Lord Barkley being thus relieved from his engagement to Miss Molyneux,
felt like a prisoner just set free, who rejoices in his newly-recovered
freedom, although the remembrance of the acts which riveted the chains
of bondage round his neck still fills his heart with shame and sorrow;
and he set to work in earnest to try and make amends for all past
self-indulgence and extravagance.
For the three first months which followed his father's death, he
applied himself with energy to the examination of his affairs. He found
them in a dreadful state of confusion, and, totally unaccustomed as he
was to business, it seemed to him almost impossible that he could ever
get through the masses of ill-kept accounts which lay before him, and
his evil genius--indolence--more than once suggested to him that it
would have been unnecessary to do so had he married Miss Molyneux; but
at such moments he had only to look back and recall his misery during
the time of his engagement to her, in order to feel that anything--even
breaking his head over accounts--was better than that; and then with
renewed vigour he would pore over the long lines of figures, thinking
to himself, "I would willingly go through all this if I could only
hope that Marie was not lost to me for ever; yet even on chance I will
labour on, and endeavour to show that I am somewhat less unworthy of
her than I was."
Lord Barkley was naturally clever; all he had ever wanted was
application and energy, and these were now lent to him by sorrow
for the past, and hope, however faint it might be, for the future.
Notwithstanding many a weary hour, when his courage wavered, and he
felt half inclined to abandon the task which he had set himself to
do, he did at last succeed in making himself completely master of his
position. He then saw that it was possible to retrieve the property
without selling himself for a large fortune in marriage, but it could
only be done by--what appeared to him--strict economy and attention to
business.
"I _will_ do it," he exclaimed one evening, as he locked up the papers
which he had been studying. "If Colonel de St. Severan can be induced
to give me Marie, we could live abroad for some years, and everything
would go swimmingly. But how can I dare to address him? I suppose he
would neither see me nor receive a letter from me. And Marie--ah! _she_
would not be too hard on me if I could only plead my own cause to her.
But again, how am I to see her? I have it! Flora Adair can help me if
she will; she can intercede for me with the de St. Severans; and the
old colonel likes her particularly, Marie has often told me so. But
_will_ she help me? God knows! However, _she_ will not refuse to see
me, and perhaps when she hears all she may be persuaded to aid me when
I am doing my utmost to repair the past. Without Marie I have no motive
for exertion, and if she is really lost to me, then I am indeed lost.
But I will try whether Flora Adair cannot be moved to help and save me.
I will go to Dublin to-morrow, and see if she is like so many others,
who sternly refuse to assist the fallen when they try to rise to better
things."
The next day, before the usual visiting hour, Flora Adair was much
surprised when Lord Barkley's card was handed to her, and the servant
said that the gentleman earnestly begged Miss Adair would see him, even
though she did not generally receive visitors when Mrs. Adair was out.
Flora hesitated a little, but finally said, "Well then, show him up."
When Lord Barkley entered the room, he was startled by the brilliant
delicacy of her complexion, and exclaimed, "Miss Adair, have you been
ill?"
"I am not very well, Lord Barkley, and am scarcely able to receive any
but my most intimate friends; however, I did not like to refuse you, as
you asked so particularly to see me," she answered coldly, for she had
never forgiven his lordship for his conduct to Marie.
"I am truly sorry to hear that you are not well, Miss Adair, and I am
most grateful to you for not refusing to see me, for you, if any one,
can help to restore me to happiness and peace of mind. Will you listen
to the confession of my sins against one who is dear to you, but dearer
far to me; and then, if you deem me worthy of forgiveness, will you try
to obtain it for me?"
"I will hear whatever your lordship wishes to tell me, but I can make
no promise for my after conduct."
