The Golden Lion of Granpere Part 14

'Right to do what? I don't know that you have any right. If you have been trying to do mischief in my house, George, I will never forgive you--never.'

'I will tell you the whole truth, father; and then you shall say yourself whether I have been trying to do mischief, and shall say also whether you will forgive me. You will remember when you told me that I was not to think of Marie Bromar for myself.'

'I do remember.'

'Well; I had thought of her. If you wanted to prevent that, you were too late.'

'You were boys and girls together; that is all.'

'Let me tell my story, father, and then you shall judge. Before you had spoken to me at all, Marie had given me her troth.'

'Nonsense!'

'Let me at least tell my story. She had done so, and I had given her mine; and when you told me to go, I went, not quite knowing then what it might be best that we should do, but feeling very sure that she would at least be true to me.'

'Truth to any such folly as that would be very wicked.'

'At any rate, I did nothing. I remained there month after month; meaning to do something when this was settled,--meaning to do something when that was settled; and then there came a sort of rumour to me that Marie was to be Urmand's wife. I did not believe it, but I thought that I would come and see.'

'It was true.'

'No;--it was not true then. I came over, and was very angry because she was cold to me. She would not promise that there should be no such engagement; but there was none then. You see I will tell you everything as it occurred.'

'She is at any rate engaged to Adrian Urmand now, and for all our sakes you are bound not to interfere.'

'But yet I must tell my story. I went back to Colmar, and then, after a while, there came tidings, true tidings, that she was engaged to this man. I came over again yesterday, determined,--you may blame me if you will, father, but listen to me,--determined to throw her falsehood in her teeth.'

'Then I will protect her from you,' said Michel Voss, turning upon his son as though he meant to strike him with his staff.

'Ah, father,' said George, pausing and standing opposite to the innkeeper, 'but who is to protect her from you? If I had found that that which you are doing was making her happy,--I would have spoken my mind indeed; I would have shown her once, and once only, what she had done to me; how she had destroyed me,--and then I would have gone, and troubled none of you any more.'

'You had better go now, and bring us no more trouble. You are all trouble.'

'But her worst trouble will still cling to her. I have found that it is so. She has taken this man not because she loves him, but because you have bidden her.'

'She has taken him, and she shall marry him.'

'I cannot say that she has been right, father; but she deserves no such punishment as that. Would you make her a wretched woman for ever, because she has done wrong in striving to obey you?'

'She has not done wrong in striving to obey me. She has done right.

I do not believe a word of this.'

'You can ask her yourself.'

'I will ask her nothing,--except that she shall not speak to you any farther about it. You have come here wilfully-minded to disturb us all.'

'Father, that is unjust.'

'I say it is true. She was contented and happy before you came.

She loves the man, and is ready to marry him on the day fixed. Of course she will marry him. You would not have us go back from our word now?'

'Certainly I would. If he be a man, and she tells him that she repents,--if she tells him all the truth, of course he will give her back her troth. I would do so to any woman that only hinted that she wished it.'

'No such hint shall be given. I will hear nothing of it. I shall not speak to Marie on the subject,--except to desire her to have no farther converse with you. Nor will I speak of it again to yourself; unless you wish me to bid you go from me altogether, you will not mention the matter again.' So saying, Michel Voss strode on, and would not even turn his eyes in the direction of his son.

He strode on, making his way down the hill at the fastest pace that he could achieve, every now and then raising his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow. Though he had spoken of Marie's departure as a loss that would be very hard to bear, the very idea that anything should be allowed to interfere with the marriage which he had planned was unendurable. What;--after all that had been said and done, consent that there should be no marriage between his niece and the rich young merchant! Never. He did not stop for a moment to think how much of truth there might be in his son's statement.

He would not even allow himself to remember that he had forced Adrian Urmand as a suitor upon his niece. He had had his qualms of conscience upon that matter,--and it was possible that they might return to him. But he would not stop now to look at that side of the question. The young people were betrothed. The marriage was a thing settled, and it should be celebrated. He had never broken his faith to any man, and he would not break it to Adrian Urmand. He strode on down the mountain, and there was not a word more said between him and his son till they reached the inn doors. 'You understand me,' he said then. 'Not a word more to Marie.' After that he went up at once to his wife's chamber, and desired that Marie might be sent to him there. During his rapid walk home he had made up his mind as to what he would do. He would not be severe to his niece. He would simply ask her one question.

'My dear,' he said, striving to be calm, but telling her by his countenance as plainly as words could have done all that had pa.s.sed between him and his son,--'Marie, my dear, I take it for--granted--there is nothing to--to--to interrupt our plans.'

'In what way, uncle?' she asked, merely wanting to gain a moment for thought.

'In any way. In no way. Just say that there is nothing wrong, and that will be sufficient.' She stood silent, not having a word to say to him. 'You know what I mean, Marie. You intend to marry Adrian Urmand?'

'I suppose so,' said Marie in a low whisper.

'Look here, Marie,--if there be any doubt about it, we will part,--and for ever. You shall never look upon my face again. My honour is pledged,--and yours.' Then he hurried out of the room, down into the kitchen, and without staying there a moment went out into the yard, and walked through to the stables. His pa.s.sion had been so strong and uncontrollable, that he had been unable to remain with his niece and exact a promise from her.

George, when he saw his father go through to the stables, entered the house. He had already made up his mind that he would return at once to Colmar, without waiting to have more angry words. Such words would serve him not at all. But he must if possible see Marie, and he must also tell his stepmother that he was about to depart. He found them both together, and at once, very abruptly, declared that he was to start immediately.

'You have quarrelled with your father, George,' said Madame Voss.

'I hope not. I hope that he has not quarrelled with me. But it is better that I should go.'

'What is it, George? I hope it is nothing serious.' Madame Voss as she said this looked at Marie, but Marie had turned her face away.

George also looked at her, but could not see her countenance. He did not dare to ask her to give him an interview alone; nor had he quite determined what he would say to her if they were together.

'Marie,' said Madame Voss, 'do you know what this is about?'

'I wish I had died,' said Marie, 'before I had come into this house.

I have made hatred and bitterness between those who should love each other better than all the world!' Then Madame Voss was able to guess what had been the cause of the quarrel.

'Marie,' said George very slowly, 'if you will only ask your own heart what you ought to do, and be true to what it tells you, there is no reason even yet that you should be sorry that you came to Granpere. But if you marry a man whom you do not love, you will sin against him, and against me, and against yourself, and against G.o.d!'

Then he took up his hat and went out.

In the courtyard he met his father.

'Where are you going now, George?' said his father.

'To Colmar. It is better that I should go at once. Good-bye, father;' and he offered his hand to his parent.

'Have you spoken to Marie?'

'My mother will tell you what I have said. I have spoken nothing in private.'

'Have you said anything about her marriage?'

'Yes. I have told her that she could not honestly marry the man she did not love.'

'What right have you, sir,' said Michel, nearly choked with wrath, 'to interfere in the affairs of my household? You had better go, and go at once. If you return again before they are married, I will tell the servants to put you off the place!' George Voss made no answer, but having found his horse and his gig, drove himself off to Colmar.