In a few minutes after Lionel's return, which he had considerably
postponed, until Monsieur Gironac's dinner hour had all but arrived, my
good host first, and then kind, merry little madame, made their
appearance, and a little while was consumed in introductions,
exclamations, admirations, and congratulations, all tinctured not a
little by that national vivacity, which other folks are in the habit of
calling extravagance, and which, as my readers well know already, the
good Gironacs had by no means got rid of, even in the course of a long
_sejour_ in the matter-of-fact metropolis of England.
Fortunately, my friends were for the most part, _au fait_ to the leading
circumstances of my life, so that little explanation was needed.
And more fortunately yet, like tide and time, dinner waits for no man;
nor have I ever observed, in all my adventurous life, that the sympathy
of the most sentimental, the grief of the most woe-begone, or the joy of
the happiest, ever induces them to neglect the summons of the
dinner-bell, and the calls of the responsive appetite.
In the midst of the delight of madame, at having at last to receive the
brother of _cette chere Valerie_, and that brother, too, _si bel homme
et brave officier, et d'une ressemblance si parfaite a la charmante
soeur_, dinner was luckily announced; and the torrent-tide of madame's
hospitality was cut short, by her husband's declaration that we were
all, like himself, dying of hunger; and that not a word more must be
spoken, touching sympathies or sentiments, until we had partaken of
something nutritious _de quoi soutenir l'epuisement des emotions si
dechirantes_.
Madame laughed, declared that he was _un barbare, un malheureux sans
grandeur de l'ame_, and taking possession of Auguste, led him away into
the dining-room: where, though she told me afterwards that she was _au
comble de desespoir_ at having to sit us down to so everyday a meal, we
found an excellent dinner, and spent a very pleasant hour, until coffee
was served; when, with it, not a little to my surprise, nor very much to
my delight, Monsieur de Chavannes made his appearance.
There was a quizzical look on Monsieur Gironac's face, and a roguish
twinkle in his eye, which led me to believe that what was really a
matter of surprise to me, was none to my worthy host; for the Count de
Chavannes had never visited the house before, in the evening; nor, from
what I had understood, was he on terms of particular intimacy with the
Gironacs.
I was foolish enough to be, at first, a little put out at this; and,
having manifested some slight embarrassment on his first entrance, which
I learned afterwards, did not escape his eye, though he was far too
well-bred to show it, I made the matter worse by calling my pride to my
aid, incited thereto by Madame Gironac's glance and smile at my blushing
confusion, and certainly in no respect contributed to the gaiety of the
evening. Nothing, however, I must admit, could have been more
gentlemanly or in better taste, than the whole demeanour of Monsieur de
Chavannes, and I could not help feeling this, and comparing it mentally
with the inferior bearing of others I had seen, even in the midst of my
fit of _hauteur_ and frigidity.
He neither immediately withdrew himself on learning that my brother,
whom I had not seen for many years, had but just arrived as any
half-bred person would have done under the like circumstances, with an
awkward apology for his presence, tending only to make every one else
more awkward yet; nor made set speeches, nor foolish compliments, on a
subject too important for such trifling.
He did not trouble me with any attentions, which he perceived would be
at that moment distasteful, but exhibited the most marked desire to
cultivate the acquaintance of Auguste, to whom he showed a degree of
deference, though himself somewhat the senior, as to a military man,
that flattered his _esprit de corps_, mingled with a sort of frank
cordiality, which except from countryman to countryman in a foreign
land, would perhaps have been a little overdone: but, under the actual
circumstances, it could not have been improved.
For the short time he remained, he conversed well, and wittily; yet with
a strain of fancy and feeling, blended with his wit, which rendered it
singularly original and attractive; and perfectly succeeded, though I
know not whether he intended it or not, in directing the attention of
the company from my altered and somewhat unamiable mood.
Among other things I remember, that in the course of conversation, while
tendering some civilities to Auguste, the use of his riding horses, his
cabriolet, or his services in showing him some of the lions of London,
he observed that Monsieur de Chatenoeuf must not consider such an offer
impertinent on his part, since he believed, if our genealogy were
properly traced, some sort of cousinship could be established; as more
than one of the De Chavannes had intermarried in old times with the
Chatenoeufs of Gascony, when both the families, like their native
provinces, had been acting in alliance with the English Plantagenets,
against the French kings of the house of Valois.
A few words were said, in connexion with this, touching the singularity
of the fact, that it would seem as if England had something to do with
the associations of the two families; but I do not think the remark was
made by De Chavannes, and whatever it was, it was not sufficiently
pointed to be in any way offensive or annoying.
On the whole, hurt as I was in some sort by the idea which had taken
hold of me, that the Gironacs, through a false and indelicate idea of
advancing my welfare, were endeavouring to promote a liking between
myself and the Count, I cannot deny, that the evening on the whole, was
a pleasant one, and that, if at first it had been my impression that De
Chavannes was agreeable, entertaining, and well-bred, I was now prepared
to admit he had excellent taste, and delicate feelings into the bargain.
Still I felt that I did not like him, or perhaps I should rather say his
attentions--though in fact he had paid me none--and was rather relieved
when he made his bow and retired.
