss Lovett’s!’ +repeated my companion. ‘How do you +mean?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I mean what I say; and I hope and +think that at some future time he will be +more than a friend to her. They would make +a charming couple, for he is so thoroughly +well-bred and courtier-like, and she has been +reared in the atmosphere of a Court, although +her father is now too poor to permit them to +mix in society.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>‘Do you mean that he’ll marry her?’ demanded +Charlie, who was rather dull of comprehension.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What else do you suppose I could mean? +Nothing is settled, remember; but the Baron +wants a wife terribly, and Tessie is so sweet, +I think she would love anybody who was +kind to her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, I should have thought she could +do a deal better than that for herself.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This disparaging remark was a signal-match +for my bad temper, and I fired up +immediately.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What a commonplace manner you have +of expressing your ideas, Charlie. Besides, +you do not know what you’re talking about. +Monsieur de Nesselrode belongs to one of +the first and oldest families of France. His +ancestors have been barons by feudal right +ever since the days of Charlemagne; and if +it were not that he had been a little wild and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>careless of his money, you would not have +seen him in a place like St. Pucelle at all. +The Château des Roses, which he occupies +here, is the least important portion of his +estates. He possesses land in Switzerland, +and Normandy, and Anjou, and is the owner +of extensive house property in Paris. The +De Nesselrodes have been attached to the +King’s service ever since one of their ancestors +saved a royal life. I believe you would +not find better blood in all France than runs +in the veins of the gentleman who has just +passed us.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, you seem to know all about him, at +any rate, Hilda,’ replied Charlie, when want +of breath compelled me to stop my running +commentary on the Baron’s pedigree. ‘I +dare say it’s all true, but his title and estates +don’t alter my opinion one bit. I should still +think Miss Lovett a great deal too good for +him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>‘But why? He is very handsome and +accomplished, and you know nothing against +his character?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘He’s a Frenchman! that’s quite enough for +me,’ said Charlie, with beautiful British depreciation +of everybody who did not belong to the +same nation as himself. ‘And an English +girl must be too good for him, if he’s a lord +or a costermonger.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What absurd prejudice!’ I replied, with a +curling lip; ‘and I should have credited you +with more good taste than to speak of a noble +of France in that way.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Noble of fiddlesticks! Does he ever +wash himself, that’s the question, Hilda? +I don’t believe any of these foreigners do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why don’t you call him a “frog” at once, +or a “Johnny Crapeau”?’ I returned witheringly. +‘It would be about as brilliant and as +much in accordance with modern enlightenment +as what you are saying now. I declare +<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>you put me out of all patience. And to think, +too, that a man like Armand de Nesselrode +should have been laid open, by his own +folly, to the animadversions of a—a—Somerset +House clerk!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hullo, Hilda! are you really angry with +me? Why, what is this fellow to you, even if +he should be going to marry the pretty Miss +Lovett?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tessie is my friend, Charlie, and if she +ever becomes the Baronne de Nesselrode, +her husband will be my friend also. You +can judge for yourself, then, if it is very +pleasant for me to sit by and hear you talk +in that way of him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You must have enough to do if you take +up the cudgels for all your friends’ friends after +this fashion. However, I am very sorry if I +have offended you, Hilda, and I will try and +believe that your fine Baron <em>does</em> wash himself, +if it pleases you I should do so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>‘Please not to mention the subject again; +it disgusts me,’ I said loftily, as I rose from +my seat and commenced to descend the +hill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Poor Charlie walked by my side in silence +till we had got nearly half-way home, when +he said:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You’re not cross with me still, are you, +Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have no right to be cross, but you disappoint +me. Are these old prejudices never +to be done away with, and the two finest +nations in the world to meet on terms of perfect +amity and mutual esteem? The greater +intellects of earth have abandoned them long +since, and it is lowering to one’s conceptions +of human generosity to find they still linger +in the breasts of one’s intimate friends. +Why, I suppose, in the whole course of your +life, you have never associated with so intellectual +and highly-bred a man as Monsieur +<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>de Nesselrode; indeed, I am <em>sure</em> you have +not. Men like himself are not to be met +with in the purlieus of Somerset House, or +amongst the “snobbery” of London suburbs. +And yet you think you have a right to laugh +at him, simply because he is not an Englishman. +You make me hate British patriotism! +Displayed in this fashion, it is vulgar, offensive, +coarse! You would receive more +politeness and appreciation yourself from the +commonest labourer you met on these +country roads than you have accorded to-day +to Monsieur de Nesselrode.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hilda, I’m awfully sorry! I had no idea +you thought so much of this chap as all +that.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This insinuation nettled me still further.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I wish to goodness you wouldn’t call him +a “chap”—your cockneyisms grate on my +ears like a file,’ I said angrily. ‘Please to remember +that for the last three months I have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>been unused to hear the elegancies of the +English language.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This put a summary end to all conversation +between us until we reached the Lovetts’ +house, when Charlie timidly offered me his +hand, and said he supposed he had better go +back to the hotel.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Good-bye,’ I answered curtly, without any +comment on his remark, and the poor young +fellow turned away and walked down the +street with a very crestfallen air.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I think I was a little <em>too</em> hard upon him, +but the conviction did not strike me until +some hours afterwards. I don’t remember +feeling at all penitent until I went to bed +that night, and then, on reviewing the day’s +proceedings, I was not only sorry but surprised +to think that I should have quarrelled +with Charlie Sandilands, and for the first +time in the course of our long acquaintanceship.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>Why was it? What could have made +me so quick and peppery? It could never +have been a foolish disappointment because +Armand de Nesselrode had passed me without +speaking. As that thought struck me I buried +my burning face in the pillows for shame, and +resolved that I would apologise to dear old +Charlie, and make it up with him again the +very first thing in the morning.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span> +<img src='images/i027.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II.<br> <span class='c010'>MR. CHARTERIS.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>I hoped all the next day that Charlie would +come, but he didn’t. My rough speech had +hurt his feelings too much, and I heard afterwards +that he wandered about the country in +a melancholy mood, from sunrise to sunset, +making fierce resolutions to return home by +the very next opportunity, which, of course, +never came to anything.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I sat indoors all the morning,inditing my +letter to Mr. Warrington, in which I told him +exactly what had occurred, and begged him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>to let me have the management of my money +in my own hands. I gave him a most faithful +account of torn dresses, worn-out gloves, +and shabby bonnets, and assured him that +the very stamp I used to convey my wishes +to him, I should not have been able to procure, +had I not found a few centimes lying +on the mantelpiece in the <i><span lang="fr">salle à manger</span></i>, +and annexed them boldly, under Mr. Lovett’s +own eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Having finished my epistle I put it in my +pocket, ready for the post, and went downstairs +to join the girls. As I passed through +the kitchen, I saw Madame Marmoret leaning +her two elbows on the open window-sill, +whilst she talked with the same tradesman, in +the peaked cap and the belted blue blouse, +who had drawn my trustee aside for a private +conference as he was conducting me from the +diligence to the house, on the occasion of my +arrival in St. Pucelle.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>‘<em>Tiens</em>, m’sieu!’ she was saying in a +friendly and confidential tone, as I placed my +foot on the top step of the stairs. ‘You are +not worse off than I am: we must wait, wait, +wait! There is no other chance for us. The +time cannot be far off now. Sooner or later +it must come.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But what will there be for us when it <em>does</em> +come?’ grumbled the man; ‘that is the question, +Madame! I heard a great deal of this +demoiselle Anglaise and all the money she +was to bring with her, but where is it? +I should like to see some in my hand, were it +ever so little.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Bah! you are a fool to have believed the +old man. You know him of old. What would +he not say to silence your importunities? The +demoiselle Anglaise has nothing—next to +nothing! She is a pauper, <em>une avare</em>, and +close-fisted as a German; and the sooner she +goes back to her own country, I say, the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>better! We shall make nothing out of +her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was a pleasant speech to overhear +made of myself by an insolent old woman +who chose to resent her master’s impecuniosity +upon me. But I resolved Madame +should know that I <em>had</em> overheard it, and +stamped my foot in consequence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Tiens!</em> there is some one,’ exclaimed the +man, drawing backwards.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Madame turned her brown face with its +wicked-looking eyes towards me without +altering the position of her elbows on the +window-sill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Eh bien</em>, mamselle!’ she said, without the +slightest appearance of confusion. ‘You +have a light foot! I hope your heart corresponds +to it!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Thank you, Madame!’ I replied, in the +same manner. ‘I have a light step I believe, +and a quick ear, and a retentive memory. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>You will never find me forget one compliment +you are kind enough to pay me!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That is well,’ she laughed, as though she +took my words in perfect good faith, ‘for I +am very poor, you see, and any little remembrance +mamselle sees fit to bestow upon me +will be gratefully acknowledged.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Really, this woman’s insolence was past +bearing! That, and the conversation I had +overheard, which so plainly betrayed what +use my arrival at St. Pucelle had been put to, +made my cheeks flame with indignation, and +I walked past her to the sitting-room with +the air of a queen. I had expected to find +Tessie and Ange there, engaged in needlework, +but I was mistaken. Except for Cave +Charteris, sitting in the window reading a +French novel, the room was empty.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I have already attempted to describe the +terms on which I found myself with this +gentleman, but they are not easy of portraiture. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>We were perfectly friendly and +polite to one another, but he was already +more intimate and confidential with the girls +than with myself. The new acquaintanceship +appeared to be terribly kept back by the +remembrance of the old friendship, and the +mutual fear we secretly entertained, lest a free +intercourse might lead to some allusion to +the past, deterred us from ever seeking the +company of one another.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Confidence was at an end between us, and +ease had followed it. I liked him still—thought +him very handsome—and wished +him no evil, but there my interest ended. +The advice which I had sought from Charlie +Sandilands, and which could have been so +much better accorded me by a man of thirty, +I had never dreamed of asking at the hands +of Cave Charteris. I should have left the +room again now, not directly I perceived he +was in it, but at the first reasonable opportunity, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>had he not deterred me by broaching +the very subject that had set my face in a +flame.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There appears to be a very animated +conversation going on in the kitchen, Miss +Marsh,’ he commenced. ‘Is anything wrong +there?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nothing worse than the tongue of +Madame Marmoret, which is a continual +scourge,’ I answered hotly. ‘The impertinence +of that woman knows no bounds. +How the Lovetts can endure it as they +do, I can’t imagine; but for my own +part I shall be compelled to make a +formal complaint on the subject, if it is not +put a stop to. I have not been accustomed +to be insulted by servants, and I will not +submit to it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Has she dared to insult you?’ he asked +quickly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then I remembered the exact bearing of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>the affront I had overheard, and wished I +had not mentioned it. Of all people in the +world, I would not have told Mr. Charteris +my money troubles. He might have offered +to assist me out of them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I overheard part of the conversation you +have alluded to, and it was not complimentary +to myself. Madame Marmoret hates me and +says so openly, though I am not aware I +have ever given her cause of offence. It is +nothing to me what she thinks or does not +think, but I will not suffer it to be bawled out +of a kitchen window loud enough for the +whole of St. Pucelle to hear.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should think not, indeed! You should +speak to Mr. Lovett about it. Hilda, are +you happy here?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I started. It was the first time he had +called me by my Christian name since the +moment he recognised me in the <i><span lang="fr">salle à +manger</span></i>.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>‘Yes,’ I answered quietly. ‘I am quite +happy, thank you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I do not know, of course, anything of +your private affairs, neither have I the right +to ask, but I don’t consider things are as +comfortable here as they ought to be. I am +only on a shooting excursion myself, and +prepared to live “in the rough,” but even I +could wish for a few more of the luxuries of +civilisation. Mr. Lovett calls you his +adopted daughter, still——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am not his adopted daughter,’ I interrupted +quickly, ‘nor have I any desire to be +so. I do not know what motive he has in +saying it. I pay for my board and lodging +here, just as you do. Mr. Lovett offered me +the home, after my mother’s death, and I +accepted it, for the sake of rest and quiet. +But I do not at all know how long I shall +remain with them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is it so? The old gentleman made me +<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>understand quite differently. But I am very +glad to hear you are independent, Hilda. +Forgive me for being so bold as to say so; +but I know of old what a proud spirit you +have, and can imagine nothing more galling +to you than to eat the bread of charity.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nothing would have induced me to do so. +I would have scrubbed floors first.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am sure of it. Neither does our reverend +friend appear to me to be in a position +to extend hospitality to his friends. I have +been assailed more than once since my +sojourn here, by people entreating me to use +my influence with him to make him pay what +he owes them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Have you really, Mr. Charteris!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was a subject on which I felt I <em>could</em> +speak with him—on which, too, he might +give me some valuable advice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, it is no secret! The old man is in +debt all over this town and a dozen others. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>I knew that before I had been here a week. +But it is no concern of ours. All we have to +do is to pay our way as long as it suits our +convenience, and to leave him when it ceases +to do so. But the old sinner has contrived +to book me for the next two months, anyway!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How so?’ I demanded, with interest.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, the second or third day I was here—before +I knew all this, you know—he asked +me, as a great favour, to advance him fifty +pounds—for something that he wanted on +<em>your</em> account, I believe.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘On <em>my</em> account!’ I cried, flaring up. +‘How <em>dared</em> he? Oh, Mr. Charteris, I hope +you will believe this is perfect news to me! +I owe Mr. Lovett nothing. He is my +trustee, and has all my money in his own +hands. It was shameful of him to use my +name in the matter!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Now, don’t agitate yourself in that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>fashion. I knew at once it was a ruse of the +old boy’s, but it was not my business to say +so, and it made no difference to me if he had +the money in advance or not.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And you paid him fifty pounds for two +months’ board!’ I said incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Something like it. I believe the agreement +was that I should pay five pounds a +week.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>At this I could not help laughing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You must be very rich to be able to afford +to throw your money away in that way.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am not poor,’ he answered slowly; and +I wondered where his money had come +from.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had not been independent in the old +days—far from it; for he had often talked to +me of the necessity of his working to provide +a home before he could take a wife to himself. +Perhaps his father had died in the silent +interim that stretched between the present +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>and the past. Before I quite knew what I +was about, I had asked the question:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is your father alive still?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes. Why do you ask?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know. Merely for the sake of +talking, I suppose. I am not above that +womanly weakness.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have thought, since I have been here, +that you had got altogether above it. It +seems as if I had hardly heard your voice: +you are so unusually silent and reserved.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have had a great sorrow, you must +remember, Mr. Charteris, and I cannot yet +laugh and talk as I used to do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah, how you used to laugh in the old +days! I fancy I can hear you now! Hilda, +do you ever think of that time, and of the +hours we spent wandering up and down the +Crystal Palace Gardens together? How +beautiful those gardens were! They have +nothing like them abroad, unless we except +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>the grounds at Versailles, after which, I +believe, they were modelled.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We were getting on dangerous ground +now, and I felt it. I had no desire to renew +anything like a sentimental flirtation with +Mr. Charteris; the scar, which his past conduct +had left upon my heart, though now +painless, was too deep for trifling even with +memory; and therefore I did my best to turn +the conversation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah, Versailles! I have never seen those +gardens, though I have heard so much about +them. I am a great ignoramus, Mr. Charteris, +you must know, in all things connected +with travel. This is actually the first time I +have ever set my foot out of England!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘So much the better! You have all your +pleasure to come, instead of having exhausted +before you know how to appreciate it. I can +well imagine how an intelligent mind like +yours will expand beneath the wonders of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>nature and art with which it has still to +become acquainted. You are marvellously +young and fresh for your age, Hilda.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You are the first person who has ever said +so. I think, on the contrary, that I am +marvellously old and used-up. To judge +from my general feelings, I might be +sixty.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Just at present I dare say you might. +You must have felt your late loss terribly!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>My lip trembled, and I turned away from +him. I could not have answered even ‘Yes’ +at that moment without breaking down, and +I would have died sooner than break down +before Cave Charteris.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I can’t tell you what a shock it was to me +to hear it!’ he went on softly. ‘It seemed +to revive the past, and bring it back as if it +had occurred only yesterday. She was +always good and kind to me, and you too, +Hilda—indeed, I used to dare to think at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>that time that you regarded me as a <em>very dear</em> +friend.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><em>He used to dare to think!</em> He cast his +calculating untrue eyes upon me as he spoke; +and I knew that he remembered as vividly as +I did, and was only trying how far he could +impose on my credulity and make me think +him blameless. The idea nerved me for +action. Had I followed the bent of my inclinations, +I should have hurled indignant +reproaches on his head, and made him, in +consequence, believe that his conduct had +still the power to pain me. But I stamped +on my inclination, and answered him as +coolly as if the subject were of the utmost +indifference, and revived no recollections +whatever, pleasant or unpleasant, with regard +to himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And so I did,’ I replied. ‘I had so few +companions of my own age at Norwood, I +remember hailing your advent as a perfect +<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>godsend. It was a very dull place for a girl +to live in, particularly in the quiet way we +used to do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I never thought it dull,’ he sighed—‘that +is, when I was with you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, you forget! It happened such a +long time ago! But I can remember some +very dull afternoons we spent there, when +the roads were all mud and it rained continuously, +and we had no resource indoors +except playing at cards and singing over +those eternal old songs of mine.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You never sing now,’ he said eagerly. +‘How charmed I should be to hear some of +the dear old songs! Won’t you sing them +to me, Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, I never sing now, Mr. Charteris. +My voice is not strong, and I have too many +other things to do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You might sing for <em>me</em> though, just to +revive that happy memory. I suppose the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span><em>reality</em> will never come over again, will +it?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I looked in his face with well-feigned surprise.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How can what is past come over again? +and with my dear mother gone, too! I +think you are talking nonsense, Mr. Charteris.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You must know what I mean. Will the +old feelings we had for each other never be +revived?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I knew as well as he did what he meant. +He wanted to make love to me again—to +make me believe once more that his soft +tones and looks and words were good for +what they seemed. But the spell was +broken, the old glamour had faded away. I +saw him as the world saw him, and I was not +to be taken in a second time.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t see that they want reviving, Mr. +Charteris. We liked each other very well +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>then, and I suppose we like each other very +well now. We haven’t quarrelled, have we? +Perhaps I am a graver woman than you expected +to see; but five years is a long interval, +you know: and it is more likely you +have forgotten what I was, than that I have +altered as much as you seem to suppose.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You don’t see it in the same light as I +do,’ he said, with a deep sigh that he pumped +up from the lowest depths of his waistcoat.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He wanted me to blush and look conscious +and uncomfortable, and then he would have +seized the opportunity to swear he had been +loving me through all the period of our +separation, and should be miserable until he +heard that I loved him in return.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But with all his desire to get up a small +excitement, wherewith to while away the hours +when he could not be shooting in the forest +of Piron, Mr. Charteris was not so foolish as +to commit himself where there appeared no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>chance of remunerating his trouble; and so +he gave me up as a bad job, and, with a +gesture of impatience, resumed the study of +his French novel. But I would not leave +one stone unturned by which I thought to +convince him that he was utterly mistaken in +thinking I had ever given a second thought +to his heartless desertion of me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How is your cousin Fred Stephenson, +Mr. Charteris?’ I asked, with a jaunty air.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, he’s well enough,’ he replied sulkily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I thought you were going to ask him over +here for a day. I wish you would—I should +like to see him again. He seemed such a +nice pleasant boy. I took quite a fancy to +him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And I suppose you are afraid, if you don’t +see him soon, that your fancy will evaporate. +It is “out of sight, out of mind” with you, +Miss Marsh, like the generality of women.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, you wouldn’t have me in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>minority, would you? I always stick up for +my sex, and have no desire to fare better +than the rest of them. Since I am a woman, +I’ll be one all over. I don’t like half and +half animals.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You need have no fear of being mistaken +for anything else, Miss Marsh. You have all +the sex’s attributes strongly marked upon +you, even to asserting the right to change +your mind as often as you choose.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am so glad!’ I said gleefully. ‘I like +to claim my privileges, and a masculine +woman never gets any. But what has all +this to do with your cousin Fred Stephenson?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, that as you have taken a fancy to +him, I don’t think I shall ask him over here. +I am a sort of guardian of his whilst abroad, +and he is of a susceptible age when the heart +is more readily affected by unkindness and +neglect than at any other.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>‘And you think I shall be unkind to the +boy.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I think you will be too kind, and then you +will forget all about him. Some carroty-haired +creature will come in the way’—this +was a hit at poor Charlie Sandilands, whose +hair, <em>en passant</em>, was not a bit more carroty +than his own—‘and then Fred will be forgotten +and left out in the cold, and will be as +little able, perhaps, to read the meaning of +the riddle as some other of your friends have +been who have suffered a similar neglect at +your fair hands.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was very pretty fencing, but I felt +I must put a stop to it. It was becoming +ridiculous to me, which was proof sufficient +how entirely it had lost its sting.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Look here, Mr. Charteris,’ I said decidedly, +‘you can do as you like with regard +to your cousin, but I wish you would not talk +such nonsense to me. I have never left anybody +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>out in the cold. If you are alluding to +yourself, all I can say is that I feel for you +exactly what I did before’—I was really +obliged to make a little reservation here, and +whisper inwardly ‘before you spoke to me +to-day’—‘we were always excellent friends +in my dear mother’s lifetime, and I have no +wish to be less to you now. But it is hardly +reasonable to suppose that during a separation +of five years our tastes may not have +grown a little apart. I don’t say they have, +but meeting as we have done is really like +making a fresh acquaintance, and the old +ground has to be gone over again. I wish +you would believe, however, that I have none +but kindly feelings towards you—why should +I have?—and am quite ready to be as good +friends as you are.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I did it very well, I think, because the +only effect my communication had was to +turn him still more sulky. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>‘Pray don’t make any apologies,’ he replied, +without looking up from his book; ‘I perfectly +understand all you would say, and I +think I perfectly understand you into the +bargain.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was going to be rude now. Cave +Charteris was the sort of man who becomes +rude directly his self-love is wounded, and +that is what I have never put up with from +any one. So I gathered my work together, +and walked out of the room with dignity, and +did not return to it again until the sound of +the girls’ voices assured me that I should not +be left alone with Mr. Charteris.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span> +<img src='images/i051.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III.<br> <span class='c010'>THE WOLF.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The day wore on, and Charlie Sandilands +did not come. I was standing at the window +towards evening, wondering at his absence, +and blaming my folly in having spoken to +him as I did, when I perceived the white +hat and red cherries of Miss Markham +bobbing up the street. I had taken quite +an aversion to this woman. I had detected +her in so much falsehood and exaggeration, +and I knew her to be so malicious and +ill-natured, that I avoided her company whenever +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>it was possible to do so. I should have +been obliged, however, to live in my bedroom +had I contrived to elude her altogether; for +hardly a morning passed without her spending +two or three hours at our house. The only +days she did not honour us were those on +which she knew that Mr. Charteris would be +shooting in the forest. On his fishing excursions +she was almost sure to track and follow +him. When her dear friend, Mrs. Carolus, +had told me that her conduct with this gentleman +was a scandal, I had been quite unable +to believe that any woman of middle age and +mediocre attractions could possibly be so +foolish as to think herself capable of touching +the heart of a young, handsome, worldly man +like Cave Charteris. But it was easy for any +one to believe it now.