"LOVE WAS YET THE LORD OF ALL."
Many mails had come to headquarters without any fresh intelligence
from Messrs. Hook and Crook concerning the lost or rival heir to
Ardgowrie, and Roland Ruthven had gathered a little courage from that
circumstance, and with it even love strengthened in his heart as he
rode on.
What a credit such a wife, such a girl, such a brilliant young
matron, as Aurelia would be, representing at balls, dinners, and
everything, the married ladies of the regiment! She would be the
veritable Queen of the Scots Royals! But that could not--might not
be, so far as Roland was concerned if the heir of his uncle were
actually found; and in this mingled mood of mind he spurred onward
the adjutant's horse, in a mode that must rather have surprised that
quiet quadruped, to bid Aurelia, it might be, a last farewell.
With all the advantages of a highly cultivated mind, trained in one
of the best West End educational establishments, she possessed all
the attractive manners of a French girl, with the honest fearlessness
of an English one, innocent of worldly trickery and the deceits of
society, and yet she was a girl well calculated to shine amidst that
charmed circle.
Roland had shown her innumerable attentions, but, as we have
elsewhere said, till he could arrange with his father as to his
future he had spoken no word distinctly of love to her yet; and now
he dared not!
The polite or politic coldness he had displayed of late, was thus
very different to the bearing towards her which the girl, from his
past conduct, had every right to expect. She was piqued and rather
prepared for a flirtation with Logan or any one else; and thus at
balls or elsewhere a lot of men were always hovering about her, among
whom was too often the obnoxious Colonel Smash, the low state of
whose exchequer would have made an alliance with the heiress of St.
Eustache a very pleasant speculation.
Roland, with his pay only, or little more--the sum he accorded to
himself out of the rents of Ardgowrie, and meant to refund--felt that
he had no right to ask her hand, or seek to lure her from amid
objects and associations endeared to her by taste and her earlier
years, and, more than all, from the luxuries by which she was
surrounded.
And yet it was with him, as it is with some others, barriers to his
hopes and wishes only made these wishes and hopes all the more keen;
and thus whenever he left her he would pause and commune with himself
from time to time, conning over her words and her glances, as if to
glean therefrom whether he was indifferent to her or not.
The doubts and fears that agitated Roland's heart were painful and
poignant; had he been as he ought to have been, Laird of Ardgowrie,
fortalice and manor, wood and mountain, with what honest confidence
would he have told her of the love he dared not speak of _now_!
Yet it was so sweet to dream on; for the artless simplicity of
Aurelia's manner, and the freshness of her untutored heart, had led
him to know and feel that the greatest personal attractions may be
second to excelling qualities in the girl one loves.
When he entered the familiar drawing-room, with its air of culture
and wealth, pictures, statuettes, and bronzes, and saw from the
windows the familiar view he might now be looking upon for the last
time, Aurelia did not hear him announced. She was alone, seated at
the piano, and singing one of those _Chansons Canadiennes_, as they
are named, which she had learned from her mother, for among the
French Canadians of all ranks there linger yet the _chansons_,
_refrains_, and _barcarolles_, brought from Brittany and La Vendée by
their ancestors three hundred years ago; and when Roland suddenly
appeared by her side, she started, and arose, surprise mingling with
her smile of pleasure, as the hour was an unusual one for a visit.
"I do not ask you to resume your singing, Miss Darnel," said Roland,
in a voice that lacked all firmness, "as I have but a few minutes to
remain with you, and these may, perhaps, be the last we shall ever
spend together."
Her glance drooped, then she lifted her long, silky and most killing
lashes, and Roland gazed with unconcealed tenderness into her eyes,
which were of that deeply dark blue, which at times and in some
lights, especially by night, seem almost black.
"You are, then, going to India?" she asked, in a breathless voice.
"No, Miss Darnel; and yet I am come to say good-bye."
"Good-bye?"
"We take the field to-morrow."
"Against whom?" she asked, growing very pale; "the Insurgents?"
"Yes--the French malcontents and others, I am sorry to say."
"And to-morrow--oh, that is sudden indeed--mamma is from
home--and--and----"
Roland could see how her bosom heaved; his heart was rushing to his
head, and he drew nearer to her. A black velvet riband, that hung
down her back from her delicate white neck, was awry; he put it
straight, and then trembled. No one surpassed Roland Ruthven in
confidence with women, or at a little bout of _persiflage_ with a
jolly flirting girl; but now he was very silent and sad.