Shortly afterwards, Auguste observed that I seemed dull and tired, and
Madame Gironac followed suit by saying that it was no wonder if the
excitement and interest created by the unexpected arrival of so dear a
brother had proved too much for my nerves.
Thereupon, after promising to return early in the morning, so that we
might have a long talk about the past, and a long consultation about the
future, Lionel and Auguste bade us good-night also; but not before
Lionel had said to me as he was taking leave, "I think, Mademoiselle,
that it will be no more than proper, that I should drive down to Kew,
to-morrow morning, and wait upon Judge Selwyn, who has always been so
kind to me--have you any message for him?"
"Oh! yes. I beg you will tell him that Auguste has come, and that I
request he will let me know when we may wait on him?--"
"And the answer will be, Mademoiselle, his waiting upon you. Is that
what you desire?--"
"I only desire what I state--to know when and how we may see him, for I
know very little of Auguste's heart, if he does not wish to return
thanks to one who, except our dear friends here, has been poor Valerie's
surest confidant and protector. But you will find the Judge's family
increased since you saw him. His son has persuaded my pretty little
friend, Caroline Stanhope, to become his wife, and she is living with
the Judge's family at present."
Lionel expressed his surprise and pleasure at the news, but I thought at
the moment that the pleasure was not real, though I have since had
reason to believe that the gravity which came over his face as he spoke,
was the gravity of thought, rather than that, as I fancied at the time,
of disappointment.
Nothing more passed worthy of record, and, after shaking hands with
Lionel, and kissing my long-lost brother, I was left alone with the
Gironacs, half expectant of a playful scolding.
"Well, Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf," began Monsieur, as soon as
the gentlemen had left us, "is it because you have found out that you
have got a handsome brother, that you are determined to drive all other
handsome young men _au desespoir_?--or is it that you wish to break the
heart especially of this _pauvre Monsieur de Chavannes_, that you have
treated us all with an air _si hautaine, si hautaine_, that if you had
been the Queen of France, it could not have been colder?"
"I told you once before, Monsieur Gironac," I replied, "that your Count
de Chavannes does not care a straw how I treat him, or with what air.
And if he did, I do not.--He is simply a civil, agreeable gentleman, who
looks upon me as he would upon any other young lady, whom he is glad to
talk to when she is in the humour to talk; and whom, when she is not, he
leaves to herself, as all well-bred men do. But, I repeat, I do not
care enough about him, to think for one moment, whether he is _hautaine_
or not. And he feels just the same about me, I am certain."
"What brings him here then, eh?--where he never came before to-night?
not for the _beaux yeux_ of Madame, I believe," with a quizzical bow to
his wife, "or for the _grand esprit_ of myself. I have an eye, I tell
you, as well as other people, and I can see one _petit peu_."
"I have no doubt you can, Monsieur," I answered, rather pettishly; "for
I suppose you asked him yourself; and, if you did so on my account, I
must beg you will omit that proof of kindness in future, for I do not
wish to see him."
"Oh! Monsieur Gironac, for shame, you have made her very angry with
your ridiculous badinage--you have made her angry, really, and I do not
wonder. Who ever heard of teasing a young lady about a gentleman she
has never seen, only three times, and who has never declared any
preference?"
"Madame," replied her husband, in great wrath, either real or simulated,
"_vous etes une ingrate,--une,--une_--words fail me, to express what I
think of your enormous and unkind ingratitude. I am _homme incompris_,
and Mademoiselle here--Mademoiselle is either _une enfant_, or she does
not know her own mind. Shall I give the Comte Chavannes his conge, or
shall I not? I shall not,--for if she be _une enfant_, it is fit her
friends look after her; if she does not know her own mind, it is good
she have some one who do!--_voila tout_. Here is why I shall not go
_congedier monsieur le Comte_. Why rather I shall request him to dine
with me to-morrow, the next day, the day after. If he do not, I swear
by my honour, _foi de Gironac_, I will dine at home again never more."
I could not help laughing at this tirade of the kind-hearted little man,
on the strength of which he patted me on the head, and said I was _bonne
enfant_, if I were not _si diablement entetee_, and bade me go to bed,
and sleep myself into a better humour; a piece of advice which appeared
to me _so_ judicious, that I proceeded at once to obey it, and bidding
them both a kind good-night, betook myself to my own room to ponder
rather than to sleep. And, in truth, I felt that I had need of
reflection, for with the return of Auguste, a tide of feelings, which
had long lain dormant rather than dead within me had almost overwhelmed
me; and the hardness which had its origin in the bitterness of conscious
dependence, and which had gained strength from the pride of
self-acquired independence, began to thaw in my heart, and to give way
to milder and gentler feelings.
The thoughts of home, the desire for my country, the love for my father
who, though weak and almost imbecile, had ever been kind to me in
person, the craving affection for my brothers and my sisters, nay!
something approaching to pity or regret for the mother who had proved
herself but a step-mother towards me, all revived in increased and
re-invigorated force.
By-and-bye, too, I began to feel that I should be very wretched after
the parting with my beloved brother at the end of so brief a renewal of
love and intimacy; to be aware of what I had scarcely felt before in the
self-confidence of the position I had won--that it is a sad and lonely
thing to be a sojourner in a foreign land, with no natural friends, no
kind kindred on whom to rely in case of sickness or misfortune;--and, to
consider, how dark and grave a thing must be solitary old age, and
perhaps a solitary death-bed, far from the home of one's youth, the
friends of one's childhood.