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had seen Mr. Charteris laugh at or repulse +her, just as the humour took him; but, +apparently impervious to either ridicule or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>rudeness, she still pursued him, indoors or +out of doors, although he often put on his +hat as soon as she appeared, and left the +house by the back way. To Tessie, and +Ange, and myself, Miss Markham had become +a perfect nuisance, for, wherever she might +be, she monopolised the conversation, which +always ran in the most egotistical manner on +herself, her admirers, and her triumphs. Mr. +Lovett was the only creature who welcomed +her; and whether it was that they were +equally vain, self-seeking, and fond of flattery +I know not, but they always seemed to get +on together. The old man continued to affirm +that Miss Markham was one of the most intelligent +and agreeable ladies he knew, and +she never lost an opportunity of lauding his +personal merits and his talents, or of rebuking +the girls for not paying him sufficient +attention. Until at last I began to fear +whether she might not turn the foolish old +<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>man’s brain to that extent that he would +really imagine his daughters were not as +devoted and loving and obedient as they possibly +could be.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It had become a joke with Tessie and +Ange and me to give Mr. Charteris warning +of Sophy Markham’s approach, but I was +angry with him and angry with myself +that evening, and I watched the bobbing +cherries draw nearer and nearer without +saying a word. So she was flung into the +midst of us like a grenade.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How d’ye do! how d’ye do! to everybody,’ +she exclaimed, nodding to the company in +general, and then she pounced upon the unhappy +Cave in particular. ‘Ah! you naughty +fellow, come and make confession of your +sins at once! What did you mean by cutting +me this morning after that fashion? I’ve a +great mind to give you a dreadful penance, +one that you will not forget in a hurry; only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>you mustn’t make those saucy eyes at me, or +I shall forget all about it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Cutting <em>you</em>, Miss Markham,’ he replied +with serio-comic gravity. ‘How <em>can</em> you +think so? Where was it, and when?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Where indeed?—why, close by the <i><span lang="fr">Grotte +de S. Jean</span></i>, of course. Now don’t pretend +you didn’t see me, because I know you did. +You began to run directly I turned the +corner.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That must be a mistake! I never +run.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, you walked very fast then, so fast +that I couldn’t overtake you. And you +dropped a rose-bud from your button-hole in +your flight, and I picked it up, and here it is,’—displaying +it in the bosom of her dress—‘and +you shan’t have it back again,’ with infantine +fervour, ‘no! not if you begged on +your bended knees for it, you naughty boy! +So there—there!’ ended Miss Markham +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>playfully, as she struck his face two or three +times with the flower which she had taken +in her hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I believe you’ve put my eye out,’ he said +quite crossly, as he covered the injured member +with his hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, poor little eye! let me see,’ cried +Miss Markham, as she bent over his chair. +‘Shall I try and make it well again?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No! leave me alone!’ he answered, in a +tone which caused even her unsensitive +cheek to grow red as she attempted to cover +her confusion by addressing herself to the +rest of the party. ‘Dear Mr. Lovett! I +have not spoken to you yet. But I always +keep the best to the last, you know. You’re +my <em>bong bouche</em>! How tired you look this +evening. Tessie, you should take more care +of your papa! I don’t at all hold with +running after poor people and forgetting +those at home.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>‘I hope we don’t do that. Do we, papa?’ +said Tessie, with her quiet smile.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, my dear! certainly not! But I +think I overwalked myself a little this morning. +These warm days in autumn are more +enervating sometimes than those of summer.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But you shouldn’t overwalk yourself, dear +Mr. Lovett, and you should have broth or +something good prepared for you against your +return. Do you have broth made for your +father, Tessie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Papa has everything he requires, thank +you, Miss Markham,’ replied Ange, briskly. +‘If he asked for the Coliseum at Rome, +Tessie would get it for him if she could.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah! but you mustn’t wait till he asks for +it. You should anticipate his wishes. That +is not a very tidy fashion of wearing your +hair, Ange. It is half-way down your +back.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>‘I know it is,’ said Ange, bluntly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Go and put it up, my dear! go and put it +up!’ said her father, with kindly authority.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And the girl, little pleased at an order +which had originated with Miss Markham, +left the room with a lingering step and a +grimace.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I passed you last evening, Miss Marsh,’ +continued our visitor; ‘but you appeared to +be so <em>deeply</em> engaged that I wouldn’t stop to +speak, for fear of spoiling sport.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You were wise, perhaps,’ was my reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Not that I envied you your admirer, you +know; he, he, he! He was rather too +bucolic-looking for my taste. I should say he +had never been farther than a turnip-field in +his life before.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You’re quite right, Miss Markham, as you +always are.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, my penetration is not often in +fault.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>‘I am sure of it! Considering that Mr. +Sandilands is a regular cockney and has lived +in London all his life, you have made a first-rate +shot!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She reddened somewhat and began to +sniff, after a peculiar manner she had whenever +she found herself in the wrong.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah, well! his looks belie the fact, that’s +all! if it <em>is</em> a fact. Is that little black +monkey off your back yet, Mr. Charteris?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am not aware it was ever there, Miss +Markham.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Never mind; we won’t say anything +more about it, but make it up next time we +are alone. Have you heard the last rumour +about those dreadful Johnstones, Mr. Lovett? +They actually say that she was nothing but a +milliner’s apprentice, whom he picked up in +the streets carrying a bandbox in her hands. +What shall we come to next, I wonder, when +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>such creatures are permitted to move about +society without being labelled?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>At this juncture I slipped out of the room +to put on my hat and see if I could shake off +some of the unholy influence this woman +shed around her, in the open air. As I +passed through the garden and quietly unlatched +the gate, a figure started up from the +shadow of the wall as if to join me. It was +Mr. Charteris.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘May I walk a little way with you, Hilda, +and smoke my cigar in your company?’ he +asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, thank you,’ I replied abruptly.’ I +would rather not.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yet you spent two or three hours in Mr. +Sandilands’ society yesterday,’ he said, with a +reproachful air.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I know I did; but I had not seen him for +some time, and we had much to talk of. +To-night I would rather be alone.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>‘As you will. I have no desire to intrude +my company upon you. <i><span lang="fr">Bon voyage!</span></i>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I saw he was offended, but I could not +help it. The conversation we had held that +morning was too fresh in both our minds. +He would have renewed the subject, which, +as far as I was concerned, was exhausted. I +had nothing more to say about it, and I +feared lest in discussion I might be led to +betray my past regard for him. Besides, +although I wished him no harm, I did not +consider that Mr. Charteris’s behaviour to me +entitled him to rank as one of my friends. +He had proved himself false, fickle, and cold-hearted. +No man can have worse attributes +for any position in life. He was not worthy +of any woman’s confidence or regard, and I +was quite sure he could never have more +from me than my acquaintance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a luscious, balmy evening, with +just sufficient coolness to make walking a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>pleasure. To leave the clang of that +woman’s tongue behind me, and to encounter +the soft stilly atmosphere, was like entering a +church from a public-house. I breathed +more freely as I found myself alone, at +liberty to think without disturbance. It +was but just six o’clock. The shadows had +not yet fallen to blot out the beautiful, +delicate hues of the wild-flowers that bordered +the roadway; nor to hush the evening +hymns of the birds that were singing from +every bough.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I would not take my favourite walk, which +led towards the Château des Roses, because +I was alone, and a silly fear of ridicule from +Tessie and her sister always made me avoid +anything that looked like a desire to meet +the Baron de Nesselrode. So, as soon as +the house I had quitted was out of sight, I +struck up a side-path which led in the opposite +direction and towards the forest of Piron. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>This forest, which has been rendered so +celebrated by poets and writers of romance, +is still the great point to which the eyes of +all sportsmen in the Wallon are lovingly +directed, although the march of civilisation +has here, as everywhere else, driven the +larger game farther and farther back into the +recesses of their covert, until it is now as +difficult to find them as it was once to extirpate +them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Many stories had been told me of the +difficulties encountered even by the royal +sportsmen of the realm, in their desire to +obtain good specimens of wolves, boars and +wild turkeys from the forest of Piron; and +Armand de Nesselrode had been quoted in +my presence as the most successful hunter +that had been known to penetrate it. The +floor of his hall at the château was covered +with wolf-skins, the contemplation of which +had more than once made me shudder as I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>thought of the risks he must have run in procuring +them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Cave Charteris and he were constantly +together at this time, shooting on horseback +and on foot, and the bags of small game +which the former used to bring home for our +table proved that there were plenty of other +marks in the forest besides those dangerous +wolves and thrice dangerous wild boars.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I knew the road to it well. It was lonely; +but we never associated danger with loneliness +at St. Pucelle; and at one point of it +there stood a wayside shrine, a pretty, +romantic, ruined piece of architecture, that +I had sketched more than once, and from +which a narrow path led through fields of +grass and turnips back to my home again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Piron road had not much in it to +attract the eye before this little shrine was +reached, and I walked along its side-path +rapidly, as was my custom to walk when +<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>alone, with my eyes cast down and my brain +working away as fast as it could go, at +every subject that passed through it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had left St. Pucelle a mile—perhaps a +mile and a half—behind me, when something, +I knew not what, impelled me suddenly +to look up and scan the surrounding landscape. +I had reached the centre of a long +straight road, on either side of which ran a +narrow footpath, fringed by the smallest of +hedges, in many places trampled down by +feet passing over it into the fields beyond. +Not a tree sheltered the road anywhere, it +was simply a highway to the next town. +The dark mass of trees composing the forest +loomed in the distance, but so far off as to +appear like one clump against the greyish-blue +sky of evening; behind me lay St. +Pucelle, but I had placed a hill between us, +and could only see the top of the spire of St. +Marie and the wreaths of smoke that ascended +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>from a little factory at the bottom of +the town. I cast my eyes again in front. +What was that dark figure advancing to meet +me, that was sometimes in the light and +sometimes in the shade, and seemed so uncertain +in its movements and designs? +Could it be a donkey? I smiled as the idea +crossed my mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How could a donkey slouch in that absurd +manner, and move with a shuffling, trotting +gait, as though its shoulders were higher than +its head! But the next moment I had turned +as pale as death, and my heart almost stopped +its beating from terror. Could it be—was it +possible it could be—<em>a wolf</em>?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Directly I had conceived the thought I felt +sure that I was right. Here, in the gloaming, +without shelter of any kind, alone and +unarmed, I was to meet one of these fearful +beasts out of the forest, whose very names +were sufficient to fill my breast with terror.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>I don’t think I ever felt so frightened in +my life as I did at that moment. Where +should I run? What could I do?</p> + +<p class='c012'>I looked across the fields on either side. +They were sown with turnips, and stood upon +a slope. If I attempted to plod my way +through them I should only be impeding my +progress, and making my presence more conspicuously +apparent to the animal than it was +now.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Was I deceiving myself through fear? I +strained my sight again to make sure what it +was that advanced upon me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Oh! there was no doubt about it! I could +distinguish the brute’s appearance perfectly +as he shambled along the pathway. And he +was coming faster. He had broken into a +swinging trot, with his nose to the ground. +He had scented me, there was no hope but +in flight.</p> + +<p class='c012'>All this, which takes so long to write, had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>taken but a second to flash through my +brain, and in another I had turned, and was +running back to St. Pucelle as fast as ever +my legs could carry me. I dared not stop +to look round, but in my terror I fancied I +heard the breathing of the animal close behind +me, and his steps gaining upon mine. +After a quarter of a mile, perhaps, I had run +myself out of breath; each step seemed as if +it would choke me, and I believed that I was +lost, and must succumb. ‘I shall never see +St. Pucelle again,’ I thought sobbingly, as I +flew along. ‘I shall be torn to pieces in the +most horrible manner, and no one will even +hear of my fate. I shall never know if +Armand and Tessie are happy—or if——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But here some great obstacle interposed +itself between my blinded eyes and the pathway, +and I fell with a loud scream of terror +into the very arms of Monsieur de Nesselrode.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>‘Mademoiselle Marsh!’ he exclaimed, in +accents of the greatest surprise. ‘What is +the matter? who has dared to frighten +you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘The wolf! the wolf!’ I cried, struggling +with him. ‘Let me go—save yourself—it is +close upon us!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘A wolf—and here! <i><span lang="fr">Mais, mademoiselle, +c’est impossible!</span></i> it is not to be credited. +Some one has been wicked enough to frighten +you without cause.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>His words and manner somewhat reassured +me, but I was still very much +alarmed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Indeed—indeed I am right. Look up +the road for yourself! It is coming fast from +the forest.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Without relinquishing his hold of me, I +saw him glance from right to left, over my +shoulder, trying to distinguish the cause of +my fear.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>‘<em>Sacré</em>, Mademoiselle! you are correct. +Something does advance this way.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I told you so!’ I exclaimed, in a fresh +paroxysm of terror. ‘Oh! leave me, monsieur, +leave me! Run for your life—it is +impossible both of us can be saved.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<i><span lang="fr">Je ne veux pas te quitter</span></i>,’ he answered, +using the soft personal pronoun that with a +Frenchman means so much; and then he +shouted aloud: ‘<i><span lang="fr">Hillo! hillo! à bas la! +Hillo!</span></i>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You cannot frighten it away,’ I said imploringly. +‘Oh, go—for my sake! Armand, +pray go!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is not a wolf at all, mademoiselle,’ he +replied calmly. ‘I see it now plainly, but I +do not wonder at your taking it for one.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What is it, then?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘One of our half-bred sheep-dogs finding +his way home to his master. See! here he +comes. He is about to pass us. Do not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>tremble any longer, mademoiselle. Your +enemy has just trotted by, looking like a +veritable wolf indeed, and very much +ashamed of himself for doing so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I glanced up, and there, shambling along +the road peaceably enough, but looking very +dangerous notwithstanding, with his huge +size, rough coat and glaring red eyes, was one +of those creatures, half wolf, half dog, which +the shepherds of the Piron prize so much as +guardians of their flocks against the very +animals from which they sprung.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What must you think of me?’ I said, as +the huge brute shuffled out of sight, and I +remembered what an exhibition I had made +of myself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I think that you are a brave woman who +would have persuaded me to save myself, and +leave you to what you believed would prove +a terrible death.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I hope I said nothing absurd—I entirely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>forget what I did say,’ I stammered, with +vivid consciousness that I had called him by +his Christian name. ‘And all for a stupid +sheep-dog, too; I am so ashamed of myself.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But you are trembling still, and you must +sit down for a little while before you attempt +to return to St. Pucelle. Do you often take +such solitary walks, mademoiselle?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, I like to walk alone, and I did not +think there could be any danger.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Neither is there. These dogs look very +formidable, but they have never been known +to attack anybody unprovoked. The next +time you meet one, all you have to do is to +stand aside and let him pass.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! I hope I shall not meet another,’ I +said, shuddering. ‘I do not like them. We +have no such dogs in England, and I shall +never forget the fright it gave me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Monsieur de Nesselrode had selected a +grassy knoll by the roadside for me to rest +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>upon, and my heart was beating more in its +proper time. What a difference a few +seconds had effected in my feelings! A +minute ago I firmly believed myself to be in +the jaws of death. Now it seemed as if +nothing could have the power to hurt or +alarm me. I turned towards Armand de +Nesselrode gratefully.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I wish you would not look so pale,’ he +observed; ‘you are not still frightened, I +hope?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh no! that is all passed away, and I am +quite at my ease again. How good it was +of you, monsieur, to stand by me as you +did.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>He smiled at me. His was such a beautiful +smile. It came rarely, but when it did, it +lighted up all his features like a glory. +There was no mirth in it—I think self-reproach +at that period had chased away from +his spirit all the merriment which later I saw +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>shine forth—but it was thoroughly appreciative +and genuine. On the present occasion +his smile seemed to say much more than he +chose his lips should utter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You will not let me thank you,’ I continued, +‘but I must. Thank God! my fears +were not well founded, and we did not both +perish. For I feel you would have died +sooner than let me be torn from your grasp.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Of course I would!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! I think a brave man is the most +wonderful and beautiful thing God ever made. +Why should you have sacrificed your life for +me, of whom you know nothing?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It would have been my duty to lay it down +under such circumstances, mademoiselle, for +any woman—and of all women——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But here he stopped short, as though +ignorant how to finish his sentence, and I did +not see the way to help him. Presently he +began again:</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>‘You were good enough to say once, +mademoiselle, that it would interest you to +hear the means by which I was brought +down to my present position. Shall I tell +you the story now?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Do, monsieur,’ I said, turning my eyes +upon him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was seated at a little distance from me, +with both his hands between his knees, +digging up the earth under his feet with +the light cane he usually carried. His eyes +were downcast, and I noticed the length +of the dark lashes that lay upon his cheek, +and contrasted with the grave pallor that +seemed suddenly to have overspread his +countenance. Whatever this story might be, +it was evidently hard to tell, and I prepared +myself to hear a confession of much folly and +evil, and perhaps—dishonour. Should I like +him the less, I asked myself, when his tale +was finished?</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>I did not believe I should like him the less. +I felt so confident that whatever his sins +might have been, Armand de Nesselrode +possessed the power of rising above them.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span> +<img src='images/i077.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV.<br> <span class='c010'>THE BARON’S STORY.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>‘I am afraid you will weary of me before I +have finished my recital,’ commenced the +Baron.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I shall not weary, monsieur,’ I answered +simply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You will keep my confidence, I know! +This is the first time I have ever told +the history of my folly to a living +creature.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I wondered for a moment, then, why he +should have elected to tell it to me. But he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>went on too rapidly for me to put the question +to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have never had the happiness to possess +a mother, a sister, or even a female relation +sufficiently near to whom I could confide my +sorrows or my perplexities. From a little +child I was brought up in the society of men, +and taught, as far as possible, to guide myself. +That circumstance has been a terrible drawback +to me, mademoiselle.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes—so long as you were a little child.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And not afterwards?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Not so much afterwards! The mother is +the God of the child, monsieur, and if a boy +has a good, true, pure-hearted mother who +loves him, he can have no better friend nor +<em>confidante</em> than herself, until he becomes a +man. But then their positions should alter. +The <em>man</em> who leans upon his mother is a +milksop. He should be her protector—her +guide—even her counsellor. It is thus that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>women are rewarded for the care and pains +with which they have watched over the +infancy of their little ones.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How true a woman you are!’ he said, +earnestly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I hope so, monsieur! I should be sorry +to deserve any other name. But we are +wandering from your story.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My mother died when I was quite a baby. +She was very beautiful, and my father, who +held a high position at Court, was so distracted +by her loss that he threw up his +appointment, left all his friends, and wandered +for many years in foreign countries. Meanwhile, +I was transferred from my nurse’s +arms to those of a private tutor, whose house +I left only to go to college. I had an uncle +on the mother’s side, Le Sieur de Beaupré, +the father of the cousin to whom I told you I +was once betrothed. This betrothal was +contracted when I was very young—not yet +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>sixteen, whilst Blanche had only completed +her fourteenth year. We were betrothed +with the consent and at the desire of my +father, who was at that time wandering about +the Brazils, and expressed his intention of +not returning to Paris until I had passed +through the <em>Athénée</em>, and was ready to be +married. I had grown, therefore, up to +eighteen years of age without ever having +seen my father.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What a sad, desolate childhood!’ I +exclaimed; ‘and how different from mine, +monsieur! My father died, it is true, but +my dear mother never left me, day nor night, +from the hour of my birth. No wonder +that you should have gone wrong, without +affection, counsel, or home. Those who left +you so are more to blame for what followed +than you are.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You pity me, mademoiselle?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I do indeed! From the bottom of my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>heart! I see you as a child and a growing +man, lonely and unloved, and I could weep +for the many desolate and unhappy hours +you must have passed.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<i><span lang="fr">Que le bon Dieu te bénisse!</span></i>’ he said softly, +as he lifted the hand that was lying idly on +my lap to his lips, and let it quickly drop +again. The action sent the blood rushing to +both our faces, and for a minute or two we +were silent altogether.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes! I was very unhappy at that period,’ +continued the Baron. ‘It seemed to me that +Heaven was unjust in so unequally dividing +its favours. I had every luxury, because my +father was rich, but I would have exchanged +them all for a caress when I went to bed at +night, or for the touch of a soft hand upon +my head. I saw other fathers proud of their +sons, and I wondered what I had done that +mine should never care to see or hear from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>me, and scarcely took the trouble to write +home to ask if I were dead or alive. Such +thoughts embittered my mind and made it +callous, and after I entered the <em>Athénée</em> and +joined the wild band of students assembled +within its walls, I soon became the wildest of +them all, and well known to the authorities +as a dangerous leader into all sorts of +mischief. Why should I not be? what was +there to restrain me? No mother’s look of +pain—no father’s frown—nothing but a remonstrance +from Monsieur de Beaupré, that +my allowance did not last long enough, and +that if I could not moderate my expenses he +should be obliged to inform his brother-in-law. +So things went on till I was twenty-one, +when the news reached Paris of my +father’s death. I came into my title and my +fortune, and was considered to be one of the +best matches in Paris. But, mademoiselle, I +am fatiguing you. Why should I be so vain +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>as to imagine that all these paltry details can +hold any interest for you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Indeed, monsieur, I am deeply interested. +Pray believe me when I say so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why should I tell this tale of folly and +dissipation to you?’ he went on, musingly; +‘I knew I should have to confess it some +day, to the woman I should make my wife—if +such an event ever happens—but I never +thought to disclose it before. <em>Hélas!</em> this +world brings strange things to pass! As +soon as my uncle Beaupré heard of my +father’s death, he tried to persuade me to +complete the marriage with his daughter at +once, but I was averse to the idea of tying +myself down so soon, and refused to do so +until the time named in the contract, which +was on the attainment of my twenty-fourth +year. I left the <em>Athénée</em>, of course, and, +settling in my own <em>hôtel</em>, on the Boulevards +des Tuileries, plunged, with the aid of my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>old college companions, into every sort of +dissipation. Will mademoiselle pardon me +for mentioning such a thing?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘We are better used to the mention of it +in England, monsieur, than your ladies are +in Paris, although we recognise its necessity +less, and deplore its existence more. We +Englishwomen are permitted to know that +our men lead very different lives from ourselves, +but we are taught at the same time +that, for that very reason, it behoves us to be +all the purer and more discreet, in order to +win them back to a right and virtuous +living.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And you do so win them! In all the +world there are no such lovers of domestic +life as there are in England.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I believe it,’ I answered, for I am very +proud of and very devoted to my own +country-people, whatever friends I may have +found in other nations.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>‘I am speaking now, mademoiselle, of ten +years ago—when the first notes of that +terrible discord that shook France to her +foundations were beginning to be heard, and +Paris was in a state of ferment and expectation. +The revolution had not commenced, +but disaffection was already pre-evident +amongst the labouring classes, and <em>émeutes</em> +and brawls were of hourly occurrence in the +city. It was on the occasion of the last night +of the old year, which devotees celebrate in +the churches and roysterers in the streets. +I was returning home after the theatre with +some of my friends, about the hour of midnight +mass, when, just outside the church of +the Madeleine, I saw a young girl standing +up against the wall, and prevented from +passing on her way by a band of tipsy +artisans who surrounded her, calling out, +“<em>A bas</em> the aristocrat!”—“Pull off her hood +and rub her face in the mud!”—“Down on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>her knees and make her pray for the <i><span lang="fr">bonnets +rouges</span></i>!” and other phrases of similar import. +You may suppose that was more than I and +my friends could stand, and we went at once +to her rescue. The poor child caught hold +of my arm, crying, “Oh! save me, monsieur; +I am no aristocrat. My father is a commoner, +and lives but a couple of streets from +here.” A few blows and rough words soon +dispersed the rioters, and I took the young +lady home under my protection. I found +that her name was Corinne Duplat, and her +father was a man of letters. She was very +beautiful——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes, I know! You needn’t tell me,’ +I interrupted him, impatiently. ‘She was +the loveliest creature you had ever seen, and +you became enamoured of her at once. You +can skip all that! I have heard it so often +before.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Baron fixed his dark eyes upon me +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>with an expression of the greatest surprise. +After all my amiability and interest, he did +not know what to make of the sudden +change. I suppose I looked as sulky as +a bear, for he immediately began to apologise.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I felt I should weary mademoiselle. Let +me say no more than to thank you for the +patience with which you have listened to +me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But this was not what I wanted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I sat there, biting my lip and feeling very +much as if I should cry; whilst Armand de +Nesselrode looked deeply annoyed and a +little bit wounded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have abused your goodness,’ he continued, +‘and I shall never forgive myself.