Part 22 (2/2)

I felt all my resentment gone, and took her offered hand.

She then led me aside and said, ”I must beg your pardon, Valerie, I did not--”

”Nay,” replied I, interrupting her, ”I was too hasty and too proud.”

”You are a good kind-hearted girl, Valerie--but let us say no more about it. Now introduce me to your friends.”

I did so. Madame Bathurst was most gracious, and appeared very much struck with Adele Chabot, and entered into conversation with her, and certainly Adele would not have been taken for a French teacher by her appearance. There was something very aristocratic about her. While they were in converse, a very gentlemanlike man raised his hat to Madame Bathurst, as I thought, and pa.s.sed on. Adele coloured up, I observed, as if she knew him, but did not return the salute, which Madame Bathurst did.

”Do you know that gentleman, Mademoiselle Chabot?” inquired Caroline.

”I thought he bowed to you, and not to aunt.”

”I have seen him before,” replied Adele, carelessly, ”but I forget his name.”

”Then I can tell you,” added Madame Bathurst, ”It is Colonel Jervis, a very fas.h.i.+onable man, but not a very great favourite of mine, not that I have any thing to accuse him of, particularly, except that he is said to be a very worldly man.”

”Is he of good family?” inquired Adele.

”Oh, yes, unexceptionable on that point; but it is time for me to go.

There it my party coming down the walk. Caroline, dear, I will call upon you to-morrow at three o'clock, and then we will make our arrangements.”

Madame Bathurst then bade adieu to Mr Selwyn, and the rest, saying to me, ”_Au revoir_, Valerie.”

Shortly afterwards, we agreed to leave. As Mr Selwyn was returning to Kew, I would not accept the offer of his carriage to take Caroline and me to London, the gla.s.s-coach, round as a pumpkin, would hold six, and we all went away together.

I was very much pleased at thus meeting with Madame Bathurst, and our reconciliation, and quite as much so for Caroline's sake; for, although she had at first said that she would write to her aunt, she had put it off continually for reasons which she had never expressed to me. I rather think that she feared her aunt might prove a check on her, and I was, therefore, very glad that they had met, as now Madame Bathurst would look after her.

During the evening, I observed that Adele and Caroline had a long conversation _sotto voce_. I suspected that the gentleman, at whose appearance she had coloured up, was the subject of it. The next day Madame Bathurst called, and heard a detailed account of all that had pa.s.sed from Caroline and from me since we had parted. She said that as Caroline was put to the school by her father, of course she could not remove her, but that she would call and see her as often as she could.

She congratulated me upon my little independence, and trusted that we should ever be on friendly terms, and that I would come and visit her whenever my avocations would permit me. As there were still three weeks of the holidays remaining, she proposed that we should come and pa.s.s a portion of the time with her at a villa which she had upon the banks of the Thames.

She said that Caroline's father and mother were down at Brighton, giving very gay parties. Having arranged the time that the carriage should come for us on the following day, she kissed us both affectionately, and went away.

The next day we were at Richmond in a delightful cottage _ornee_; and there we remained for more than a fortnight. To me it was a time of much happiness, for it was like the renewal of old times, and I was sorry when the visit was over.

On my return, I found a pressing invitation for Caroline and me to go to Kew, and remain two or three days; and, as we had still time to pay the visit, it was accepted; but, before we went Adele came to see us, and, after a little general conversation, requested that she might speak to me in my own room.

”Valerie,” said Adele, as soon as we were seated, ”I know that you think me a wild girl, and perhaps I am so; but I am not quite so wild as I thought myself, for now that I am in a critical position, I come to you for advice, and for advice against my own feelings, for I tell you frankly, that I am very much in love--and moreover--which you may _well_ suppose, most anxious to be relieved from the detestable position of a French teacher in a boarding-school. I now have the opportunity, and yet I dread to avail myself of it, and I therefore come to you, who are so prudent and so sage, to request, after you have heard what I have to impart, you will give me your real opinion as to what I ought to do.

You recollect I told you a gentleman had followed me at Brighton, and how for mere frolic, I had led him to suppose that I was Caroline Stanhope, I certainly did not expect to see him again, but I did three days after I came up from Brighton. The girl had evidently copied the address on my trunk for him, and he followed me up, and he accosted me as I was walking home. He told me that he had never slept since he had first seen me, and that he was honourably in love with me. I replied that he was mistaken in supposing that I was Caroline Stanhope; that my name was Adele Chabot, and that now that I had stated the truth to him he would alter his sentiments. He declared that he should not, pressed me to allow him to call, which I refused, and such was our first interview.”

”I did not see him again until at the horticultural fete, when I was talking to Madame Bathurst. He had told me that he was an officer in the army, but he did not mention his name. You recollect what Madame Bathurst said about him, and who he was. Since you have been at Richmond, he has contrived to see me every day, and I will confess that latterly I have not been unwilling to meet him, for every day I have been more pleased with him. On our first meeting after the fete, I told him that he still supposed me to be Caroline Stanhope, and that seeing me walking with Caroline's aunt had confirmed him in his idea, but I a.s.sured him that I was Adele Chabot, a girl without fortune, and not, as he supposed a great heiress. His answer was that any acquaintance of Madame Bathurst's must be a lady, and that he had never inquired or thought about my fortune. That my having none would prove the disinterestedness of his affection for me, and that he required me and nothing more. I have seen him every day almost since then; he has given me his name and made proposals to me, notwithstanding my reiterated a.s.sertions that I am Adele Chabot, and not Caroline Stanhope. One thing is certain, that I am very much attached to him, and if I do not marry him I shall be very miserable for a long time,” and here Adele burst into tears.

”But why do you grieve, Adele?” said I, ”You like him, and he offers to marry you. My advice is very simple,--marry him.”

”Yes,” replied Adele, ”if all was as it seems. I agree with you that my course is clear; but, notwithstanding his repeated a.s.sertions that he loves me as Adele Chabot, I am convinced in my own mind that he still believes me to be Caroline Stanhope. Perhaps he thinks that I am a romantic young lady who is determined to be married _pour ses beaux yeux_ alone, and conceals her being an heiress on that account, and he therefore humours me by pretending to believe that I am a poor girl without a s.h.i.+lling. Now, Valerie, here is my difficulty. If I were to marry him, as he proposes, when he comes to find out that he has been deceiving himself, and that I am not the heiress, will he not be angry, and perhaps disgusted with me--will he not blame me instead of himself, as people always do, and will he not ill-treat me? If he did, it would break my heart, for I love him--_love_ him dearly. Then, on the other hand, I may be wrong, and he may be, as he says, in love with Adele Chabot, so that I shall have thrown away my chance of happiness from an erroneous idea. What shall I do, Valerie? Do advise me.”

”Much will depend on the character of the man, Adele. You have some insight into people's characters, what idea have you formed of his?”

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