Then there arose another thought connected with the preceding, by that
extraordinary and inexplicable chain, which seems to run through the
whole mind of man, linking together things apparently as far asunder as
the poles, which have, however, in reality, a kindred origin. That
thought was, wherefore should my life be solitary? Why should I stand
apart and alone from my race, relying on myself only, and depriving
myself, for the sake of a perhaps imaginary independence, of all the
endearments of social life, all the sweet ties of family?
Perhaps, the very presence of my brother had opened my eyes to the
truth, that there is no such thing in the world as real independence.
To realise that possession, most coveted, and most unattainable, one
must be a Robinson Crusoe, alone on his desert island,--a sort of
independence which no one, I should think, would practically desire to
enjoy.
Before sleep came, I believe that I began to muse about Monsieur de
Chavannes; but it was only to think that I did not care in the least
about him, nor he about me; and that, so far as he was concerned, I had
seen no cause to change my _decided_ resolution that I would never
marry. All this was, perhaps, in reality, the best of proofs that I did
already care something about him, and was very likely before long to
care something more; for some one has said, and he, by the way, no
ordinary judge of human nature, that if he desired to win a woman's
fancy or affection, his first step would be to make her _think_ about
him--even if it were to hate him! anything before the absence of all
thought, the blank void of real absolute indifference.
Indeed, I believe it is nearly true, that a woman rarely begins to think
_often_ of a man, even if it be as she fancies in dislike, but when,
however she may deceive herself, she is on the verge of loving him.
Was such the case with me?
At least, if it were so, I was then so far from knowing it, that I did
not even ask myself the question. But I remember that when I fell
asleep, I dreamed that I was standing at the altar with the Count de
Chavannes, when a band of all those who had ever wronged me, my mother,
Madame d'Albret, Madame Bathurst, the Stanhopes, Lady M--, rushed
between us, and tore us forcibly asunder,--and I wept so loud that my
sorrow awoke me, and it was some time before I was sure it was a dream.
Early the next morning, Auguste came again to see me; and as Monsieur
Gironac was abroad, giving lessons on the flute and guitar, while madame
either was, or pretended to be, excessively busy with her wax-flowers,
we had the whole day to ourselves until luncheon time, and we profited
by it so well, that before we were interrupted, we had little to learn
on either side concerning the passages of our lives, and the adventures,
which both we and all our families had gone through. And if I had been
a little inclined to be proud of myself before, and to give their full
value to my energy and decision of character, I certainly now stood in
no small danger of being spoiled by Auguste's praises.
For now half crying at my trials and troubles,--now laughing at Lady
R--'s absurdities,--now bursting into vehement invective against my
enemies,--he insisted that I was a perfect heroine--the bravest and most
accomplished of women, as well as the dearest of sisters.
But when I had finished my own story, which I did not begin until I had
extracted from him every particle of information about my family--
"Well, my little Valerie," he said caressingly, as he put his arm about
my waist, "you have told me everything--all your little sorrows, and
trials, and troubles--all your little pleasures and successes--all your
little schemings and manoeuvrings in the love-affairs of other people--
and all about the great little fortune which you have accumulated--quite
a millionaire, upon my word, with your twenty-five hundred _livres de
rente_--but not one word have you told me about your own little
_affaires de coeur_. I am afraid, little sister mine, you are either a
very great hypocrite, or very cold-hearted, which is it, dearest
Valerie?"
"Very cold-hearted, I believe, brother. At least I certainly have no
_affaires de coeur_ to relate. I cannot pretend to say whether it is my
fault or that of other people, but certainly no one ever fell in love
with me, if it were not that odious Monsieur G--; and most certainly I
have never fallen in love with any one at all."
Auguste gazed earnestly in my face for a moment, as if he would have
read my heart, but I met his eyes with mine quite steadily and calmly,
till at length I burst into a merry laugh, which I could not restrain.
"Quite true, little sister?" he said, at last, after my manner had in
some sort convinced him.
"Quite true, Auguste, upon my honour," I replied.
"Well, Valerie, I suppose I must believe that earnest face, and that
honest little laugh of yours."
"You may just as well do so, indeed," I replied; "for no one was ever in
love with me, I assure you. And I do not think," I added, with a touch
of the old pride, "that a de Chatenoeuf is likely to give away a heart
that is not desired."
"It is all very strange," he added. "And this Monsieur Lionel
Dempster?"
"Is a little older than poor Pierre, whom I used to pinch when I wanted
to get out of my mother's reach, and regards me very much as he would a
much elder sister--almost, indeed, as a mother."
"A mother, indeed, Valerie!"
"He once told me something of the kind! He is a very fine young man,
certainly, full of talent and spirit, and will make you a very good and
agreeable friend--but he is no husband for me, I assure you! He would
do much better for Sophie, or Elisee, if he ever should see and like
either of them."
"Always busy for others, Valerie! And for yourself--when will you think
for yourself?"
"I think I _have_ thought, and done, too, for myself, pretty well. You
forget my twenty-five hundred _livres de rente_."
"But twenty-five hundred _livres de rente_ are not a husband, Valerie."
