I AWAKE FROM MY DREAM
It was a scene that would have done credit to a much larger centre
than Quebec. It is true the walls were bare of any fitting decoration,
the windows too small to break them with any effect, the chandeliers
mean in size, and the sconces but makeshifts; still, the room was
imposing in its proportions and the company brilliant.
I recognised the Intendant without difficulty. He was a small man,
delicately formed, and wore his dark red hair with but little
powder. He was most handsomely dressed, his carriage was dignified
and easy, and the charm of which Angelique had spoken was at once
apparent; I quite understood how one might forget the plain, sickly
face, marked by the traces of excess, for it was frank and open,
and one could not but acknowledge its strength.
I saw, too, M. Poulariez, looking very handsome in his new white
uniform of the Royal Rouissillon; the Major Joannes, and others
whom Angelique had described, or we had seen from our windows on
their way to one or other of the three divinities of the rue du
Parloir. They were all there, vying with each other, Mme. de
Lanaudiere, Mme. de Beaubassin, and Mme. Pean, and though their
dresses were doubtless far behind the mode, they were all three
noticeable women, and dressed with discretion.
At the opposite end were the musicians, whose efforts were
surprisingly good; and in a long gallery down one side stood the
onlookers, crowding it to its utmost capacity. Angelique sate the
centre of an animated group at no great distance from where I was
hidden, and her evident delight in the merry trifling that went on
about her made a charming picture; but he whom I sought was not
one of the little court before her, and I scanned the room eagerly.
For the first time I realised that he might be changed; that I had
changed much myself--for ten years is a long time out of one's
life--and with a pang I thought of Angelique's girlish freshness,
and wished I could have remained eighteen for his sake.
At last! My heart leaped within me, and my eyes swam so I could
hardly see, for there was Hugh, the one and only love of my life!
"Oh, Hugh! Hugh! my darling!" I murmured, forgetful of all, save
that my dreamings had come true, and my eyes had been granted their
desire.
He was coming slowly down the room, making his way gracefully
through the crowd, bowing and occasionally speaking to other guests
as he passed. It pained me to see how thin and worn his face had
grown; but, if anything, it was handsomer than ever, though, like
that of most of the officers, it was too brown from constant
exposure. How could Angelique call him old? For his figure was as
light and graceful as I ever pictured it, and his bearing as perfect
as of yore. He was not in uniform, but was fittingly dressed in a
puce-coloured coat, relieved with narrow silver braid, and his
white satin waistcoat and small-clothes were ornamented in the same
manner.
He came directly up to where Angelique sate, and, bowing low,
answered her lively greeting with his winning smile, and I could
almost catch the soft tones of his voice where I stood.
[Illustration: "And bowing low, answered her lively greeting."]
Presently she rose, and dismissing her court with a laughing bow,
they moved down the room together, and as they did so my love
followed them, sweeping all doubts aside, and I fell to defending
him against myself with all my soul. I had never read that letter
aright. Should I not have remembered that such a man could never
hurt a woman? It was an impossibility for him to have written me
direct; and had he not, through the very hands of my enemy, sent
me effective warning not to intrust myself to his treacherous
guidance?--"Keep the lady claiming to be my wife at such, a distance
that I may never set eyes on her again." Could anything be plainer
or better conceived? If he had denied being married, his letter
could have carried no message for me, and would have placed me in
even a worse position. It was through my own pride and stupidity
that I had blundered into denying the marriage, and so had thrown
myself into the power of Sarennes.
"Good-evening, mademoiselle," whispered a voice; and I faced about,
trembling with sudden terror, to find M. de Sarennes close behind me.
"Good-evening, mademoiselle," he repeated, smiling at my dismay.
"You did not expect to see me?"
"I did not know you were in Quebec," I gasped, trying hard to
recover my self-control.
"Nor did any one else, save your friend M. de Montcalm; I arrived
an hour ago."
"How did you know I was here?" I asked, to gain time.
"I guessed whither you had been drawn when I did not find you at
the house, and a crown to the right lackey brought me here. And
now, with your permission, we will finish that conversation your
friend the Jesuit interrupted more than six months ago. No, you
dare not cry out; and see, I have the key. You are more alone with
me here than in the woods at Beaulieu," and he smiled with an air
of triumph that made me desperate.
"It is useless to attempt to frighten me, monsieur," I said, boldly.
"I am among friends."
