AURELIA DARNEL.
At the usual hour for an afternoon visit Roland Ruthven, in his blue
undress uniform, with the handsome gilt shoulder scales then worn
(mufti was forbidden), left his sword in the entrance hall, and was
duly ushered into the handsome and spacious drawing-room of the
Chateau de St. Eustache, as Mrs., or rather Madame, Darnel's abode
was named, for she was a French Canadian, a widow and the heiress of
one of those seigneuries which are in so many instances in possession
of the families endowed with them by the kings of France.
Over these seigneuries they formerly exercised the rights of _haute,
moyenne, et basse justice_; but these have become obsolete since
Wolfe carried the British colours up the heights of Abraham, and they
are now reduced to the right of building a mill, at which the vassal
must grind his corn at a fixed rate, and a fine if he desires to sell
the load which he holds from his overlord.
Much of the reserve and pride of the old noblesse of France still
hover about these Canadian seigneurs, and Madame Darnel possessed
these characteristics in a very high degree.
Neither she nor Aurelia were in the room, so Roland had a little time
to collect his thoughts.
How much had happened--how altered were all his views and hopes of
life--since last he had sat on that particular sofa, and beheld the
view from these windows!
He had come hither from the barracks on foot, as he had sold off all
his horses now, and he thought sadly--could it be otherwise--of the
stable court at Ardgowrie, with all its excellent stalls fitted with
enamelled mangers and encaustic tiles, and the artistic devices on
the iron heel posts, and for holding the pillar reins.
This visit over, he thought he would go moose-hunting with Logan and
some others: activity out of doors being the best cure for love
according to certain writers. "Men try wine and cards," says Yates,
"both of which are instantaneous but fleeting remedies, and leave
them in a state of reaction, when they are doubly vulnerable; but
shooting or hunting, properly pursued, are thoroughly engrossing
while they last, and when they are over necessitate an immediate
recourse to slumber from the fatigue which they have induced."
But while making these resolutions Roland, like one in a dream,
watched the view from Madame Darnel's windows: Montreal, the largest
of the three elevations near the city so named--its base surrounded
by country houses, with orchards and gardens, and its summit covered
with foliage; the city itself, with its lofty edifices of dark
limestone or of painted wood, its churches, monasteries, its
glittering spire, its shipping, and the St. Lawrence winding far away
in the distance, till he was roused by the rustle of a silk dress,
and Aurelia Darnel stood before him, and her hand was in his.
"Miss Darnel!"
"Mr. Ruthven!"
The latter was the less self-possessed of the two.
"I knew, Mr. Ruthven, that you would come to Montreal again," said
Aurelia, with one of her brightest smiles.
"Were it but for a moment like this, I should have come," said
Roland, under the charm of her presence, forgetting the _rôle_ he
intended to adopt; "and your mamma?"
"Is, unfortunately, from home; need I say how sorry we were for the
sad occasion which hurried you away."
Roland coloured with pain, vexation, and sorrow; and before him
seemed to stand that horrible "last will and testament," which
beggared him! Aurelia Darnel, who had occupied his entire thoughts
since he left Montreal, was beside him now; but he had only common
places, the merest platidudes to offer her. His innate pride,
tenacity, and over-sensitiveness, now that he was poor, and she was
rich--he little knew how rich--tied up his tongue, and the love, he
trembled to avow, remained unspoken.
We have already partially described Aurelia Darnel and the character
of her beauty. She was a girl of talent, with many accomplishments.
Her French, of course, was perfect, as she inherited it from her
mother; she played brilliantly, with a soft yet dashing touch; she
could sing little _chansons_ in the most seductive way, and was full
of those pretty graces and mannerisms which are peculiar to
continental girls; she had, too, a way of looking down, drooping her
long dark eyelashes, that was often the cause of more tenderness and
admiration in those she meant to dazzle, than when she looked up, or
straight forward.
Offers she had had in plenty, and for two seasons she had been the
reigning belle of Montreal. By a subtile perception, Roland had been
distinctly conscious that she preferred him to any other man of her
acquaintance, and that her eye brightened and her smile sweetened at
his approach.
He had ever felt a strange joy in her society, and a pride in being
seen with her, for is it not something to excite envy and jealousy by
being the favoured partner of the acknowledged belle of every ball!
In attractiveness her tone and manner were quite different to all
that Roland had met before, and yet he had moved in the best society
everywhere.
Though but a few months had elapsed since he saw Aurelia last, her
figure seemed to have attained more roundness than before, and her
soft features a more decided character; most winning and shy was her
smile, most graceful her carriage, and sweet was her voice when she
welcomed him to Montreal again.
"It is eight whole months since I had the pleasure of seeing you
last, Miss Darnel," said he, after a rather awkward pause.
"Eight months--yes, true."
"A gap in life--in my life at least."
"Filled up by sadness?"
"Exceeding sadness, and much mortification," said he.
"I was but a little girl when papa died, yet I can remember what a
wrench it was. In losing your father--"
"I lost more than him."
"More!"
She looked up at him inquiringly; could he tell her all he had
lost--his heritage--his grand old baronial home, a princely
estate--even honour itself, for thus, in his over-sensitiveness, did
Roland view the matter of the long-hidden will!
"If matters remain quiet here among the colonists, Miss Darnell, I
mean to leave the regiment."
"Leave the Scots Royals--the Royal Regiment!" she exclaimed with
surprise; "I thought it was the second home of your family; I have
often heard you say so."
"It can no longer be mine."
"Why?"
"For reasons that I cannot tell--even to you."
"Ah, pardon me; but what do you mean to do?"
"Soldier still--of course."
"But where?"
"In India."
"In India!" she exclaimed, with a depth of interest that made
Roland's heart beat wildly; "oh, how far, far away!"
"Far away from you;--oh, Miss Darnel--Aurelia!" His heart was
rushing to his head.
At that moment a visitor, Colonel Smash, of U.S. army, was announced,
and Roland withdrew, leaving unsaid all that he ought to have
said--that she expected him to say, and what he would have said, but
for the secret of that accursed cabinet of Scindia.
Could she have looked into his heart and read his thoughts, through
the window which Vulcan wished had been placed in every human breast!
Both Aurelia and Madame Darnel had a right to expect something more
to develop itself from the visit of Roland; but he felt himself a
very craven, and retired, leaving her with the most absurd of her
many admirers, Colonel Ithurial Smash, a long-legged, hard-featured,
and most ungainly New Yorker, whose rivalry was too contemptible for
Roland's consideration, though he did marvel whether one could
"possibly parade a fellow," for interrupting one's conversation with
his cousin--for in this degree of relationship the "Colonel" somehow
stood to Aurelia Darnel.