"I am not so sure about that. I daresay they would buy one at a pinch,"
I replied, laughing; "at least, in our _poor_ country, where everyone
you meet in society is not a millionaire, like those cold islanders."
"I think you have grown almost as cold yourself, little sister, and as
calculating."
"To be sure I have," I made answer; "and to punish me, Monsieur Gironac
swears that I shall die a sour old maid."
"And what do you say?"
"An old maid very likely; but not a sour one, at all events. But, hark!
there is a carriage at the door--let me see who it is."
And I jumped up, and running to the window, saw the Selwyn liveries, and
Lionel, _en cavalier_, beside the carriage-window.
In a moment, the steps were let down; and Caroline speedily made her
appearance, commissioned, as she said, by her mother-in-law, to take
immediate possession both of myself and Auguste, and to bring us down
straightway to Kew. Her husband, she said, would certainly have called
on Monsieur de Chatenoeuf, and the Judge also, but that the courts being
all in session, they were both so completely occupied, that, except
after dinner, they had not an hour of the twenty-four disengaged.
She was commanded, moreover, she added, to invite Monsieur and Madame
Gironac to dine at Kew on the following day. Me, moreover, and Auguste
she was to carry down forthwith in the carriage.
"So now," she said, "get you gone, Valerie, and pack up as quickly as
possible all that you require to make yourself beautiful for a week, at
least."
"And what do you say to all this, messieurs?" said I, laughingly, to my
brother and Lionel; "for there is much more necessity to consult you
lords of the creation, as you call yourselves, who are in reality vainer
by half, and care five times as much about your toilettes as we much
calumniated women--what do you say about this summary packing up and
taking flight--can it be accomplished?"
"It _is_ accomplished," replied Lionel; "in so far at least that I have
promised on my own part, and for Monsieur Auguste de Chatenoeuf in the
bargain, to overlook the preparation of his kit as well as my own, and
to bring them down in a cabriolet, while you and your brother are
rolling smoothly along in the Judge's venerable coach."
"All that is arranged, then," said I, "and I will not detain you above
ten minutes, during which time, I will send Madame Gironac to amuse you,
and you can deliver your own message to her."
And then, without waiting for any answer, I hurried upstairs to make my
travelling toilette, and to put up things for a week's visit to my good
friends.
In the meantime, Madame Gironac, who had always been a great favourite
of Caroline's, had taken my place; and by the merriment which I could
hear going on, I could not doubt that, on the whole, the party had been
a gainer by the exchange.
Before I was quite ready to make my reappearance, there came a smart
double knock at the door; and then, after a minute or two, I could
distinguish a gentleman's footstep ascending the staircase to the
dining-room.
My own room looked towards the back of the house, so that I had no means
of seeing for myself who the new comer was; and I did not choose to ask
any questions of the servant girl, who was bustling in and out of the
door with trunks and travelling-cases innumerable.
So I finished my toilette with a heart that beat, I must confess, a
little faster than usual, though I should certainly have been puzzled to
explain why; put on my hat and shawl, perhaps a little coquettishly, and
went down stairs, half impatient, half embarrassed, yet fully persuaded
in my own mind that I had not the least expectation of seeing anybody in
particular.
I found all the company assembled round the luncheon-table when I
entered, and busily engaged with the _cotelettes a la Maintenon_ and
green peas. Among those present was Monsieur le Comte de Chavannes,
whom I certainly did not expect to see.
He rose immediately from the table as I entered, and advanced a step or
two to meet me, with a graceful inclination, and a few well-chosen
words, to the intent that he had called in order to invite Monsieur de
Chatenoeuf to go out and take a _promenade a cheval_ with him, in order
to see the parks and the beauty of London.
All this was said with the utmost frankness, and in the most unaffected
manner in the world; and assuredly there was nothing either in the
words, or in the manner in which they were uttered, which should have
thrown me into a confusion of blushes, and rendered me for a moment
almost incapable of answering him.
It must be remembered, however, that I had been rallied very much
concerning him of late by Monsieur Gironac, and I could scarcely avoid
perceiving that this exceeding assiduity in doing the honours to Auguste
could not but be attributed to some more potent cause than mere civility
to a fellow-countryman.
My confusion produced, for a second or two, a slight similar
embarrassment in the Count, and the blood mounted highly to his
forehead. Our eyes met, too, at the same instant; and though the
encounter was but momentary, from that time a sort of secret
consciousness was established between us.
This scene passed in less time than it takes to describe it; and,
becoming aware that every one's eyes were upon us, I rallied
instinctively, replied by a few civil words of thanks, and took a place
at the table, which had been left vacant for me, between my brother and
Lionel Dempster. This little interruption at an end, the conversation
returned to the course it had taken before I came in, and there was a
good deal of very agreeable talk; as is sure to be the case whenever
four or five pleasant and clever people are thrown together under
circumstances which create a sudden and unexpected familiarity, each
person desirous of amusing and rendering himself pleasant to his
companions of an hour; but not so anxious to make an impression, as to
become stiff, stilted, or affected.
Lionel, as I have said long ago, was remarkably witty and clever by
nature, and had profited greatly by his opportunities in France; so much
so, that I have rarely seen a young man of his age at all comparable to
him. The Count was likewise a person of superior abilities and
breeding, with a touch of English seriousness and soundness engrafted on
the stock of French vivacity; and my brother Auguste was a young, ardent
soldier, full of gay youth, high hopes, and brilliant aspirations, all
kindled up by the excitement of thus visiting a foreign country, and
finding himself in the company of a long-lost and much-beloved sister.