Lord Barkley then gave her a clear and full account of all that he had
done from the time he went to Paris until the present; in no way did he
extenuate or gloss over any of his faults, or dwell upon his courageous
determination during the last three months to battle with the
difficulties of his position and conquer them. Never had he appeared
to Flora in so favourable a light as now, when he humbly exposed all
his past weakness, but showed by his conduct since his father's death
that he did possess energy and strength of mind sufficient to repent
and begin quite a new life; and he had gained her as an intercessor
even before he concluded by saying, "If Marie would trust me again
with the blessing of her love, the work of amendment which has been
begun in me would be perfected: for then I should have the strongest
of motives to repair the past, and she, I do believe, would be angelic
enough to forgive me all my weakness and infidelity to her. But I dare
not venture to address Colonel de St. Severan,--I could not expect from
him any of that indulgence which she, in the plenitude of her goodness,
might grant me. If I wrote to him I suppose he would send me back my
letter unread, but if you, Miss Adair, would deign to help me--if you
would write to Colonel de St. Severan and Marie in my favour, and
enclose to each of them a letter from me, it would at least enable
me to plead my own cause. I know how great was your contempt for my
weakness even in Florence, and then I had not behaved half so badly
as I did afterwards; but what more can I do than mourn over my great
faults, and try to rise to better things? Will you, then, aid me in
that attempt to rise, for without Marie I have no hope?"
"I will help you as far as I can, Lord Barkley," answered Flora
cordially, as she looked fixedly at him, and marked the worn, anxious
expression of his countenance; "and now for the first time do I think
you worthy of Marie. There is no fault so great that true repentance
cannot efface it, and I know that dear, gentle Marie will not be too
hard upon you, although you well-nigh broke her heart. Your engagement
to Miss Molyneux was a cruel wound to her confiding nature; but 'let
the dead past bury its dead.' I will spare no exertion to induce
Colonel de St. Severan to relent towards you; and Marie, I dare say,
will be a still warmer and a more powerful advocate for you than any
one else. So send me the letters, and I will write at once; and now I
must ask you to leave me, for I am very tired; yet you have done me
good. To try to make Marie happy is something pleasant to do and to
think about."
"I know no words strong enough to express my gratitude to you, Miss
Adair. You have been to me like a good angel, bidding me hope that my
repentance may win my pardon, even while suffering yourself, for your
voice, everything, tells me that you, too, are suffering. May Heaven
reward you for your goodness to me!" He took her hand, raised it to his
lips, and left her, promising to send her the letters that evening.
As soon as Flora received them she lost no time in forwarding them to
the de St. Severans, accompanied by a few lines from herself, both to
Marie and Colonel de St. Severan. And while these important letters are
passing through the post, we shall precede them to the chateau, and
learn how their contents are likely to be received by its occupants....
Colonel de St. Severan's mother was English, and from her he had
learned a somewhat less matter-of-fact idea of marriage than the
generality of French people entertain, and therefore he was wonderfully
indulgent towards Marie's grief when her _love_ match was broken off;
nevertheless he _was_ a Frenchman by birth and education, and he
considered that the best cure for that grief would be to find her a
handsome young husband, endowed with all the desirable advantages of
position and fortune--"_enfin un établissement convenable sous tous les
rapports_."
Shortly after their return to the country, which took place in Easter
week, Colonel de St. Severan was overjoyed at receiving a visit from an
old friend and neighbour, the Comte de Morlaix, who came to propose an
alliance between his eldest son, le Comte Charles de Morlaix, and Marie.
He cordially assured his friend that nothing would make him happier
than to see his dear Marie united to so excellent and charming a
young man as le Comte Charles, adding that he would let him know his
adopted daughter's sentiments on the subject in a day or two, but that
doubtless she would feel only too deeply gratified by the honour which
the Comte and Comtesse de Morlaix conferred upon her by thus desiring
to welcome her into the family as their daughter-in-law.
The Comte de Morlaix then took his leave, after having made a profusion
of complimentary speeches, well satisfied in thinking that he had
obtained for his son a pretty, an amiable, and a wealthy bride.
Colonel de St. Severan was equally pleased with the prospect of
presenting the handsome, gay young Comte to Marie as her future
husband, and felt quite convinced that it would effectually banish any
regret which she might _still_ feel for Lord Barkley.
Accordingly he hastened to find Marie, in order to communicate this
flattering proposal to her; but to his great disappointment she had no
sooner heard it than she began to cry, and sobbingly declared that she
would never marry, and only wanted to be allowed to live always with
her "_cher père_."
