Before I could well collect my senses, I was seated beside Laura de
Villardin in the carriage of the good old Count de Loris, with her
young brother Clement looking playfully up in my face, which certainly
must have expressed as much happiness as man could feel. On the other
side appeared Madame de Villardin, with her uncle and her
brother-in-law; and for a time a tumult of joyful feelings engrossed
me entirely, as I looked round upon so many that I loved and esteemed,
and found them all engaged in promoting my own dearest wishes. Another
feeling, however, came to temper and to sadden; and I perceived that
it was strong also in the bosom of every one, as, gazing upon one
another, each saw a number of beloved objects, but each felt that
there was one wanting who could never return.
Strange to say, where there was so much to be asked, and so much to be
told, our drive passed absolutely in silence; and Madame de Villardin,
when she once more entered the dwelling in which she had spent the
days of her young pride and gaiety, drew down her veil and wept. At
the foot of the staircase we passed Jacques Marlot, who bowed low and
reverently; and when we reached the saloon, Madame de Villardin again
embraced me, saying, "God's blessing be upon you, my son, for all that
you have done for me and mine. I will now leave you for a time, and
our reverend brother here will give you all the details of many things
that I have not spirits either to tell you myself or to hear told by
another. Come with me, Laura, my beloved child; and you, Clement,
betake you to your book; for the tale that your uncle is about to tell
had better, in your case, be reserved for after years."
I could well have let my curiosity sleep till I had enjoyed the
society of my dear Laura for some time longer; but Madame de Villardin
seemed to think that the information I was to receive had better be
given at once, and, of course, I did not oppose her.
Left alone with Father Ferdinand and Monsieur de Loris, the good
priest passed over his own history without explanation, and took up
his story at the period when the bridge had given way beneath Monsieur
and Madame de Villardin; and he gave me all the minute particulars
of events, which I can here state but generally.
It had, luckily, so happened that a large mass of the woodwork had
fallen at once beneath Madame de Villardin, and thus both broke her
fall into the stream, and supported her as a sort of raft after she
reached the water. She had called loudly for assistance; but, hurried
rapidly round the point of land just below the bridge, her voice had
not reached me as I swam, till after I had dragged out Monsieur de
Villardin. The single cry which I did hear had, however, caught the
ears of Jacques Marlot, who was at that moment returning from the farm
of the good Ursulines; and, running down to the shore, which was there
less steep, he easily dragged Madame de Villardin, and the wood-work
to which she was still clinging, to land. The house which he inhabited
was close at hand, and thither he himself carried the lady, without
waiting for other assistance. Madame de Villardin was quite sensible
of everything around her when she arrived at his dwelling; but she had
become deeply impressed with the idea that Monsieur de Villardin
intended to destroy her and the child she carried in her bosom, and,
acknowledging this apprehension in the terror of the moment, she
besought Jacques Marlot and his wife to conceal her from pursuit. He
on his part having been well accustomed, as libel-printer-general to
the Fronde, to concealments of all kinds, instantly locked the door,
in which state I afterwards found it, and took those measures which
effectually prevented us from discovering the existence of Madame de
Villardin, making his wife feign herself ill, to exclude all visiters
from the house. Father Ferdinand, however, in whom Madame de Villardin
had the fullest confidence, was made acquainted with the facts, under
the strictest promise of secrecy; and, finding that the unhappy lady
could never again look upon her husband without terror, he it was that
advised her to seek a permanent resting-place in the Ursuline
convent, of which she had been so munificent a benefactor.
There can be little doubt, however, that one more person became
accidentally acquainted with the fate of Madame de Villardin; but she
kept the secret far more nobly than might have been anticipated. That
person was Suzette, who, after being dismissed from Dumont, lodged at
St. Estienne, in the house of the very woman who attended Madame de
Villardin in the premature birth of her son. The woman had been chosen
from that village as a place in which Madame de Villardin never had
been, and her name and station were carefully concealed from her; but
still the whole arrangements had excited her surprise, and from the
hints which Suzette had twice let fall in my presence, I could not
doubt that she had gained sufficient information from her hostess, to
feel sure of the existence of her former mistress. Our long absence
from Dumont had given every opportunity of concluding all the
subsequent arrangements without a chance of discovery. Madame de
Villardin broke the last tie by leaving her child in the hands of
Jacques Marlot at Juvigny, and retired from the world. The proximity
of the convent, however, gave her frequent opportunities of seeing
both her children without being known to them, and she gradually
became quite reconciled to her situation. The great difficulty was in
regard to the education of little Clement; but that was removed by my
offer to take him as my page. The knowledge that he was near his
father--and still more the tidings which she soon received that her
husband was displaying towards his unknown child all the fondness of a
parent--acted as balm to the wounded heart of Madame de Villardin; but
still she could not banish the idea that, if the Duke ever became
acquainted with the child's birth, he would seek its destruction: and
nothing that Father Ferdinand could say, to show her his brother's
deep grief and repentance for what had already occurred, served to
relieve her mind in this respect. Nor, indeed, could one wonder that
such were her feelings, after all the terrible proofs she had received
of how far her husband's unjust suspicions might carry him. All that
Father Ferdinand could obtain from her, was a permission to reveal to
the Duke the facts, if ever he should see him on his death-bed; but
her apprehensions still made her require that the tidings should not
be given till there was no remaining chance of recovery.
Such is a general outline of the explanations given to me by Father
Ferdinand in regard to the preservation of Madame de Villardin; but I
was still anxious to hear more, and I asked him if Laura herself had
been aware of her mother's existence.