Caroline Selwyn was quick, bright, and lively; Madame Gironac was a
perfect mine of life and vivacity; and I, desirous of atoning for my
folly of the past evening, did my best to be agreeable.
I suppose I was not wholly unsuccessful, and every time I raised my
eyes, I was sure to find those of Monsieur de Chavannes riveted on my
face with a deep, earnest gaze, which, though it was instantly averted
even before our glances met, showed that he was in some sort interested
either in myself, or in my words.
Before luncheon was finished, Monsieur Gironac made his _entree_, and it
was finally arranged that he and Madame should join us at Kew on the
following evening; and, before we set off, Caroline expressed a hope to
the Count de Chavannes that he would call upon his friend, Monsieur de
Chatenoeuf, while he was staying at the Judge's, explaining that it was
impossible for Mr Selwyn or the Judge to wait on him for some days,
until the courts had done sitting, when she assured him that they would
do so without fail.
He promised immediately, without a moment's hesitation, that he would do
so; and I believe a riding party was made up on the spot between
himself, Lionel, and Auguste, for the second or third day.
As soon as everything was settled, Caroline hurried us away, saying that
her mother-in-law would think she had run off; and a short, agreeable
drive carried us down to the Judge's pleasant villa, where I was
received almost as one of the family; and Auguste, rather as an old
friend, than as a stranger and a foreigner.
The time passed away pleasantly, for it was the height of the loveliest
spring weather; the situation of the villa on the banks of the Thames
was in itself charming; and for once the English month of May was what
its poets have described it--that is to say, what it is once in every
hundred years.
Every one wished to please and to be pleased, and the Selwyns were of
that very rare class of people, whom you like the more, the more you see
of them--the very reverse of the world, in general--nothing could be
more delightful than the week which we passed there.
From the Judge I had no concealments; and regarding him almost in the
light of a second father, while Auguste was prepared to love him for his
love to me, we had many long conversations and consultations concerning
my affairs, and the propriety of disclosing my existence to my father.
This I was resolved upon, and both the Judge and Auguste approving, it
was decided that it should be done.
The only question then, which remained to be disposed of, was how far my
disclosures should be carried, and whether it would be practicable, and
if practicable, safe, that I should return to France at present, or
indeed at all, while in my present condition.
Auguste gave me his opinion, as he had done repeatedly, that my mother
never had laid aside, and never would lay aside, her rancour towards me;
and that she would grasp at the first opportunity of taking any
vengeance upon me, which my presence should afford her.
He did not believe, he said, that my father would be able long to
preserve from her the secret of my being alive, and of my having raised
myself to a condition of comparative affluence; nor did he feel by any
means assured that, while labouring under the revulsion of feelings
which the happy tidings would work upon his mind, my mother would not
recover her ascendancy over him.
Beyond this, he could say nothing; for as a young Frenchman, and more
especially a young French soldier, he knew even less about the laws of
France, and the rights of parents over children, than did Judge Selwyn;
only, like the Judge, he was inclined to the opinion that I had better
not trust myself within the limits of any jurisdiction which might be
called upon to hand me over to the parental authority, until such time
as I should be completely my own mistress as regarded them, which
probably could only be effected by ceasing to be my own mistress as
regarded some one else.
"For be assured, Valerie," he added, "that the possession of your person
for the purpose of annoying you, and avenging herself on you for all the
sufferings she has undergone in consequence of your supposed suicide,
will become the darling object of her life, so sure as she learns that
you are in the land of the living; and the fact of your having secured
to yourself a little fortune will not act as a check upon her
inclinations."
I sighed deeply; for, although I felt and knew the truth of all he said,
and expected that he would say it, his words seemed to extinguish the
last spark of hope in my heart; and it is a bitter and painful thing in
any case for a daughter to feel that she shall in all probability never
again be permitted to see the authors of her life, or the companions and
scenes of her childhood; but it is doubly so when she feels it to be the
fault of the wickedness or weakness of those whom she would fain love
and esteem, but cannot.
The good Judge marked my emotion, and, laying his hand kindly on my
shoulder, said, "You must not give way, my dear girl; you have done all
that is right and true and honest; and the course which you have taken
has been forced upon you. To yield now, and return home to be tortured
and despoiled of the little all, which your own good sense and your own
good conduct have procured you--for, apart from good sense and good
conduct, there is no such thing in the world as good fortune--would not
only be positive insanity, but positive ingratitude to the Giver of all
good. My advice to you, therefore, is to remain altogether passive, to
pursue the career which you have chosen, and, without yourself taking
any steps to disclose your present situation, to authorise your brother
fully to reveal to your father so much of it, as shall appear necessary
and desirable to him when on the spot. I should not recommend that your
place of residence, or exact circumstances should be communicated even
to him, at least for the present; and should he desire to write to you,
the letters should pass through your brother's hands, and be forwarded
under cover to me, which will prevent the gaining of intelligence
through the post-office. The rest we must leave to the effects of time,
and of that Providence, which has been displayed so singularly in your
behalf already, and which never deserts those who believe humbly, and
endeavour sincerely to deserve Divine favour. So this," he added with a
smile, "is the end and sum total of an old lawyer's counsel, and an old
man's sermon. And now, think over what I have said between you; for I
believe you will find it the best course, although it may now hardly
suit your excited feelings, and, in the meantime, let us go on the lawn
and join the ladies, who seem to have got some new metal of attraction."
