Part 24 (1/2)
”Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs Bradshaw.
”Yes.”
”Well, that alters the case; but still, why did she leave in this strange way?”
”I presume the gentleman did not think it right that she should marry out of a young ladies' establishment, madam.”
”Very true: I did not think of that.”
”After all, what is it? Your French teacher is married--surely that will not injure your establishment?”
”No, certainly--why should it?--but the news came upon me so abruptly, that it quite upset me. I will lie down a little, and my head will soon be better.”
Time went on; so did the school. Miss Adele, that was, sent no wedding-cake, much to the astonishment of the young ladies; and it was not till nearly three weeks afterwards that I had a letter from Adele Chabot, now Mrs Jervis. But, before I give the letter to my readers, I must state, that Mr Selwyn, junior, had called upon me the day before Caroline went to school, and had had a long conversation with her, while I went out to speak with Madame Gironac on business: further, that Mr Selwyn, junior, called upon me a few days afterwards, and after a little common-place conversation, _a l'anglaise_, about the weather, he asked after Miss Caroline Stanhope, and then asked many questions. As I knew what he wished, I made to him a full statement of her position, and the unpleasant predicament in which she was placed. I also stated my conviction that she was not likely to make a happy match, if her husband were selected by her father and mother; and how much I regretted it, as she was a very amiable, kind-hearted girl, who would make an excellent wife to anyone deserving of her. He thought so, too, and professed great admiration of her; and having, as he thought, pumped me sufficiently, he took his leave.
A few days afterwards, he came upon some pretended message from his father, and then I told him that she was to be removed in October. This appeared to distress him; but he did not forget to pull out of his pocket a piece of music, sealed up, telling me that, by mistake, Caroline had left two pieces of music at Kew, and had taken away one belonging to his sister Mary; that he returned one, but the other was mislaid, and would be returned as soon as it was found; and would I oblige him so far as to request Miss Stanhope to send him the piece of music belonging to his sister, if she could lay her hand upon it?
”Well, I will do your bidding, Mr Selwyn,” replied I; ”it is a very proper message for a music-mistress to take; and I will also bring back your sister's music, when Caroline gives it me, and you can call here for it. If I am out, you can ask Madame Gironac to give it to you.”
Upon which, with many thanks and much grat.i.tude for my kindness, Mr Selwyn withdrew.
Having made all this known to the reader, he shall now have the contents of Adele's letter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
We must now read Adele's letter.
”My dear Valerie,--The die is cast, and I have now a most difficult game to play. I have risked all upon it, and the happiness of my future life is at stake. But let me narrate what has pa.s.sed since I made you my confidante. Of course, you must know the day on which I was missing.
On that day I walked out with him, and we were in a few minutes joined by a friend of his, whom he introduced as Major Argat. After proceeding about one hundred yards farther we arrived at a chapel, the doors of which were open, and the verger looking out, evidently expecting somebody.
”'My dear angel,' said the Colonel, 'I have the licence in my pocket; I have requested the clergyman to attend, he is now in the chapel, and all is ready. My friend will be a witness, and there are others in attendance. You have said that you love me, trust yourself to me.
Prove now that you are sincere, and consent at once that our hands as well as our hearts be united.'
”Oh! how I trembled. I could not speak. The words died away upon my lips. I looked at him imploringly. He led me gently, for my resistance was more in manner than in effect, and I found myself within the chapel, the verger bowing as he preceded us, and the clergyman waiting at the altar. To retreat appeared impossible; indeed I hardly felt as if I wished it, but my feelings were so excited that I burst into tears.
What the clergyman may have thought of my conduct, and my being dressed so little like a bride, I know not, but the Colonel handed the licence to his friend, who took it to the clergyman while I was recovering myself. At last we went up to the altar, my head swam, and I hardly knew what was said, but I repeated the responses, and I was--a wife.
When the ceremony was over, and I was attempting to rise from my knees, I fell, and was carried by the Colonel into the vestry, where I remained on a chair trembling with fear. After a time, the colonel asked me if I was well enough to sign my name to the marriage register, and he put the pen in my hand. I could not see where to sign, my eyes were swimming with tears. The clergyman guided my hand to the place, and I wrote Adele Chabot. The knowledge what the effect of this signature might possibly have upon my husband quite overcame me, and I sank my head down upon my hands upon the table.
”'I will send for a gla.s.s of water, sir,' said the clergyman leaving the vestry to call the verger, or clerk, 'the lady is fainting.'
”After he went out, I heard the Colonel and his friend speaking in low tones apart. Probably they thought that I was not in a condition to pay attention to them,--but I had too much at stake.
”'Yes,' replied the Colonel, 'she has signed, as you say, but she hardly knows what she is about. Depend upon it, it is as I told you.'
”I did not hear the Major's reply, but I did what the Colonel said.
”'It's all the better; the marriage will not be legal, and I can bring the parents to my own terms.'
”All doubt was now at an end. He had married me convinced, and still convinced that I was Caroline Stanhope, and not Adele Chabot, and he had married me supposing that I was an heiress. My blood ran cold, and in a few seconds I was senseless, and should have fallen under the table had they not perceived that I was sinking, and ran to my support. The arrival of the clergyman with the water recovered me. My husband whispered to me that it was time to go, and that a carriage was at the door. I do not recollect how I left the church; the motion of the carriage first roused me up, and a flood of tears came to my relief.