Part 20 (1/2)

And, shrugging her shoulders, she added in a careless tone,- ”Do you think I am afraid of your reporting me to him? You are at liberty to try it. Listen. I think I hear your father's footstep in the vestibule; call him in, and tell him what we have been talking about.”

And, as Henrietta said nothing, she laughed, and said,- ”Ah! you hesitate. You do not dare do it? Well, you are wrong. I mean to hand him your letter, and I shall call him.”

There was no need for it; for at the same moment the count entered, followed by austere, grim Mrs. Brian. As he perceived his wife and his daughter, his face lighted up immediately; and he exclaimed,- ”What? You are here, both of you, and chatting amicably like two charming sisters? My Henrietta has come back to her senses, I trust.”

They were both silent; and, seeing how they looked at each other with fierce glances, he went on in a tone of great bitterness- ”But no, it is not so! I am not so fortunate. What is the matter? What has happened?”

The countess shook her head sadly, and replied,- ”The matter is, that your daughter, during your absence, has written a letter to one of my most cruel enemies, to that man who, you know, on our wedding-day, slandered me meanly; in fine, to the Duke of Champdoce!”

”And has any one of my servants dared to carry that letter?”

”No, my friend! It was brought to me in obedience to your orders; and the young lady summoned me haughtily to hand her that letter.”

”That letter?” cried the count. ”Where is that letter?”

The countess gave it to him with these words,- ”Perhaps it would be better to throw it into the fire without reading it.”

But already he had torn the envelope; and, as he was reading the first lines, a crimson blush overspread his temples, and his eyes became bloodshot. For Henrietta, sure of the Duke of Champdoce, had not hesitated to open her heart to him, describing her situation as it really was; painting her step-mother as he had antic.i.p.ated she would be; and at every turn certain phrases were repeated, which were so many blows with a dagger to the count.

”This is unheard of!” he growled with a curse. ”This is incomprehensible! Such perversity has never been known before.”

He went and stood before his daughter, his arms crossed, and cried with a voice of thunder,- ”Wretch! Will you disgrace us all?”

She made no reply. Immovable like a statue, she did not tremble under the storm. Besides, what could she do? Defend herself? She would not stoop to do that. Repeat the impudent avowals of the countess? What would be the use? Did she not know beforehand that the count would not believe her? In the meantime, grim Mrs. Brian had taken a seat by the side of her beloved Sarah.

”I,” she said, ”if I were, for my sins, afflicted with such a daughter, I would get her a husband as soon as possible.”

”I have thought of that,” replied the count; ”and I believe I have even hit upon an arrangement which”- But, when he saw his daughter's watchful eye fixed upon him, he paused, and, pointing towards the door, said to her brutally,- ”You are in the way here!”

Without saying a word, she went out, much less troubled by her father's fury than by the strange confessions which the countess had made. She only now began to measure the full extent of her step-mother's hatred, and knew that she was too practical a woman to waste her time by making idle speeches. Therefore, if she had stated that she loved Daniel,-a statement which Henrietta believed to be untrue,-if she had impudently confessed that she coveted her husband's fortune, she had a purpose in view. What was that purpose? How could any one unearth the truth from among such a ma.s.s of falsehood and deception?

At all events, the scene was strange enough to confound any one's judgment. And when Henrietta, that evening, found an opportunity to tell M. de Brevan what had happened, he trembled in his chair, and was so overwhelmed with surprise, that he forgot his precautions, and exclaimed almost aloud,- ”That is not possible!”

There was no doubt that he, usually so impa.s.sive, was terribly excited. In less than five minutes he had changed color more than ten times. You would have thought he was a man who at a single blow sees the edifice of all his hopes crumble to pieces. At last, after a moment's reflection, he said,- ”Perhaps it would be wise, madam, to leave the house.”