"Indeed, Judge," I replied, "I am quite convinced of the wisdom of what
you propose, and I thank you sincerely for your advice as for all your
other goodness towards me. No father could be kinder to an only
daughter, than you have been to me; and God will bless you for it; but,
to say the truth, I do feel very sad and downcast just at this moment,
and am not equal to the joining that gay party. I will go up to my own
room," I added, "for a little while, and come down again so soon as I
can conquer this foolish weakness."
"Do not call it foolish, Valerie," returned the old man with a benignant
smile. "Nothing that is natural can be foolish--least of all, anything
of natural and kindly feeling. But do not yield to it--do not yield to
it. The feelings are good slaves, but wretchedly poor masters. Do as
you will, my dear child, but come to us again as soon as you can. In
the meantime, Monsieur de Chatenoeuf, let us go and see who are these
new comers."
And with these words, he turned away, leaning familiarly upon my
brother's arm, and left me to collect myself, and recover from the
perturbation of my feelings as well and as soon as I could; which was
not perhaps the more quickly that I had easily recognised in the new
arrival, the person of the Count de Chavannes.
I have entered perhaps more fully into the detail of my sentiments at
this period of my life, for two reasons--one, because of an eventful
life, this was upon the whole the most eventful moment--the other, that
having hitherto recorded facts and actions rather than feelings or
principles, I am conscious that I have represented myself as a somewhat
harder and more worldly person, than I feel myself in truth to be.
But the hardness and the worldliness were produced, if they existed at
all, by the hardness of the circumstances into which I was thrown, and
the worldliness of the persons with whom I was brought into contact.
Adversity had hardened my character, and perhaps in some sort my heart
also. At least, it had aroused my pride to the utmost, had set me as it
were upon the defensive, and led me to regard every stranger with
suspicion, and to look in him for a future enemy.
Good fortune had, however, altered all this. All who had been my
enemies, who had injured, or misrepresented me, were disarmed, or
subdued, or repentant; I had forgiven all the world--was at peace with
all the world. I had achieved what to me was a little competence; I was
loved and esteemed by those whom I could in return love and esteem, and
of whose regard I could be honestly proud. I had recovered my brother--
I still hoped to be reconciled to my parents--and--and--why should I
conceal it--I was beginning to think it by far less improbable that I
should one day marry--in a word, I was beginning to like, if not yet to
love.
All these things had been by degrees effecting a change in my thoughts
and feelings. I had been gradually thawing, and was now completely
melted, so that I felt the necessity of being alone--of giving way--of
weeping.
I went to my own chamber, threw myself on my bed, and wept long, and
freely.
But these were not tears of agony such as I shed when I first learned
Madame d'Albret's cruel conduct towards me--nor tears of injured pride
such as Madame Bathurst had forced from me, by her effort to humiliate
me in my own eyes--nor yet tears of wrathful indignation, such as burst
from me when I detected Lady M--, in her base endeavour to destroy my
character.
These were tears of affection, of softness, almost of joy. They flowed
noiselessly and gently, and they relieved me, for my heart was very
full; and, when I was relieved, I bathed my face, and arranged my hair,
and descended the staircase almost merrily to join the merry company in
the garden.
I found on my joining them, that the Count de Chavannes had already
completely gained the good graces, not only of Caroline and her young
sisters-in-law, but of Mr Selwyn and the Judge also.
He had come down to Kew with the particular purpose of engaging my
brother and Lionel to accompany him, on the next day but one, to
Wormwood Scrubs, where there was to be a grand review, in honour of some
foreign prince or other, of two or three regiments of light cavalry,
with horse-artillery and rockets. It was to conclude with a sham fight,
and which he thought would interest Auguste as a military man, and
especially one who had commenced his service in the hussars, though he
had been subsequently transferred into the line.
This plan had been discussed and talked over, until the ladies, having
expressed a laughing desire to see the _spectacle_, it was decided that
Caroline, the two Miss Selwyns and myself, escorted by Lionel, in the
rumble, should go down to the review in the Judge's carriage, Auguste
and the Count accompanying us _en cavalier_, and that after the order of
the day should be concluded, the whole party, including the Count,
should return to dinner at Kew.
On the day following, as I did not think it either wise or correct to
neglect my pupils, my chapel, or Mrs Bradshaw's school, although I had
sent satisfactory reasons for taking one week's leave of absence, we
were all to return to town; I to good Monsieur Gironac's, Auguste and
Lionel to the lodgings of the latter in Suffolk Street.
Monsieur de Chavannes did not stay long after I made my appearance, not
wishing either to be, or to appear, _de trop_ on a first visit; nor had
he any opportunity of addressing more than a few common-place
observations to me, had he desired to do so. Still I observed the same
peculiarity in his manner towards me, as distinct as possible from the
sort of proud humility, half badinage, half earnest, which he put on in
talking with other ladies.