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, no, monsieur! Do not think so. It +was only because I was in such haste to hear +the end of the story. Go on about Corinne! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>She was very beautiful, and you loved +her!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I <em>thought</em> I loved her,’ he corrected me, +gently. ‘I was very young and knew no +better; I have found out since what true +love is.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, monsieur?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Her father neglected her dreadfully, and +let her go anywhere alone, which is unheard +of amongst young ladies in Paris. It was +natural that after a while I should constitute +myself her protector. She was only seventeen, +and very fragile—almost ethereal in +appearance; and when I had known her for +about six months, I felt I should like to make +her my wife. I forgot my betrothal to my +cousin Blanche. All my wishes centred in +the hope of marrying Corinne. I broached +the subject one day to her father, almost +timidly. He was taken aback by my communication.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>‘“Marry my daughter!” he exclaimed. +“You cannot know what you are asking +for.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘“I know I am not worthy of her,” I +began, but he cut me short.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘“My dear Baron, such an alliance as you +would offer Corinne is beyond all my hopes. +But it is impossible.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘“Why?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘“Because she is doomed. She carries in +her the seeds of a disease which must terminate +her existence within a few years. She +can marry no one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘This intelligence was a great blow to me. +I would not believe it—she looked so healthy, +though delicate. I urged Monsieur Duplat +to permit the marriage to take place, and I +believe it would have been accomplished, had +a sudden chill not taken the poor child off +before another month was over her head.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘She is <em>dead</em>!’ I exclaimed, pity taking +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>the place of all other feelings. ‘Oh, how you +must have grieved for her!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, I was very inconsolable for a time, +and it was this grief, mademoiselle, that led +to all my subsequent misfortunes. Monsieur +Duplat was a <em>littérateur</em> whose very uncertain +income was dependent on his humour +for writing, and unfortunately his humour too +often took the direction of drinking instead. +In my sorrow for the loss of Corinne, I conceived +the romantic idea of being a son to +her father, and invited the old man to come +and live with me in my hôtel. I had so +much money, there was plenty for us both. +Why should he not enjoy it also? Amidst +all my former dissipations I had never been +a gambler, and it was Monsieur Duplat himself +who had on our first acquaintanceship +introduced me to the gaming-tables of Paris. +After he came to live with me, idleness and +regret for his daughter’s death seemed to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>drive him to them oftener than before, and +wherever he went I accompanied him. I +felt reckless too at that time, and quite indifferent +as to my future. I believed, like most +young mourners, that I should never be +happy again, and it did not signify what +became of me. This is how I contracted the +spirit of gaming. Two of us were drawing +on my (apparently) inexhaustible fortune at +the same moment, for you may be sure I +paid all Duplat’s debts before my own. My +uncle Beaupré was not long in hearing of +my lavish expenditure, and remonstrated +with me in his daughter’s name. But a +devil seemed to have entered into me—and +when I found that I had caused a large +portion of my fortune to disappear, I attempted +to remedy the evil by staking more +recklessly than before. At last the crash +came, and my eyes were opened. Monsieur +Duplat had persuaded me to stand security +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>for an extravagant sum of money by which, +as he said, he was to be made independent +for life, and the day after he got it he decamped, +leaving me in the lurch to meet all +his liabilities as well as my own. The +creditors swooped down upon me like birds +of prey. I found that Duplat had procured +valuables all over the town in my name, +besides forging it for a large amount of ready +money from my bankers, and I was literally +ruined.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What an ingrate!’ I exclaimed. ‘Oh, +monsieur! I am sure that, with your generous +spirit, the ingratitude of it was the +hardest part to bear.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It was not calculated to raise my opinion +of human nature, mademoiselle, and when I +thought of poor little Corinne, and how it +would have broken her heart to see her +father’s conduct to me, I was glad that she +was safe in heaven, and freed from it all. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>My uncle came to Paris as soon as he knew +of my ruin, and informed me that all idea of +a marriage between <i><span lang="fr">mademoiselle ma cousine</span></i> +and myself was at an end, which I was not +sorry to hear. It was found that twelve +years’ income would only suffice to discharge +the debts for which I was liable; my estates +in Versailles and Lausanne being entailed +and consequently not marketable. I had the +choice, therefore, of two alternatives—to expatriate +myself to this place and live upon a +yearly sum of six thousand francs allowed +me by my creditors, or to go to gaol. I +chose the former, though there is but little to +choose between them. St. Pucelle is like a +prison to me, and I have only vegetated +since I came here. Conceive if you can, +mademoiselle, the change from the life I +led in Paris, and the solitude I now +enjoy.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But it will not last for ever, monsieur. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>How many years have you lived at the +château?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nine. I was thirty on my last birthday.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Then the time of your probation will soon +be up, will it not?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There are three or four years more to run. +<em>Three or four years! Mon Dieu!</em> what an +eternity it seems in prospect!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I hardly knew how to answer him. I +longed so much to give him comfort, but if +he could not see the lesson this trial was +calculated to teach him in the same light +that I did, I feared my words might irritate +instead of soothe him. So I only said:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Monsieur le Baron, don’t despair! There +is one person feels very deeply for you, and +that is myself.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You do not despise me, then! You have +heard all, and you can still be my friend.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Most certainly! You have been very +weak, but you have not been wicked. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>money you wasted was your own. It was +that base ungrateful creature Duplat that +caused your ruin.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Remember that I have told it you in confidence. +Even Monsieur Beaupré does not +know the extent to which he robbed me. +He was Corinne’s father, and for her sake I +wish, as far as possible, to spare him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I respect you for the wish; but, monsieur, +now that the worst is over, will you not take +courage and look forward to the time that is +coming, when you will begin life anew, and +be able to show the world that you are +capable of upholding the honour of your +name and of your family?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘These terrible years that must intervene,’ +he groaned. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I shall +live through them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes, you will! You are young and +strong. Why should you fear otherwise? I +wish you were married, monsieur! and had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>a nice wife at the château, to make it +pleasant and cheerful for you. Then the +time of waiting would not seem so long.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Where am I to find a wife, mademoiselle, +who will consent to bury herself in St. +Pucelle, on six thousand francs a year, for +the next four years? Tell me, and I will +offer her my hand and heart upon the +spot.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Now, I thought, is the time to put in a +word for Tessie. His eyes have but to be +opened to see all her virtues for himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I know of several,’ I answered confidently: +‘sweet good girls, who would love +you for your own merits, and care nothing +about your money. There is Tessie Lovett, +for instance. Where could you find a woman +that would make a better wife than she?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>His face fell to about a yard long.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Miss Lovett! the very pale one, you +mean, with blond locks. Why, she is like +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>a statue, mademoiselle! She hardly ever +opens her mouth. She has no spirit—no <em>chic</em> +about her. I don’t think she would brighten +up the old château very much—nor me +either, for the matter of that.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Oh, the insolence of men! I really began +to believe they were all alike, and never too +miserable nor unfortunate to lose their self-conceit. +Here was a young fellow, who had +just acknowledged himself to be everything +that was bad and wicked, and unworthy the +regard of any woman, turning up his nose at +one of the best and sweetest creatures God +ever made, just because she had not got +cheeks as red as peonies, and a tongue that +clacked like a water-mill all day!</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, she is all the better for not talking!’ +I exclaimed indignantly. ‘Do you mean to +tell me that you like a woman who chatters +like a magpie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, mademoiselle. But I like a woman +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>who can converse with me and sympathise +with me; who can scold me a little when I do +wrong, and advise me for my good; and who +is brave and unselfish, and has been brought +up by a good mother in whose footsteps she +will follow.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I blushed at this eulogium, because it +sounded so much as if it was meant for +myself. But I was true to Tessie notwithstanding.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And how do you know, monsieur, that +Miss Lovett is not all that you say?’ I inquired.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I do not know—but I have my +opinions.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I thought you liked her so much,’ I said +disappointedly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘So I do. But I will not <em>like</em> my wife, I +will <em>love</em> her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Petite</em> Ange is more sprightly and talkative +than her sister,’ I observed.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>‘<em>Petite</em> Ange is a lovely child,’ he answered: +‘nothing more. She is open and innocent as +the day. Any one might deceive her who +had the mind to do so. She loves birds and +flowers and the poor, and considers <i><span lang="fr">monsieur +son père</span></i> to be a saint from heaven. <em>Voilà!</em> +that is <em>petite</em> Ange.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Do you think she will make the worse +wife for being so sweet and innocent?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Not for a good man, mademoiselle, who +can guide her aright; but I am a bad man +who requires guidance. And the woman +who can do that must be something very +much higher and better than the ordinary run +of women.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, then you had better marry old +Denise,’ I said, out of patience with his +trifling. ‘She is old enough and steady +enough to keep you straight, and as she +whipped you when you were in petticoats, it +will come quite naturally to her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>How he laughed at the idea! I had never +heard Armand de Nesselrode laugh before, +but now his voice rang out sweet and clear +along the deserted road, and woke the echoes +in the hills beyond.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am glad you approve of my proposal,’ I +continued, fain to laugh with him, though I +tried hard to prevent it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mademoiselle, you do me too much +honour! I have never yet aspired to a +Baronne de Nesselrode without a tooth left +in her head. Now, have patience whilst I +give you a description of the sort of woman +I want to win for my wife.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But something in his eyes alarmed me, and +I would not let him speak.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, no, no!’ I exclaimed hastily, as I +jumped up from my grassy seat, and shook +the dust from my skirts. ‘I don’t want to +hear it, monsieur: I have not time. It is +very late, and I must go home at once. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>What will they all say when they hear of my +adventure?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You must not come this way again alone, +since you are easily frightened, mademoiselle. +But if you will let me know—me only, you +understand, it is not necessary we should +tell our private affairs to all the world—when +you intend to make your promenade upon +the Piron road, I will take care to be within +call—not to intrude upon your privacy, but +to be ready in case you desire to appeal to +me for assistance.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Was he laughing at me, or did he imagine +it possible I could permit him to follow at +my heels like a dog or a lacquey, waiting to +receive my orders? I glanced up at his +face, expecting to see a twinkle in his eyes +which should prove he was only in jest, +but they were solemn as those of a judge. +The Baron de Nesselrode, in his beautiful +chivalry and devotion to the weaker sex, had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>been really in earnest in making this offer. +But of course I rejected it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is impossible!’ I replied. ‘You must +not dream of such a thing. You would set +all St. Pucelle talking about me!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You think I would be barbarous enough +to take advantage of such a trust by forcing +my conversation upon you! Ah, mademoiselle, +you do me wrong! No saint in her +niche could be farther removed from the +annoyance of my presence than you should +be, if you thought fit to accept my protection +in your solitary rambles.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But I shall not come this way again, +monsieur, when I am by myself. And I +could not think of putting you to all the +trouble you propose. I am not used to be +attended on, nor to have a <i><span lang="fr">preux-chevalier</span></i> at +my heels, thank you all the same for thinking +of it!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We were walking back to St. Pucelle together +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>now, through the field-path that I +have mentioned. It was a very narrow way; +there was scarcely room sometimes for us to +walk abreast, and our conversation was necessarily +impeded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have not touched a card since the evening +that we spoke of it together,’ said the +Baron presently.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I thought so, monsieur, and I am so glad +to hear it. I am sure you will never regret +your determination. How do you employ +your evenings now?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I read and write and smoke; but I am +very lonely. Sometimes I almost think that +I shall cut my throat.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hush! don’t say that! You hurt me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘At first I considered the possibility of +turning my talents, such as they are, to +account, in any post of responsibility that a +gentleman might accept. But whilst I remain +under the black cloud of debt, there is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>no chance of my procuring a Court appointment +such as my father held; and the De +Nesselrodes have never stooped to anything +lower.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There is no “stooping” in honest labour, +monsieur.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I believe you; but caste has its prejudices. +No member of my family has ever +been a tutor or a secretary; and if I became +so, I should cut off all hope of reconciliation +with my relations when my term of penal +servitude is ended.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Cannot you write and employ your time +in instructing or amusing others? You can +see no degradation in that! Men of the +noblest blood have been authors before +now.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes! and raised themselves by the +distinction. But one must have talents to +shine before the world, and I am not +clever.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>‘Are you not? Mr. Lovett considers you +have a mind of a very high order, and having +been intimately associated with some of the +first in Europe, he ought to be a good +judge.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘He flatters me. But if I have a mind, or +any gift for teaching others, I know how I +should like to employ it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘In what way?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You will not be offended, nor say I am +very presumptuous?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I think not.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Then I should like to teach you how to +speak French.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>If the evening shadows had not fallen by +this time, the Baron would have seen that his +remark made me redden. I knew I spoke +his language with a horribly Anglicised accent, +but I was ashamed to be told so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am quite aware I pronounce it like a +barbarian,’ I said bluntly.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>‘Ah, mademoiselle, now I have offended +you. You do not speak it like a barbarian. +Your voice is very sweet, and makes every +word that comes from your mouth sweet also. +But there are certain little niceties, the lights +and shades of our language, that it is impossible +to acquire except from conversing with +a Parisian; and it is on these points, unnecessary +as they may appear, that I should like +to see you perfect. There is so little to correct, +it is but a word or an expression here +and there that betrays you have not acquired +the language abroad; and since I know you +have the ambition to speak it well, I thought, +if you would permit me, to aid you——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Monsieur!’ I interrupted him, for my false +shame had evaporated by this time, ‘pray +say no more. I know that my accent and +my grammar must set your teeth on edge +every time you hear them, and it is very good +of you to wish to correct them. I am infinitely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>obliged, but what am I to say about +it? What would your relations think if they +heard that a De Nesselrode had turned +French tutor to a raw English girl?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Let them say what they will! Only say +yourself that I may give you a few lessons.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But where am I to take them?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Here—anywhere—so it be out in the +beautiful country, with the blue sky over our +heads and the flowers springing around us, +and not shut up in a dull room in the house.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>This seemed so much like making appointments +with him, that I hardly knew what to +answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I cannot agree to meet you at any particular +time, monsieur, without telling my +guardian. It would not be <i><span lang="fr">comme il faut</span></i>. +We English girls are allowed more liberty +than our French sisters, but to make appointments +with gentlemen without the knowledge +of our friends is going a little too far. If we +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>meet by accident, however, I shall always be +glad to take any hints you may be good enough +to give me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I will walk about every day and all day +till I <em>do</em> meet you,’ he replied fervently.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I laughed, but I felt flattered. Why should +Armand de Nesselrode take such an interest +in my rough unmusical tongue?</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And what are you going to charge for +your lessons?’ I asked him jestingly; ‘I am +not very rich, you know, so you must not +lead me into extravagance.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>What am I to charge for my lessons!</em>’ he +repeated after me slowly. ‘Ah! mademoiselle, +the price will be very, <em>very</em> high, but you shall +take your own time to pay me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was just going to ask what he meant, +when we came within sight of another couple +advancing to meet us. Not really to meet +us though, but creeping slowly along the +pathway deeply engaged in talk, with their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>heads close together and their eyes cast on +the ground. The Baron and I were walking +one after the other, duck fashion, but our two +friends were side by side.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is Monsieur Charteris!’ exclaimed my +companion, who had the eye of a hawk.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Is</em> it?’ I returned incredulously. ‘Are +you sure? Who can the lady be?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>As I mooted the question, I thought of +Miss Markham. I knew how silly and romantic +she was, delighting in moonlight walks +and secret assignations, and could imagine +how she had waylaid Cave Charteris smoking +under the garden wall, and dragged him out +into the fields, with his will or against it. A +man can hardly refuse a woman’s request +point blank to her face.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Silly creature that she was! How could +she possibly remain so blind to the fact that +her attentions were not agreeable to him!</p> + +<p class='c012'>As I meditated somewhat in this strain, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>we came right upon the opposition couple +before they were aware of our propinquity, +and I almost ran into Mr. Charteris’s arms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Here is an encounter!’ I said merrily. +The woman by his side lifted her head, and, +to my utter astonishment, I saw the beautiful +face of Angela Lovett. ‘<em>Ange!</em>’ I exclaimed, +‘what are you doing here—where is Tessie? +Why didn’t she come with you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was such a ring of wonder and, I +suppose, dissatisfaction in my voice, that Mr. +Charteris at once took up the cudgels in defence +of his fair companion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I think we shall be justified in putting the +same question, Miss Marsh. What are <em>you</em> +doing here, walking alone with Monsieur de +Nesselrode?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! <em>our rencontre</em> was a mere accident,’ +I replied, with vexation. ‘I was on the Piron +road when I met a horrid animal, half wolf +and half dog, and I thought it was a real +<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>wolf and was terribly frightened, and the +Baron happened to meet me, and so——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! did you see one of those savage-looking +sheep-dogs, Hilda dear!’ exclaimed +Ange, who appeared as ready as myself to +drop the subject of the company she had +been detected in keeping. ‘I do not wonder +it alarmed you. I was very nearly bitten by +one once. It flew out of a cottage and attacked +me. Papa was so frightened, he +wanted to have it killed; but it wasn’t mad, +you know. The village children had been +teasing it, and it took fright at a stick I +carried in my hand. But I am surprised you +have not seen one before. There are so +many about St. Pucelle.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had left Mr. Charteris’s side and linked +her arm in mine, and she leaned on me with +a confiding pressure which seemed to say, +‘Don’t tell of me.’ I didn’t quite like it, and +yet it would have been hard to say why I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>was annoyed, for Ange ran about St. Pucelle +as she listed, and gave account of her proceedings +to no one.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Where is Tessie?’ I reiterated, looking +down into the soft violet eyes that were raised +so confidingly to mine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘At home, dear, reading to papa. It was +so hot indoors, I thought I should prefer the +fields.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Did you come this way to meet me?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No! I didn’t know where you were. +Tessie thought you had gone to see Mrs. +Carolus. It is more than two hours since +you left home.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I started guiltily. Put upon my oath to +guess the time of my absence, I should really +have thought it had been about thirty or forty +minutes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Let us go back as fast as we can then, +Ange, or they will begin to think we have +eloped altogether.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>We were both so evidently anxious to have +nothing more said about the companions of +our pilgrimage, that we talked on every subject +but that of our evening stroll, and left +the gentlemen to amuse each other in the +rear whilst we scuttled home together arm-in-arm, +like two rabbits that had taken fright and +were hurrying back to the warren.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But after I had retired to rest that night, +I could not help thinking of dear little Ange, +and wondering how she came to choose Mr. +Charteris for her cavalier. I supposed it was +very natural she should do so. I had left +him smoking sulkily under the garden wall, +and when she came out for her evening stroll, +he had probably proffered the same request +to her that he did to me, and she could hardly +have refused him. What nonsense it was to +think twice about such a trifle! Yet I did +think of it, many more times than twice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Ange was too good and pious to derive +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>any harm from ordinary intercourse with +Cave Charteris, whose opinions on most subjects +would be more calculated, I thought, to +shock than to charm her; but she was very +young and unsophisticated, and her father +was far too careless of her. Yet what business +was it of mine? The fear of being +thought meddlesome has more than once +deterred me from doing what I considered +right in life. It deterred me now.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span> +<img src='images/i115.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V<br> <span class='c010'>THE BLACK CLOUD.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>I find I have arrived at an epoch in my +story—an epoch from which I can date a +remarkable change in the character of my +surroundings—I seemed to have got on the +black books of the entire household. In the +first place, Mr. Lovett had scarcely spoken to +me since the day that I had extracted the +twenty-five francs from him wherewith to pay +my debt to Mrs. Carolus. Whether he considered +my subsequent silence dangerous, or +read a determination in my eye which did +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>not accord with his own intentions, I know +not; but he assumed a great distance towards +me, and never addressed me except it were +absolutely necessary. He did not parade his +altered feelings before the others, but, all the +same, they were evident enough to me. The +studied politeness of his manner and the increased +blandness of his tone, when we met +in public, would have betrayed the truth of +themselves to my understanding, had not the +ominous silence that reigned between us, +whenever we found ourselves alone together, +made it still more patent.</p> + +<p class='c012'>My guardian’s suspicions or distrust, however, +did not seriously affect me. I had a +rod in pickle for the old gentleman, and +thought it just as well he should be a little +prepared for what was coming. But I did +think it hard that Tessie should avoid +me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Since the day that we had visited the Fromards’ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>cottage together, I had not breathed +a word to her of the disclosures that had +been made me there. Poor Guillaume had +been taken to his last home. And the +funeral <em>cortége</em>, followed by half the town, had +passed our door without my making the +slightest reference to the unpleasant topic +which the sight brought to my mind. I had +even listened with patience to the beautiful +and touching discourse which Mr. Lovett +had given us on that occasion, and in which +he set forth the folly of the poor in not husbanding +their resources against a time of +want and emergency.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie had looked painfully shy and uneasy, +whilst her father bade us all pray for +the bereaved widow and orphans, but I had +stood the exordium manfully, although I +could have boxed Ange’s ears for dilating +her eyes as though she were gazing at a +saint from heaven.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Yet Tessie shunned my company in the +most evident manner, and was very subdued, +not to say melancholy, at all seasons. Why +was it so? Did she suspect me of treachery, +and was afraid that, notwithstanding my promise, +I should enlighten Ange upon the +subject? Or had her father represented my +conduct to her in his own light, and made +her feel resentment on his account? I could +not tell. I only knew that something had +arisen between us, and we were not on the +friendly terms we had been hitherto. Mr. +Charteris was another defaulter, though regarding +his temper I troubled myself but +little. My rebuffs of him, trifling as they +were, had evidently upset his equanimity; +and if a gentleman who omits none of the +common courtesies of society can be called +rude, I should have said that Cave Charteris’s +behaviour to me amounted to rudeness.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>Anyway, from that day he devoted himself +to outdoor amusements, and scarcely seemed +to be in the house for ten minutes together. +Last, but not least, dear little Ange began to +brood and be melancholy, in common with +the rest. The season was not a healthy one, +and there was a great deal of fever and sickness +amongst the poor people. Perhaps this +somewhat accounted for the decrease of brilliancy +in her eyes, and lack of power in her +limbs. Her slight delicate frame was weakened +by the long hot summer, and required +the dry frost of winter to brace and set it up +again. There was too much feverish colour, +I thought, in her cheeks for health, and +too much languor in her usually active +body.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie did not see it as I did. She said +that St. Pucelle was always considered to be +rather enervating in the autumn months, +and Ange looked much the same as usual. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>From the ‘little maid’ herself I could get no +satisfactory information. She had become as +shy of me as her sister, and seemed quite +nervous of being left in the same room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I began to think I must be a species of +Jonah, got aboard by haphazard in this +peaceful foreign ark, and that the sooner I +was cast forth into the sea the better. Even +Monsieur de Nesselrode appeared to have +been frightened by my proposal to get him a +wife, and to come less often to the house +than before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>My only resource was Charlie Sandilands, +who had, of course, reappeared upon the +scene of action, faithful as ever. Charlie was +just that sort of man who might be counted +upon to reappear, never mind how often he +was snubbed, always amiable and forgiving, +and for that very reason he was the sort of +man that I never could have submitted my +judgment to.