"Miss Van Heldre!"
"Mr Leslie! That woman came to our house this morning to say--Oh,
then, it is not true?"
"Yes," he said slowly; "it is all true."
"True that--that you were hurt--that--that--Oh, pray speak! Louise--
Louise!"
"Gone!" said Leslie hoarsely, and, sick at heart and suffering, he
leaned back against the wall.
"Gone? Louise gone? Gone where?" Leslie shook his head mournfully,
and gazed out to sea.
"Why do you not speak?" cried Madelaine. "Can you not see how your
silence troubles me? Mr Leslie, what is the matter? You were found
hurt--and Louise--gone! What does it mean?"
He shook his head again.
"Where is Mr Luke Vine?" cried Madelaine, turning from him quickly.
"At the house."
"Then I have come here for nothing," she cried agitatedly. "Mr Leslie,
pray, pray speak."
He looked at her wistfully for a few moments.
"What am I to say?" he said at last.
"Tell me--everything."
He still remained retentive; but there was a grim smile full of pity and
contempt for himself upon his lips as he said coldly--
"Monsieur De Ligny has been."
"Monsieur De Ligny?"
"The French gentleman, the member of the _haute noblesse_ who was to
marry Miss Vine."
Madelaine looked at him wonderingly.
"Mr Leslie," she said, laying her hand upon his arm and believing that
she saw delirium in his eyes, consequent upon his injury, her late
experience having made her prone to anticipate such a sequel. "Mr
Leslie, do you know what you are saying?"
"Yes, perfectly," he said slowly. "Monsieur De Ligny, the French
gentleman of whom Miss Marguerite so often talked to me, came last
night, while Mr Vine was at your father's, and he was persuading Louise
to go with him, when I interfered and said she should not go till her
father returned."
"Yes?--well?" said Madelaine, watching him keenly.
"Well, there was a struggle, and I got the worst of it. That's all."
"That is not all!" cried Madelaine angrily. "Louise, what did she say?"
"Begged him--not to press her to go," he said slowly and unwillingly, as
if the words were being dragged out of him.
"Yes?"
"That is all," he said, still in the same slow, half-dreamy way. "I
heard no more. When I came to the Vines were helping me, and--"
"Louise?"
"Louise was gone."
"Mr Leslie," said Madelaine gently, as in a gentle, sympathetic way she
laid her hand upon his arm, "you seem to have been a good deal hurt. I
will not press you to speak. I'm afraid you hardly know what you say.
This cannot be true."
"Would to Heaven it were not!" he cried passionately. "You think I am
wandering. No, no, no; I wish I could convince myself that it was. She
is gone--gone!"
"Gone? Louise gone? It cannot be."
"Yes," he said bitterly; "it is true. I suppose when a man once gets a
strong hold upon a woman's heart she is ready to be his slave, and obey
him to the end. I don't know. I never won a woman's love."
"His slave--obey--but who--who is this man?"
"Monsieur De Ligny, I suppose. The French nobleman."
Madelaine made a gesticulation with her hands, as if throwing the idea
aside.
"No, no, no," he said impatiently. "It is impossible. De Ligny--De
Ligny? You mean that Louise Vine, my dear friend, my sister, was under
the influence of some French gentleman unknown to me?"
"Unknown to her father too," said Leslie bitterly, "for he reviled me
when I told him."
"I cannot do that," said Madelaine firmly; "but I tell you it is not
true."
"As you will," he said coldly; "but I saw her at his knees last night."
"De Ligny--a French gentleman?"
"Yes."
"I tell you it is impossible."
"But she has gone," said Leslie coldly.
"Gone? I cannot believe it. Mr Vine? He knows where?"
Leslie shook his head mournfully. "Some secret love," he said.
"Yes; Louise did nurture a secret love," said Madelaine scornfully, "and
for a man unworthy of her."
"Poor girl!"
"Yes: poor girl! Shame upon you, Duncan Leslie! She may be gone for
some good reason, but it is not as you say and think. Louise, my
sister, my poor suffering friend, carry on a clandestine intrigue with
some French gentleman? It is not true."
"You forget her aunt--the influence she has had upon the poor girl."
"I forget everything but the fact that Louise loved you, Duncan Leslie,
with all her heart."
"No, no," he cried with an angry start.
"I tell you it is true," cried Madelaine.
"De Ligny?--a French nobleman? Absurd! A fable invented by that poor
old half-crazy woman to irritate you and scare you away."
"I might have thought so once, but after what I saw last night--"
"A jealous man surrounds all he sees with a glamour of his own," cried
Madelaine. "Oh, where is your reason? How could you be so ready to
believe it of the truest, sweetest girl that ever lived?"
"But--"
"Don't speak to me," cried Madelaine, angrily. "You know what that old
woman is with her wild ideas about birth and position. Louise, deceive
her father--cheat me--elope! Duncan Leslie, I did not think you could
be so weak."
"I will not fight against your reproaches," he said, coldly.
"No. Come with me. Let us go down and see Uncle Luke."
"But you really think--" he faltered.
"I really think?" she cried, with her eyes flashing. "Am I to lose all
faith and confidence in you? I tell you what you say is impossible."
Her words, her manner sent flashes of hope through the darkness that
haunted Leslie's spirit, and without a word he turned and walked
hurriedly down with her toward the town till they reached the seat in
the sheltered niche where he had had that memorable conversation with
Aunt Marguerite.
There he paused, and pointed to the seat.
"She sat there with me," he said bitterly, "and poured her poison into
my ears till under a smiling face I felt half mad. I have tried so hard
to free myself from their effect, but it has been hard--so hard. And
last night--"
"You saw something which shook your confidence in Louise for the moment,
but that is all gone now."
"I think--I--"
"I vouch for my friend's truth," said Madelaine proudly. "I tell you
that you have been deceived."
Leslie was ghastly pale, and the injury he had received and the mental
agony of the past night made him look ten years older, as he drew in a
catching breath, and then said hastily--
"Come on, and let us find out the truth."
Volume 3, Chapter XII.