To me he observed a tone of serious softness, with something of earnest
deference to everything that fell from my lips, however light or casual,
for which he seemed to watch with the utmost eagerness.
He never joked with _me_, though he was doing so continually with the
others; not that he was in the least degree grave or formal, much less
stiff or affected; but rather that he seemed desirous of proving to me
that he was not a mere butterfly of society, but had deeper ideas, and
higher aspirations, than the every day world around us.
When he was going away, he for the first time put out his hand to me _a
l'anglaise_, and as I shook hands with him, our eyes met once more, and
I believe I again blushed a little; for though he dropped his gaze
instantly, and bowed low, taking off his hat, he pressed my fingers very
gently, ere he let them fall, and then turning to take his leave of the
Judge and Mr Selwyn, who had just joined us, mounted his horse--a very
fine hunter, by the way, which he sat admirably--again bowed low, and
cantered off, followed by his groom, as well mounted as himself.
He was not well out of sight, before, as usual, he became the topic of
general discussion.
"What a charming person," said Caroline. "So full of spirit and
vivacity, and yet so evidently a man of mind and good feeling. Where
did you pick him up, Valerie?"
"He is an old friend, I told you, of Monsieur Gironac's, and was calling
there by accident when he met Auguste, and since that he has been
exceedingly kind and civil to him. That is the whole I know about him."
"Well, he is very handsome," said Caroline; "don't you think so,
Valerie?"
"Yes," I answered, quite composedly, "very handsome, a little
effeminate-looking, perhaps."
"Oh! no, not in the least," said Caroline; "or if he is, so quick and
clever and spirited-looking that it quite takes all that away."
"Caroline," said Selwyn, laughing, "you have no right to have eyes to
see, or ears to hear, or mind to comprehend beauty, or wit, or any other
good quality, in any one save me, your lord and master."
"You, you monster!" she replied, laughing gaily, "I never thought you
one bit handsome, or witty, or dreamed that you had one good quality. I
only married you, you know as well as I do, to get away from school, and
from the atrocious tyranny of my music-mistress there. You need not
look fie! at me, Valerie, for I'm too big to be put in the corner, now,
and he won't let you whip me."
"I think he ought to whip you, himself, baby," replied the Judge, who
had grown very fond of her; and, in truth, she was a very loveable
little person in her way, and made her husband a very happy man.
"Now, Judge Selwyn," interposed I, "do you remember a conversation we
once had together, in which you endeavoured to force me to believe that
men in general, and you in particular, were not tyrants to your wives
and families, and now do I hear you giving your son such advice as that?
Alas! what can make women so insane?"
"Don't you know? Can't you guess? Mademoiselle Valerie?" asked the old
Judge, smiling slily, and with the least possible wink of his eye, when
some of the others were looking at us, and then he added in a lower
voice, "perhaps it will be your turn soon. I think you will soon be
able to go to France without much fear of your mother's persecution.
Come," he continued, offering me his arm, as the others had now moved a
little way apart, "come and take a turn with me in the cedar-walk till
dinner's ready; I want to talk to you, for who knows when one will get
another opportunity."
I took his arm without reply, though my heart beat very fast, and I felt
uncomfortable, knowing as I did perfectly well beforehand what he was
going to say to me.
We turned into the cedar-walk, which was a long shadowy aisle, or bower,
overhung with magnificent cedars of Lebanon, running parallel with the
banks of the noble river, and so still and secluded that no more proper
place could be found for a private consultation.
"Well," said the old man, speaking gently, but not looking at me,
perhaps for fear of embarrassing me by his eye, "you know I am in some
sort, not only your legal adviser, but your self-constituted guardian,
and father confessor--so now, without farther preamble, who is he,
Valerie?"
"I will not affect to misunderstand you, Judge, though, upon my word,
you are entirely mistaken in your conjecture."
"Upon your word! entirely mistaken! I think, not--I am sure, not."
"You are, indeed. I have not seen him above four times, nor spoken
fifty words to him."
"Never mind, never mind--who is he?"
"An acquaintance of Monsieur Gironac's, Monsieur le Comte de Chavannes.
His father emigrated hither during the revolution, engaged in commerce,
and made a fortune of some 40,000 pounds. At the restoration, the old
Count returned to France, and was made by Louis XVIII a Colonel of the
Legion of Honour, and died shortly afterwards. There is an estate, I
believe, in Brittany, but Monsieur de Chavannes, who was at school here,
and has passed all his younger days in this country, is more an
Englishman than a Frenchman, and only visits France at rare intervals.
That is all I know about him, and that only by accident, Monsieur
Gironac having told me, in his lively way, what I should not have
dreamed of inquiring."
"Very proper, indeed--and very good so far, but one would like to know
something definite about a man before taking him for one's husband."
"I should think so, indeed, Judge; but as I am not going to take him for
my husband, I am quite contented with knowing what I do know of him."
"And what do you know?--of yourself,--I speak of your own knowledge? No
hearsay evidence in the case."
"Nothing more than that he is lively and agreeable, that he has very
good manners, and seems very good-natured--I might say, he has been very
good-natured to Auguste, poor fellow."
"Poor fellow! Yes," answered the Judge. "But men are very apt to be
good-natured to poor fellows, who have got nice sisters, with whom they
are in love."
