AT LAST
Lord and Lady Vaulabel withdrew early from the ball that evening, and
accompanying them to Government House went a very white and unnaturally
composed girl. Upon reaching their own apartments, the two distinguished
people sat down near the young girl, whom they were treating with a kind
and exquisite consideration, which at the same time consoled and
surprised her in her perturbed state of mind.
Their first endeavor was to draw her thoughts away from her unhappy
lover, whose pale set face they knew was haunting her.
“Lady Vaulabel tells me,” began his excellency, “that she was about to
explain to you the mutual obligations that the founders of our
respective families were able to render to each other.”
“Yes, your excellency, she was.”
“I will explain to you the way in which it came about,” said Lord
Vaulabel with a lightness of manner that would seem to belong rather to
the early time of the morning than to the late hours of a fatiguing day.
“In 1515, at the battle of Marignan, Roland de la Vaulabelle went to the
assistance of a young foot-soldier, the son of a merchant of Orléans,
who was grievously wounded and was trying to escape, and rescued him at
the risk of his own life. For this and other deeds of valor he was made
chevalier after the battle had been renewed and won the following day.”
Lord Vaulabel paused, and Vivienne murmured with pale lips that she
remembered reading of the battle in the history of France.
“Then you know all about the court of Francis I.,” pursued Lord
Vaulabel, "the _roi des gentilshommes_, who spent the money of his
subjects with a free hand. De la Vaulabelle shared in the extravagance
of the court, and when King Francis, after his sojourn in Italy, became
impressed by the marvels of the _Renaissance_, de la Vaulabelle took
part in his admiration and ordered some of the Italian architects who
had followed the king to France to build him a _château_ in the new
style of architecture. To do this he was obliged to raise a loan, and
applied to the elder Delavigne, who had been full of gratitude for his
rescue of his son. Delavigne advanced him the money, the _château_ was
built, and for more than one hundred years, until Guillaume Delavigne
came out to assist in founding Montreal, there was much kindness between
the two families. The Delavignes continued to lend money to the de la
Vaulabelles, and the de la Vaulabelles continued to be powerful friends
to the Delavignes, protecting them from the rapacity of some of the
_noblesse_, who might have oppressed them."
There was a short pause. Vivienne had taken in the meaning of his words,
but found herself unable to make any remark. Lord Vaulabel flashed a
quick glance at his wife, as if he were seeking advice.
With a sweet warning smile, Lady Vaulabel slightly shook her head and
looked at the girl’s pallid face.
“Miss Delavigne,” said his excellency kindly, “the Vaulabels do not
forget. I often linger over the romantic records of the days of old; the
chivalrous feats of the men of my family I do not consider any more
self-sacrificing than the patient help that the Delavignes often gave
them at great inconvenience to themselves. You will therefore understand
my motive when I say that I should be very glad to do something for
you—to relieve any anxiety that you may have.”
“Your excellency,” said Vivienne, clasping her gloved hands nervously,
yet speaking with unexpected firmness, “I do not know where my father
is—it has seemed almost a sacrilege, in view of my approaching marriage,
yet we cannot find him. I have a thought now that he may be in France.
In view of what has passed this evening, you can understand my
unhappiness—my distress——”
The girl was suffering intensely. Lady Vaulabel’s thoughts ran away to
Ottawa, to a baby girl in a cradle there. Some day her child too would
have a woman’s heart. Her lips slightly moved, and her husband caught
the words, “Tell her.”
“Miss Delavigne,” he said with utmost gentleness, “I can give you some
news with regard to your father; but,” he added, a little startled by
the sudden change in her, “you must compose yourself.”
Her breast rose and fell convulsively, she cast down her eyes, then said
falteringly: “I beg your excellency’s pardon. You may tell me anything
now.”
Lord Vaulabel sprang up with a nervous gesture and paced the carpet. “It
was a long time ago,” he said with assumed lightness, “nearly twenty
years—I was a lad traveling through Canada with my father. We were on
our way west on a hunting expedition. Boylike, I restlessly wandered
through the train that we were on, delighted by the freedom from
constraint in railway traveling to which I had not been accustomed in
our English carriages. We were on our way to Quebec, when my attention
was attracted by the unhappy, dazed appearance of a young Frenchman, who
remained always in one attitude. I told my father about him, and he
questioned the guard, or conductor, as one calls that official here. We
approached the man—found that his name was Delavigne. I think, Miss
Delavigne, that you promised to be very calm,” he said, interrupting
himself and gazing in pretended quiet amusement at his listener.
His excellency however was not amused, he was intensely interested and
anxious.
Vivienne had fallen on her knees, and was sobbing over Lady Vaulabel’s
hand. “You know all—oh, tell me more! May God bless you for your
kindness to my father.”
His excellency looked at the kneeling girl, a suspicious moisture in his
eyes—the heart of a ruler is very much as the heart of another man—then
lightly turning he left the room.
“Compose yourself, my poor child,” murmured Lady Vaulabel, “your father
is with us. He has been one of my husband’s secretaries for years.”
“_Mon cher Delavigne_, how often have I told thee not to write till this
hour,” said Lord Vaulabel in French, as he entered a small adjoining
room, where a slender man with patient dark eyes, white hands, and a
head of thick, snowy hair, sat with all the paraphernalia of a secretary
about him.
The secretary pushed back his folding desk, and rose respectfully. “I
could not sleep, your excellency—not if I were in bed. Not in this
town,” and he looked expectantly at his patron.
“Yes, I have seen her,” said Lord Vaulabel, as if answering a question.
“She is beautiful and good, and she believes in her father.”
“_Dieu est tout miséricorde et tout sagesse_,” and the man reverently
bent his head as he thus spoke of the divine compassion and wisdom. He
had suffered too long to be given to much outward emotion.
“Some strange revelations have been made to us,” pursued Lord Vaulabel;
“but you will learn all from your daughter.”
“Is she here?” asked Delavigne quietly.
“Yes,” and with a face more excited than that of his secretary the
nobleman led the way to the drawing room.
He threw open the door. Delavigne looked in, saw rising up before him
with glad arms extended a girl even more lovely than the wife of his
youth. He heard her eager cry, “My father!” made a step forward and
caught her to his breast, while Lord and Lady Vaulabel softly withdrew
from the room.