Of High Descent Part 58

"Because I love you!" he cried pa.s.sionately; and he caught her hands in his, and held them tightly. "Because I knew that the horrible charge must soon reach your ears, and that it would be better that it should come from me--when you were in trouble--when you wanted help."

"It is not true--it is not true!" cried Louise, excitedly.

"Where is he? Let me see him. I may be able to advise and help.

Louise, dear Louise, let this terrible time of trial be that which brings us together. Let me prove to you how I love you by being your counsellor, your aid in this time of need."

She heard his words, uttered with an earnestness which told their truth; but their effect was merely to arouse her indignation. How dared he take advantage of her agony and weakness at a time like this, and insult her with his professions! It was an outrage.

"Don't shrink from me," he whispered. "I will say no more now. Forgive my clumsy blundering out of the words I have for months been longing to speak. Only let me feel that you understand me--that I may love; and then you will turn to me for help in this time of trouble."

For answer she pointed to the door.

"It is false," she cried; "my brother a common thief!"

"It must be false," he echoed, against his own belief; "but the charge has been made, and he must be warned in time."

"Warned in time?" she cried. "And you, who profess to be our friend, stood by and heard this charge made, and did not strike down the villain who made it."

"Miss Vine--Louise, you are hasty. The shock I know is terrible, but we must be prepared to meet it. He must not be taken unawares."

"My brother can meet such a charge as a gentleman should. It is not the first time that so foul an attack has been made against an innocent man."

"You are too hard upon me," he pleaded. "How could I, loving you as I do--"

"Loving!" she cried, scornfully.

"What have I done?" he groaned. "I ran up here directly to try and be of service. In my excitement, I spoke words that I should have kept back for a time, but they would have vent, and--No, I am not ashamed of what I have said," he cried, drawing himself up. "Louise Vine, I love you, and I must help you and your brother in this terrible strait."

"Then go back to the town, and tell all who have dared to say my brother committed this crime that what they say is false, and that his father, his sister will prove his innocence. Go!"

"Yes, go!" said a shrill, harsh voice. "Louise, go to your room and let me speak to this man."

"Aunt, you have heard?"

"Yes, from the servants. And I heard his last insulting words. Go to your room, child."

She threw open the door, and, accustomed to obey from her childhood, Louise moved slowly towards the hall; but as she turned slightly to dart a last indignant look at the man who had set her heart beating wildly as he at the same time roused her indignation, she saw such a look of agony that her courage failed, a strange sense of pity stole through her, and she stepped back and took her aunt's arm.

"Hush, aunt dear," she said, "there is no need to say more. Mr Leslie has made a great mistake in bringing up that cruel report, and he will go now and contradict it for my brother's sake."

"And apologise for his insult," cried Aunt Marguerite fiercely. "Child, I bade you go to your room."

"Yes, aunt, I am going."

"I must speak to this man alone."

"Aunt, dear--"

"Pray go, Miss Vine," said Leslie, approaching and taking her hand.

She yielded, and he led her to the door.

"Nothing your aunt can say will change my feelings towards you. When you are calm you will forgive me. Believe me, I will do everything to clear your brother from this charge."

She looked at him wildly, and still hesitated to obey her aunt's words.

Finally, she gave way, Leslie held the door open till she was on the stairs, and then closed it, his manner completely changing as he turned and faced Aunt Marguerite, who stood with her head thrown back, and an indignant look of anger in her keen eyes.

"So, sir," she exclaimed, "you in your common ignorance of everything connected with the social life of such a family as ours, dare to come up as a tale-bearer--as one of our servants did a few minutes back--and tell this pitiful story about my nephew."

"I grieved greatly, Miss Vine," said Leslie in quiet businesslike tones.

"You grieved!" she cried. "A theft! Do you know that a Des Vignes would prefer death to dishonour?"

"No, madam; but I am very glad to hear it, for that being the case Henry Vine must be innocent."

"Innocent!" she cried scornfully. "My nephew Henri! As if it could be for a moment in doubt!"

"I shall strive hard to help Mr Vine, your brother, to clear him from this disgrace."

"Disgrace, sir? It is no disgrace. If the _canaille_ cast mud at one of n.o.ble lineage, does it disgrace him? No. The disgrace is where some plebeian--some trading person--is mad enough to advance his pretensions, and dares to address a lady as I heard you address my niece. Let me see, sir, did I not once give you to understand that Miss Louise des Vignes would in all probability be soon married to a gentleman of Auvergne--a gentleman whose lineage is as n.o.ble as her own?"

"I did understand something of the kind, madam, but until I see Miss Louise Vine another's wife I shall boldly advance my pretensions, hoping to the last."

"Even supposing that her brother has committed some _faux pas_?"

"That would be the greater inducement to me to stand by her in her time of need."

"Most gratifying, I am sure, Mr Leslie, and highly creditable to one of your nationality," said Aunt Marguerite sneeringly, as she raised her gla.s.s to her eye, and gazed at him in an amused way. "Now may I ask you to leave me? My brother and my nephew are from home, and I cannot entertain you as I am sure you would wish. Good evening, Mr Leslie-- good evening."

She bowed him out with a sneering smile upon her thin lips, and Leslie hurried back towards the town.

"What shall I do?" he muttered. "Oh, that sneering old woman, how she does raise one's gall! Poor Louise! she did look more gentle toward the last; and I don't believe in the Frenchman of great lineage. If there is one, let's do battle as they did of old, if he likes. What a fool I was to speak as I did just when she was so full of trouble! I must have been mad--a declaration of love, and an announcement that the poor girl's brother was in trouble. The young idiot! The scoundrel! How I should like to have his drilling for the next five years! What shall I do? I must help him. It's true enough, I'm afraid; and he must have the best legal help. If I had only some one to consult with. Van Heldre would have been the man."

There was a pause as the young man thought deeply of what steps he ought to take next.

"Yes, with all his sham cynicism and silly whims, the old man is shrewd, and can help when he likes. Uncle Luke!"

Volume 2, Chapter VIII.

A BROTHER'S APPEAL.

Louise Vine stood trembling in her own room, listening till she heard the door close, and Duncan Leslie's step on the gravel. Her agitation was terrible, and in place of being clear-headed and ready to act in this emergency, she felt as if her brain was in a turmoil of contending emotions. Indignation on her brother's behalf, anger against Leslie for his announcement, and another form of anger which she could not define, struggled with a desire to go to her brother's help, and at last she placed her hands to her head and pressed them there.

"What shall I do?" she panted.

"Louise, Louise, my child!"

It was Aunt Marguerite's voice, and there was a sharp tapping on the panel of the door after the handle had been turned.