At last, then, the truth had come out!
Overcome with horror, her hair standing at an end, and shaken by nervous
spasms, poor Henrietta was trying to measure the depth of the abyss into
which she had thrown herself.
Voluntarily, and with the simplicity of a child, she had walked into the
pit which had been dug for her. But who, in her place, would not have
trusted? Who could have conceived such an idea? Who could have suspected
such monstrous rascality?
Ah! Now she understood but too well all the mysterious movements that
had so puzzled her in M. de Brevan. She saw how profound had been his
calculations when he recommended her so urgently not to take her jewels
with her while escaping from her father’s house, nor any object
of value; for, if she had had her jewelry, she would have been in
possession of a small fortune; she would have been independent, and
above want, at least for a couple of years.
But M. de Brevan wanted her to have nothing. He knew, the coward! with
what crushing contempt she would reject his first proposals; but he
flattered himself with the hope that isolation, fear, destitution would
at last reduce her to submission, and enable him--
“It is too horrible,” repeated the poor girl,--“too horrible!”
And this man had been Daniel’s friend! And it was he to whom Daniel,
at the moment of sailing, had intrusted his betrothed! What atrocious
deception! M. Thomas Elgin was no doubt a formidable bandit, faithless
and unscrupulous; but he was known as such: he was known to be capable
of any thing, and thus people were on their guard. But this man!--ah, a
thousand times meaner and viler!--he had watched for a whole year, with
smiling face, for the hour of treachery; he had prepared a hideous crime
under the veil of the noblest friendship!
Henrietta thought she could divine what was the traitor’s final aim.
In obtaining possession of her, he no doubt thought he would secure to
himself a large portion of Count Ville-Handry’s immense fortune.
And hence, she continued in her meditations, hence the hatred between
Sir Thorn and M. de Brevan. They both coveted the same thing; and each
one trembled lest the other should first get hold of the treasure which
he wanted to secure. The idea that the new countess was in complicity
with M. de Brevan did not enter Henrietta’s mind. On the contrary, she
thought they were enemies, and divided from each other by separate and
opposite interests.
“Ah!” she said to herself, “they have one feeling, at all events, in
common; and that is hatred against me.”
A few months ago, so fearful and so sudden a catastrophe would have
crushed Henrietta, in all probability. But she had endured so many blows
during the past year, that she bore this also; for it is a fact that the
human heart learns to bear grief as the body learns to endure fatigue.
Moreover, she called in to her assistance a light shining high above all
this terrible darkness,--the remembrance of Daniel.
She had doubted him for an instant; but her faith had, after all,
remained intact and perfect. Her reason told her, that, if he had really
loved Sarah Brandon, her enemies, M. Elgin and M. de Brevan, would not
have taken such pains to make her believe it. She thought, therefore,
she was quite certain that he would return to her with his heart devoted
to her as when he left her.
But, great God! to think of the grief and the rage of this man, when he
should hear how wickedly and cowardly he had been betrayed by the man
whom he called his friend! He would know how to restore the count’s
daughter to her proper position, and how to avenge her.
“And I shall wait for him,” she said, her teeth firmly set,--“I shall
wait for him!”
How? She did not ask herself that question; for she was yet in that
first stage of enthusiasm, when we are full of heroic resolves which do
not allow us to see the obstacles that are to be overcome. But she
soon learned to know the first difficulties in her way, thanks to Dame
Chevassat, who brought her her dinner as the clock struck six, according
to the agreement they had made.
The estimable lady had assumed a deeply grieved expression; you might
have sworn she had tears in her eyes. In her sweetest voice, she
asked:--
“Well, well, my beautiful young lady; so you have quarrelled with our
dear M. Maxime?”
Henrietta was so sure of the uselessness of replying, and so fearful of
new dangers, that she simply replied,--
“Yes, madam.”
“I was afraid of it,” replied the woman, “just from seeing him come down
the stairs with a face as long as that. You see, he is in love with you,
that kind young man; and you may believe me when I tell you so, for I
know what men are.”
She expected an answer; for generally her eloquence was very effective
with her tenants. But, as no reply came, she went on,--
“We must hope that the trouble will blow over.”
“No!”
Looking at Mrs. Chevassat, one would have thought she was stunned.
“How savage you are!” she exclaimed at last. “Well, it is your lookout.
Only I should like to know what you mean to do?”
“About what?”
“Why, about your board.”
“I shall find the means, madam, you may be sure.”
The old woman, however, who knew from experience what that cruel word,
“living,” sometimes means with poor forsaken girls, shook her head
seriously, and answered,--
“So much the better; so much the better! Only I know you owe a good deal
of money.”
“Owe?”
“Why, yes! The furniture here has never been paid for.”
“What? The furniture”--
“Of course, M. Maxime was going to pay for it; he has told me so. But if
you fall out in this way--you understand, don’t you?”
She hardly did understand such fearful infamy. Still Henrietta did not
show her indignation and surprise. She asked,--
“What did the furniture of this room cost? do you know?”
“I don’t know. Something like five or six hundred francs, things are so
dear now!” The whole was probably not worth a hundred and fifty or two
hundred francs.
“Very well. I’ll pay,” said Henrietta. “The man will give me forty-
eight hours’ time, I presume?”
“Oh, certainly!”
As the poor girl was now quite sure that this honeyed Megsera was
employed by M. de Brevan to watch her, she affected a perfectly calm
air. When she had finished her dinner, she even insisted upon paying
on the spot fifty francs, which she owed for the last few days, and for
some small purchases. But, when the old woman was gone, she sank into a
chair, and said,--
“I am lost!”
There was, in fact, no refuge for her, no help to be expected.
Should she return to her father, and implore the pity of his wife?
Ah! death itself would be more tolerable than such a humiliation. And
besides, in escaping from M. de Brevan, would she not fall into the
hands of M. Elgin?
Should she seek assistance at the hands of some of the old family
friends? But which?
In greater distress than the shipwrecked man who in vain examines the
blank horizon, she looked around for some one to help her. She forced
her mind to recall all the people she had ever known. Alas! she knew,
so to say, nobody. Since her mother had died, and she had been living
alone, no one seemed to have remembered her, unless for the purpose of
calumniating her.
Her only friends, the only ones who had made her cause their own,
the Duke and the Duchess of Champdoce, were in Italy, as she had been
assured.
“I can count upon nobody but myself,” she repeated,--“myself, myself!”