Colonel de St. Severan treated all this as girlish sentimentality,
and told her to talk it all over with her good old friend, Monsieur le
Curé, who would advise her as to what she ought to do.
Poor, gentle, yielding little Marie! how could she resist the
persuasion and the reasoning of her beloved adopted father and the good
Curé? She knew not how to answer when in measured accents they spoke
of the dreadful consequences which any indulgence in romantic feelings
might lead to, and counselled her to accept--as a safeguard against
the dangerous inclination of her own heart for one who was about to
become the husband of another--the pleasing and pious young Comte who
now sought her in marriage. She could not, as we have said, reason with
them about it; but from her heart burst forth the cry, "Oh, no! It
cannot be right to marry the Comte Charles when I love another better
than I can love him."
"Poor child!" replied the Curé compassionately; "we only want to make
you happy, and your loving father by adoption will not press you for an
answer. In the meantime you can see Monsieur le Comte Charles now and
then, and think over all that we have said to you."
Marie at length consented to see her proposed suitor occasionally, but
only on this condition, that he, or at least his father, should be
told the whole truth. That is to say, that she was still smarting under
the pain which a final separation from one whom she had loved caused
her, and that consequently she did not feel inclined to entertain the
thought of marrying at all. Nevertheless, in compliance with the wishes
of her _cher père_, she would, if _Monsieur le Comte de Morlaix_ still
wished it, receive the visits of his son in order that she might become
better acquainted with him. But these visits were to be considered
strictly as visits of friendship until after the expiration of two
months, when she should have completed her twenty-first year, and
then she would say if they were to assume another character, or cease
altogether.
These conditions were accepted, for the de Morlaix were really most
anxious to win Marie for their son, and they had little doubt of his
making a favourable impression upon the refractory young lady.
Marie was far too timid to assert her own sense of right by saying
definitely, "I will not give my hand without my heart; for surely God
cannot call upon me to swear falsely--to swear an allegiance to one for
whom I have not even a very strong feeling of preference."
She longed to escape from this proposed marriage; but when she saw that
every one around her looked upon her disinclination to it as a wicked
indulgence in forbidden memories, she began to doubt herself, and to
suppose that although she could not understand it, it must be wrong
of her to refuse the Comte Charles. Her only hope of support was from
Flora Adair; and she wrote her a long history of it all, begging her to
say if _she_ too thought it right for her to marry the Comte Charles;
"for," she added, candidly, "I believe it is true to say that it is the
memory of what I once felt for another which makes me wish to refuse
him. He is very good and kind, and had I never known Edmund, I dare
say I should have married him just because he is so good and kind, and
because _mon cher père_ wishes it. But as it is---- Flora, what shall I
do? The thought of this marriage is hateful to me now."
Flora's answer, however, destroyed her last hope of support. It ran
thus:--
"MY POOR DARLING MIGNONNE,
"I must not dare to advise you at such a time as the present,
when peace, happiness, everything, depends upon your decision. I
have no right to come between you and your adopted father, Colonel
de St. Severan, and his friends. They have advised you, and now your
own heart and conscience can alone decide the question. One word
only will I say,--no _man's_ counsel is infallible; and outside the
Church's definitions of right and wrong, our conscience is the only
code by which God will judge us. Trust to Him alone, and, under
Him, to your own sense of right, and you cannot go wrong.
"Write to me often, and tell me how you feel as the time for your
decision approaches. But you must never ask me to give any opinion
about it. Do not think it cold and unkind of me, dearest, thus to
throw you back upon yourself, and leave you to stand alone in this
crisis of your life. Heaven knows how much it costs me to act so;
but I cannot do otherwise. Colonel de St. Severan would naturally
resent any interference on my part; so in honour I am bound to be
silent.
"Good-bye, then, dearest; and may God direct you.
"Ever your affectionate
"FLORA ADAIR."
After the receipt of this letter Marie felt more unhappy than ever.
Flora's words, "Trust to God alone, and, under Him, to your own sense
of right," simply told her that she must act on her own responsibility;
for she could not suppose that God would send down an angel to tell
her what she ought to do.