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>But he was an immense comfort to me at +that period, and having once thoroughly +knocked the truth into his stupid old head +that he could be nothing more, we got on +capitally together, and scarcely passed a day +without meeting, either in the house or out of it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had received an answer to my letter +from Mr. Warrington; one that made +me feel both comfortable and uncomfortable +at the same time. In it he had +enclosed a draft for twenty pounds, with +the intimation that for the next few +weeks imperative business would keep him +in London, but that as soon as it was concluded +he should run over to St. Pucelle, +and inquire into my money affairs himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Meanwhile, he trusted that what he sent +would free me from any further annoyance +until his arrival. This was just what I had +dreaded; and had it not been for Charlie +Sandilands, I should foolishly have written +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>back, and begged Mr. Warrington to try +first what he could do by letter. But my +friend dissuaded me from interfering in the +matter. In the first place, he pointed out +that the lawyer must know his own business +best; in the second, that an epistolary war +between him and Mr. Lovett would be none +the pleasanter for me than a wordy one, and +I should be compelled to bear the brunt of it +without the weight of Mr. Warrington’s presence +to back me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was much good sense in this advice, +which I resolved to take, and Charlie and I +had many discussions as we trod the lonely +environs of St. Pucelle together, as to what +future course of life it would be advisable for +me to adopt, for that I should be able to +continue in any comfort with the Lovetts +after the exposure that must follow the +solicitor’s visit, I never for a moment anticipated.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Somewhere near Tessie and Ange I resolved +if possible to stay, but not under the +same roof-tree. Charlie talked of Germany +and Italy, and the delight the art treasures +of these countries would afford to my æsthetic +tastes, but somehow I could not make up +my mind to leave St. Pucelle. It was a +stupid, pottering little town, true enough, +and I knew every inch of it by that time, +and I had no ties to keep me there; still, +whatever the reason, I always came back +to the same decision, that, for the present +at least, I did not fancy the idea of quitting +it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>One day, on an unusually oppressive afternoon, +about the middle of October, I substituted +a white cambric dressing-gown for the +heavy mourning robes I still wore, and sat +down in my own room for a couple of hours’ +quiet reading. I had been thinking of all +the disagreeable things of which I have just +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>written, and resolved to try and banish them +from my mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Charlie had brought over several cheap +novels with him for the nourishment of his +mental appetite, and I had greedily pounced +upon one of Miss Braddon’s, and carried it +off for my own delectation. I had met +Ange dressed for walking as I entered the +corridor, on her way to the kitchen to fetch +the basket which she usually carried when +visiting the poor, and I had remonstrated +with the child for exposing herself to such +heat, and prophesied all sorts of fevers and +horrors for her if she insisted upon being so +obstinate.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But she had only shaken her head at me +in reply, and I had considered my good +advice wasted, and made myself very comfortable +in the society of Miss Braddon. I +had heard light steps traverse the corridor +and leave the house by way of the garden, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>and thought what a little saint of love and +charity the child was, and how far behind her +I came in all things worthy of praise, when +the latch of my door was softly raised (all +the doors in St. Pucelle were latched instead +of locked), and lo! the face of St. Ange, +not pale but feverishly red, like the opened +heart of a great crimson rose, was thrust +silently into view.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, Ange! I thought you had left the +house ten minutes ago.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, it was Tessie. I felt so tired that +she took the basket from my hands and went +instead of me. How cool you look in here, +Hilda! The sun is glaring in on the other +side of the house till it is like an oven.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Come in then, dear, and sit with me. I +have got one of the most charming stories +that was ever written, here, and if you like I +will read aloud to you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She almost dragged herself across the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>room to where I sat. I saw at once that she +was not well.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What is the matter, darling?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nothing in particular, Hilda. Only I +have such a headache, and feel so tired.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Take my chair, Ange; you will catch the +breeze from the hill-top as it blows across +the courtyard. It is deliciously cool.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, I would rather sit here,’ she answered, +as she sunk down upon a stool at my feet and +rested her head against my knee.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I read aloud for a few minutes, but I soon +found that even Miss Braddon had not the +power to-day to chain Ange’s wandering +thoughts, which, it was plain to see from the +expression of her dreamy eyes, were far away +from the matter in hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange, you are very sad to-day. What +makes you so?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I <em>am</em> a little sad. Jeanne Guillot’s little +baby Fanchon is dead, and I nursed her the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>very day she was born. Such a dear, fat +little thing she was, Hilda, and only just two +years old. I feel almost as if she had belonged +to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What did she die of?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know—some kind of fever, I think. +Several children in the town are ill with it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is it safe for you to go amongst them so +constantly as you do, Ange?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘The fever may be infectious—you might +catch it yourself.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What then, Hilda? One can die but +once, you know, and I often think those who +die are much better off than those who are +left in this world.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Perhaps so, but you are too young to +believe it. You have all your life before +you, child, and should look forward to a +sunny one. Why, what has come to my +light-hearted laughing Ange this afternoon?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>‘I have a headache,’ she repeated +wearily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I let her rest in peace then, though I could +not help stealing an occasional glance at the +marvellously pretty face that was pillowed on +my knee. Was it my fancy, or had a look of +greater age really come over Ange’s childlike +features during the last few weeks? I +thought her nose seemed longer and thinner +than before, and that her brows were not +quite so smooth and open as they had been. +But it must have been my fancy, or the +appearance was merely evanescent. No +storm, domestic or otherwise, had occurred +to ruffle the even tenor of her life. The +unusual look of care must have been the +effect of the headache only. It was she who +broke the silence between us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hilda, are you going to marry Mr. +Sandilands?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Marry Charlie Sandilands? certainly <em>not</em>, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>my dear Ange. Whatever can have put +such an idea into your head?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Miss Markham said you were engaged +to him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What rubbish! Pray don’t put faith in +anything that woman tells you. She has no +authority for her assertions. I am not going +to marry anybody, Ange; rest sure of that.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was vexed at this retailed piece of +scandal, nevertheless; though what else could +I have expected at the hands of a set of +chattering old women, who had seen me +walking out every afternoon with the same +gentleman?</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I suppose I have no right to be angry,’ I +continued; ‘but it is always vexatious to be +talked about. I have known Charlie Sandilands +for years, Ange. He is younger than +I am, and I look upon him as a brother. +Don’t let any one connect our names together +again in your presence, will you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>‘No, I will not, Hilda. But I thought +Mr. Charteris would be sure to know.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You said Sophy Markham had been your +informant.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘So she was, but when I repeated it to +Mr. Charteris, he said nothing was more +likely.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Charteris ought to know me better,’ +I returned, with ridiculous heat, considering +that I had not condescended to inform that +gentleman of any of my private affairs.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It seemed hopeless to engage in conversation +that afternoon. Every subject we +started came to a dead-lock, and I returned +to my novel with an impatient sigh. Presently +Madame Marmoret’s harsh voice rung out +across the courtyard in expostulation with +some one unseen.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Eh bien!</em> you are there again, pig! +Have you come to bring me what I asked +for?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>‘Madame sweetly singing, as usual!’ I +remarked, as the tones reached us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I suppose my words drowned the reply +to the woman’s question, for she continued +rapidly:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Lies, as usual! I know you have it! I +saw you borrow one hundred and twenty-five +francs from Monsieur Charteris this morning. +It cannot be gone already. <i><span lang="fr">Pauvre homme!</span></i> +he has not yet found out what it is to lend +money to those that will never return it!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Tais toi!</em>’ responded the voice of my +guardian; ‘mind your own business. He +will be repaid, never fear!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah! yes, certainly, when the Lord comes to +judgment,’ replied Madame, sarcastically.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Ange had not appeared to hear the first +two sentences as she lay with her head upon +my knee, her eyes closed and the deep +crimson mantling on her cheek. But when +her father’s voice was heard in answer, I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>watched her colour fade to a dull white, and +she opened her eyes and knit her brows as +though she were listening with all her soul.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hilda!’ she inquired eagerly, ‘is that +papa’s voice?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, Ange, I think so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What was he saying?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know. I didn’t hear.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She raised herself and looked at me in a +scared, half-comprehending manner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You are deceiving me, Hilda! You must +have heard! What is it? What does it +mean? Did Marmoret say that papa owed +Mr. Charteris money?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I remembered my promise to Tessie, and +resolved that Ange should learn the truth +through any lips but mine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I know nothing about it, Ange,’ I repeated +firmly; ‘you heard what passed just as well +as I did. And if it were the case,’ I added, +with beautiful inconsistency, ‘it is no such +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>great matter. Men borrow money of one +another constantly.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>It is no such great matter!</em>’ she repeated +slowly; ‘no matter that dear papa should be +so poor as to be obliged to borrow of Mr. +Charteris: papa, who holds such strict views +on all money matters that he thinks people +should lie down and starve sooner than beg +or borrow of their friends. Oh! we must be +very poor indeed—much poorer than I have +ever dreamed of—if papa has been obliged +to do this thing.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I saw the proud blood rush back again to +her face, though only for a moment, and +thought, with a pang, what a blow the disclosure +of the truth, when it came, would be +to her! At that moment the bedroom door +opened, and Tessie appeared. The sight of +her sister seemed to rouse Ange to action, +for she leapt to her feet and rushed into her +arms, crying:</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>‘Tessie! Tessie! tell the truth. Does +papa owe money to Mr. Charteris?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie looked over the child’s shoulder at +me with a reproachful air, which I read too +well.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You wrong me,’ I said, in answer; ‘I am +not the delinquent. Ange has overheard +your father and Madame squabbling in the +courtyard.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>At these words Tessie’s face became as +white as the ‘little maid’s.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why did I not tell Madame I was going +to carry Ange’s basket to the poor?’ she said, +with a self-condemnatory air.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I knew what she meant. That if Madame +had known that <em>petite</em> Ange was anywhere +within hearing, she would have placed some +restraint upon her unruly tongue.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, it cannot be helped, Tessie; and, +after all, Ange is making a great fuss about a +very little thing. She merely heard Madame +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>say that Mr. Lovett had borrowed a five-pound +note of his boarder.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Five pounds,Tessie; one hundred and +twenty-five francs!’ said Ange, with open +eyes of horror; ‘and how will he ever pay it +back again, so poor as we are?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! leave papa to find out the ways and +means, darling,’ replied Tessie, cheerfully; ‘it +is no concern of ours, you know, and he +would not like, perhaps, to think that we +knew about his private concerns.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That is just what I have been telling her, +Tessie; but Ange is such a little goose, she +seems to think five pounds a perfect fortune. +Gentlemen constantly accommodate each other +in such trifles. Mr. Charteris is sure to have +his money back in a day or two, and, for my +part, I think we have wasted too much time +already in discussing the business.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>So I said, in my desire to reassure them +both, but Ange still continued to look up in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>her sister’s face with wide, imploring +eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tessie, how can he pay him back? I +heard papa tell the <em>facteur</em> this morning that +he must wait till to-morrow for the money for +the unpaid letter.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That was because he had no change,’ I interposed +quickly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tessie, how will he ever be able to pay +back five pounds?’ continued Ange, without +heeding my interruption; ‘there are so many +things to buy each day, and Madame killed +our best pair of pigeons this morning because +she had no money to go to market +with.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Ange! you do not understand such +things. You have had no experience. +People may have very little money to-day and +plenty to-morrow. It <em>comes in</em>, you know. +The richest are sometimes out of pocket for a +few days, aren’t they, Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>‘Of course,’ I answered stoutly. ‘I dare +say the Duke of Westminster has to borrow +sometimes. The more we have, the more we +spend. How very much amused Mr. +Charteris would be if he could hear the +debate we are holding over his stupid +bank-note. By the way, is he home from +shooting yet, Tessie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know; I have not seen him,’ she +replied, as she gently put her sister from her, +and, walking up to the mirror, removed her +hat and arranged her tumbled hair. Ange +stood where she had left her for a few +seconds motionless, and then, with a deep +sigh, walked out of the room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Hilda! how could you let her +hear it?’ exclaimed Tessie, as soon as she +was gone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How could I help it, rather? If you will +gag Madame Marmoret, or reduce her brazen +clarion of a voice to whispering music, I may +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>be able to avoid such things, but not before.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How impudent of her to shout in that +way across the yard, and why does dear papa +provoke her tongue by infringing on her +premises? Why doesn’t he keep out of her +way?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Don’t ask me. Why does everything in +this world go by contraries? The best thing +we can do now is to try and make Ange forget +what she overheard as soon as possible.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! she is sure to forget it. After all, it +is not much. The only thing is to prevent +its leading to more.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You had better arrange that with Madame +Marmoret, since she is at the bottom of all +the mischief.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>When we met at the dinner-table I thought +that Ange had already forgotten the little +episode we had alluded to. The lovely +damask colour bloomed once more on her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>cheek; her soft eyes beamed with light, and +her manner to her father was even more +tender and caressing than usual.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As soon as the meal was concluded, she +perched herself upon his knee, and kept on +fondling him to an unusual degree as she +stroked down his silver locks, calling him +‘Poor dear papa,’ and ‘Poor darling old +father,’ accompanying each phrase of affection +with a kiss.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I fancied that Mr. Lovett palled of this +excess of filial devotion, but the girl could not +see it. Her little soft heart was full to the +brim with compassion for what she considered +the deplorable condition to which he had +been brought, and she was powerless to perceive +that his did not beat in unison with +hers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last he twitched his venerable head +from under her smoothing hands to turn it +towards Madame Marmoret, who entered the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span><em>salle</em> with a message from Jean Marat, the +cobbler; a humble message, delivered in the +most respectful manner, to the effect that if it +were quite convenient to Monsieur le Curé, +would monsieur oblige Jean Marat with a few +francs—just a few francs—on account of his +bill, because madame <em>sa femme</em> had laid-in +that morning of the eighth little Marat, and +money, under the circumstances, would be +very acceptable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>To listen to Madame’s oily voice at that +moment, who would have dreamt it could +ever be so harsh and virulent as we had heard +it at other times!</p> + +<p class='c012'>She looked the personification of a respectable +servant as she stood at the open door +with her hands rolled up in her apron; and +with all my dislike for the woman, I recognised +something touching in the restraint she +put on her naturally evil nature for the +sake of <em>petite</em> Ange.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>Mr. Lovett, however, saw nothing ‘touching’ +about the matter. His brows contracted +as the message was delivered to him, and he +put Ange off his lap with a brusqueness that +was almost rough.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What do you mean by bringing such a +message in to me in the midst of dinner?’ he +demanded. ‘Tell Jean Marat to go——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there he remembered himself and +came to a full stop. Whatever he may have +been in private, he was always very particular +in keeping up the name of his profession in +public.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tell Jean Marat that it is <em>not</em> convenient, +that I am occupied at present—and he must +wait,’ he continued, correcting the former +sentence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If monsieur could spare but five francs,’ +pleaded Marmoret. ‘The Marats are very +poor.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Ciel!</em>’ exclaimed Mr. Lovett, losing his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>temper entirely. ‘What do you mean by +talking to me in that manner when I haven’t +got a five-franc piece in the house? Give +it to them yourself if you are so anxious for +their comfort; but get out of this room, and +leave me in peace to finish my repast.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Madame Marmoret immediately disappeared, +and harmony was restored amongst +us. But an ominous silence succeeded her +departure.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie sat with eyes downcast upon her +lap. Mr. Charteris whistled and looked out +of the window. Ange seemed restlessly +miserable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The cause of the disturbance tried to cheer +up the spirits of his family, but, finding his +remonstrances of no avail, took his hat and +stick discontentedly and walked off to visit +some of his friends.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The girls disappeared together, as I +thought, to their garden or the kitchen, and I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>retreated to the inner <em>salle</em> to have another +chat with Miss Braddon. When it grew too +dusk to read I went upstairs, intending to +finish some needlework or writing in my bedroom +by the light of a little lamp which I had +purchased for my own use with some of the +money Mr. Warrington had sent me. But, +passing the room occupied by the sisters, my +attention was arrested by the sound of a low +sobbing, and I entered it expecting to find +my poor friend Tessie bewailing in secret the +troubles she had to bear. To my surprise, +however, it was not Tessie who was cast +prostrate on the bed. It was Ange!</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange, my child!’ I exclaimed. ‘What +is the matter that you should weep like +this?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! don’t speak to me, Hilda,’ she said +mournfully; ‘leave me to myself. It seems +as if a great black cloud had come down over +everything.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>Poor Ange! Dear, innocent Ange!</p> + +<p class='c012'>So the curse had begun to work here also, +and her fresh young life was to be involved +in trouble like the rest.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span> +<img src='images/i145.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI.<br> <span class='c010'>SALLE DU SABBAT.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>How we all came to visit the <i><span lang="fr">Grottes de S. +Jean</span></i> in one large party, I never quite made +out, but the fact remains that we went. Some +one proposed it, probably Miss Markham (for +that gay young creature was always on the +alert to concoct a plan by which she should +secure the privilege of Mr. Charteris’s company), +and some one agreed to it, but neither +of them was I.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I found myself one morning in the centre +of a group consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Carolus, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>Sophy Markham, Arthur Thrale and Charlie +Sandilands, Cave Charteris, and Ange and +Tessie, all habited in walking costumes, and +armed with thick sticks, ready to start on an +expedition to these famous grottoes of stalactites, +and I was told to put on my hat and +accompany them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was no particular interest to me in +the expedition; indeed, had I been given my +choice, I would much rather have stayed at +home on the chance of getting a lesson in +French from the Baron de Nesselrode—the +public will see that I am frank in these records, +even to detailing my errors of judgment—but +consciousness that it was so, and that +I showed weakness in encouraging it, urged +me to the opposite course, and I agreed, with +alacrity, to do all that they required of me. +So in a few minutes we had started on our +way. Sophy Markham clinging close, of +course, to Charteris’s side, as Charlie Sandilands +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>did to mine, and the rest walking, as +Ange expressed it, <em>heegledy-peegledy</em>. How +well I remember that morning: we were all +so terribly young. Mrs. Carolus skipped +round and about her Willy, whom, more than +once, she nearly knocked over in her airy +evolutions, as a bride of sixteen might have +done; whilst Miss Markham hung upon +Charteris’s arm and gazed up into his face +with the rapture of a first attachment. The +boys caught the youthful infection, and raced +Tessie and me down the green slopes we had +to traverse, until I told them they reminded +me of Greenwich fair. Of all the company +only two seemed unequal to taking part in +the general hilarity. These two were Cave +Charteris and <em>petite</em> Ange.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He walked along with his head in the air, +without appearing to take much interest in +the conversation of his self-elected companion. +Did he or did he not care for the attentions +<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>which this woman was always pressing upon +him? To love her I was quite sure would +be impossible to him—the great difference in +their ages alone would render it most unlikely—but +he had certainly been more polite and +amiable to her lately than he had ever been +before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>What motive could he have for it? for +I was certain Cave Charter never did +anything without a motive. Did he entertain +any thoughts of marrying her? Miss +Markham was reported at that time to have +money, and Madame Marmoret had more +than once openly expressed her disgust to +see the lady’s favours transferred to the wrong +quarter. But Mr. Charteris had told me he +was rich; he could never be so mean as to +sell his liberty to an old woman when he was +not even in want of pecuniary assistance. +Yet on what other grounds, except the desire +to ingratiate himself with her, could one account +<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>for his former rudeness being changed +to a curt familiarity? The other dullard of +our party, dear Ange, was not so melancholy +as she was silent. The burst of grief she had +given way to, now more than a week ago, +had been succeeded by an unusually subdued +manner—an <em>older</em> manner if I may express it +so. It was as if the discovery of that day +had swept her youth away before it. So I +believed, at least, then—now I know that +subtler influences were at work to destroy +her gaiety.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I tried on that morning, by every means +in my power, to make Ange like her former +self, but it was in vain. She laughed, it is +true, and when we pulled her down the steep +hills, the crimson blood mantled in her +peachy cheeks and made her beautiful, but +there was a sense of care underlying the +laughter that spoilt the joyousness of its +echo, and the colour faded too fast after each +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>exertion to have been called there by healthy +exercise.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The grottoes we were about to visit extended +for a great distance under the grounds +of Monsieur de Condé, whose property they +were, and who charged a certain sum for admission +to them. They had been discovered +by some workmen whilst excavating on his +estate, and had been quite a source of profit +to their owner ever since. The visitors to +St. Pucelle, naturally, had already heard a +great deal about these famous grottoes, and +Sophy Markham ‘gushed’ over them to her +heart’s content.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! I am so <em>anxious</em> to see them! I am +anticipating so much pleasure from this little +excursion!’ she exclaimed, with a violent and +most palpable squeeze of Mr. Charteris’s arm. +‘I have been looking over the book in the +hotel where visitors have written down their +impressions of them, and they are so terribly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>tantalising. A Persian describes himself as +having been suddenly transported into fairyland—didn’t +he, Lizzie dear?—positively into +fairyland, and says he can compare the vast +caverns to nothing but the palace of his great +master the sultan, and the forms of the stalactites +to lovely houris frozen around him. +Isn’t it poetical? <em>Frozen houris!</em> Oh! I do +love poetry so! It is the very life of my +soul.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie laughed quietly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I’m afraid if you do not lessen your anticipations, +Miss Markham, that you will be +disappointed. I went over the grotto years +ago with some friends, but I saw nothing at +all like “frozen houris” there.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah! but then, my dear Tessie, you are +not imaginative. Now, I <em>am</em>. I always +have been, and it is my <em>métier</em> to make the +very best of everything I see. You don’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>blame me for it, or think me foolish, Mr. +Charteris, do you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of course Mr. Charteris assured her that +folly and herself were the two things in his +ideas farthest removed from one another, and +just as he had given vent to this opinion, we +came in sight of the mouth of the grotto, +where two <em>guides</em>, each bearing a petroleum +lamp, awaited our arrival. They tendered +us little hats made of grey linen, each trimmed +with a cockade and a bunch of red feathers +in front, very much after the pattern of those +adopted by the monkeys on the organs, and +for which we were expected to exchange +those we wore, which were liable to be +damaged by the drippings from the +cave.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They were comical-looking head-dresses, +and I hardly wondered at Mrs. Carolus and +the fair Sophia hesitating to surmount their +hard-lined and puckered faces by them, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>although Ange and Tessie looked all the +prettier from the contrast.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Miss Markham in particular, I could see, +would rather have spoiled a dozen hats than +assumed the unbecoming linen one, had she +not been ridiculed into doing so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! Lizzie dear, we never <em>can</em> wear such +things—now can we?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I’m sure I don’t know, dear. I’d much +rather keep on my bonnet, but then it cost +five guineas, and I shall be crazy if it gets +hurt. I really think I must venture to try +one of the caps.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! my dear girl, you do look so comical! +Excuse my laughing—but you’ve no idea—and +grey never did suit your complexion, you +know.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, I don’t think you need talk, Sophy. +So plain a headdress is by no means suited +to your own style of features, I can tell +you!’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>‘Oh! the horrid thing—I will never, never +wear it!’ cried the childish Sophia, as she +threw the offending cap upon the ground; +and I believe, if she had not overheard Mr. +Charteris grumble at being kept waiting so +long, that she would have been as good as +her word.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But, finding that we were all wearing them +and she would be singular if she did not do +the same, she consented at last to crown her +<em>chignon</em> with it, and came simpering forth like +a bashful girl that was afraid of being looked +at.</p> + +<p class='c012'>No one troubled her, however, and the +whole party being ready, we began to descend +the first flight of wooden steps which were +steep but easy, and went down, down, down, +until the ivy and fern covered entrance was +left far above us, and we had reached the +very centre of the cave, which was yet light +enough to let us see that there were several +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>more such flights to be descended before we +could touch level earth again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was a fine opportunity for Miss +Markham and Mrs. Carolus to shriek and +laugh hysterically, and cling like grim death +to whoever happened to be nearest to them, +and they made every use of it. But Mr. +Charteris and Mr. Carolus had been wise in +their generation, and insisted upon going +down first, leaving their women-kind to +struggle in the rear with any one they could +lay hold of. So poor Charlie and Arthur +Thrale had them all to themselves, whilst +Tessie and I laughed wickedly in each others’ +ears.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last we stood on level ground, in a +cavern as dark as Erebus; there was no light +anywhere, except from the lamps of the +guides, who waved them over their heads +and introduced us to <i><span lang="fr">la grande salle</span></i>. I +looked up and down and round about me; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>but all was black as pitch. I felt that I was +standing on broken flints and thick mud, and +as the guides’ lamps threw their faint gleam +here and there, I perceived that the cave we +stood in was very vast and damp, and uncommonly +like a huge cellar, but I can’t say +that I saw anything more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Are these the “frozen houris?”’ asked +Cave Charteris, sarcastically.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh no! I should hardly think so,’ replied +Miss Markham, quickly; ‘and—where are +you, Mr. Charteris? I feel so dreadfully +timid, I can’t tell you—and would give anything +to have hold of the hand of some one +that I knew!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Take mine!’ I said, with <em>malice prepense</em>; +‘it’s quite strong enough to keep you from +slipping.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh no! I couldn’t think of it. I might +fall and pull you down with me. But if Mr. +Charteris would help me——’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>‘All right! You can take my arm if you +wish it. But we can’t walk abreast through +the passages,’ he answered, with anything +but lover-like alacrity, and something made +me turn to Ange and whisper:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Are you not frightened, dear, too? If so, +I can hold you up.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But she said calmly:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There is nothing to be frightened of, +Hilda. We are on the solid ground now, and +can fall no lower.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>In another minute the guides had turned +and led us through a passage cut in the rock. +We were not going up nor down stairs now, +but picking our way over slippery stones, +and between places sometimes so narrow and +so low, that gaunt Mr. Carolus knocked his +head more than once, as he disregarded the +guides’ warning cry of ‘<em>Tête!</em>’ and the majority +of us got bruised arms and shoulders. +Every now and then we came upon a larger +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>excavation which was called a <em>salle</em>, and bore +some name consequent on the likeness assumed +by the stalactites it contained. One +was termed <i><span lang="fr">Salle de Brahma</span></i>, because it held +a lump of crystal somewhat resembling the +idol of that name. Another <i><span lang="fr">Salle du Sacrifice</span></i>, +its principal attraction being a large flat +stone, at the foot of which was another, +shaped like a sausage and entitled <i><span lang="fr">tombeau de +la victime</span></i>.</p> + +<p class='c012'>We paced after the guides through these +cavernous passages for what appeared to me +to be miles, my mind, meanwhile, being +divided between fear that I should leave my +best pair of boots behind me in the slushy +clay, and apprehension as to the appearance +my crape would present when I reached +home again. I heard Mrs. Carolus, every +now and then, querulously complaining to +‘Willy’ of the pains she was acquiring in +her back from the constant stooping, and I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>knew that Sophy Markham was dogging +Mr. Charteris’s steps as closely as the circumstances +would admit of, and that Tessie +and Ange plodded behind me silent and uncomplaining.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was beginning to think that we had +come on a very foolish expedition and were +likely to have more pain than pleasure for +our trouble, when I found we were ploughing +our way up again, on fungus-covered ladders +and wet slippery stairs upon which it was +most difficult to keep a footing, until we +arrived at what was decidedly the finest sight +there, the <i><span lang="fr">Salle du Sabbat</span></i>. Here the guides +proposed to send up a spirit balloon, in order +to show us the height and extent of the +vast cavern, and went away, taking the +lamps with them, having first planted us in +a row on the edge of a precipice, and conjured +us not to stir until their return. I +think we felt little inclination to do so. The +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>blackness about us was so thick that we +could almost <em>feel</em> it, and the silence was that +of death. Ange slipped her little hand in +mine, and whispered:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hilda, suppose they should never come +back!’ and I could not say the supposition +was a pleasant one. She had been standing +between Sophy Markham and myself, but as +she said the words, she slipped round my +back and linked her arm in mine on the +other side.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Miss Markham, for a wonder, was silent, +but Mrs. Carolus was plaintively trying to +make her spouse partake her girlish fears, and +he was ridiculing them with a kind of rough +good sense that made me laugh. Under +cover of their expostulations with one +another, a mouth approached my ear on the +side left vacant by Ange, and I heard a voice +say gently:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My own darling! How much I love you!’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>The announcement took me so completely +by surprise, that, for the moment, I imagined +it had proceeded from Charlie Sandilands, and +it was quite a mercy that, under cover of the +darkness, I did not turn round and smartly +box his ears in return for his impudence. +But before I had had time to prepare the +weapon of chastisement, the speaker continued, +still in the same soft tones:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What a nuisance it is having to play propriety +before all these bores! How I long to +be alone with you again, and able to tell you +what I feel!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Before this sentence was concluded, I had +recognised the voice as that of Cave +Charteris, and was bristling with indignation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What do you mean by speaking to me +like that?’ I said angrily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Good God, Hilda!’ he rejoined, ‘is it +you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>‘Yes, it is I! Who did you take me +for?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Then—where—where—’ he stammered, in +order to give himself time to think of what +to say, ‘where is Miss Markham?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We had both raised our voices in our +mutual surprise, and his last question was +overheard.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Here I am, Mr. Charteris!’ ejaculated the +fair Sophy, from his other side—I know she +had shifted her quarters in hopes of extracting +some familiarity from him before +the lights came back. ‘Close to you—see!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>The order to ‘see’ was apparently accompanied +by a playful pinch, for Charteris gave +a sudden yell, and a step forward that might +have sent him over the precipice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Do be careful, Miss Markham,’ I exclaimed, +with an expression of annoyance, +‘and keep your facetiæ until we stand on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>safer ground. You might have caused Mr. +Charteris to make a false step.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, you needn’t be so alarmed, Miss +Marsh,’ she answered meaningly; ‘I assure +you I am quite as anxious for Mr. Charteris’s +safety as you can be, and I should think you +had quite enough to do to look after Mr. +Sandilands without troubling yourself about +other people!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I retorted; +but at that moment the spirit balloon rose in +the air, and half a dozen voices joined in a +chorus of admiration at the height and +depth and length and breadth of the cavern +we stood in, and the glittering clusters of +stalactites which the light momentarily revealed +as it majestically sailed past them. +I looked with the rest, but my thoughts +were far away from the scene around me. +A question was puzzling my brain which +I felt I could not give up until I had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>unravelled. <em>For whom</em> had Cave Charteris +intended the whisper which by mistake he +addressed to me?</p> + +<p class='c012'>It worried me all the way home, and long +after I had reached it. His subsequent +query seemed to imply that he had believed +Sophy Markham stood next him, but I could +not credit that he had said those words +except with the intent to mislead me. Was +it possible that he could have seriously called +Miss Markham by such a term of endearment, +or addressed her with so much earnestness +in his voice? And if it were not +possible, then—did he intend that speech for +Ange, who would have been standing between +us had she not slipped round to my +other side at the very moment we were left +in darkness?</p> + +<p class='c012'><em>Cave Charteris and Ange!</em> The very +combination of names seemed like sacrilege +in my ears. The man who had made love +<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>to me, and left me in years gone by—who +had tried to make love to me only a few +weeks back—to have the happiness of that +innocent trusting child in his hands! It was +too horrible to think of. Whatever his protestations +or passions for the moment might +be, he was cold and cruel by nature. I could +read it in his eyes and the sentiments in +which he expressed his opinions, and I +trembled to think what Ange’s fate might +prove, if he aroused all her deepest feelings, +and then basely deserted her as he had +deserted me. What was I to do? What +was it my duty to do—both towards her +and him! If the sentences I heard were +meant for Ange, it was not the first time Mr. +Charteris had addressed her as a lover. +That was evident.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My own darling!’ he had said, ‘how +much I love you!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Men don’t call women their ‘own’ until +<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>they have proved they are willing to be so. +I knew enough of human nature to know +that. And then he had added, ‘How I long +to be alone with you <em>again</em>,’ which showed +that whoever he spoke to had already kept +appointments with him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Oh! could it—could it be our little Ange? +All my knowledge of her childish manner, +her shyness and her modesty, seemed to +refute the suspicion as an impossibility; but +it was still more impossible to believe that +Mr. Charteris had seriously addressed those +lover-like speeches to old Sophy Markham. +My mind became distracted in its ignorance +what to think, and how to act. If he were +making love to Ange, I felt as if, at all risk, +I ought to fly to her rescue; but if he were +only making fun of Miss Markham’s undisguised +<em>penchant</em> for himself, why my interference +would appear very ridiculous, and +bring not only discredit on me as a busybody +<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>and meddler, but perhaps lay me open +to a false inference of jealousy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was evening—nine or ten o’clock—and +I was sitting in my own room, leaning my +elbows on the open window-sill, and gazing +up into the starless sky. The night was +very dark—I remember thinking <em>how</em> dark, +as I sat and mused there, sadly. I had seen +Madame Marmoret, arrayed in her best +gown, with her scarlet shawl across her +shoulders, her gold earrings dangling from +her ears, and the broad strings of her snow-white +cap pinned carefully together at the +back of her neck, leave the courtyard some +time ago, on a visit of ceremony, I presumed, +to some of her friends. I knew that Mr. +Lovett was busily engaged in the <em>salle</em> +playing <em>écarté</em> with Monsieur Condé, who +had looked in to hear if we had enjoyed our +visit to his immortal grotto: and I had left +Tessie and Ange ironing their father’s shirts +<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>in the kitchen. Mr. Charteris I was unable +to account for, as he had left the house immediately +after dinner, and was probably +smoking the calumet of peace with his friend +Monsieur de Nesselrode, or perhaps repeating +the words which so much troubled me +for the benefit of Miss Sophy Markham.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whose then was the figure, decidedly a +man’s, which had just entered the courtyard +by way of the stables and cow-house, and +leant up against the wall outside the kitchen-door? +He was smoking a cigar, for I could +distinguish the red light as he blew the thin +wreaths of smoke into the air; but that was +no guide to his personality, since every man +in St. Pucelle enjoyed the same privilege. +The kitchen window was full in view from +where I sat, but the shutters were closed, so +I could not see if the girls were still at work +within or no. But why did not the stranger, +whoever he might be, knock for admittance? +<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>Could he have entered the yard with any +nefarious intentions? In another moment I +am sure I should have spoken to him, had +not the kitchen-door opened suddenly, and a +second figure stepped out into the darkness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Don’t stay here!’ said a tender voice, +which I recognised at once; ‘I cannot come +to you. Tessie wants me in the little <em>salle</em>!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Cannot my angel spare me <em>one</em> minute?’ +asked Cave Charteris.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No! not one, until to-morrow! You will +not try to keep me now, will you?’—imploringly, +as if to say that if he <em>did</em> try, he +would certainly succeed—‘because they +might hear of it and be angry.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You shall do just as you think best, my +darling, on one condition.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What is that?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That you tell me you love me before you +go—I cannot sleep without it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I could not see, but I fancied, from her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>stifled tones, that he had clasped his arms +about her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! my love! my love!’ she repeated +fervently; ‘<em>I do love you!</em>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>And then she slipped away and closed the +kitchen-door softly, and after an interval of +half a minute I heard the other figure step +carefully across the paved court and pass into +the open street again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And I turned from the window and sank +down on my knees beside my bed, and +prayed for a long, long time, for <em>petite</em> Ange +and for myself, and judgment to know what +best to do.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span> +<img src='images/i171.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII.<br> <span class='c010'>MASTER FRED.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The reverie which followed this, to me, +astounding revelation resulted in the decision +that it was my duty to tell Mr. Lovett what +I had overheard. I hardly know, at this +period, whether I did right or wrong—whether +I should have shown more wisdom +in speaking to Tessie or to Ange herself—whether, +in fact, any other course of action +could have averted the calamity that so +quickly followed it. But it can be well +understood how difficult a part I had to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>play in warning my friends against the man +who had wronged me. A thousand times +during that night I told myself that I could +not do it; that my motives would be misinterpreted, +and that if Cave Charteris had +failed in his allegiance to me, it was no +reason he should be untrue to Angela Lovett. +She evidently liked him. No girl of her +modesty and virtuous bringing up could have +said the words I had heard her say unless +she meant them from the bottom of her heart. +Yet she was so easily deceived. She was so +much too credulous of the goodness of human +nature to be fit to judge for herself. Had it +been Tessie whom Charteris had selected for +his attentions, I should have left them to +their own devices. Tessie knew something +of the world: her eyes had been opened to +a part, at least, of its iniquity; but Ange was +a perfect child, both in mind and experience. +The complete faith she put in her father’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>saintliness was a proof of this, and I felt sure, +upon reviewing the discovery I had made, +that she would never have kept her relations +with Mr. Charteris a secret from those she so +much loved and trusted, had he not brought +some powerful motive to bear upon her +reticence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>What could he have said to persuade this +child, who was all frank, ingenuous simplicity, +that it was right to hold secret appointments +with himself? And why, if his intentions +towards her were what they should be, had +he not at once avowed them to Mr. Lovett? +He was free and independent—at liberty to +choose a wife as he listed—and he could +have no fear that the poverty-stricken +minister would object to see one of his +daughters well provided for.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The more I thought of it, the more I felt +persuaded that something was wrong. A +terrible fear took hold of me that Ange was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>in similar danger to that I had passed +through—perhaps worse, Heaven only knew. +And when daylight dawned I had made up +my mind, whatever happened, to inform my +reverend guardian of what I had seen and +heard.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The task was anything but a pleasant one. +As I have already mentioned, since the +adventure of the twenty-five francs, I had +had little or nothing to say to Mr. Lovett, +and I saw that he regarded me with suspicion +and dislike. It was for the sake of Ange +alone that I conquered my aversion to enter +upon any but general topics with him, and +small thanks as I expected to receive in +return for my moral courage, the event +proved that I had over-rated the little +interest he had left in me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Breakfast was over, and the moment had +arrived in which to attack him. Ange, who +had been looking unusually pale and languid +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>during the meal, and had scarcely eaten +anything, announced her intention of spending +the morning with Jeanne Guillot, the +mother of the little child that had died of +fever, though I wronged the poor girl by +believing that she was going to walk with +Cave Charteris instead.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why do you let your sister go to those +infected cottages?’ I demanded, almost +sharply, of Tessie; ‘you had much better +keep her at home. She will catch her death +there some day, and then you will be sorry.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie regarded me with mild surprise.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, Hilda, the fever is not infectious! +The doctor says it is purely due to the effects +of the long dry summer we have had! And +where should Ange be, but amongst those +who have suffered from it? The people +would not know what had come to St. +Pucelle if they missed <em>petite</em> Ange from their +sides when they were in trouble.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>‘Oh! very well! Do as you choose, but +don’t blame me afterwards,’ I responded +curtly; for I felt very sore on the subject, +and was ready to think Tessie a fool for not +being more alive to the moral and physical +risks which her sister ran.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They all disappeared after this, and I +would not inquire even where they were +going. Mr. Lovett and I were left alone in +the <em>salle</em>, and I might have spoken to him, +perhaps, without interruption, but I wished +him to attach as much importance as possible +to the communication I was about to make.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Lovett,’ I commenced, ‘I have something +of the greatest consequence to tell you. +When will it be convenient for you to listen +to me?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I suppose he thought I was going to speak +again about my money matters, for I could +see the impatient jerk of the shoulders with +which he answered:</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>‘I can anticipate what you are about to +say, my dear Hilda; and can assure you that +as soon as your dividends——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, no, it is not that!’ I interrupted +eagerly. ‘I don’t want money, because Mr. +Warrington has sent me some to go on +with.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I am afraid this was a false move. I +saw that my guardian took it in anything but +good part by the way in which he frowned at +me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>So you have applied to Mr. Warrington +on the subject.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I did not ask him for any money, if that +is what you mean. He sent it me spontaneously. +But that has nothing to do with +my present business. Can I speak to you +alone?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You can say what you wish, although I +cannot imagine what else of a private nature +you can have to communicate to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>‘You will soon find out. But I cannot tell +it to you here, with every door and window +open.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘This is very strange,’ he remarked. +‘Where would you have me go?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Will you come into my bedroom, or may +I accompany you in your walk?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘The last will be the least remarkable proceeding,’ +he replied, as he rose to find his hat +and stick.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a few minutes we were on the highroad +together. When it came to the point I +found it very difficult to begin; but I had +made up my mind that I was right, and was +determined to go through with it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Lovett,’ I said, ‘do you approve of +confession?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, that is rather a difficult question to +answer. I approve of it for the Church of +which it forms a law, but not for its own particular +merits.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>‘But do you hold with the sacredness of +its obligations to secrecy?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Certainly.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Then will you consider that what I am +about to tell you is under the seal of confession, +and promise me beforehand to keep my +communication private?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If it relates to yourself, I will.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I only claim your secrecy on behalf of +myself. You have heard that Mr. Charteris +and I knew each other many years ago; and +perhaps I ought to have told you before now, +Mr. Lovett, that in those days he professed +to be attached to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t see what business that is of mine, +my dear Hilda.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, it is your business, because he +greatly deceived me, and you have daughters +whom he might treat in the same manner. +For months my mother and I believed that +Cave Charteris intended to marry me; but it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>all came to nothing, and for many years his +desertion was the source of my bitterest +trouble.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘In that case, I should think the less you +say about it the better; and I cannot at all +imagine why you should have chosen to make +me the confidant of so unpleasant a portion +of your history.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was so much coldness and selfishness +in his words, so little sympathy or +interest in his voice, that I looked at him +with astonishment. Was this the bland, +soft-toned old gentleman whom I had heard +talking with such benign pity and charity for +all mankind, and who now had apparently +not one syllable of compassion or reproach +for the heartless marring of a young girl’s +life? I was so angry with him for the +manner in which he had received my communication, +that I did not care what I said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Then I will tell you, sir,’ I went on hotly. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>‘The reason I have troubled you with an +account of my sufferings at Mr. Charteris’s +hands, is because I have every reason to +believe that he is carrying on the same game +with your daughter Ange.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Lovett stopped short in his walk, and, +leaning on his stick, turned round and regarded +me fully. I can recall the cold light +in his blue eyes, and the fixed look of his +marble features as he did so, to this day.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What proofs have you to advance for the +truth of what you say?’ he demanded, in the +most frigid tones.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I was sitting at my bedroom window last +night when they met in the courtyard. I +could not help overhearing their conversation, +and I am quite convinced that he is persuading +Ange to love him. I lay awake all night, +thinking what was best for me to do; and I +decided that, at all events, you ought to be +told of what is going on between them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>‘You lay awake all night, you mean, +plotting how you might best destroy an innocent +young girl’s happiness, in revenge for +having missed your own.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Mr. Lovett!’ I cried, horrified at the +interpretation he had put upon my words. +‘How can you think so! I love Ange +dearly: I would do anything to secure her +happiness; and as for my own, it is very long +since it was connected with Cave Charteris. +I believe him to be neither good nor true. I +do not consider he is capable of making any +girl happy; and all I beg of you is to watch +over Ange, and to see he does not teach her +what is wrong. If he is an honourable +suitor, why should he not make known his +wishes concerning her to you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am not prepared to discuss such delicate +questions with a young lady, and one who +evidently bears no goodwill towards the supposed +offender. You seem to have overlooked +<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>one thing, Miss Marsh, in mentioning +Mr. Charteris: and that is, that you were +speaking of a friend of mine.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is it possible you are going to take his +part against your own child!’ I exclaimed, in +amazement.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have yet to be convinced that I <em>am</em> +taking it against my own child. All the information +I have received has come through +a woman who, by her own account, has every +motive for jealousy, and is an eavesdropper +into the bargain.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Thank you, Mr. Lovett!’ I said grandly. +‘I am much obliged to you for your good +opinion. I shall not soon forget that I tried +to do you a benefit, and you credited me with +the worst of feelings in return. I see what I +believe to be wrong, and I tell you of it, +simply from a sense of duty, and a desire to +preserve your daughter from a similar fate to +mine. But since you choose to misinterpret +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>my meaning in so gross a manner, I shall +interfere no further in the matter.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I beg you will <em>not</em>,’ he replied sternly. +‘I have every faith in the honour of Mr. +Charteris and of my daughter, and require +no assistance in looking after their interests.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You resent my confidence, then, as an +insult.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I cannot help seeing that it has been +actuated by lower motives than you would +have me believe. I do not discredit what +you have told me; but I am perfectly content +to leave such things to Providence and the +good principles in which Ange has been +brought up.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You wish her, in fact, to marry Cave +Charteris?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I know nothing as yet to make me <em>not</em> +wish it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You do not consider his dishonourable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>conduct to myself any drawback to his becoming +the lover of Ange?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should like, before I pronounced any +opinion on the subject, to be assured that you +did not deceive yourself in the matter. +Young women are sometimes apt to make a +mistake about gentlemen’s attentions. And +even if you are right, by your own showing +it happened several years ago, and we may +charitably conclude that Mr. Charteris’s +character has strengthened and improved +during the interval.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am very sorry I took the trouble to +speak to you,’ I said bitterly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And I was exceedingly sorry. I had +meant to do good, and I had done nothing +but harm. Mr. Lovett evidently liked the +idea of Cave Charteris entangling himself +with Ange, and perhaps he had even seen +what was going on and encouraged it; and +I stood in the despicable light of an +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>eavesdropper and scandalmonger, who was +actuated by jealousy to play the spy! I +could have cried with vexation and indignation, +and, indeed, for a while I had not sufficient +command over myself to continue the +conversation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There is one thing I must request of +you, my dear Hilda,’ Mr. Lovett went on +mildly: ‘and that is, not to mention this +subject to my daughter. It is neither +necessary nor delicate—and, in fact, I must +forbid it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You need not be afraid, sir. I shall +never interfere with anything concerning +either of them again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That is right. It would vex Tessie +beyond measure to hear her sister’s actions +discussed in this free manner, and it might +ruin Ange’s prospects for life.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I shall leave you to manage them both +for the future without any assistance from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>me,’ I said, turning away, ‘but, mark my +words, Mr. Lovett, you will live to regret +this day.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>As I walked homewards by myself I +wondered I had been so bold, but I would +not have said one word less had the interview +come over again. I read the old man’s selfishness +at a glance. He was afraid of losing +Charteris as a boarder and money-lender if +he brought him to book for his actions, and +he preferred to risk his innocent little +daughter’s happiness to giving up a few of +his creature-comforts.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How despicable and mean he appeared to +me as I reviewed the conversation that had +just taken place between us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was hurrying home, with my eyes on the +ground and my thoughts all engrossed with +the subject in hand, when I was attracted by +a loud shouting and hallooing, and, looking +up, perceived some one in front of me long +<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>and lanky, waving his arms round and round +like a windmill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hollo, Miss Marsh! don’t you know me?’ +he exclaimed; and then I recognised my +youthful companion of the steamboat, Master +Frederick Stephenson.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, Master Fred, is that really you?’ I +said, as I shook hands with him. ‘I believe +you have grown, even in the short time since +I saw you. And does your cousin expect +you? He said nothing to us about it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Expect me! Not he, the scrubby fellow! +He promised a dozen times that he’d ask me +over here for a day’s shooting, and I’ve +written almost every week to remind him, +but ’twas no go. So I got old Felton to give +me a holiday, and took French leave; and +here I am, and if Cave don’t like it, he can +do the other thing, for I don’t mean to go +back till my time’s up.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And when will that be?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>‘Last train this evening; but I say, by +Jove! Miss Marsh, how jolly you look! +You’re twice as fat as you were when we +crossed over together, and you’ve got such a +colour. You’re first rate, you are.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Am I?’ I said, hardly able to help laughing +at the rough compliment, though I felt so +sad. ‘I am glad you think so, Fred, for I +would much rather look nice to my friends +than nasty.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, you do look nice, then, and no mistake. +And are both the Miss Lovetts at +home?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I’m in luck, by George! won’t that beggar +Charteris be surprised to see me walk in! +I’d a mind to show him I was not going +to be humbugged in that way. He thought +he’d keep all the fun to himself, I suppose.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am afraid you have not come on a shooting-day, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>at least I heard nothing about it +this morning.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t mind. I’d rather stay with you. +Is that the house? It <em>is</em> pretty! Just like +an old Swiss châlet. And, by the way, Miss +Marsh, how do you get on with old Lovett?’ +concluded the young gentleman, with a +peculiar twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! very well. How should I get on +with him?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Isn’t he a good, pious, benevolent, amiable +old gentleman, eh? Isn’t he self-denying, +and prudent, and saving, and all that sort of +thing?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hold your tongue, sir,’ I replied, ‘and +don’t speak in that way of your betters.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>For all the windows and doors were open, +and I had no wish that Tessie or Ange +should overhear the remarks of my impudent +young friend.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My <em>betters</em>!’ reiterated Master Fred. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>‘Oh! come now, Miss Marsh, do draw it +mild.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I hope you are not going to indulge us +with that sort of schoolboy slang all dinner-time, +or you will shock the Miss Lovetts,’ I +told him, ‘and, if I am not much mistaken, +you will offend your cousin also.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ah! the elegant and accomplished Cave. +Yes, I shouldn’t wonder if I did, and it would +not be the first time either. But I see his +cropped flaxen poll bobbing up at the +window. By Jove! didn’t he look black +when he caught sight of me! I’m in for it, +Miss Marsh, and no mistake; but I rather +like a row than otherwise. There’s so little +excitement about here, that one’s digestion is +ruined for want of it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! I hope you won’t have a row,’ I replied; +but when we entered the <em>salle</em>, where +Mr. Charteris was seated with the two girls, +I was really afraid Master Fred’s prophecy +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>would come true. I could not account for +the extreme annoyance that clouded his +cousin’s face at the sight of him. It could +not have arisen simply from the fact of the +boy having made his appearance without +leave, and yet one would have thought he +had committed the most serious offence by +doing so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, Cave, you don’t look over and +above pleased to see me!’ exclaimed the lad, +as soon as he had renewed his acquaintance +with the Lovett girls.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I can’t say I am. Why didn’t you wait +till I sent for you, instead of running over in +this unceremonious fashion?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Wait till you sent for me! I fancy I +might have waited till the crack of doom, in +that case. Why, how much longer do you +intend to remain here yourself?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know, and it’s no concern of yours,’ +replied Charteris, with visible annoyance.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>‘Of course not! You’re your own master, +and the longer you stay away the better, at +least for those at home.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Now, Fred, I don’t want any of your nonsense. +Please to understand that.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I can’t give you sense if I haven’t got it. +But my dad writes me word that they’ve a +clean bill of health down at Parkhurst now, +and that Mary is very anxious to see you +back again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>If Charteris had been suddenly shot he +could hardly have jumped up more quickly +than he did at these words.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Fred, my boy!’ he exclaimed, with a total +change of manner, ‘don’t you want to have a +little shooting in the forest?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, of course I do, if it’s possible! But +I didn’t expect to get it, as I came over without +warning.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should like to oblige you if I can, but if +we are to do anything we must start at once. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>I left my guns up at the château, and we +must call for them on our way. Are you +game for a long walk, Fred?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Pretty well! but is there any such hurry?’ +Can’t we get an hour or two after <em>goûter</em>? +I’m no great shakes with a gun, you know, +Cave—not a bigwig like you or the Baron—so +that I dare say I shall have had enough of +it long before you have. And I’m so +hungry.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Bother your hunger! we can get something +up at the château. If you want to +shoot, say so; and if you don’t, you’d better +go back to Rille, for there’s no other amusement +for you at St. Pucelle.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I could not imagine why he should be so +cross with the lad, and Tessie and Ange +seemed as puzzled as myself. Fred Stephenson +was nothing but a boy—troublesome, no +doubt, and often saucy, as boys will be—but +a frank, gentlemanly young fellow that no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>man need have been ashamed to own as a +relation. As Mr. Charteris spoke to him in +the rough way related, he stood silent for a +moment, and then said with a kind of nervous +laugh:</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘There’s evidently no room for me here, +so perhaps I should be wiser to go back.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, no!’ I urged; ‘stay and shoot. Mr. +Charteris only wants you to make up your +mind.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If he’s got one!’ sneered his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Blowed if I haven’t got as big a one as +you!’ exclaimed the lad; ‘and a better temper +into the bargain. I’m sure I pity your people +at home——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But before he could finish his sentence +Charteris had turned on him with a face pale +with passion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Are you going to hold your tongue or +not?’ he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I see no reason why I should.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>‘Then I shall have to make you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You’d better try!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Their conversation was so inevitably leading +to a quarrel that I thought it time to interfere. +I had no clue to the mystery that +had raised Mr. Charteris’s temper, but I was +sorry for Fred Stephenson, whom I could see +was feeling all a boy’s disappointment at the +prospect of having his holiday cut short. So +I attempted the <em>rôle</em> of peacemaker.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Charteris, pray don’t have any words +with your cousin. You are frightening Ange +and all of us. And, Fred, you shouldn’t +speak in that way; you are spoiling your +holiday, and making everybody uncomfortable. +Mr. Charteris, won’t you take him to the +forest?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If he wishes it I will. I have already +said so.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am sure he wishes it. He only came +over for that purpose; didn’t you, Fred?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>‘I shan’t care to go if Charteris speaks to +me in that manner,’ grumbled the boy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I shall not do it if you keep a civil tongue +in your head. Will you come out shooting, +then, or not?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Very well; I shall be ready in half a +minute.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Charteris turned on his heel as he spoke +and left the room, but I detected an uncomfortable +look of suspicion on his face as he +did so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This unpleasant episode had made us all +feel conscious, and not tended to increase the +hilarity of my temperament. Fred stood +thoughtfully at the window after his cousin +had disappeared, and I drew near to speak +a few words of comfort to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am sorry this has happened, but it will +all blow over in the forest. I suppose you +will come back to dinner with him.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>‘I don’t know. If I don’t get on his black +books again, I may. What makes him so +grumpy, Miss Marsh?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have no idea! He seemed annoyed at +your mentioning Parkhurst. Is that where +his family live?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes! And you know it’s such a shame, +he’s been away from home now for nearly +six months, and of course it’s put them out, +and my dad says it’s all a pretence his being +afraid of the scarlet fever. Only two had it, +and they were well weeks ago, and poor +Mary——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That’s his sister, isn’t it?’ I interposed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Cave Charteris re-entered the room at +that very moment, and Fred did not answer +my question. I was sorry for it, for I wanted +to learn something about his cousin’s family, +for Ange’s sake. But he was hurried off to +the château, and there was no further opportunity +to exchange a word with him. He +<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>departed with many <em>au revoirs</em>, promising +himself to meet us again at dinner; but when +that meal was served, to our great surprise +Mr. Charteris walked in alone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Where is your cousin?’ we simultaneously +asked him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My cousin!’ he ejaculated, as if he had +quite forgotten his existence. ‘What! Fred +Stephenson! I’ve sent him back to school by +the diligence.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Without his dinner?’ said Tessie, in a +voice of pity.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! he had an excellent lunch at the +Baron’s—ate enough for two, I can assure +you; and I knew if I brought him back here +that he would outstay his leave. Mr. Felton +is very particular about the boys being +punctual, and Master Fred is <em>not</em> particular +about anything at all; and so, as I am a sort +of guardian of his, responsible to his father +for his good behaviour and all that sort of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>thing, I thought it better to take the law into +my own hands and see him safely off before +I sat down to dinner.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>It sounded plausible. There was no particular +fault to find with the man’s anxiety to +save his young cousin from getting into a +scrape with his master, still, coupling it with +the reception he had given the lad that +morning, and the haste with which he had +hurried him out of the house, I could not help +suspecting that Cave Charteris had some +other reason beside what he stated for trying +to keep Master Fred Stephenson out of the +way.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span> +<img src='images/i201.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII.<br> <span class='c010'>ACCEPTED.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>‘Why do you go up to the convent every +morning, dear? It is far too long a walk for +you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was standing in the little <em>salle</em>, holding +Ange’s hot hand in my own. Six days had +elapsed since Master Fred Stephenson had +appeared and so mysteriously disappeared +from amongst us, and on each one of them +Ange had toiled up to the Convent des Petites +Sœurs, which was situated on the brow of a +hill, two miles on the road to Artois, and not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>come back again until it was time for +dinner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I believed that in her feverish and unsettled +state of mind, and with her loose notions of +theology, she was doing some sort of penance +to satisfy her self-accusing conscience, and I +so much wished that the dear child would +open her mind to Tessie and me instead, +and let us give her all the sisterly counsel +in our power. But each day she seemed to +shrink more and more from us, as well she +might, whilst that man was persuading +her to stain her fair soul with the blot of +deceit.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there were other reasons for my trying +to dissuade Ange from going to the convent. +She was very far from well, or fit for the +exertion. Whether it proceeded from mind +or body, I could not tell, but since the day +she had overheard Madame Marmoret’s +speech to her father, in the courtyard, she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>had been quite unlike her former joyous, +light-hearted self. Her cheeks were always +either unnaturally flushed or unnaturally pale, +she complained of a dull headache, and all the +bounding elasticity I had so much admired +seemed to have deserted her limbs. She was +very particular about her religious services at +this time, poor dear little Ange, spending an +hour almost every evening in the church of +St. Marie, and poring over her Bible long +after Tessie and I had gone to rest.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Still, neither religion nor exercise and fresh +air made any palpable difference in the appearance +of the little maid, and I felt sure +that something was very wrong. My expostulations +on the subject with Tessie only +brought to light another instance of Mr. +Lovett’s selfishness. She looked very grave +over the details of her sister’s symptoms, but +was afraid to mention them to her father, +because it would seem as though Ange required +<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>a doctor, and there was none nearer +than Rille.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He visited St. Pucelle once a week, and +when he next came she would ask him to +prescribe for Ange; but to send for him +especially to visit her was to entail an expense +which she was sure ‘dear papa’ could +not afford. The time was past for disguising +my sentiments in Tessie’s presence, and I +told her plainly what I thought on this occasion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Yet she was too timid to move in the +matter. ‘Dear papa’ had evidently inspired +her with so much wholesome dread of provoking +his annoyance, that she preferred to +shut her eyes to the fact of there being any +danger in delay. But all this time I am +standing in the inner <em>salle</em> with that little hot +feverish hand in mine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why must you go to the convent, +Ange?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>‘There is no particular necessity, Hilda,’ +she answered, yet she would not meet my +eyes as she did so, ‘but it is a pleasure to me, +and I feel as if I could not breathe in the +house this weather. I know all the sisters +well, and their parlours are so cool and +pleasant. I feel like another creature inside +the convent walls.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I hope you are not thinking of joining +their community, Ange?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh no—oh no!’—with a vivid blush; +‘I am not good enough.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I don’t know about that, but we certainly +can’t afford to lose you! However, if you +are bent upon going this morning, may I go +with you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>A startled look came into her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Into the convent, do you mean?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No! not so far as that! Only to walk +to the gates with you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! do, Hilda! I shall be very glad of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>your company. It is a lonely path over the +hill.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>So I was mistaken, after all, and had +wronged the little maid in thinking that Mr. +Charteris must be her cavalier on these occasions.</p> + +<p class='c012'>We walked together through the blazing +light over the fern covered hill, and conversed +pleasantly on all the topics that +interest young women most. Once I tried +to sound her on the subject of Charteris, but +she shrunk from it so visibly that I had not +the heart to try again. It was as if I had +plunged a surgeon’s probe into a bleeding +wound.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When I had kissed her pretty face for the +last time, and left her behind the great iron +grille of the convent, I could not help +believing that my former supposition was +correct, and Ange was brooding over the +prospect of shutting herself up for ever +<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>within its walls. This idea worried me +sadly. It would be like a living death for +her!</p> + +<p class='c012'>And what else but the burden of a committed +wrong could have made Ange’s +thoughts turn that way? Could she have +discovered more of her father’s pecuniary +affairs than Tessie and I knew of? and did +the knowledge of disgrace and debt weigh +her mind down to that extent that she longed +to bury herself from the sight of the world? +Or did the poor child imagine that the +burthen of one less to keep and provide for +would be of any substantial benefit to the +family purse?</p> + +<p class='c012'>These questions occupied my mind for half +the way back again—until I came, indeed, +upon a figure in a velveteen shooting-suit, +stretched out at full length upon the thyme-scented +grass, and lazily inhaling the light +breeze that was wafted across the stream in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>the valley, and just lifted occasionally a curl +of dark hair from his brow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was that of my French master, Armand, +Baron de Nesselrode.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I feel I have reached a point when I must +make a confession—namely, that since the +memorable day upon which I was frightened +by the dog-wolf on the Piron road, I had +received more than one French lesson from +the gentleman in question. I had never +made a single appointment with him for the +purpose; but he seemed to be ubiquitous, +and to pop up wherever I went, so that +although the verbs I mastered with him were +<em>accidentals</em>, I had acquired quite a remarkable +fluency in conversation, and never felt at a +loss to express what I meant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He said I learned quicker than anybody +he had known before; but I suppose, if +‘practice makes perfect,’ there was not so +much credit due to me as he would have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>made me believe. Once I remember I +stopped to ask myself if I were studying the +French language so diligently <em>for Tessie’s +sake</em>, and I was fain to answer ‘No.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Indeed, I am afraid that by this time +Tessie’s interests had been withdrawn from +the firm altogether. She was very stupid +so I inwardly decided; she would not come +forward and make the best of herself in the +Baron’s presence, and in consequence it was +impossible he could discover what a good +wife he would gain in her, and so I had given +them both up as a bad job.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If people <em>wouldn’t</em> find out what was best +for themselves, it was useless wasting my +time upon them. So Tessie’s merits had +ceased to be dragged in by the head and +shoulders, as a topic of conversation between +Armand and me, and we only talked of such +things as were most agreeable to ourselves.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, monsieur,’ I exclaimed, as I came +<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>up with him, ‘and what may you be doing +here?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I followed you, mademoiselle.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That is a pretty confession! How could +you tell I had come this way?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I saw Mademoiselle Ange and you leave +the curé’s house together.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And so you have been dogging our footsteps,’ +I said, as I threw myself down on the +grass he had just quitted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Baron accepted my action as an invitation +to resume his seat.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is about time you accounted for yourself,’ +I continued jestingly. ‘I don’t think we +have seen you for two whole days.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is it only two days?’ he said, in a melancholy +voice. ‘It seems like two weeks to +me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why, monsieur, what is the matter with +you? Not moping again, I hope! I +thought you promised me to be brave and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>keep your heart up, in hope of better +times.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>He sighed deeply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That was a week ago,’ he answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And what of that? You are talking +mysteries to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mademoiselle,’ said the Baron, suddenly +changing the topic, ‘do you remember telling +me the day we talked together on the road +to Piron, that there is no “stooping” in +honest labour?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have thought much and earnestly of +your words since then. I look back on the +years that have passed since my great misfortune, +and I see they have all been spent +in idleness and waste of mind and body! I +cannot recall them: they are gone and done +for: they must be left to give their own +account hereafter. But for the few that +remain before I hope to take my station in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>society again I am determined, if possible, +not to blush. I have made up my mind, +mademoiselle. I am going to work.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am sincerely glad to hear you say so!’ +I exclaimed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If you are glad, it is all I ask. I will try +to be glad also.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But what are you going to do?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I wrote to a friend at Court some weeks +ago, telling him all, and asking his assistance +to procure me fit employment until I should +hold my own again. His answer arrived +three days back. In it he offers me the post +of <i><span lang="fr">Ministre d’affaires</span></i> in—in—Algiers.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Algiers!</em>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>As I repeated the word after him, all the +broad smiling landscape of hill and dale and +stream which lay spread out before me seemed +to be enveloped in a black mist that hid it +from my view. A hoarse sound like the +rushing of water was in my ears, and a horrid +<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>‘whirring’ like wheels in my brain; then it +all cleared off again. The sun broke out +over the valley, my senses had returned; +but I thought that the earth would never +look the same to me again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Do you not congratulate me?’ inquired +Monsieur de Nesselrode, quietly. ‘It is a +charming climate, I understand, and the +place is peopled with French. The salary is +almost nominal, so are the duties; but the +position is one that I can accept without +blushing, and I shall, at all events, have an +arena for work amongst my countrymen, +small as it may be.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Does not the appointment meet your +views for me? Will it not be better than +dragging out four more years of idleness and +false shame at the Château des Roses?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am not capable of much at present, you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>know, whatever I may be hereafter. You—in +the goodness of your heart and friendship—may +think me fit for a higher post, but I +feel I am not. I have crippled my powers +by nonusage: I must crawl now before I can +fly. Perhaps, after a year or two, I may be +fit for something better than the ministration +of affairs in such a place as Algiers.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I am sure you will.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was so angry with myself for not being +able to say something better to him than this. +I saw he wanted encouragement to take up +this paltry appointment in a strange country. +He had applied for it solely on my recommendation, +and now that it had come, I had +no words in which to praise and thank him +for the compliment he had paid to my advice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Algiers—a place so far removed from +all his friends, and replete, as I ignorantly +imagined, with dangers from climate and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>people—I did not expect that my counsel +would have taken so unwelcome a form.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You do not congratulate me, mademoiselle,’ +he repeated presently. ‘Do you not +consider the prospect a good one?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh yes,’ I answered nervously; ‘very +good indeed—that is, it is rather far from +here, is it not, monsieur?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is very far,’ he said gravely. ‘I do +not suppose, when I have once left it, that I +shall ever see St. Pucelle again; for the remembrances +of the old château have no +charm for me. A few weeks back, I would +have declared myself ready to bear anything +sooner than go to Algiers; but things that +have come to my knowledge lately have +made me think that the greater distance I +put between myself and this place the +better.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Have you any fresh trouble?’ I inquired +anxiously, for he was my best friend in St. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>Pucelle, and I had come to be interested in +all that befell him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes, a very deep trouble!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What is it, monsieur? Will you not tell +me?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>He turned round upon his side, so that his +face could look directly into mine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘If I tell you, will you promise not to be +angry with me, nor to feel less my friend +than you do now?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I promise!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there was an expression in his eyes +that made me drop my own, I could not look +at him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Remember, before I speak, how much I +wish you well. Hilde!’ (he had never called +me by that name before), ‘if I could give you +happiness by cutting off my right arm, I +would do it at this moment. So that I am +really and honestly glad to know that you are +glad. The pain only is mine, <i><span lang="fr">amie chérie</span></i>; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>and I can bear that bravely, so long as all is +well with you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Monsieur, I do not understand what you +mean!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘When this appointment was first offered +me, I thought I could not take it. I thought +it would be impossible to leave St. Pucelle +and you. But only a few hours afterwards I +met Mademoiselle Markham, and she told +me all about your <i><span lang="fr">affaire de cœur</span></i>, and I was +happy it should be so; only I felt I could not +stay and see it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What did she tell you?’ I asked +quickly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘That you are <em>fiancée</em> to Monsieur Sandilands. +Ah, you need not blush, Hilde! It +is all right if you wish it so. But for me +it is better I should go to Algiers, and forget +the pleasant times that we have spent +together.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Armand!’ I said vehemently, ‘it is a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>lie! I am not <em>fiancée</em> to Mr. Sandilands, nor +to anybody.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>How his face changed from quiet melancholy +to radiant hope. The dullest eye might +have interpreted that look.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What!’ he exclaimed. ‘You are +free!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I <em>am</em> free.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And you are sorry I am going to +Algiers?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I <em>am</em> sorry!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I do not know if there ever lived any +women in this world (such as some novelists +depict for us) who could cast away the whole +of their lives’ happiness for want of a single +word to clear up a misunderstanding—but if +so, I am not one of them. Armand de +Nesselrode looked me full in the face as he +put that question, and I should have been +ashamed of myself, if I had not answered +him truthfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>‘Hilde!’ he said passionately, ‘will you +go with me?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then I felt that my woman’s victory was +won, and I could afford to be silent and let +silence speak for me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should not have dared to ask for this,’ +he went on rapidly, ‘had it not been for the +sweet encouragement your words have given +me. You have told me that you despise +wealth in comparison with love; that you +rank a true heart and a strong arm above +any earthly advantage, and that you think +my honour still unstained. Will you take +me, then, beloved Hilde, a poor man, disgraced +in the eyes of the world, and with +nothing to offer the woman he would make +his wife, except a true affection and an +earnest desire to prove himself worthy of +hers? Oh, Hilde! do not keep me in suspense. +I have loved you ever since the day +you prayed for me in St. Marie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>I raised my eyes and looked at the dear +face lifted so pleadingly to my own, and felt +that nothing on this earth could repay me +for the loss I should sustain in losing +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Armand,’ I said tremblingly, ‘I must +go with you to Algiers—because I don’t +pronounce French half as well yet as you +would wish to hear me do it, you know!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>And then I put my head down in my +hands and burst into tears, from sheer excess +of happiness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I shall not write down here how he +soothed me. Were I not my own biographer +I might be able to tell it, but from +the moment Armand said he loved me, our +affection has been too sacred a thing for me +to make public. In half an hour we were +still sitting on that grass, chatting away as if +we had been engaged for years, and making +all sorts of plans for the future.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>I confided to him my money matters +and Mr. Lovett’s strange dealings with me +regarding them, and he told me how much +his card transactions with the reverend +gentleman had got him into debt, and how +he proposed to liquidate it so that we might +start free when we were married.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And we mutually agreed not to say a word +of what had passed between us that morning, +until after Mr. Warrington’s visit had been +paid to St. Pucelle, and my affairs with my +guardian set straight again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, how charming it was sitting in that +lovely sunlight, and talking of the happy +days to come! Algiers no longer seemed +a horrid desert, situated a thousand leagues +away from St. Pucelle. Our love had drawn +it closer, and peopled it with pleasant forms +and faces, until it looked like fairyland! +I had but one regret amidst my pleasure: +that my dear mother had not lived to see +<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>it! Bear witness for me, best beloved of +parents, that you were not forgotten in your +lonely grave in Norwood at that most +ecstatic moment of my existence, for the +tears ran down my cheeks as I recalled your +love for me, and I told Armand what he had +lost in never knowing it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I will be thy mother and thy father and +thy everything to thee, <em>chérie</em>,’ he answered, +with the sweet <em>tu-toy</em> that sounded like +music in my ears; ‘only let me wipe away +those tears, and see my Baronne smile +again!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was difficult to remain subject to any melancholy +long, whilst under the influence of +Armand’s new-born happiness. His face +positively beamed with joy. I had never +caught even a glimpse of such an expression +on his countenance before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I let thee go, my Hilde!’ he said, when +I had persuaded him that after four hours’ +<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>absence from the house I ran the risk of +being questioned as to how I had spent my +time, ‘but I shall count the moments till we +meet again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But thou wilt never feel lonely now, +Armand,’ I replied. ‘Thou wilt look forward +to the future we shall spend hand-in-hand.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I shall look forward to the time, my +friend, when the angel who watches over +me shall fold her wings upon my heart,’ he +answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is very nice to be called an angel! I +almost believed I was one by the time we +got back to the house. But we had to walk +with the utmost propriety through the town—at +least three feet apart—and to bow to +each other most politely as we parted at the +door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Art thou sure thou art not <em>fiancée</em> to +Monsieur Sandilands?’ whispered Armand, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>as he doffed his hat to me, and the look +of perfect happiness upon his face as he said +so, gave me the strangest joy my life had +ever known.</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span> +<img src='images/i225.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX.<br> <span class='c010'>THE DEATH-BLOW.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>I had been hugging this dear delicious secret +to my breast for the last three days; going +apart at intervals to gaze upon it and assure +myself that it was mine; and quite unable to +believe in so much joy after the hopeless +desolation of the last few months when +that happened, which any one with discernment +must have foreseen long ago, +<em>petite</em> Ange succumbed to the illness which +had been hanging over her for weeks past.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was one morning when she had left the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>room as usual, <em>en route</em> to her convent, and +Mr. Lovett had set off on a round of what +he called his parochial duties, that Tessie +and I were startled by the sound of a loud +clamour and confusion arising from the courtyard.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Good gracious!’ I exclaimed, as it struck +my ears; ‘what on earth is that?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie, who had turned as white as a +sheet, would have detained me in the little +<em>salle</em>, but I broke from her grasp, and rushing +into the kitchen, looked through the +open window. There I saw assembled in the +court a group of about a dozen men and +women, amongst whom I immediately distinguished +the figures of Madame Marmoret, +the Mère Fromard, and Jean Marat, who +were all surrounding my reverend guardian +and preventing his egress from his own +domains. They had evidently waited to +waylay him on his leaving the house, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>were screeching or howling, according to +their various sexes, as they made their fierce +demands upon him for justice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mutiny was strongly marked on every +countenance, and they pressed upon the old +man as though they would lay violent hands +upon him. Of course I guessed the reason +of the uproar. It was the old story; they +wanted their money, and he had none to give +them! I glanced from the crowd towards my +guardian, and for the first time I pitied him. +He looked so pale and crestfallen as he +leaned against the courtyard wall, <a id='t227'></a>fending off +his creditors with the stick on which he supported +himself. It was a sickening and +humiliating spectacle, and I thanked Heaven +in that moment that no blood of his ran in +my veins.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Where are the twelve francs you owe me, +monsieur?’ shouted Marat the cobbler. ‘I +tell you I must have them. My wife is ill in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>bed, and requires broth and white bread to +get up her strength again. Do you think I +am going to let her want for lack of that +which is my own? Hand them out, I say, +for I will have them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Bah!’ cried the scornful voice of Mère +Fromard. ‘What is thy wife’s illness to +him? Didn’t he steal my poor Guillaume’s +money, and the little <em>dot</em> I brought him on +our marriage day? Five hundred and fifty +francs, messieurs—every <em>sou</em> owed us by that +black-hearted old villain! and he let my +husband die for want of bread and meat. I +wish I could tear him in pieces, and would +be too good an end for him. <em>Sacré!</em>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And much good you’d get out of his +carcase, Mère Fromard!’ interposed Madame +Marmoret; ‘better wait, I tell you, till it’s +all over, and then the law must give us our +rights!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Madame! Madame!’ said her master, in a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>mildly reproachful voice, ‘is it you that can +say no better of me than that! You, who +have lived under my roof and eaten my bread +for more than twenty years!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Lived under your roof—pig! Aye! +that I have, and done you good service for +it too! Haven’t I baked and boiled and +mended and cleaned for you and yours for +twenty-two years last Candlemass! And +what wages have I received in return? +None! Not a <em>sou</em>—not a <em>centime</em>! I have +gone on and on, because I knew if I left you +I should get nothing, and you have promised +and promised till I’m sick of the sound of +your voice or the sight of your face. I +should have summoned you before the +<em>préfet</em> and had my rights years ago if it +hadn’t been for <em>la petite</em> Ange, and you +know it—<em>vaurien</em> as you are—and have held +the child as a threat over my head in consequence.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>‘Down with him!’ shouted half a dozen +voices; ‘down with the man who uses his +own child as an instrument wherewith to +scourge the poor, whom she is so good to! +Don’t show him any pity! He has never +shown any for our wives or children!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>They pressed so closely upon him, and +their faces were so distorted by passion, that +I became horribly alarmed for his safety. +Had Mr. Charteris been in the house, I +should have summoned him at once to my +assistance, but he had gone out shooting +with Armand, and was miles and miles away. +Mr. Lovett’s face was as pale and set as +marble, but he continued in the same +position and evinced no outward signs of +fear.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Cannot you speak a little lower, my +friends?’ he expostulated, in a firm voice. +‘I suppose you do not wish the whole town +to hear your complaints?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>‘What do we care who hears us?’ replied +the man in the blouse and the peaked cap, +whose name was Dubois; ‘all St. Pucelle +knows you to be a robber! The wider the +truth is spread the better!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I know I owe you all some money,’ said +Mr. Lovett, ‘and when I can pay you, I will. +At present it is impossible, and you will get +no good by keeping me a prisoner in my +own yard. You had much better disperse +quietly, and leave me in peace to see +what arrangements I can make to satisfy +you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Aye—aye!’ responded Dubois, ‘leave +you to go out and order in more champagne +and burgundy, and truffled turkeys and +smoked hams, for your own table, whilst we +go home to feast on rye-bread and water. +That’s what you’ve been doing for the last +twenty years. Eating your head off on +honest people’s credit, and giving them +<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>buttered words instead of cash. But you’ve +come to the end of your tether at last.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Ahi! Ahi! Ahi!</em>’ yelled the rest, as +they brandished their bare arms and made +grimaces at him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Truffled turkeys and champagne!’ +screamed the Mère Fromard; ‘I’ll give him +a truffled turkey to remember me by!’ and, +seizing a huge wooden <em>sabot</em> from her foot, +she prepared to hurl it at his head.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a moment I had dashed through the +kitchen-door, and was standing in front of +the old man. My sudden and unexpected +appearance created somewhat of a diversion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How dare you attempt violence!’ I cried +excitedly; ‘put down that <em>sabot</em>, Mère +Fromard, or I will send at once for the +<em>gendarme</em>. You are fools, every one of +you, to risk a prison for the sake of indulging +your venomous tongues.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mamselle does not understand,’ commenced +<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>the cobbler, with a view to explanation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I understand everything, Jean Marat, and +I see that you are a set of cowardly ruffians +instead of respectable tradespeople as I took +you to be. Twelve to one! That is a brave +proceeding, isn’t it? Why, if you hadn’t +watched Monsieur Charteris out of the house, +you wouldn’t have dared to enter the yard.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘We want our money, mamselle,’ squeaked +a woman’s voice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, you shan’t have it! not until you +have apologised to Monsieur le Curé for the +indignities you have put upon him, and gone +quietly away to your own homes. If you +will do that, I promise you your bills shall be +paid.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Aye! but have you any right to promise?’ +grumbled one of the men.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have money of my own, and I will pay +them myself. Will that satisfy you?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>‘You may trust the word of mamselle,’ +said Madame Fromard, addressing the crowd. +‘I know a true face when I see it, and she +has been very good to me since Guillaume +died.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And nicely you have requited my kindness, +Madame Fromard,’ I retorted. ‘You, +who call yourself a Christian, to attempt to +injure an old man like this, and a minister of +religion. Are you not afraid of bringing +down the anger of Heaven upon your family? +What would Monsieur l’Abbé say to such a +disgraceful proceeding?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Monsieur l’Abbé owes no man anything,’ +grumbled the woman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And because he is good, is that any +reason you should be bad? I’m ashamed of +the whole lot of you. Come now! clear out +of this courtyard at once. If there is a single +man or woman left here in two minutes’ time, +I shall send for the <em>gendarme</em> to restore +<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>order. And you, Marmoret, go back to your +kitchen and remain there!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I suppose my determined voice and +manner had some effect in making them +obey me, for they certainly disappeared with +marvellous alacrity. But I was terribly +frightened the while, and when the last one +had filed out of the yard, I was trembling all +over from excitement.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Lovett,’ I said quickly, as I turned +to my guardian; ‘pray come back into the +house. I am sure you must want a glass of +wine after such an unpleasant scene.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>The old man looked just the same as he +had done before: very pale and fixed, but +unmoved; and I could not help admiring his +British determination not to show the white +feather. Yet, when he answered me, I saw +that his lip trembled, and I could hardly +understand what he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Thank you, my dear Hilda,’ were his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>first words; and then I think he added, in a +lower tone, ‘I have not deserved this at your +hands.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We passed through the kitchen arm-in-arm, +and I threw a defiant glance at Madame +Marmoret, in exchange for the scowl with +which she honoured me, and led my guardian +to the little <em>salle</em>, where Tessie, who had +nearly frightened herself into a fit, was waiting +to receive us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ she exclaimed, as +she flung herself into her father’s arms and +burst into tears. ‘What <em>shall</em> we do? Are +those horrid people gone? Is there nothing +we can say to keep them quiet?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Mr. Lovett had quite recovered himself +by this time, and was ready to rebuke his +daughter for her folly in making a mountain +out of a mole-hill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Calm yourself, my dear Tessie,’ he said, +as he patted her on the back; ‘there is +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>nothing to be so agitated about. These +poor souls are certainly very ignorant of +etiquette, and we must make allowances for +them, although they must be taught that +they cannot take the law in their own hands. +They appear to have a little misunderstanding +amongst them, and to fancy I do not +intend to pay them their money. I must set +this straight at once, and for that purpose I +think it will be better if I go to Rille for a +few days and consult my man of business, +Monsieur Richet. Let me see, to-day is +Tuesday, and I shall be back, at the latest, +on Friday. Will you put a couple of shirts +into my small black bag, my dear, and anything +else you may think necessary, whilst our +dear Hilda pours me out a glass of burgundy, +for I really require something after all that +talking.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had not been his ‘dear Hilda’ for many +a long day, but I was in no frame of mind to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>resent the liberty then. My reverend +guardian’s coolness took me completely +aback. Did he think that Tessie and I were +to be gulled by his proposals to see his man +of business, or had he talked in that pompous +manner so long that he had outgrown the +perception of its absurdity? At any rate, +however, I was thankful he was going to +Rille. To get him out of the way for the +present was the chief thing, and whilst there, +we might come to some conclusion as to the +best way to patch up his affairs, which were so +evident a scandal in the parish.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Let us walk with your father to the diligence, +Tessie,’ I suggested, as she reappeared +with his travelling-bag, for I felt quite afraid +lest something might happen in the middle +of the town if he were allowed to go by himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Every one was agreeable to this arrangement, +so we accompanied him as far as the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>Hôtel d’Etoile, and saw him safely seated in +the coach and started on the road to Artois. +And then we returned home again, I exhorting +Tessie all the way to try and control her +feelings, and keep her own counsel with respect +to the morning’s alarm, lest some +report of it should reach the ears of Ange.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When we arrived at the house we ran upstairs +together to make the beds, a domestic +duty which we had taken upon ourselves and +should have accomplished directly after +breakfast had it not been for the unfortunate +interruption to which we had been subjected. +The first room we entered was that occupied +by Ange and Tessie. The first thing I saw +on entering it was a black heap upon the +floor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hullo!’ I exclaimed, thinking it was a +fallen dress, and about to reprimand the Miss +Lovetts for their untidiness; but the next +moment my voice had changed to a shrill +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>alarm. ‘Tessie, Tessie! look here—for +God’s sake! <em>it is Ange!</em>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We rushed up to the figure on the floor +and knelt beside it. I raised the head and +laid it gently back upon my arm. The girl +was in a state of complete unconsciousness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘She has fainted!’ cried Tessie. ‘Oh, my +poor darling, how ill she looks! And how +did she come here? I thought she had gone +to the convent.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘So did I! She certainly said good-bye to +us as she left the <em>salle</em>. Can she have felt +ill and returned whilst we were absent?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But then Marmoret would have seen her, +Hilda. The door of the corridor is locked; +I have the key in my pocket.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, we mustn’t stay to speculate how it +happened. Put a pillow under her head, +Tessie. We must lay her flat down on the +ground and loosen her clothes. Oh! how I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>wish you had sent for Dr. Perrin when I +asked you.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How could I tell she was so ill?’ asked +Tessie, weeping.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Any one could have told it! She has +been ill and feverish for weeks past, and I am +not sure if her mind or body are suffering the +most. What a pity we didn’t find her before +your father left the house. He might have +sent Monsieur Perrin back from Rille at +once.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘We must write and tell him by this afternoon’s +post, Hilda. Oh! why doesn’t she +open her eyes? What shall we do?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Set the door and window wide open, and +run down and fetch some spring water to +sprinkle her face with. Don’t cry so, Tessie; +it can do no good, and will distress her when +she is coming to herself again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie flew downstairs to do my bidding, +and returned in company with Madame Marmoret, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>to whom she had confided her sister’s +condition. To see that woman as she bent +over the insensible form of her nursling, with +all the rancour faded out of her black eyes, +and her hard-lined, brown face twitching +with emotion, one would never have believed +she was the same creature who +had urged on her master’s creditors to take +their vengeance with the malignity of a +she-devil.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<i><span lang="fr">Eh! bah! ma petite Ange!</span></i>’ she exclaimed, +in a tone of anguish, as she kissed the unconscious +face. ‘What art thou dreaming of? +It is not time to go to heaven yet, <em>bébé</em>, +though thou art fitter for that than for such +an earth as ours. What can have brought +thee to such a state, <i><span lang="fr">enfant chérie</span></i>? <em>Ay mi, ay +mi!</em>’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is my belief you have only yourself to +thank for it, Madame,’ I said curtly, as I unceremoniously +thrust her to one side.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>‘Does mamselle wish to insult me?’ she +demanded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I wish to tell you the truth. I believe +that Mademoiselle Ange never went to the +convent at all this morning, but came up to +her room instead, and then overheard the disgraceful +tumult you permitted in the courtyard. +You may fancy how that would affect +her when she has been kept in ignorance +even of her father’s debts.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Mon Dieu!</em>’ cried Madame, aghast. +‘You do not mean to tell me the child was +<em>here</em> the while?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I feel sure she was. She could not have +left the house and returned to it without our +notice. We forgot all about her in our excitement, +while she stood here and received +a sword in her tender little heart. Poor +Ange!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, my <em>bébé</em>, my <em>bébé</em>!’ said Madame, +with the tears running down her cheeks; ‘it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>is not true—it cannot be true! For nineteen +years have I borne it patiently for her +sake, and would have bitten my tongue out +sooner than have told her what I suffered. +And now, through my own wickedness, in an +evil moment, she has heard all!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hush!’ I exclaimed authoritatively. +‘She is coming to herself. Don’t make her +worse by the sight of your agitation.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>As I spoke the words, Ange slowly unclosed +her violet eyes—dimmed violets they +looked now, as if a cloudy mist had spread +over them—and turned them inquiringly upon +me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘It is all right, darling,’ I said cheerfully, +to reassure her. ‘You have been a stupid +girl and fainted, but now that you have revived +again, we will lift you on the bed, and +let you lie still and rest’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We all three raised her as I concluded, and +helped to lay her on her bed, but the only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>sign of consciousness she gave was the visible +shudder with which she greeted Madame +Marmoret’s touch.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The woman stooped down and kissed her +hand, but I saw Ange draw it away—very +feebly it is true, but sufficiently to mark her +dislike of the action—and then I knew that I +had guessed aright, and she had been witness +to the indignities heaped upon her father.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hilda,’ said Tessie to me that afternoon, +in a frightened whisper, ‘we <em>must</em> write for +Dr. Perrin.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I quite agreed with her; for though four +hours had gone by since we had laid Ange +upon her bed, she had not spoken a single +word to either of us; and, except that her +eyes were open, and she occasionally heaved +a deep sigh, she appeared almost as unconscious +as when we found her on the floor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>We had not left her for a moment since +that time, but had been unable to persuade +<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>her either to speak or swallow nourishment; +and I, for one, was becoming seriously +alarmed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘We must not only send for the doctor, +but your father must come home again, +Tessie,’ I answered, ‘for I am afraid that +Ange is going to be very ill. If you will +write the letter at once, I will run down with +it to the post before the afternoon diligence +starts for Artois.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What a pity Mr. Charteris is away to-day. +He might have been so useful to us,’ +sighed Tessie.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! we can do very well without <em>him</em>,’ +I responded impatiently.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I don’t know how it was, but at that +moment I hated the thought of Cave +Charteris in connection with our little Ange +more than I had ever done before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Some people might imagine that in an +emergency Madame Marmoret, being our +<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>servant, might have taken a letter to the post +for us; but such people could never know +what Madame Marmoret was like.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was far too fine and mighty to run +menial errands, and this was certainly not the +day on which I should have asked her to do so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>So, without taking any notice of her as she +sat in the kitchen, dropping tears into the +<em>potage</em> she was preparing for our dinner, I +ran through the house into the street, and +made my way to the post-office with Tessie’s +letter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was quite at the bottom of the town, +and as I reascended the steep hill I came in +collision with Mrs. Carolus, evidently bristling +with some news of importance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘My dear Miss Marsh, how fortunate I am +to meet you! I have just called at your +house, but, hearing you were out, I refused +to enter, though Sophy insisted upon going +in to see Miss Lovett.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>‘I am afraid she will hardly find it worth +her while, for Tessie could not stay to talk +to her. We are in great distress at home to-day, +Mrs. Carolus. Ange has been suddenly +taken very ill, and I have just posted a letter +for the doctor.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! indeed! I am most distressed to +hear it. There seems nothing but misfortune +in St. Pucelle to-day. Sophy has been nearly +out of her mind all the morning, and, to tell +truth, I was glad of any excuse to be rid of +her company for a little while, for she quite +drives me distracted by the way in which she +goes on.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Miss Markham has had no bad news, I +hope.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Well, my dear, it <em>ought</em> not to have been +bad news to her, for of what moment can the +doings of a young man like Mr. Charteris be +to a woman of the age of Sophy Markham? +But you know how ridiculous she makes herself, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>and the absurd notions she gets into her +head, and I suppose she was really persuaded +that the man liked her and so forth, and now +she says that he has blighted her whole life, +and she can never be happy again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘But <em>why</em>, Mrs. Carolus? You have not +yet told me the reason.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! I suppose you have known it all +along, as Mr. Charteris has been living with +the Lovetts, but poor Sophy never heard till +yesterday, when she was in Rille and met +young Frederick Stephenson, that his cousin +was a married man.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Charteris <em>married</em>!’ I exclaimed. +‘Oh no! she must be mistaken. It is <em>impossible</em>. +It cannot be the case.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What! <em>You</em> had not heard it either, +then?’ inquired Mrs. Carolus, curiously. +‘This beats everything! But you may rely +on the truth of my assertion. Young Mr. +Stephenson told Sophy who his wife had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>been—a Miss Mary Ferrier, a great heiress, +and they have a beautiful place called Parkhurst +in Devonshire, and two children, and +they’ve all had the scarlet fever, and that is +the reason that Mr. Charteris was afraid to +go home. Shabby of him, <em>I</em> call it, to desert +his family in an extremity like that; but men +are all selfish, my dear. Yet why he should +have considered it necessary to come amongst +us as a bachelor, puzzles me altogether.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Married!</em>’ I repeated, as various recollections +tending to confirm Mrs. Carolus’s statement +floated in upon my mind, and then, a +sudden fear seizing me, I exclaimed: ‘Oh! +I hope Miss Markham has not gone into the +Lovetts’ especially to tell them this!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I can’t say, Miss Marsh, but she is very +full of it, and you know what Sophy is over +a piece of news. But where are you going?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Home—home!’ I cried, as I commenced +to run up the hill. ‘Don’t try to detain me. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>I must get home if I can, and prevent this +story reaching Ange’s ears.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I have no doubt I left Mrs. Carolus in a +state of the utmost perplexity and bewilderment, +but I had no time for explanation. All +my desire was to reach Tessie’s side before +she had communicated Miss Markham’s news +to her sister. As I raced towards the house, +I met Sophy tripping downwards, but I would +not stop even to inquire how much mischief +she had done. I gained the door, panting +and breathless, and came upon Tessie in the +<em>salle</em>, still more tearful and alarmed than she +had been before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Hilda! I am afraid that Ange is +worse.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How? why? Who has been here?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Only Sophy Markham, and she didn’t +stay a minute. And she told us the most +wonderful news——’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>‘Never mind the news! Where did you +see her?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘She came up to Ange’s bedroom! I +couldn’t leave her, you know.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And she told her wonderful news by that +child’s bedside, and Ange heard every word +of it! Oh! Tessie—Tessie! you have killed +your sister!’</p> + +<div class='figcenter id002'> +<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span> +<img src='images/i253.jpg' alt='[Fleuron]' class='ig001'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X.<br> <span class='c010'>BROKEN.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>It was a hard thing to say to Tessie, who +knew nothing of Ange’s love for Charteris, +but it was wrung from me in the extremity of +my fear and pity for the child.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie naturally demanded an explanation +of my words, and then and there I made a +clean breast of it, telling her what I had seen +and heard, and how I had told her father of +my discovery, and the unsatisfactory result of +my communication.</p> + +<p class='c012'>We flew into each other’s arms when the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>recital was finished, and wept together over +the misery of it all, as it behoved us, like true +friends and sisters, to do.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And now, Tessie!’ I said, as I wiped my +streaming eyes, ‘hide nothing from me. Let +me know how much she heard and how she +heard it, that we may be able to judge what +is best to do to avert the consequences from +her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I never left her side for a minute,’ sobbed +Tessie, ‘but Sophy Markham pushed her +way into the bedroom, and I could not turn +her out. Ange was lying just as you left +her, quite still and quiet, with her eyes fixed +upon the ceiling. I whispered her condition +to Miss Markham, and cautioned her to speak +in a low voice, and I believe she did so. She +was full of the news of Mr. Charteris turning +out to be a married man, and of the shock it +was to her; and how he had spent all his +evenings lately in the billiard-room of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>Hôtel d’Etoile, and everybody had remarked +upon his pronounced attentions to herself. +She was talking a great deal of nonsense +about wishing she had a brother to bring him +to book for his scandalous behaviour to her, +though I don’t believe a word of all that, you +know, Hilda.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I should think not, my dear! Cave +Charteris may be a villain, but he is not a +fool. But go on. What did Ange say to it +all?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘She never said a word; but as Miss +Markham was running on at this rate, I +thought I heard a rustle on the bed, and, +turning round, I saw Ange sitting bolt upright +with her eyes fixed upon us. Oh, +Hilda! her face looked dreadful! You would +never have forgotten it. It seemed as if her +cheeks and her jaws had suddenly fallen in. +I rushed to her side and laid her down +again, and she never uttered a syllable, but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>only stared at me with those melancholy +wide-open eyes. I hurried Miss Markham +out of the room, although I knew nothing of +what you have now told me, and had no idea +that Ange’s appearance was due to anything +she had said. Oh! do you really think it +will hurt her?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How is she now, Tessie?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I think she must be asleep, but I cannot +tell. She began to moan so, that I got +frightened, and ran down here to watch for +your return.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Let us go to her at once; and mind, +not a word, even to one another, of this +wretched business. We must hope that +Ange did not hear or understand it, or that, +if she did, she may forget it again. It is +most important to keep the news from her +till she is stronger. I am afraid that, at +the best, it will prove a terrible blow to +her.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>We hastened back to the bed-chamber, but +there was no apparent change in our patient. +She still lay on her side, staring into vacancy +and occasionally moaning in a low tone to +herself. I felt her head and hands; they +were burning hot, and her lips had become +dry and cracked. There was no doubt of it—Ange +was in a raging fever, and every +hour we became more alarmed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What a mistake it is to live such a distance +from a doctor!’ I exclaimed impatiently, +as the evening drew on. ‘I wish I had gone +into Artois myself by the diligence this afternoon, +or sent Charlie Sandilands, and got +Monsieur Perrin to ride over to-night. Is +there no help nearer at hand, Tessie? Cannot +the <i><span lang="fr">petites sœurs</span></i> administer medicines on +an emergency?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I never heard of their doing so, Hilda. +Monsieur Perrin is their hospital surgeon. +If it were not for the convent, I don’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>think we should get him in St. Pucelle at +all.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Just listen to her moans!’ I said, in despair. +‘Do ask Madame Marmoret to bring up +another pitcher of spring water, Tessie. We +must keep wet bandages round her head +continually. I know of nothing better to +do.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>With dinner-time came home Cave Charteris +from shooting, and hearing the state of +affairs upstairs from Madame Marmoret, he +asked to speak to me. One may fancy the +blazing eyes with which I went to meet +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What do you want?’ I demanded brusquely, +as I entered the little <em>salle</em>.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Only to hear how much of this sad account +that Madame has given me is true. +Is it really the case that Mr. Lovett has gone +to Rille, and Ange is so ill she can see +nobody?’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>‘Certainly, she can see nobody. She is in +a strong fever, and confined to her bed. Have +you anything more to say?