But she replied sadly,- ”What? How can I do that? After so many odious calumnies, my honor and Daniel's honor oblige me to remain here. He recommends me only to flee at the last extremity, and when there is no other resource left. Now, I ask you, shall I be more unhappy or more seriously threatened to-morrow than I am to-day? Evidently not.”

XVI.

But, this confidence which Henrietta expressed was only apparent. In her heart she suffered from the most terrible presentiments. A secret voice told her that this scene, no doubt well prepared and carefully brought about, was but another step leading to the final catastrophe.

Days, however, pa.s.sed by, and nothing unusual happened. It looked as if they had resolved, after that crisis, to give her a short respite, and time to recover.

Even the watch kept upon her movements was not quite as strict as heretofore. The countess kept out of her way. Mrs. Brian had given up the desire to frighten her by her incessant remarks. Her father she saw but rarely; for he was entirely absorbed in the preparations for the Pennsylvania Petroleum Society. Thus, a week later, all seemed to have entirely forgotten the terrible explosion produced by the letter to the Duke of Champdoce.

All? By no means. There was one of the inmates of the palace who recalled it daily,-M. Thomas Elgin.

On the very evening after the scene, his generous indignation had so far gotten the better of his usual reserve, and his pledge of neutrality, that he had taken the Countess Sarah aside, and overwhelmed her with sharp reproaches.

”You will have to eat your own words,” he had told her, among other things, ”if you use such abominable means to gratify your hatred.”

It is true, that, when he thus took his kinswoman aside, he also took pains to be overheard by Henrietta. And besides, for fear, perhaps, that she might not fully appreciate his sentiments, he had stealthily pressed her hand, and whispered into her ear,- ”Poor, dear girl! But I am here. I shall watch.”

This sounded like a promise to afford her protection, which certainly would have been efficient if it had been sincere. But was it sincere?

”No; most a.s.suredly not!” said M. de Brevan when he was consulted. ”It can be nothing but vile hypocrisy and the beginning of an abominable farce. You will see, madam.”

What Henrietta really saw was, that the Hon. M. Elgin suddenly underwent a complete metamorphosis. A new Sir Thorn appeared, whom no one would have ever suspected under the cloak of icy reserve which the former had worn. His sympathetic pity of former days was succeeded by more tender sentiments. It was not pity now, which animated his big, blue-china eyes, but the half-suppressed flame of a discreet pa.s.sion. In public he did not commit himself much; but there was no little attention which he did not pay Henrietta by stealth. He never left the room before her; and, on the reception-evenings, he always took a seat by her, and remained there till the end. The most direct result of these manoeuvres was to keep M. de Brevan from her. The latter became naturally very indignant at this, and began to dislike Sir Thorn to such an extent, that he could hardly contain himself.

”Well, madam,” he said to Henrietta on one of the few occasions when he could speak to her,-”well, what did I tell you? Does the wretch show his hand clearly enough now?”

Henrietta discouraged her curious lover as much as she could; but it was impossible for her to avoid him, as they lived under the same roof, and sat down twice a day at the same table.

”The simplest way,” was M. de Brevan's advice, ”would be, perhaps, to provoke an explanation.”

But he did not wait to be asked. One morning, after breakfast, he waited for Henrietta in the vestibule; and, when she appeared, he said in an embarra.s.sed manner,- ”I must speak to you, madam; it is absolutely necessary.”

She did not manifest any surprise, and simply replied,- ”Follow me, sir.”

She entered into the parlor, and he came with her. For about a minute they remained there alone, standing face to face,-she trying to keep up her spirits, although blus.h.i.+ng deeply; he, apparently so overcome, that he had lost the use of his voice. At last, all of a sudden, and as if making a supreme effort, Sir Thorn began in a breathless voice to declare, that, according to Henrietta's answer, he would be the happiest or the most unfortunate of mortals. Touched by her innocence, and the persecutions to which she was exposed, he had at first pitied her, then, discovering in her daily more excellent qualities, unusual energy, coupled with all the charming bashfulness of a young girl, he had no longer been able to resist such marvellous attractions.