"Certainly not," replied he; "she could not even have a suspicion of
it till after that unhappy business of the Count de Laval; and here,
my son," he added, "my own conduct requires some explanation. I had
long seen your growing attachment to our dear Laura, and had spoken to
Madame de Villardin upon the subject, consulting her as to the
necessity of informing my brother of the evident result which would
take place. From what we both knew of the natural generosity of his
heart, we felt sure that he would not object to an union, which, from
our own regard towards you, we both desired; and it was therefore
determined to let things take their course. When I found from little
Clement the state of deep despondency into which you had fallen, now
two years ago, and the rash acts to which that despondency led you, I
began to suspect that you had become aware of your own feelings
towards my niece, and looked upon them as hopeless. I therefore
determined to give you some hope and encouragement, especially as I
knew that Laura was not destined to become that wealthy heiress which
you might suppose.
"Suddenly, however, my brother told me of his engagements with the
Count; and well aware of his rigid adherence to his word, I began to
fear that your passion was without hope indeed. After you were gone
from the château, and the Count had arrived, poor Laura confided to me
her misery; and told me that she would rather at once take the veil
than wed another than yourself. As I knew her father would not himself
even display a thought of drawing back from his promise, I advised her
to see the Count himself, and to tell him the true state of her
feelings; and then--as I had reason to believe that the Count's
passion was more for the heiress than the woman--I told Laura, that a
great probability existed of her father's estates passing to another;
and though I desired her to ask no farther, I believe that, from the
terms in which I spoke, some suspicion of the truth crossed her mind.
I bade her, as a last resource, give a hint of such a result to the
Count himself, if her other representations did not move him; and then
to refer him to me. She did not rest satisfied with the first,
however; but after having told him plainly that she could not love
him, as she loved another, she used her last resource also; although
she acknowledges that he seemed much moved by her first
representation. I am sorry that she did so, for now it is not very
possible to tell by what motives the Count was actuated; and I would
fain have given him an opportunity of doing honour to his own heart.
However, he spoke with me afterwards; and, knowing him to be a man
upon whose promised secrecy I could fully rely, I told him boldly that
there was not only a chance, but a certainty--as far as earthly things
ever can be certain--of the estates of Monsieur de Villardin passing
away from Laura. He asked an explanation; and, seeing that it might
save our dear girl from misery, I told him that, if I could obtain
permission, I would satisfy him of the fact. He agreed to wait four
days for my communication, promising that, if I proved my statement,
he would voluntarily withdraw his claim. In consequence of this
arrangement, T immediately wrote to Madame de Villardin; and showing
her that her child's happiness was at stake, demanded her leave to
make the Count acquainted with so much of her story as was necessary
to prove to him that Laura would never possess the estates which he
expected to receive with her. She immediately consented, and the
result you know. As a matter of course, all the facts of Madame de
Villardin's history were communicated by myself and Monsieur de Loris
to the King some time ago; and as her presence was necessary to
establish the rights of her son to his father's honours and estates,
his Majesty gave the necessary commands for removing all impediments
which conventual rules might oppose to her visiting the Court. Both
the young King himself and his mother took the greatest interest in
the fate of all concerned; and as, by your letters, we received
intelligence of your situation, and your restoration to health, his
Majesty declared that as soon as your exchange could be effected, he
would only subject you to one more trial ere he gave you your fair
bride. All opposition on the part of his Eminence of Mazarine was
withdrawn, as soon as he found that two-thirds of Laura's estates
were diverted to her brother; and yesterday morning, early, a summons
to attend the King and Queen gave us also the joyful news of your
return. The parts that we were all to play were laid down by the King
himself; and our poor cousin, who had come up some months ago to claim
the guardianship of the young heiress, was brought in also, still in
perfect ignorance of all the facts. I now need tell you no more; and
if a light step I heard but now be a true signal, I think you will
find some one in that next boudoir, who, though scarcely more happy to
see you than myself, is a fitter companion for a young soldier than an
old priest can be."
As I, too, heard Laura's step, I asked no more questions at that time;
but, joining her that I loved, spent an hour or two of as
happiness as ever fell to the share of mortal man. But a short space
now intervened ere we were united for ever; and although all that we
had gone through rendered me constantly apprehensive of some new
disappointment until Laura was at length clasped to my heart, my own
beloved wife, yet, since our fate has been placed beyond all farther
doubt, I am inclined to believe that the dangers, and the
difficulties, and even the sorrows, of our early years, contribute
greatly to our present happiness.
We have a store of thoughts and remembrances in the past, which forms
for us a world separated from the rest of the world: many things
endured for the sake of each other, mingle, I may say, a feeling of
mutual gratitude with mutual affection: the deep impression of
extraordinary events keeps the first fresh feelings of the passion
that was born amongst them in all its original fire, although years
have passed since our fate was united. Even t s memory of the beloved
dead forms an tie between our hearts which can never be
weakened; and when I look into my Laura's eyes, I see the same love
beaming in them as my wife, which lighted them in infancy and
girlhood, only augmented with a thousand sweeter and brighter beams,
by every stage through which our affection has passed.
My tale is now concluded up to this hour; and so contented am I with
my present state, that I trust to have nothing more which could prove
of interest to any one to add to these pages, till time lays me in the
grave. Almost all whom I have mentioned are still living; and though
Madame de Villardin has again sought the quiet seclusion of the
cloister, we frequently enjoy her society as far as her situation will
permit. Father Ferdinand has often promised to give me a sketch of his
early history; but it would seem that there are in it points so
painful, as even to have defied the softening power of time, and to
remain too acute to bear recapitulation. Clement de Villardin has
become the gallant soldier, whose name is known to every one both in
England and France; and I have laid by the sword which so early came
into my hands, hoping that fate has exhausted her store, and that no
more changes, either of station or of character, may yet be reserved
for JOHN MARSTON HALL.
THE END.
T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covet-garden.