Part 17 (1/2)

”Where am I, and what does all this mean?”

”Wait awhile,” replied the old man, ”and I will tell you all.”

After the lapse of some ten minutes, Jerome arose from the sofa, adjusted his apparel, and said,--

”I am now ready to hear anything you have to say.”

”You were born in America?” said the old man.

”I was,” he replied.

”And you knew a girl named Clotelle,” continued the old man.

”Yes, and I loved her as I can love none other.”

”The lady whom you met so mysteriously last evening was she,” said Mr.

Devenant.

Jerome was silent, but the fountain of mingled grief and joy stole out from beneath his eyelashes, and glistened like pearls upon his ebony cheeks.

At this juncture, the lady again entered the room. With an enthusiasm that can be better imagined than described, Jerome sprang from the sofa, and they rushed into each other's arms, to the great surprise of the old gentleman and little Antoine, and to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the servants who had crept up, one by one and were hid behind the doors or loitering in the hall. When they had given vent to their feelings and sufficiently recovered their presence of mind, they resumed their seats.

”How did you find out my name and address?” inquired Jerome.

”After you had left the grave-yard,” replied Clotelle, ”our little boy said, 'Oh, mamma! if there ain't a book!' I opened the book, and saw your name written in it, and also found a card of the Hotel de Leon.

Papa wished to leave the book, and said it was only a fancy of mine that I had ever seen you before; but I was perfectly convinced that you were my own dear Jerome.”

As she uttered the last words, tears--the sweet bright tears that love alone can bring forth--bedewed her cheeks.

”Are you married?” now inquired Clotelle, with a palpitating heart and trembling voice.

”No, I am not, and never have been,” was Jerome's reply.

”Then, thank G.o.d!” she exclaimed, in broken accents.

It was then that hope gleamed up amid the crushed and broken flowers of her heart, and a bright flash darted forth like a sunbeam.

”Are you single now?” asked Jerome.

”Yes, I am,” was the answer.

”Then you will be mine after all?” said he with a smile.

Her dark, rich hair had partly come down, and hung still more loosely over her shoulders than when she first appeared; and her eyes, now full of animation and vivacity, and her sweet, harmonious, and well-modulated voice, together with her modesty, self-possession, and engaging manners, made Clotelle appear lovely beyond description. Although past the age when men ought to think of matrimony, yet the scene before Mr. Devenant brought vividly to his mind the time when he was young and had a loving bosom companion living, and tears were wiped from the old man's eyes. A new world seemed to unfold itself before the eyes of the happy lovers, and they were completely absorbed in contemplating the future. Furnished by nature with a disposition to study, and a memory so retentive that all who knew her were surprised at the ease with which she acquired her education and general information, Clotelle might now be termed a most accomplished lady. After her marriage with young Devenant, they proceeded to India, where the husband's regiment was stationed. Soomn after their arrival, however, a battle was fought with the natives, in which several officers fell, among whom was Captain Devenant. The father of the young captain being there at the time, took his daughter-in-law and brought her back to France, where they took up their abode at the old homestead. Old Mr. Devenant was possessed of a large fortune, all of which he intended for his daughter-in-law and her only child.

Although Clotelle had married young Devenant, she had not forgotten her first love, and her father-in-law now willingly gave his consent to her marriage with Jerome. Jerome felt that to possess the woman of his love, even at that late hour, was compensation enough for the years that he had been separated from her, and Clotelle wanted no better evidence of his love for her than the fact of his having remained so long unmarried.

It was indeed a rare instance of devotion and constancy in a man, and the young widow gratefully appreciated it.