"I dare say, Judge. But to reply in your own phraseology--that is no
case in point; for granting that Auguste's sister is _nice_, which I
will not be so modest as to gainsay, Monsieur de Chavannes is not the
least in love with her."
"Perhaps, not."
"Certainly, not."
"Well, be it so? What else do you know about him?"
"Nothing, Judge Selwyn."
"Nothing of his character, his principles, his morals, or his habits?"
"Really, Judge, one would think, to hear you, that I was going to hire a
footman--which I am much too poor to do--and that Monsieur de Chavannes
had applied for the place. What on earth have I to do with the young
gentleman's character or principles? I know that he is very
gentlemanlike, and is neither a coxcomb nor a pedant, which is
refreshing in these days."
"And, as Caroline says, very handsome, eh?"
"Yes, I think he is handsome," I replied. "But that has nothing to do
with it."
"Not much, truly," said the Judge drily. "And this is all you know?"
"Or desire to know. It seems to me quite enough to know of an
acquaintance of a few days' standing."
"Well--well," he answered, shaking his head a little.
"Well. He _is_ all that you say. A very fine young man, he seems. I
like him. Well, I will make inquiries."
"Not on my account, I intreat, Judge Selwyn,"--said I, interrupting him
eagerly.
"Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf," he said drily, though half in
jest, "my head is an old one, yours a very young one. I know young
folks are apt to think old heads good for nothing."
"I do not, I am sure," interrupted I, again. "I do not, indeed."
"Nor I, Valerie,"--he answered, interrupting me in his turn, with a
good-natured smile. "So you shall let me have my way in this matter.
But, to relieve you, my dear, permit me to observe that I have two
daughters of my own, and one young son, besides Charles, who is old
enough to take care of himself; and, though I am very glad to ask a
young man to dine in my house who has, as you observe, very good
manners, and is neither a fool nor a coxcomb, I am not at all willing
that he should become what you call an _habitue_, until I know something
of his character and principles. And now, as the dressing-bell has rung
these ten minutes, and it will take you at least half-an-hour to
beautify your little person, I advise you to make the most of your time.
And by all means, Valerie, stick to your resolution--never marry, my
dear, never marry; for all men are tyrants."
One might be very sure that I profited by this dismissal, and ran across
the lawn as fast as I could, glad to escape the far-sighted experience
of the shrewd old lawyer.
"He has seen it, then," I thought to myself. "He has observed it even
in this little space; even in this one interview, and he has read it,
even as I read it. I wonder if he has read my heart, too. No, no," I
continued, communing with myself, "that he cannot have done, for I know
not yet myself how to interpret it."
Little thought I then, that whenever our feelings are deeply interested,
or when strong passions are at work, even in embryo, we are for the most
part the last persons who discover the secrets which are transparent
enough, Heaven knows, to all persons but ourselves.
I do not know, nor did I inquire whether the Judge pursued his inquiries
concerning the Count as he had promised to do; much less did I learn
what was their result. But I do know that the following morning the
young gentleman called again at the gate with a led horse for my
brother; but did not ask if we were at home, merely sending his
compliments to the ladies, and requesting Monsieur de Chatenoeuf to
accompany him for a ride.
Lionel was absent in the city on business; so that Auguste and the Count
rode out alone, and did not return until it was growing dark, when there
was scarcely time to dress for dinner, the latter again sending in an
apology for detaining my brother so long, and retiring without getting
off his horse.
This gave me, I confess, more pleasure than it would have done to see
him, though that would have given me pleasure, too; for I saw in it a
proof of something more than mere tact, of mental delicacy, I mean; and
an anxiety not to obtrude either upon the hospitality of the Selwyns, or
upon my feelings.
Auguste, on his return, was in amazing spirits, and did nothing all
dinner-time, but expatiate upon the companionable and amiable qualities
of de Chavannes, whom he already liked, he said, more than any person he
had ever seen for so short a time--so clever, so high-spirited, so
gallant. Everything, in a word, that a man could desire for a friend,
or a lady for a lover.
"Heyday!" said the Judge, laughing at this tirade. "This fine Count
with his black moustaches seems to have made one conquest mighty
quickly. I hope it will not run in the company, or we shall have more
elopements,"--with a sly glance at Caroline. "Mademoiselle Valerie
here," he continued, "is a terrible person for promoting elopements,
too. But we must have none from my house."
We continued to be very gay all dinner-time. After dinner we had some
music, and the Judge was just pressing me to sing, when Lionel's servant
came into the room, having hurried down from London, in pursuit of his
master, in consequence of the sudden arrival of a large package of
letters from Paris, endorsed "immediate, and to be delivered with all
speed."
This incident broke up the party for the moment; and indeed threw a
chill over us all for the whole evening, when it appeared that the
principal letter was one to my brother from the Commandant of Paris, of
which city his regiment formed a part of the garrison, reluctantly
revoking his leave of absence, in consequence of some expected _emeute_,
and intimating that his presence would be expected at head-quarters on
or before the third day of June; an order which it was, of course,
impossible to think of neglecting or disobeying, while it would leave
him at the furthest but a single week to give to us in London.
It was a bitter disappointment to be separated after so brief a
communion, but we consoled ourselves by the recollection that the
Straits of Dover are not the Pacific Ocean, and that Paris and London
are not a thousand leagues asunder.