In vain she tried to conquer her repugnance to the idea of marrying.
But when they said to her that this was a temptation and a clinging to
the memory of one whom she had no longer any right to love, she felt
that she had not the courage to say, "I will not marry."
At length she began to look upon her union with the Comte Charles as a
sort of fate, from which she could not escape by any act of her own.
Yet she prayed day after day that, if it were God's holy will, the
marriage might never take place.
Thus time glided on, slowly and sadly for Marie, and yet too quickly
also; for it brought nearer and nearer the dreaded day when she was to
give her final answer.
One soft, hazy June morning, as she sat in an arbour with Colonel de
St. Severan, he said, "_Eh bien! mon enfant_, we are not far from your
birthday, and then I hope you will make us all happy by allowing your
_fiançailles_ to be celebrated."
"But I need not give my answer until the very day, _mon père_,"
murmured Marie, bending low over the work in her hand.
"Certainly not, my child," answered Colonel de St. Severan. "I promised
not to ask for one until then. I cannot help hoping, however, that
so charming and virtuous a young man as Comte Charles has succeeded
in making you feel how much happier you will be as his honoured wife
than in rejecting him and yielding to unauthorised recollections of a
married man, as no doubt Lord Barkley is by this time. Nevertheless,
Marie, you know that you are free to act as you will. I do not desire
you under pain of my displeasure to accept him; but I shall be sorry if
it be otherwise, and a little disappointed in my dear child." He laid
his hand fondly on her head, whilst she struggled to keep down the sobs
which were rising in her throat.
Just then a servant entered with some letters on a salver. Colonel de
St. Severan took them up, read the addresses, and placing before Marie
an unusually large envelope, he said gaily, "There, little one, is a
volume from your nice Irish friend. Just look how thick it is, too!
Why, it will give you something to do to read all that. And I, too,
must see what my correspondents have to say to me."
Not many minutes had passed when Colonel de St. Severan was startled by
a joyful cry from Marie. "I am saved--saved--what joy!--what happiness!
Read, _mon père_." In her right hand she held up before him Flora's
open letter, and in her left another, upon which she gazed with
rapture. But the reaction was too great for Marie's strength, and she
burst into so violent a fit of crying that Colonel de St. Severan was
obliged to take her into the house before even he had time to read a
line of the letter which had caused all this extraordinary agitation;
but he guessed that in some way or other it must be connected with Lord
Barkley, and the very thought of it enraged him.
Madame de St. Severan happened to be passing through the hall as they
entered, and Colonel de St. Severan hastily consigned Marie to her
care, and shut himself up in his study. By the same post Flora wrote to
Marie and Colonel de St. Severan, enclosing Lord Barkley's respective
letters to each of them; but the one addressed to Colonel de St.
Severan, being mixed up among several other letters, had escaped his
notice until he read her note to Marie, in which she spoke of having
also written to him. He then eagerly looked for it, and, having found
it, tore open the envelope and read her letter and Lord Barkley's as
attentively as his increasing indignation would allow him.
Lord Barkley's letter was so frank and open in its acknowledgment of
past unworthiness, and so humble in its appeal for forgiveness, that
Flora hoped it might soften Colonel de St. Severan's anger towards
him; and her own letter closed with these words--"You cannot any longer
doubt Lord Barkley's love for Marie. Think what it must have cost a man
like him, and in his position, to humble himself as he has done both
to you and Mr. Molyneux; yet he did it for her sake. And I need not
say that she loves him. You know it well, since you thought, when he
was engaged to another, that she was bound to guard even against the
memory of that love by making a marriage of duty, to say the least of
it. Dreadful as it appeared to me that she should be induced to marry
in this way, I forced myself to be silent until I learned that he whom
she loved was free, and ready to make any atonement in order to obtain
her hand. So now, dear Colonel de St. Severan, I hope you will pardon
me for becoming Lord Barkley's mediatrix. Marie needs no intercessor
with you; your own deep affection for her will be a far more powerful
advocate in favour of her happiness than anything which I could say. It
will not let you see her suffer very long when you know that it is in
your power to make her happy by forgiving her lover and receiving him
as your adopted son-in-law."