The frill of lace that encircled her neck was ruffled in one place,
and by a delicate and almost caressing touch he smoothed it as her
own brother might have done; then his hands stole softly downward and
took each, of hers, while his heart beat like lightning.
"Miss Darnel."
She was trembling now, and her sweet face quivered.
"Aurelia."
"Well, Mr. Ruthven."
"I am about to leave, it may be for ever."
"Do not say so!" she said, almost imploringly, while her eyes filled
with tears.
"If anything in this world could make me feel like the Roland Ruthven
of a year ago, hopeful, trustful, and happy, it is to see that I am
not indifferent to you. Aurelia--my love--my darling!"
She looked at him wistfully for a moment, and ere her white eyelids
drooped, a long kiss came, and then a silence, full of happiness most
strangely blended with an emotion of intense gratitude, while his arm
went round her, and her face was nestled in his neck, and he began,
at broken intervals, much that was soft nonsense; but "it was the
nonsense which every woman loves to hear from one man (at least)
during her life-time."
Then suddenly, while still retaining her hands, and looking at her
with infinite tenderness, he told of his great love for her, but how
poverty had tied his tongue--poverty brought upon him through a will
executed by his grandfather, which deprived him of all he possessed
in the world, save his sword, for now the lost heir of Ardgowrie had
been found, and no doubt by this time knew of his good fortune.
Roland had to repeat this more than once ere she quite understood
him, for Aurelia felt as one in a dream--but a dream of happiness,
for "is there any other time," says some one, "like that, when the
knowledge comes upon you, that you are singled out, that you are
admired most, that one other person is happy only when near you, that
eyes are watching for your eyes, that a hand is waiting to touch your
hand, when every speech has a new meaning, every word a bewildering
significance."
"And you do love me?" she asked, in a low cooing whisper that filled
his heart with rapture; he could only utter a deep sigh, and kiss her
again.
"And you are poor--Roland?"
"As I have told you," he replied, his heart thrilling again at her
utterance of his Christian name for the _first_ time.
"Well--I am rich--all _I_ have is yours; I am my own mistress, and
mamma loves me too well, and you also, to thwart our wishes."
"Darling Aurelia--it is incredible--that--that----"
Roland knew not what he was about to say, so solved the difficulty
with a long caress, from which Aurelia suddenly started back, as she
now perceived they had a listener.
Unseen by both, Colonel Ithuriel Smash had been standing in the
archway of the outer drawing-room, with a curiously malignant
expression on his very marked visage, for he had evidently overheard
and overseen the whole interview. His presence occasionally at the
Château de St. Eustache was only tolerated by Madame Darnel because
he was penniless, his store in 75th Avenue having been sold up; and
now he was fostering, on the strength of a very remote relationship,
some very bold views with regard to Aurelia.
"Jerusalem, apple-sauce, and earthquakes, my young Britisher, but you
make yourself quite at home in the house of my kinsman!" exclaimed
the Colonel, who had concocted an effervescing drink in a long
tumbler, and was leisurely stirring it with the jack-knife used by
him for cutting his pig-tail tobacco; "I wonder blood has not been
shed about you before this, Miss Aurelia Darnel."
"Blood!" exclaimed Roland, swelling with indignation.
"Jerusalem! but it may be shed soon."
"But, that I am under orders for Chambly to-morrow, I might
condescend to punish your insolence and your daring intrusion!"
Roland pressed the hand of Aurelia again, and in doing so deftly
slipped a ring upon her engaged finger; he then kissed her
deliberately and withdrew (just as the servants came in with lights),
exchanging with Smash one of those unmistakable glances that is
expressive of--and rivets for life--a hate that dies not, fired by
the secret instinct of mutual enmity; yet Roland despised himself for
having a foe so ignoble.
That night, without delaying an hour, Colonel Ithuriel Smash took his
departure in the direction of _Chambly_!
Of so little importance had his presence been, that Aurelia never
missed him as she sat alone, in a dream of joy that was not unclouded
with anxiety for the cause of Roland's departure, and yet it was that
event which brought the joy to pass, by laying bare the secret heart
of each.
So the girl smiled fondly to herself, as she gazed at and kissed
again and again her engagement-ring; and it seemed as if her former
life had passed away and a new one of greater sunshine and brightness
had begun; and long she sat there looking dreamily at the lovely moon
(shining over the spires of Montreal), round as the shield of Fingal,
her sweet face wreathed with smiles that no eyes could see, unless
they were those of the old man who dwelleth therein.