"Indeed? And you count this Chevalier de Maxwell among them?"
"I do; for now I understand the letter he sent."
"May I ask in what way?"
"In the way of a warning not to trust myself to a man in whom he
had no confidence."
"Ah! He has explained this to you himself?"
"No, monsieur; it was my own fault I did not see it at the time."
"Will you answer me one question truthfully? Have you seen M. de
Maxwell? You will not answer? Then your silence speaks for you.
Now if this letter had been sent with the meaning you pretend to
put upon it, do you not think M. de Maxwell would have sought you
out in a little place like Quebec, where he has no other occupation
on his hands than to win enough at pharaon to dress himself for
such duties as these?" he said, contemptuously, as he waved his
hand towards the ball-room; and with the sneering words my defence
of a few moments before was in the dust. "You have seen him here,"
he went on, when he marked the effect of his words. "Does he look
like a man who is eating his heart out; or like one who is free of
a burthen and trying to enjoy the present? Marguerite, listen to
me! For your sake I have braved disgrace and perhaps ruin; for your
sake I would go through it again--"
"How dare you speak to me thus, monsieur!" I interrupted. "You
insult me beyond endurance when you dare to say I ever inspired
any man to be a traitor and a coward."
"By God!" he muttered, "have a care lest I strike you! There are
some things I cannot stand, even from you."
"Strike! I would rather that than anything else from you."
He glared at me fiercely for a moment, then suddenly changing, he
whispered, entreatingly: "Marguerite, do not tempt me thus. Do not
bring out all that is worst in me. You know I love you."
"I will not have your love; it is hateful to me."
"Why should my love be hateful? It is not different from that of
other men! It is as strong--so strong that I cannot master it. It
is as tender, if you will but answer it. It is not to be despised,
for I have never offered it to another; and as for myself, God made
me as I am."
"I will not have your love, M. de Sarennes. I will not answer it,
and you degrade it when you would force it on me. Go, and leave me
in peace!"
"Marguerite, you know nothing of my love. It counts neither insult
nor rejection. If you will have it in no other way, let me at least
serve you. Let me take up your quarrel."
"What do you mean?"
"This Maxwell. Say so, and I will hunt him down, and never leave
him until you are revenged."
"Are you mad, monsieur?"
"No, mademoiselle, I am not mad! But are you shameless?"
Trembling with indignation, I drew my cloak about me, and sweeping
aside the curtain, I stepped out on the floor of the lighted
ball-room. As I passed, the curtain caught my hood, and, to my
annoyance, it fell back from my head. The full glare of the light
was dazzling, and I was bewildered and confused, but I kept my eyes
fixed on the doorway and walked swiftly towards it. No one spake
to me, or uttered any exclamation of surprise. Two gentlemen
stepped apart as I advanced to allow me free passage, and I had
just gained the entrance when I came face to face with the Marquis
de Montcalm.
Without the slightest hesitation he bowed, and at once stepped back
into the corridor with me.
"Ah, madame, you should have been on the floor, and not in the
gallery. This ball promises to be amusing, and you are running away
before it has fairly begun." Seeing I was too embarrassed to reply,
he continued with perfect savoir-faire a conversation made up of
nothings, leading me down the long corridor away from curious eyes
as he did so, until I was able to say, with decency:
"Monsieur, a thousand thanks for your timely attention, but I must
return. I have been over-long already."
At this moment M. de Sarennes approached from the opposite direction,
and bowing, as if he had met me for the first time that evening,
said, after saluting the Marquis, "My mother grows anxious at your
stay, madame, and has deputed me to be your escort."
But he counted too far on my cowardice, and had no knowledge of
how far a woman will trust an honourable man. The Marquis, never
doubting his good faith, had already fallen back a step, when I
turned to him and said, quietly,
"Monsieur, it is quite impossible for me to accept this gentleman's
offer, but I shall be grateful if you will provide me with a
different escort."
"There is not the slightest difficulty in that. M. de Sarennes, I
must ask you to remain in attendance here, as I will not have
another opportunity of seeing you before you start for Montreal in
the morning. I will join you within presently;" and he dismissed
the angry man with a formal little bow, as if unconscious of anything
unusual. Beckoning to a servant, he ordered him to find M. Joannes,
and bid him meet us at the entrance.
"I am heartily glad, madame," he said, when we were alone, "that
you had the confidence to appeal to me. I shall take means to keep
M. de Sarennes so busily employed that he will have no further
opportunity of annoying you."