Colonel de St. Severan, however, passionately declared in his own
mind, when he finished reading these letters, that he would never
consent to give Marie to a man who had treated her as Lord Barkley had
done. Repentance came too late; and, so far as he was concerned, he
would sternly reject him. He was just about to write a few chilling
lines to Flora, re-enclosing Lord Barkley's letter, and expressing his
astonishment that he should have had the presumption to address him,
when he was called away on business which obliged him to absent himself
from home for a few hours.
When he returned he was met at the door by Marie, who, all radiant with
joy, threw herself into his arms, and gaily whispered, mimicking his
words in the morning, "Now, _mon père_, I am quite ready to make you
all happy by allowing my _fiançailles_ to be celebrated as soon as you
will. I will not even claim the fulfilment of your promise to wait for
my answer until my birthday. See what a difference a name makes; now
that I may be affianced to Edmund instead of to Charles, I ask for no
delay. Ah! how happy I am!"
"Marie! I am ashamed of you!" exclaimed Colonel de St. Severan, pushing
her from him. "If you had the slightest sense of maidenly dignity you
would consider it an insult that Lord Barkley should dare to address
you again, instead of showing this unseemly joy and of heedlessly
rejecting the honour of becoming the Comte Charles de Morlaix's wife
in order to give yourself to one who cast you off! But I will save you
if I can. By this post I shall send back Lord Barkley's letter to Miss
Adair, requesting that the subject may never be named to me again."
This was a sad check to Marie, to whom the possibility of his not
forgiving her lover had never occurred. She only thought of all he had
suffered, and longed to be able to console him and make him forget the
unhappy past. But Colonel de St. Severan's words rudely dispelled this
delicious dream, and the only concession which her prayers and tears
could win from him was a promise that he would not send Lord Barkley's
letter back to him; but he persisted in writing to Flora, and begged of
her to convey to her friend, Lord Barkley, his decided refusal even to
tolerate the idea of his becoming Marie's husband, and, as a favour,
he asked Flora not in any way to encourage Marie in this misplaced
affection.
Colonel de St. Severan allowed Marie to see the letter, and even
consented that she should add a few lines. She accordingly wrote,
with trembling fingers--"Tell Edmund, dearest Flora, that I have
forgiven and forgotten everything but his love for me; and would--so
gladly!--prove to him how fully it is returned by giving myself to him
at once. But, as you see from the above, my dear father refuses his
consent to our marriage; and I could not be so ungrateful as to marry
in the face of his prohibition. I will never, however, marry any one
else. Thank God! they cannot persuade me now that it is wrong to love
him; and if he thinks me worth waiting for, we may yet be happy. My
dear father, I feel sure, is too fond of me not to relent at last.
Pray, then, _ma Flore_, for thy Mignonne!"
Colonel de St. Severan frowned as he read these lines, and folding up
the letter, he said, "Delude not yourself with false hopes, Marie. You
can of course marry Lord Barkley if you choose, but it must ever be
against my consent."
In spite of this, three months had not passed when Flora Adair received
a letter from Marie, saying that she thought Colonel de St. Severan was
half inclined to yield; and if Lord Barkley were to try the bold stroke
of coming over and seeking a personal interview with him, she hoped all
would terminate happily.
Her hope was realised. Colonel de St. Severan had seen during these
last few weeks that there was no chance of inducing Marie to marry
according to his wishes now that Lord Barkley was free,--now that they
could no longer urge that she was bound to forget _him_ and become the
wife of the Comte Charles; and that consequently he was only making
her suffer to no purpose by continuing to refuse his consent to her
wishes. So, when Lord Barkley unexpectedly presented himself before
him, and pleaded his cause humbly and earnestly, as he had already
done in writing, Colonel de St. Severan yielded, after a fair show of
resistance, and led the grateful and happy Lord Barkley to Marie, to
receive from her lips the ratification of his pardon. And to her tender
mercies we may surely leave him without fearing that she will inflict
any severe penance on him for his past wanderings.