Part 85 (1/2)
”If you go, aunt?” said Louise wonderingly.
”There is a certain estate in the neighbourhood of Mont d'Or,” she continued; ”I wish to see in what condition it is kept. These things seem to devolve now on me who am forced to take the lead as representative of our neglected family.”
”For Heaven's sake, Marguerite!” cried Vine impetuously. ”No--no, no,”
he muttered, checking himself hastily. ”Better not--better not.”
”I beg pardon, brother,” she said, raising her gla.s.s.
”Nothing--nothing,” he replied.
”Well, Louise, child, I am waiting,” she continued, turning her eyes in a half pitying, condescending way upon her niece. ”Well? May I count upon you?”
”Aunt dear--”
”It will do you good. You look too pale. This place crushes you down, and narrows your intellect, my child. A little French society would work a vast change in you.”
”Aunt, dear,” said Louise, rising and crossing to her to lay her hands upon the old lady's shoulder, ”don't talk about such things now. Let me come up to your room, and read to you a little while.”
Aunt Marguerite smiled.
”My dear Louise, why do you talk to me like this? Do you take me for a child?”
George Vine heaved a deep sigh, and turned in his chair.
”Do you think I have lived all these years in the world and do not know what is best for such a girl as you?”
”But indeed, aunt, I am not ill. I do not require a change.”
”Ah, poor young obstinacy! I must take you well in hand, child, and see if I cannot teach you to comport yourself more in accordance with your position in life. I shall have time now, especially during our little journey. When would it be convenient for you to be ready?”
”Aunt dear! It is impossible; we could not go.”
”Impossible? Then I must speak. You will be ready in three days from now. I feel that I require change, and we will go.”
”Margaret!” cried Vine, who during the past few minutes had been writhing in his seat, ”how can you be so absurd!”
”Poor George!” she said, with a sigh, as she rose from her chair. ”I wish I could persuade him to go. Mind, Louise, my child, in three days from now. We shall go straight to Paris, perhaps for a month. You need not trouble about dress. A few necessaries. All that you will require we can get in Paris. Come in before you go to bed, I may have a few more words to say.”
She sailed slowly across the room, waving her fan gently, as if it were a wing which helped her progress, as she preserved her graceful carriage. Then the door closed behind her, and Louise half ran to her father's side.
”Shall I go up with her?” she whispered anxiously.
Her father shook his head.
”But did you not notice how strange she seemed?”
”No more strange, my dear, than she has often been before, after something has agitated her greatly. In her way she was very fond of poor Harry.”
”Yes, father, I know; but I never saw her so agitated as this.”