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Yes! That I am not aware what I have +done that you should speak to me in such an +uncourteous manner!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Are you not? Then you must have a +tougher conscience than even I gave you +credit for.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What do you mean, Miss Marsh?’ he +inquired. ‘You appear to resent my taking +an ordinary interest in Miss Lovett’s health. +If you knew all, you would see that——’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I <em>do</em> know all!’ I interrupted him sternly, +‘and a great deal more than you have any +idea of. I know that you are a married man, +and that you had much better be at home +with your wife and children than affecting this +interest in a girl who can never be anything +to you <em>again</em>.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I put in <em>again</em>, that he might see we had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>already guessed something of his philandering +with poor Ange.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Has <em>she</em> heard of this?’ he asked me +quickly, with the colour flaming in his +face.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What is that to you?’ I replied angrily; +‘if you are an honest man, why should you +be ashamed to tell the world that you are a +married one? I refuse to inform you if Ange +has heard the truth or not, but you may rest +assured that she will not hear it from you. +Her father will be home to-morrow, and the +first thing I shall do will be to caution him to +protect the interests of his daughter!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Something very like an oath passed Mr. +Charteris’s lips at this juncture, but he was +at my mercy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You are shooting very wide of the mark,’ +he replied, with an attempt at nonchalance, +‘and, forgive me for adding, talking of what +you know nothing. I am not in the habit of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>confiding the details of my domestic life to +everybody I meet in this world, but had the +fact of my marriage been likely to affect Mr. +Lovett or his daughters, I should certainly +have announced it. Since you refuse to +gratify my curiosity any further, may I ask +to see Miss Lovett?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘She will not consent to see you,’ I replied, +‘for she is as well aware as I am of +the way in which you have treated her +sister.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Under these circumstances, I presume +that I had better relieve you both of my +presence until Mr. Lovett’s return.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘You can do as you choose about that,’ I +said, as I left him standing there and took +my way upstairs again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In another minute he had passed into the +street and was on his road, as I concluded, to +the Hôtel d’Etoile, where he had been in the +habit of spending his evenings since Armand +<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>had given up playing cards; and Madame +Marmoret informed me that he did not return +to the house that night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a sad and anxious vigil that we +spent beside the bedside of poor Ange, who, +towards the small hours, began to toss her +arms and head about and mutter rapid incoherent +words of which we could not catch the +import.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As morning dawned, she lay more quiet, +but the cruel fever still raged on, and she was +very, very weak.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘How soon can the doctor arrive, Tessie?’ +I inquired, as we met over a melancholy +breakfast at a side-table in the kitchen. +‘When does the diligence come in?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘At eleven o’clock, Hilda. It is the only +one, you know, so they are both sure to be +with us by that time. What a comfort +it will be to have papa at home once +more!’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>We sat together, anxiously waiting the +advent of the diligence, and scarcely daring +to make a surmise as to the probable issue +of the doctor’s verdict on our poor little +sister’s case.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Eleven o’clock struck! Half-past eleven, +and then there was a sound of feet in the +<em>salle</em> below. I did not stop to let Madame +Marmoret announce any names, but flew past +her on the stairs and into the room. Neither +Monsieur Perrin nor Mr. Lovett awaited me +there. The new arrival was Mr. Warrington. +In my astonishment at seeing him, I +forgot for a moment the absence of the +others.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Why! Mr. Warrington! You are the +last person in the world I expected to +see.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘And yet I sent Miss Hilda notice of my +intended visit,’ he answered, shaking hands +with me.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>‘True! but not of the probable time. +However, I am very glad you are come. If +I needed your advice when I wrote to you, +I want it tenfold more now. I am in a +sad tangle and perplexity, Mr. Warrington.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Sorry to hear that! I must have a long +talk with your trustee about your financial +concerns. I have come over for no other +purpose. Do you wish your money to remain +invested as it is at present?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, I think not. The fact is, Mr. Warrington, +I—I—(I have not told the Lovetts +yet, as it is no concern of theirs) but—I am +engaged to be married.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hallo! That is sharp work, Miss Hilda. +Not to a foreigner, I hope!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Now, Mr. Warrington, I thought you +would be above such vulgar prejudice. He +<em>is</em> a foreigner—Baron Armand de Nesselrode—but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>he is better than all the Englishmen +put together.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh! that of course. And do you intend to +settle your income upon this gentlemen, then?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I have not decided that yet; but I do +want to have it transferred to my own keeping. +And oh! Mr. Warrington, you will have +to pay a few debts of Mr. Lovett’s out of it +too, because I promised the poor people I +would be responsible for their money.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>At this announcement the solicitor looked +grave.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘We must speak further on that subject, +Miss Hilda. I can do nothing in a hurry. +Where is Mr. Lovett, and how soon shall I +be able to see him?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then I remembered that my guardian +ought to have arrived with the doctor from +Rille by the same conveyance as Mr. Warrington +had travelled in.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>‘Why, he was at Rille, and didn’t he come +with you in the diligence?’ I exclaimed +hastily. ‘An old man with white hair and +very blue eyes, and accompanied by a foreign +doctor?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No; there were no gentry at all in the +diligence. Only a few peasants and a sister +of mercy.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘What can have delayed them?’ I said, in +distress. ‘We are in great trouble here to-day, +Mr. Warrington. The youngest Miss +Lovett was taken ill yesterday, and we have +no medical assistance nearer than Rille. I +wrote to her father by last night’s post, begging +him to return this morning and bring a +doctor with him, and I cannot imagine what +should have prevented their arrival. What +shall we do?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Is the case serious, then?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I fear it is—very serious!’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>‘Can I do nothing to help you, Miss +Hilda?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Nothing, thank you, Mr. Warrington! +We can but watch her and wait. Are you +staying at the Etoile?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘No, at the Cloche. The other looked too +noisy for me. I will say good-bye now, then, +as you are busy, and you must let me know +as soon as Mr. Lovett returns.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I will—good-bye!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I was so glad to see the last of the dear +little man who looked as dapper as if he had +travelled up from London in a sealed envelope, +for my mind was too much occupied to +attend to him. As soon as ever his back +was turned, I flew to Tessie to speculate on +what unforeseen accident could possibly +have occurred to prevent her father joining +us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But speculation was of no use. We were +utterly helpless. Wringing our hands would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>not abate one breath of the dreadful fever +that was burning in Ange’s veins. All we +could do was to pray to God.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Madame Marmoret had spread the news +through St. Pucelle, and many a poor peasant +woman came up that afternoon and pleaded +for admission, only just to look upon the face +of <em>petite</em> Ange. But I would let no one pass +the threshold of her door, for her delirium +was now at its height, and she talked continually.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Tessie, who had no stamina, looked worn +out with one night’s watching; and I persuaded +her to go to my room and sleep, +whilst I sat with her sister. It was a melancholy +task to listen to the poor child’s ravings, +and I had to call up all my dearest thoughts of +Armand, and to try and look steadily forward +to the future that was opening for me, in +order to keep my courage up to the sticking-point.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>‘I do not believe it,’ Ange muttered +rapidly—‘I do not believe it. I cannot believe +it! He is <em>not</em> married. Well, then, I +will ask him myself. Where is he? At the +Hôtel d’Etoile. I will go at once and ask +him. It is but a step. What do my bare +feet signify! I do not feel the stones. I +only want to ask Cave if he is married. Yes, +yes, I will go at once!’ and in a moment she +was half out of bed, with her fevered feet +upon the floor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Dear, <em>dear</em> Ange!’ I expostulated with +her. ‘Get into bed again! Where would +you go to, my darling? You are not dressed. +You cannot leave the room. You must lie +down like a good child and go to sleep.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She stared at me as if I had been a +stranger.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Who is it? Why would you keep me? +I do not mind the cold. I must go to the +Hôtel d’Etoile. Sophy says he is there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>every evening, and perhaps he is waiting for +me. He used to be angry sometimes because +I did not go to meet him; but I was +afraid papa would hear of it. And papa is +so good! Oh, he is so good! so good! He +is like a bright saint from heaven. Do you +believe he would do anybody a wrong? If +people tell lies, that is not his fault. He has +a glory round his head. Now it is a rainbow +bridge, stretching right into heaven! +Let me climb up it—up—up—up—till we go +through the shining gates together! But +there is such a pain in my head! It dazzles +me to look at them.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Lie down, my darling Ange! and let me +bathe your poor head with this cold water.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, sister Celeste, is it you? I have not +finished the priest’s vestment yet, <em>ma sœur</em>. +There are so many stitches in it, and the +gold thread sparkles so, it makes my head +ache. But I shall finish it soon! very, very +<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>soon! and then dear papa shall pay Cave the +hundred and twenty-five francs he owes him. +They will give me all that, will they not, <em>ma +sœur</em>—and perhaps more? Yes, yes; I +know—you said so; and then Cave shall +have one hundred and twenty-five francs—one +hundred and twenty-five francs—one +hundred and twenty-five francs! Oh, don’t +ask me to count them over any more! They +shine so, they make my head ache!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>So this was the secret of the little maid’s +daily visits to the convent. She had been +assisting the nuns in the embroidery orders +they executed for the church, with the intention +of paying back to Cave Charteris the +money her father had borrowed from him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sweet, tender, self-denying little heart! +Had it broken in the effort to sacrifice +itself?</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, Cave!’ she screamed suddenly, as the +fever made a fiercer grasp upon her brain, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>‘tell me you are <em>not</em> married! You cannot +be! It is impossible, because you love me +so! And you are going to tell papa! You +have promised me that you will tell papa +directly you receive that letter from England. +Why can’t you tell him now? Is he busy? +Who are those people in the yard? How +fierce and strange their faces look! Do they +want to kill him? Oh, Cave, save my father! +save my poor father! Look at all the wolves +round him! Save him from the wolves!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was becoming so terribly excited, that +I was obliged to hold her down in her bed +by main force.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Down, down!’ I heard her mutter. +‘Look at the gold pressing me down—till I +sink into the earth! Napoleons—bright +yellow Napoleons! How nice and cool they +feel! but they are very heavy—much too +heavy for me! I am not very old, you see. +I was eighteen on the day I had those silver +<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>earrings you like so much—and you are +thirty! How can you love me when I am +so much younger than yourself? Yet you +do, don’t you? You have sworn it so many +times! Oh yes, yes; I understand. You +needn’t be afraid. I shan’t tell Hilda!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>The fever was running so high, and the +dear child was becoming so violent, that I +felt desperate. What could I do to quiet +her? I had a bottle of laudanum in my +room that I kept in the event of toothache, +and I poured twenty or thirty drops of it in a +little water, and gave it her to drink.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Rightly or wrongly done, it had the effect +of making her doze off for an hour, during +which time I sat with bated breath and folded +hands, lest I should disturb the charm.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At seven o’clock Tessie crawled into the +room again, looking like a washed-out rag. +She seemed as if she wanted almost as much +care as her sister, although I do not believe +<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>she at all realised the danger Ange was +in.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, I am so weary!’ were the first words +she said to me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I see you are. Well, look here, Tessie: +I am going downstairs now to make you a +good strong cup of coffee, and then I shall +lie down till twelve o’clock, when you must +come and call me again.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Oh, that won’t be fair, Hilda! You sat +up all last night.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Never mind! I am stronger than you +are, and a few hours’ rest will make me quite +fresh. Ange is sleeping quietly now, and I +hope she may continue to do so. But, at any +rate, you are to wake me at twelve.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Notwithstanding my boasted strength, however, +I was very glad to close my eyes in +sleep; for to hold a night’s vigil is very trying +when one is unaccustomed to it. But I +have always possessed the ability to wake +<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>myself at any given hour. I lay down that +evening, expecting to be roused at midnight: +and at midnight I roused myself, without +giving any one the trouble to call me. I +waked in the darkness, struck a match, and +perceived the hands of my little clock stood +at fifteen minutes past the hour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Just like Tessie!’ I thought. ‘She thinks +to cheat me into snoring till six o’clock in the +morning. But I am one too many for her!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>I lit my candle, slipped on the shoes, which +were the only articles of dress I had disencumbered +myself of, and stole noiselessly +across the corridor into the sisters’ room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How quietly Ange must be sleeping! +There was not a sound but her breathing to +be heard. Surely she must be better! The +room was wrapt in gloom; it was foolish of +Tessie not to have procured a lamp. I +threw the light of my taper across the bed. +The first thing I perceived was the form of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>Tessie, seated on the ground, with her head +against the counterpane, and fast asleep. +The words of Scripture flashed across my +mind, ‘Could ye not watch one hour?’ But +I excused her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Poor girl,’ I thought, ‘she is really weak! +It is a physical impossibility for her to keep +awake.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>The next moment I had thrown my light +<em>upon</em> the bed to see how Ange fared.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Merciful heavens! <em>Where was she?</em> I +rushed up to the couch and pulled down the +clothes impetuously. It was empty—void!</p> + +<p class='c012'>I glanced round the room: it was in the +same condition. <em>Ange was gone!</em></p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tessie, Tessie!’ I exclaimed loudly, as I +shook that young lady into consciousness +again. ‘Where is your sister? Where is +Ange?’</p> + +<p class='c012'>She waked with a start of bewilderment, +and became as horrified as myself.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>‘But she was <em>here</em>—she was <em>here</em>!’ she +kept on repeating. ‘I only went to sleep for +a minute, indeed, Hilda! I left her sleeping +safely here.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘I believe it; but while you slept she has +escaped. We must search every corner of +the house at once. Come with me! there is +not a moment to lose!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>We rushed from room to room without +success. Ange was apparently nowhere on +the premises. I clasped my hands upon my +forehead to try and decide what to do next. +Escaped! and in the middle of the night! +Where could she have gone to? Where +could she <em>wish</em> to go? I had it! Like an +inspiration the answer came to me: ‘To the +Hôtel d’Etoile!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Tessie!’ I cried, ‘you must stay here, in +case Ange returns. Go and wake Madame +Marmoret to keep you company. And I will +go and search for her in the town.’</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>‘<em>In the town!</em> Oh, Hilda, how could she +be in the town? It is impossible!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Find her in the house then!’ I exclaimed, +as I ran out of the front door, which was +never fastened, night nor day, and flew down +the steep stony street, in the direction of the +Hôtel d’Etoile, as fast as my feet could carry +me.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was the principal hotel in the place, and +boasted of a billiard-room, which was on the +ground-floor and fronted the street. The +young men in St. Pucelle made this billiard-room +their nightly rendezvous: and it was +here that Sophy Markham had averred that +Charteris spent all his evenings.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Long before I reached it I could see the +stream of light which its lamps threw across +the road, and hear the sound of men’s voices, +laughing and talking together, and the click +of the billiard-balls cannoning each other on +the table. I felt sure it was here that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>Ange’s delirious fancy would lead her, and I +was right. As I arrived opposite the open +window of the billiard-room, I caught sight +of a dark figure half hidden in the shadow +of the wall, and springing towards it, I +clasped her in my arms—Ange, with only +her black dress covering her nightgown, +her bronze-coloured hair floating over her +shoulders, and her poor naked feet upon the +ground.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange! Ange! my darling!’ I exclaimed, +as I folded her to my heart. ‘Come back! +Come home with me! You will be so ill if +you remain here!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Hush! Hark!</em>’ she said, with such wide-open, +fixed and solemn eyes, and in such a +tone of awe, that I felt constrained to obey +her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were perhaps a dozen men or more, +knocking the billiard-balls about and filling +the atmosphere with smoke, but Cave +<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>Charteris’s voice was to be distinguished +above them all.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Reckless old dog, that <em>Papa</em> Lovett,’ I +heard him say. ‘He’s a regular out-and-out +swindler! I’ve lent him more cash myself +since I’ve been here than his whole carcase +would pay for, but I knew I should never +see the colour of it again when I parted +with it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Took the change out in other ways, I +suppose, <em>mon cher</em>?’ suggested a foreigner. +‘The <em>bon papa</em> has two pretty daughters, +<i><span lang="fr">n’est ce pas</span></i>? and it is said you have evinced +a decided predilection for the little one.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Ah! fi donc</em>, monsieur!’ cried Charteris, +jestingly; ‘don’t make profane remarks! I +am a married man! and other men’s pretty +daughters are of no further use to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘<em>Vraiment!</em> I shouldn’t have thought it!’ +rejoined the other, incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I had felt the slight form in my clasp +<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>shiver under these words, as if it had been +struck, and I could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange!’ I exclaimed vehemently, ‘you +<em>must</em> come home! this is no place for you! +and you will catch your death of cold if you +remain here any longer. I <em>insist</em> upon your +returning with me!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there was no answer to my appeal, +only the form I held seemed to sink lower +and lower, until I could support it no longer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange! Ange!’ I went on in terror, ‘try +and hold yourself up, or I must call for +assistance. I cannot carry you. Oh, darling! +make one effort and let me get you home!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>Still she sunk down—down—heavier each +moment in my arms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Mr. Charteris!’ I screamed in my alarm; +‘Mr. Charteris! Come here! Come at +once—Ange is dying!’</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a sudden commotion in the +billiard-room as my voice reached its occupants—a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>few exclamations of surprise—a +cessation of sound—and then Cave Charteris +came flying through the open window to my +aid.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Hold her up!’ I panted; ‘I have no +strength left! She escaped from us in her +delirium, and I must have her carried home +at once.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>He seized the little figure from me and +laid the head against his arm. The light +from the billiard-room streamed over her +pallid face: her violet eyes were closed and +sunken: there was a grey shade about the +mouth that was not to be mistaken.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange! Ange! speak to me!’ I cried, in +my anguish and dismay.</p> + +<p class='c012'>‘Ange! <em>petite</em> Ange! say you forgive me,’ +chimed in the deeper tones of Cave Charteris’s +voice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At that sound she opened her eyes, very, +very slowly, as if the action gave her pain, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>and fixed them upon his. I saw the words, +‘I <em>forgive</em>,’ tremble upon the quivering lips, +which closed again and then fell open as her +spirit passed away upon the wings of Night!</p> + +<hr class='c013'> + +<p class='c012'>I feel that no description I can append to +this simple recital can increase its pathos. +Ange died—just as I have told you—and I +never looked upon the face of Cave Charteris +after that night. I never wish to look upon +it. He ranks in my memory as one of the +worst men I ever met.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Lovett arrived home on the next day, +with the doctor in his train, when <em>petite</em> Ange +was lying stretched and still upon her bed, +with her waxen hands filled with the autumn +flowers the poor of St. Pucelle had placed in +them. Her father’s grief was naturally very +violent—such saintly mourners usually mourn +noisily. Yet he had not considered his +child’s illness of sufficient importance to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>oblige him to give up a dinner at Rille, +which he had been pledged to attend on the +previous day.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I almost wondered, as I watched him bury +her in the little strip of ground appropriated +to those of her faith, in the Abbé Morteville’s +cemetery, that he did not fall headlong +on the coffin and denounce himself as Ange’s +murderer. But no such idea ever entered +his venerable head. He lived for several +years afterwards, to talk of virtue and +practice vice, and when he died, his creditors +howled like hungry wolves above his grave, +and had to recoup themselves by abusing +him for the rest of their lives. Some few +got their money—those to whom I had promised +it in the courtyard—but their demands +were but as a drop in the ocean. Mr. +Warrington’s advent in St. Pucelle was a +terrible blow to Mr. Lovett, especially when +his legal research on my behalf resulted in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>the discovery that a large portion of my little +patrimony had been wasted or spent. But I +would not let him prosecute my guardian, for +Tessie’s sake. I felt that she had sorrows +enough to bear, poor girl, without this open +disgrace being added to them. By the time +that Mr. Lovett died, my Armand’s term of +probation in Algiers was ended, and he had +got his own again, so I made Tessie come +and live with us.</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was a happy period. It was so delightful +to watch the roses return to her +cheeks, and the roundness to her form, and +to feel that the saddest part of her life was +over, and she was free to choose her future +destiny. But we did not keep her with us +long. In Paris that was hardly to be expected! +Every one prophesied she would +marry a foreigner, yet she married——</p> + +<p class='c012'>Stay! Armand and I are going over next +week to England, to spend a whole month in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>Norwood, with my dear old friend Mrs. +Sandilands, to whom I am very anxious to +introduce my husband and my son, Godefroi +de Nesselrode—who is already seven years +old.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And Charlie, dear old boy! is anticipating +our arrival as if he were still my mother’s +‘blue-eyed baby’ of twenty-two, instead of +a sober citizen of thirty, because he wants +me, not to be introduced to, but to renew my +acquaintance with, <em>his wife</em>—Mrs. Sandilands +Number Two—my dear friend Tessie!</p> + +<p class='c012'>It all came about as naturally as possible, +although it sounds so romantic, for Charlie +came to stay with us in Paris, and popped +the question to her there, without even +asking my advice upon the subject, and took +her home with him to be his mother’s eldest +daughter!</p> + +<hr class='c013'> + +<p class='c012'>So they all lived happy ever afterwards. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>Yes, that is true—strictly and literally true—because +they were not such fools as to +expect, or wish for, unalloyed happiness in +this world of shadow. They had been +hungry, and they were filled—they had been +naked, and they were clothed—they had +suffered, sometimes very acutely—and they +were loved and looked after, and guarded by +good and true men, and would have been +ingrates as well as fools, not to recognise +how much more fortunate they were than +many of their fellows.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there is one dark passage in Tessie’s +life and mine which we shall never forget—the +night that Ange’s spirit spread its wings +and flew away from us. Sometimes I +wonder, when Armand is more than usually +tender to me, or little Godefroi more than +usually good, if <em>she</em> is hovering round us who +are so happy, and rejoices because we rejoice. +Or does she stand by Cave Charteris’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>side, for the sake of the love she bore him, +to urge him on to better thoughts and a +higher career? Or is she wandering through +the Elysian fields with the old father whom +she believed in so faithfully, until his +blazoned disgrace snapped her tender heartstrings!</p> + +<p class='c012'>Who can tell me? No parson, no priest, +no book! Nothing but the great mystery +that bore her from us—the solver of all +our doubts, the cure for all our sorrows: +Death!</p> + +<p class='c012'>Let us thank God that amidst the troubles +He ordained for this earthly pilgrimage, He +left us a sure and certain remedy that cannot +fail to come to every one at last!</p> + +<p class='c012'>Ange and Tessie and I shall walk together +once more, through flowery paths, more +beautiful than those in St. Pucelle, and talk +of everything that may have befallen us +since we last parted! And my mother—my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>unforgotten, lamented mother, shall smile on +us there, and bid us welcome. Reader! do +you not believe it?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then, I pity you! Farewell!</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>THE END.</span></div> + <div class='c003'><span class='xsmall'>BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c004'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c009'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c014'>Page</th> + <th class='c014'>Changed from</th> + <th class='c015'>Changed to</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c006'><a href='#t227'>227</a></td> + <td class='c016'>leaned against the courtyard wall, fencing off</td> + <td class='c017'>leaned against the courtyard wall, fending off</td> + </tr> +</table> + + <ul class='ul_1'> + <li>Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76781 ***</div> + </body> + <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57e (with regex) on 2025-08-01 18:07:26 GMT --> +</html> + diff --git a/76781-h/images/cover.jpg b/76781-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..182861d --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i001.jpg b/76781-h/images/i001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..94d5e73 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i001.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i027.jpg b/76781-h/images/i027.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dade3e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i027.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i051.jpg b/76781-h/images/i051.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d10669 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i051.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i077.jpg b/76781-h/images/i077.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee9ad3e --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i077.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i115.jpg b/76781-h/images/i115.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4fec82a --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i115.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i145.jpg b/76781-h/images/i145.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd2866a --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i145.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i171.jpg b/76781-h/images/i171.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..314b687 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i171.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i201.jpg b/76781-h/images/i201.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0565c31 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i201.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i225.jpg b/76781-h/images/i225.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d6813f --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i225.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i253.jpg b/76781-h/images/i253.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e329cc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i253.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/i_toc.jpg b/76781-h/images/i_toc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bcfe83 --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/i_toc.jpg diff --git a/76781-h/images/title_page.jpg b/76781-h/images/title_page.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..df5efdc --- /dev/null +++ b/76781-h/images/title_page.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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