"I am very grateful, monsieur, and would never have troubled you
could I have seen any other way of escape."
"'Tutto e bene che riesce bene,' which is the extent of my Italian,
madame; but here is M. Joannes. M. Joannes," he continued, to the
merry little officer, "you have already had the pleasure of meeting
Mme. de St. Just; you now can render her a service."
"I am sure madame has confidence in me; she saw how I had provided
the wine when it was essential we should wish her bon voyage off
Cap Tourmente."
"Good! The present service only differs in kind. Will you order
my cariole, and see her safely to Mme. de Sarennes's?"
"With all the pleasure in the world, mon general," and he bowed
and hurried off to order the sleigh. In a few moments we whirled
out of the court-yard and were driving rapidly up Palace Hill.
M. Joannes chattered incessantly, which was the very spur I most
needed. His open friendliness and my sure confidence in the protection
of M. de Montcalm gave me a feeling of safety against any attempt
on the part of M. de Sarennes that was perfectly reassuring, and
I slept that night without a fear, in spite of what I had gone
through, until awakened by Angelique as the day was breaking.
"Oh, Marguerite, for shame! To think of your being at the ball and
never letting me know!" she cried, to my consternation; but added,
immediately: "I'm glad you went, though. Didn't we all look fine?"
"Very fine, and I admired you most of all the women, cherie."
"Flatterer! You made a fine stir yourself when you crossed the
floor. I wish I had seen you, and I would have captured you, then
and there! Did you not know you could have gone round by the
passage?"
"That is the way I came; but when I wished to go, the door was
locked," I answered, boldly, as I saw she suspected nothing.
"I guessed who it was the moment they spoke of your hair; but I
told no one, not even M. de Maxwell. Did you see him? He wore a
brown coat laced with silver, and we were at your end of the room,
I suppose, while you were there."
"Yes, cherie, I saw him when he first came to you."
"And am I not right? Has he not le bel air?"
"He certainly has."
"But who else in the world do you think was there? You will never
guess. Charles! He was on his way to Montreal, and came to the ball
only to see me in my finery, he said. Not every brother would do
that, let me tell you! and he is off the first thing this morning
without ever coming to the house. Now I must be off to bed; I
couldn't help waking you to tell you my news;" and she kissed me
and went to dream of her pleasures.
The following afternoon we went to the Jesuits for benediction--to
me the sweetest service of the day. It was already growing dark as
we entered. Within, the narrow windows broke the blackness of the
walls with their slits of dull gray, and the worshippers sate or
knelt in the twilight, a shadowy throng, over which the twinkling
flood of light from countless tapers on the altar broke in yellow
softness.
The peaceful, tender service was in perfect harmony with the quiet
of the evening, and I felt my heart filled with a great comfort;
when suddenly from the loft behind us, where the musicians stood,
floated out the familiar words,
Tantum ergo sacramentum
Veneremur cernui...
and I sank trembling to my knees, for the voice to me was as the
voice of an angel--it was Hugh's! I covered my face with my hands
and wept silent, blessed tears of joy, while the beautiful hymn
thrilled through my very soul.
[Illustration: "Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui..."]
"It is M. de Maxwell," whispered Angelique; but I could make no
answer.
As I walked home with Angelique, her enthusiastic praise of Hugh
stirred in me no spark of resentment, much less of jealousy; her
satisfaction that I should have seen and admired was so honest and
open, and the glimpse I had caught of his bearing towards her was
so reassuring, that I was undisturbed. In spite of the truculent
suggestions of M. de Sarennes, and even in the face of my own doubts
and fears and pride, I was so won back to the old dreamings, so
reawakened to the old longings, that I felt nothing less than his
own words could ever satisfy me that I had been mistaken. After
all, I could not see that I ran any serious risk in meeting him;
in such a place as Quebec it was likely to happen at any moment;
and surely it were better to take place when I was prepared. At
the worst, my position as Mme. de St. Just would still serve to
stand between us, and I felt assured I could rely on his forbearance.
However, I was not suffered to come to any conclusion, for Mme. de
Sarennes met us as we entered, with tidings that drove everything
else out of my head for the moment.
"Marguerite, I have news for you. La mere de Ste. Helene sends
word, saying an Englishwoman has been brought to the Hotel-Dieu,
and from the description I believe her to be Lucie. Do you both go
at once and ascertain."
