“What does that prove? Nothing but the skill of M. de Brevan in carrying
out Sarah Brandon’s orders. In order to get the more completely the
mastery over you, he began by obtaining the mastery over M. Champcey.
How he succeeded in doing this, I do not know. But we shall know it when
we want to know it; for we are going to find out every thing. Thus Sarah
was, through M. de Brevan, kept informed of all your thoughts, of all
your hopes, of _every_ word you wrote to M. Champcey, and of all he said
in reply; for you need not doubt he did answer, and they suppressed the
letters, just as they, very probably, intercepted all of your letters
which you did not yourself carry to the post-office. Still, as long as
you were living under your father’s roof, Sarah could do nothing against
your life. She resolved, therefore, to force you to flee; and those mean
persecutions of M. Elgin served their purpose. You thought, and perhaps,
they think, that bandit really wanted your hand. Undeceive yourself.
Your enemies knew your character too well to hope that you would ever
break your word, and become faithless to M. Champcey. But they were bent
upon handing you over to M. de Brevan. And thus, poor child! you were
handed over to him. Maxime had as little idea of marrying you as Sir
Thomas; he was quite prepared, when he dared to approach you with open
arms, to be rejected with disgust. But he had received orders to add
the horror of his persecutions to the horror of your isolation and your
destitution.
“For he was quite sure, the scoundrel! that the secret of your
sufferings would be well kept. He had carefully chosen the house in
which you were to die of hunger and misery. The two Chevassats were
bound to be his devoted accomplices, even unto death. This is what gave
him the amazing boldness, the inconceivable brutality, to watch your
slow agony; no doubt he became quite impatient at your delaying suicide
so long.
“Finally you were driven to it; and your death would have realized their
atrocious hopes, if Providence had not miraculously stepped in,--that
Providence which always, sooner or later, takes its revenge, whatever
the wicked may say to the contrary. Yes, these wretches thought they
had now surely gotten rid of you, when I came in. That very morning, the
woman Chevassat had told them, no doubt, ‘She’ll do it to-night!’ And
that evening, Sarah, Mrs. Brian, and M. Elgin asked, no doubt, full of
hope, ‘Is it all over?’”
Immovable, and white as marble, her eyes dilated beyond measure, and her
lips half-open, poor Henrietta listened. She felt as if a bright ray
of the sun had suddenly illumined the darkest depths of the abyss from
which she had been barely snatched.
“Yes,” she said, “yes; now I see it all.”
Then, as the old dealer, out of breath, and his voice hoarse with
indignation, paused a moment, she asked,--
“Still there is one circumstance which I cannot understand: Sarah
insists upon it that she knew nothing of the forged letter by means of
which Daniel was sent abroad. She told me, on the contrary, that she had
wished to keep him here, because she loved him, and he loved her.”
“Ah! do not believe a word of those infamous stories,” broke in Papa
Ravinet’s sister.