THE SUITOR.
Lord Linden, when the Viscount de Gramont abruptly left him, returned to
his lodgings, and, in spite of the lateness of the hour, wrote to
Madeleine, implored her pardon for the presumption into which he had
been lured by his ignorance of her rank, and formally solicited her
hand. That night the happy nobleman's dreams, when he could sleep, and
his waking thoughts when he courted slumber in vain, had an auroral
tinge hitherto unknown. As soon as the sound of busy feet, traversing
the corridor, announced that the much-desired morning had at last
arrived, he rang his bell, gave his letter into the hands of a sleepy
domestic, and ordered it to be delivered immediately.
What was the next step which propriety demanded? To see Mademoiselle de
Gramont's relatives, to make known his suit to them, and to solicit
their approval.
He considered himself fortunate in finding both Madame de Gramont and
Count Tristan at home. The former received him with as much cordiality
as her constitutional stiffness permitted, but the latter appeared to be
in a half-lethargic state; he scarcely rose to welcome his visitor,
spoke feebly and indistinctly, and, as he sank back in his seat, leaned
his flushed face upon his hands.
"My visit is somewhat early," remarked Lord Linden, "but I was impatient
to see you, for I came to speak of your niece, Mademoiselle de Gramont."
The count looked up eagerly.
Madame de Gramont replied before her son could speak, "The person whom
you designate as my niece has forfeited all right to that title, and is
not recognized by her family."
"I nevertheless venture to hope," returned the nobleman with marked
suavity, "that, under existing circumstances, the alienation will only
be temporary."
The countess broke out angrily: "The impertinence of this young person
exceeds all bounds! She gave us to understand that she possessed, at
least, the modesty to hide her real name, and had no desire to disgrace
her family by proclaiming that it was borne by a person in her degraded
condition; but this, it seems, is only another evidence of her duplicity
and covert manoeuvring; she has taken care that your lordship should
become acquainted with a relationship which we can never cease to
deplore."
"You do her wrong," replied Lord Linden, with becoming spirit; "I regret
to say she so scrupulously concealed her rank that I was led into a
great error,--one for which I now desire amply to atone. It was from M.
Maurice de Gramont that I learned the true name of the so-called
Mademoiselle Melanie."
"Maurice!" cried the countess and her son together.
"I received the information from him last evening," said Lord Linden,
"and I have now come to solicit the hand of Mademoiselle de Gramont in
marriage."
The suggestion that Madeleine could thus magically be raised out of her
present humiliating condition, and that all her short-comings might be
covered by the broad cloak of a title, took such delightful possession
of the haughty lady's mind that there was no room even for surprise.
While Count Tristan was vehemently shaking hands with Lord Linden, and
stammering out broken and unintelligible sentences, his mother said
gravely,--
"We consider your lordship, in all respects, an acceptable _parti_ for a
member of our family. I have ever entertained for Mademoiselle de
Gramont the strongest affection, in spite of her lamentable
eccentricities. But these I would prefer to forget."
"Yes, that's it! That's the trump card now!--forget,--forget all about
it!" cried Count Tristan, hilariously. He had recovered his power of
utterance, yet spoke like a man partially intoxicated. "Let the past be
forgotten, bury it deep; never dig it up! There are circumstances which
had better not be mentioned. I myself have been mixed up with the
affair; of course, I was an innocent party; I beg you to believe so.
It's all right--quite right--quite right!"
Though it was so evident that Count Tristan's mind was wandering,--at
all events, that there was no connection in his ideas,--his mother could
not stoop to admit any such possibility, and said sternly,--
"My son, your language strikes me as singular. Lord Linden, of course,
comprehends that he has our consent to his union with Mademoiselle de
Gramont; but we also wish him to understand we expect him to remove his
wife to his own country, or some other land where her history will not
be known. Upon this condition we will pardon our relative's vagaries,
and give our sanction to her nuptials."
Lord Linden was not a man who could, with any complacency, consent to
have conditions enforced upon him by the family of the lady whom he
selected as his wife; his pride was quite as great as theirs; but before
he had obtained Madeleine's consent to his suit, it was politic to
preserve the favor of those who could influence her decision.
Turning to Count Tristan, he observed, "I sent a letter to Mademoiselle
de Gramont this morning, and I hope to be honored by an answer during
the day. Would it be asking too much if I begged that you would see the
lady, and inform her of the flattering reception which Madame de Gramont
and yourself have given my proposals?"
"I will go at once," replied Count Tristan. "An open visit, of course;
no need of concealment now! Where's my hat? What has become of it? It's
got a trick lately of getting out of the way."
Count Tristan, though his hat stood on the table before him, tottered
across the room, looking about in a weak, flurried way. His mother was
not willing to attribute his singularly helpless, troubled, and childish
demeanor, to the perturbed state of his brain, and said severely, though
addressing her words to Lord Linden,--
"Count Tristan's gratification at the intelligence you have
communicated, and his desire to serve your lordship, appear to have
somewhat bewildered him. He was always very much attached to
Mademoiselle de Gramont."
"Attached to her? Certainly! _Certainly!_" replied the count. "Though
she did not always think so! I was devotedly attached to her when she
imagined quite the contrary! This is my hat, I believe."
He took up Lord Linden's.
"I beg pardon,--_that_, I think is mine," replied his lordship; and
then, indicating the one upon the table which Count Tristan apparently
did not see, asked, "Is not this yours?"
"I suppose so; it cannot be any one's else; there are only two of us. I
wish you a good-morning."
With a forced, unnatural laugh, he left the room.
Count Tristan's deportment, in general, was almost as calm and stately
as that of his august mother; though it was only a weak reflex of hers;
accordingly the change in his demeanor surprised Lord Linden
unpleasantly; but he took leave of the countess without endeavoring to
solve an enigma to which he had no clew.