We hurried off in great excitement, and an interview with the
Superior satisfied us that the patient was indeed my poor Lucy.
She had been found that very morning, wandering in a benumbed and
dazed condition on the road by the St. Charles, by a habitant coming
with his load to early market, and as he had business at the
Hotel-Dieu, he had carried her there and given her in charge of
the nuns. She was much exhausted by cold and fasting, but sleep
and food had restored her to consciousness, and, on finding she
was English, they had at once sent us word.
"If you wish, you may see her now, madame," said the Superior. "And
if we are right, it will serve to reassure her, for she is much
troubled at being detained here."
Thanking her, I took my way in charge of a sister, and quietly
entered the sick-room. The first glance at the frail face on the
pillow told me our search had ended, and there was instant recognition
in the eyes that met mine. I was by her bedside in a moment.
"Oh, my dear mistress!" she sobbed. "It was wicked of me to desert
you, but I did not understand where you had gone."
"No, no, Lucy; I am the one to be forgiven. I should never have
left you; but now we are together again, and when you are well
nothing shall part us."
"Will you stay with me now? I am afraid here! It is all so strange,
and I am not well," she ended, pitifully.
"Yes, Lucy, I will stay. But first I must ask permission, and send
word to Mme. de Sarennes."
"Will you say to her that I am sorry?"
"Yes, dear; but no one is blaming you."
"You are all good," she said, with a sigh of content; and I ran
off to obtain a ready approval of my stay from both the Superior
and Angelique, who promised to return on the morrow.
My presence was all that was needed to quiet Lucy, and she passed
a restful night, to awaken so greatly improved that she readily
talked of her wanderings. It was much as I had suspected; M. de
Sarennes had wilfully encouraged and deceived her, feeding her
delusion at every opportunity, even giving her directions for her
road, in the evident intent of getting her out of the way, to have
a freer hand in his designs. It was a relief to find that every
one had treated her with kindness, and that she had found a shelter
in St. Roch, with a widow, who was thankful for the trifle she paid
for her lodging. Once she reached Quebec she was quite content,
for she had only to wait until Christopher might appear. She gave
no reason why she was wandering out by the St. Charles, and I did
not question her; but no doubt she had really been ill for days,
and was not fully conscious of her action.
Mme. de Sarennes came with Angelique in the morning, and it was
touching to see how lively an interest this quiet Lucy had awakened
in both their hearts.
"You are in good hands, my dear," said the old lady, graciously.
"Show your gratitude by getting well and coming back to us."
"I will do my best, madame. God has been very good to me," she
answered, in halting French; whereupon Mme. de Sarennes patted her
cheek, and left to speak with her friend the Superior.
As she was going, Angelique beckoned me into the corridor, and
whispered: "I was thinking last night that we might ask M. de
Maxwell to come and give her news of her boy when he was in
Louisbourg. You know Charles told us he was much with him there,
and I am sure my mother can obtain leave from the Superior. What
do you think?"
"I think it would do her more good than anything else in the world,
We will ask her."
"Lucie," asked Angelique, "would you like me to bring a gentleman
who was in Louisbourg, and who can give you news of Christophe when
he was there?"
"Oh yes, mademoiselle; I should love it above all things," she
answered, with a flush of joy over her pale face.
"Very well; we will come to-morrow."
There was every reason, for Lucy's sake, why Hugh should come, and
in my heart I longed to see him again before I determined on my
own course of action. It was a pleasing thought, too, that I should
see him comforting one to whom it would mean so much.
The morrow was a long day for both of us, and at four o'clock, just
as it was growing dusk, I sate by her bed, listening anxiously to
every footfall in the corridor, until at last I caught Angelique's
light step, followed by a firmer tread, which I recognised at once.
It would be hard to tell whether Lucy or I was the more excited.
"Be calm, Lucy," I whispered, laying a trembling hand on hers; and
I drew my chair up to the head of the bed, so that I was completely
hidden by its white curtain.
"Lucie," said Angelique, on entering, "I have brought my friend.
Shall he come in?"
"Yes, mademoiselle," answered Lucy, in an expectant voice.
I heard Angelique go towards the door, and then heard Hugh enter.
I caught the arms of my chair tightly as he approached the bed,
when, to my amazement, I felt that Lucy had raised herself, and
the next instant she cried, in a voice strained in agony:
"Hugh Maxwell! What have you done with our son?"