Henrietta, still mistress of herself, because she was convinced that M. Elgin was only playing a wretched farce, observed him as closely as she could, and, when he paused a moment, began,- ”Believe me, sir”- But he interrupted her, saying with unusual vehemence,- ”Oh! I beseech you, madam, let me finish. Many in my place would have spoken to your father; but I thought that would hardly be fair in your exceptional position. Still I have reason to believe that Count Ville- Handry would look upon my proposals with favor. But then he would probably have attempted to do violence to your feelings. Now I wish to be indebted to you only, madam, deciding in full enjoyment of your liberty; for”- An expression of intense anxiety contracted the features of his usually so impa.s.sive face; and he added with great earnestness,- ”Miss Henrietta, I am an honorable man; I love you. Will you be my wife?”

By a stroke of instinctive genius, he had found the only argument, perhaps, that might have procured credit for his sincerity.

But what did that matter to Henrietta? She began, saying,- ”Believe me, sir. I fully appreciate the honor you do me; but I am no longer free”- ”I beseech you”- ”Freely, and among all men, I have chosen M. Daniel Champcey. My life is in his hands.”

He tottered as if he had received a heavy blow, and stammered with a half-extinct voice,- ”Will you not leave me a glimpse of hope?”

”I would do wrong if I did so, sir, and I have never yet deceived any one.”

But the Hon. M. Elgin was not one of those men who despair easily, and give up. He was not discouraged by a first failure; and he showed it very soon. The very next day he became a changed man, as if Henrietta's refusal had withered the very roots of his life. In his carriage, his gestures, and his tone of voice, he betrayed the utmost dejection. He looked as if he had grown taller and thinner. A bitter smile curled on his lips; and his magnificent whiskers, usually so admirably kept, now hung down miserably on his chest. And this intense melancholy grew and grew, till it became so evident to all the world, that people asked the countess,- ”What is the matter with poor M. Elgin? He looks funereal.”

”He is unhappy,” was the answer, accompanied by a sigh, which sounded as if it had been uttered in order to increase curiosity, and stimulate people to observe him more closely. Several persons did observe him; and they soon found out that Sir Thorn no longer took his seat by Henrietta as formerly, and that he avoided every occasion to address her a word.

For all that he was not resigned; far from that. He only laid siege from a distance now, spending whole evenings in looking at her from afar, absorbed in mute ecstasy. And at all times, incessantly and everywhere, she met him, as if he had been her shadow, or as if he had been condemned to breathe the air which had been displaced by her petticoats. One would have thought him endowed with the gift of multiplying himself; for he was inevitably seen wherever she was,-leaning against the door-frame, or resting his elbow on the mantlepiece, his eyes fixed upon her. And, when she did not see him, she felt his looks still weighing her down. M. de Brevan, having been made aware of his importunate attentions, seemed to check his indignation only with great difficulty. Once or twice he spoke of calling out this wretched fellow (so he called Sir Thorn); and, in order to quiet him, Henrietta had to repeat to him over and over again, that, after such an encounter, he would no longer be able to appear at the palace, and would thus deprive her of the only friend to whom she could look for a.s.sistance.

He yielded; but he said after careful consideration,- ”This abominable persecution cannot go on, madam: this man compromises you too dreadfully. You ought to lay your complaint before Count Ville-Handry.”

She decided to do so, not without great reluctance; but the count stopped her at the first word she uttered.

”I think, my daughter, your vanity blinds you. Before M. Elgin, who is one of the most eminent financiers in all Europe, should think of a little insignificant person like you, he would look a long time elsewhere.”

”Permit me, father”- ”Stop! If you should, however, not deceive yourself, it would be the greatest good luck for you, and an honor of which you ought to be very proud indeed. Do you think it would be easy to find a husband for you, after all the unpleasant talk to which you have given occasion?”