Part 34 (2/2)
”Do you love him, Valerie?”
”Oh! Auguste--that is not fair. Besides, he has never spoken to me of love. He has never--I do not know whether he loves me--I have no reason to believe that he does.”
”No reason!”--he exclaimed, half surprised, half indignant--”no reason!
I should think--but never mind--answer me this; if he did love you, do you love him or like him enough to take him for your husband?”
”He has spoken to you, Auguste--he has spoken to you!” I exclaimed, blus.h.i.+ng very deeply, but unable to conceal my gratification.
”I am answered, Valerie, by the sparkle of those bright eyes. Yes, he has spoken to me, dearest sister; and asked my influence with you, and my permission to address you.”
”And you replied--?”
”And I replied, that my permission was a matter of no consequence, for that you were entirely your own mistress, and that my influence would be exerted only to induce you to follow your own judgment and inclinations, and to consult for your own happiness.”
”Answered like a good and wise brother. And then he--?”
”Asked, whether I could form any opinion of the state of your feelings.
To which I replied, that I could only say that I had reason to suppose that your hand and heart were neither of them engaged, and that the field was open to him if he chose to make a trial. But that I had no opportunity of judging how you felt toward him. I also said, that I thought you knew very little of each other, and that his attachment must have grown up too rapidly to have taken a very strong root. But there I found I was mistaken. For he a.s.sured me that it was from esteem of your character, and admiration of your energy, courage, and constancy under adversity, not from the mere prettiness of your face, or niceness of your manners, that he first began to love you. And I since ascertained that there is scarce an incident of your life with which he has not made himself acquainted, and that in the most delicate and guarded manner. I confess, Valerie, that it has raised him greatly in my estimation to find that he looks upon marriage as a thing so serious and solemn, and does not rush into it from mere fancy for a pretty face and lady-like accomplishments.”
”I think so too, Auguste,” I replied. ”But I wish we knew a little more about him. His character and principles, I mean.”
Auguste looked at me for a moment, in great surprise. ”What an exceedingly matter-of-fact girl you are, Valerie; I never knew any one in the least like you. Do you know I am afraid you are a little--” and he paused a moment, as if he hardly knew how to proceed.
”A little hard and cold, is it not, dear Auguste?” said I, throwing my arms about him. ”No, no, indeed I am not; but I have been cast so long on my own sole resources, and obliged to rely only on my own energy and clear-sightedness, that I always try to look at both sides of the question, and not to let my feelings overpower me, until I have proved that it is good and wise to do so. Consider, too, Auguste, that on this step depends the whole happiness or misery of a girl's existence.”
”You are right, Valerie, and I am wrong. But tell me, do you love him?”
”I do, Auguste. I like him better than any man I have ever seen. He is the only man of whom I could think as a husband--and I have for some time past been fearful of liking him--loving him, too much, not knowing, though I did believe and hope, that he reciprocated my feelings. And now, if I knew but a little more of his principles and character, I would not hesitate.”
”Then you need not hesitate, dearest Valerie; for, as if to obviate this objection, he showed me, in the most delicate manner, private letters from his oldest and most intimate friends, and especially from Mr --, a most respectable clergyman, who lives at Hendon, by whom he was educated, and with whom he has maintained constant intercourse and correspondence ever since. This alone speaks very highly in his favour, and the terms in which he writes to his pupil, are such as prove them both to be men of the highest character for worth, integrity, and virtue. He has proposed, moreover, that I should ride down with him to-morrow to Hendon, to visit Mr --, and to hear from his own lips yet more of his character and conduct, that is to say, if I can give him any hopes of ultimate success.”
”Well, Auguste,” I replied, ”I think with you, that all this speaks very highly in favour of your friend; and I think that the best thing you can do, is to take this ride which he proposes, and see his tutor. In the meantime, I will drive down to Kew, and speak with our good friend, Judge Selwyn, on the subject. To-morrow evening I will see the Count, and hear whatever he desires to say to me.”
This was a very matter-of-fact way of dealing with the affair, certainly; but what Auguste had said, was in some sort true. I was in truth rather a matter-of-fact girl, and I never found that I suffered by it in the least; for I certainly was not either worldly or selfish, and the feelings do, as certainly, require to be guided and controlled by sober reason.
After coming to this conclusion, I showed Madame d'Albret's letter to Auguste, and we came to the decision, also, that, under the circ.u.mstances, Auguste should immediately, on his return, communicate the fact of my being alive and in good circ.u.mstances, to my father; leaving it at his discretion to inform my mother of the facts or not, as he might judge expedient.
At a very early hour next morning, I took a gla.s.s-coach and drove down to Kew, where I arrived, greatly to the astonishment of the whole family, just as they were sitting down to breakfast; and, when I stated that I had come to speak on very urgent business with the Judge, he desired my carriage to return to town, and proposed to carry me back himself, so that we might kill two birds, as he expressed it, with one stone, holding a consultation in his carriage, while on his way to court.
As soon as we got into the coach, while I was hesitating how to open the subject, which was certainly a little awkward for a young girl, the Judge took up the discourse--
”Well, Valerie,” he said, ”I suppose you want to know the result of the inquiries which you were so unwilling that I should make about the Count de Chavannes. Is not that true?”
”It is perfectly true, Judge--though I do not know how you ever have divined it.”
”It is lucky, at least, that I consulted my own judgment, rather than your fancy; for otherwise I should have had no information to give you.”
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