The Golden Lion of Granpere Part 4

'He sent his love to you, when I saw him, quite dutifully,' said Madame Voss.

'Why don't he come and see us if he cares for us? It isn't of him that Marie is thinking.'

'It isn't of anybody else then,' said Madame Voss. 'I never see her speak a word to any of the young men, nor one of them ever speaking a word to her.'

Pondering over all this, Michel Voss resolved that he would have it all out with his niece on the following Sunday.

On the Sunday he engaged Marie to start with him after dinner to the place on the hillside where they were cutting wood. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, in that pleasantest of all months in the year, when the sun is not too hot, and the air is fresh and balmy, and one is still able to linger abroad, loitering either in or out of the shade, when the midges cease to bite, and the sun no longer scorches and glares; but the sweet vestiges of summer remain, and everything without doors is pleasant and friendly, and there is the gentle unrecognised regret for the departing year, the unconscious feeling that its glory is going from us, to add the inner charm of a soft melancholy to the outer luxury of the atmosphere. I doubt whether Michel Voss had ever realised the fact that September is the kindliest of all the months, but he felt it, and enjoyed the leisure of his Sunday afternoon when he could get his niece to take a stretch with him on the mountain-side. On these occasions Madame Voss was left at home with M. le Cure, who liked to linger over his little cup of coffee. Madame Voss, indeed, seldom cared to walk very far from the door of her own house; and on Sundays to go to the church and back again was certainly sufficient exercise.

Michel Voss said no word about Adrian Urmand as they were ascending the hill. He was too wise for that. He could not have given effect to his experience with sufficient eloquence had he attempted the task while the burden of the rising ground was upon his lungs and chest. They turned into a saw-mill as they went up, and counted the scantlings of timber that had been cut; and Michel looked at the cradle to see that it worked well, and to the wheels to see that they were in good order, and observed that the channel for the water required repairs, and said a word as to the injury that had come to him because George had left him. 'Perhaps he may come back soon,'

said Marie. To this he made no answer, but continued his path up the mountain-side. 'There will be plenty of feed for the cows this autumn,' said Marie Bromar. 'That is a great comfort.'

'Plenty,' said Michel; 'plenty.' But Marie knew from the tone of his voice that he was not thinking about the gra.s.s, and so she held her peace. But the want or plenty of the pasture was generally a subject of the greatest interest to the people of Granpere at that special time of the year, and one on which Michel Voss was ever ready to speak. Marie therefore knew that there was something on her uncle's mind. Nevertheless he inspected the timber that was cut, and made some remarks about the work of the men. They were not so careful in barking the logs as they used to be, and upon the whole he thought that the wood itself was of a worse quality. What is there that we do not find to be deteriorating around us when we consider the things in detail, though we are willing enough to admit a general improvement? 'Yes,' said he, in answer to some remarks from Marie, 'we must take it, no doubt, as G.o.d gives it to us, but we need not spoil it in the handling. Sit down, my dear; I want to speak to you for a few minutes.' Then they sat down together on a large prostrate pine, which was being prepared to be sent down to the saw-mill. 'My dear,' said he, 'I want to speak to you about Adrian Urmand.' She blushed and trembled as she placed herself beside him; but he hardly noticed it. He was not quite at his ease himself, and was a little afraid of the task he had undertaken.

'Adrian tells me that he asked you to take him as your lover, and that you refused.'

'Yes, Uncle Michel.'

'But why, my dear? How are you to do better? Perhaps I, or your aunt, should have spoken to you first, and told you that we thought well of the match.'

'It wasn't that, uncle. I knew you thought well of it; or, at least, I believed that you did.'

'And what is your objection, Marie?'

'I don't object to M. Urmand, uncle;--at least, not particularly.'

'But he says you do object. You would not accept him when he offered himself.'

'No; I did not accept him.'

'But you will, my dear,--if he comes again?'

'No, uncle.'

'And why not? Is he not a good young man?'

'O, yes,--that is, I daresay.'

'And he has a good business. I do not know what more you could expect.'

'I expect nothing, uncle,--except not to go away from you.'

'Ah,--but you must go away from me. I should be very wrong, and so would your aunt, to let you remain here till you lose your good looks, and become an old woman on our hands. You are a pretty girl, Marie, and fit to be any man's wife, and you ought to take a husband. I am quite in earnest now, my dear; and I speak altogether for your own welfare.'

'I know you are in earnest, and I know that you speak for my welfare.'

'Well;--well;--what then? Of course, it is only reasonable that you should be married some day. Here is a young man in a better way of business than any man, old or young, that comes into Granpere. He has a house in Basle, and money to put in it whatever you want. And for the matter of that, Marie, my niece shall not go away from me empty-handed.'

She drew herself closer to him and took hold of his arm and pressed it, and looked up into his face.

'I brought nothing with me,' she said, 'and I want to take nothing away.'

'Is that it?' he said, speaking rapidly. 'Let me tell you then, my girl, that you shall have nothing but your earnings,--your fair earnings. Don't you take trouble about that. Urmand and I will settle that between us, and I will go bail there shall be no unpleasant words. As I said before, my girl sha'n't leave my house empty-handed; but, Lord bless you, he would only be too happy to take you in your petticoat, just as you are. I never saw a fellow more in love with a girl. Come, Marie, you need not mind saying the word to me, though you could not bring yourself to say it to him.'

'I can't say that word, uncle, either to you or to him.'

'And why the devil not?' said Michel Voss, who was beginning to be tired of being eloquent.

'I would rather stay at home with you and my aunt.'

'O, bother!'

'Some girls stay at home always. All girls do not get married. I don't want to be taken to Basle.'

'This is all nonsense,' said Michel, getting up. 'If you're a good girl, you will do as you are told.'

'It would not be good to be married to a man if I do not love him.'

'But why shouldn't you love him? He's just the man that all the girls always love. Why don't you love him?'

As Michel Voss asked this last question, there was a tone of anger in his voice. He had allowed his niece considerable liberty, and now she was unreasonable. Marie, who, in spite of her devotion to her uncle, was beginning to think that she was ill-used by this tone, made no reply. 'I hope you haven't been falling in love with any one else,' continued Michel.

'No,' said Marie, in a low whisper.

'I do hope you're not still thinking of George, who has left us without casting a thought upon you. I do hope that you are not such a fool as that.' Marie sat perfectly silent, not moving; but there was a frown on her brow and a look of sorrow mixed with anger on her face. But Michel Voss did not see her face. He looked straight before him as he spoke, and was flinging chips of wood to a distance in his energy. 'If it's that, Marie, I tell you you had better get quit of it at once. It can come to no good. Here is an excellent husband for you. Be a good girl, and say that you will accept him.'

'I should not be a good girl to accept a man whom I do not love.'

'Is it any thought about George that makes you say so, child?'

Michel paused a moment for an answer. 'Tell me,' he continued, with almost angry energy, 'is it because of George that you refuse yourself to this young man?'

Marie paused again for a moment, and then she replied, 'No, it is not.'

'It is not?'

'No, uncle.'

'Then why will you not marry Adrian Urmand?'

'Because I do not care for him. Why won't you let me remain with you, uncle?'

She was very close to him now, and leaning against him; and her throat was half choked with sobs, and her eyes were full of tears.

Michel Voss was a soft-hearted man, and inclined to be very soft of heart where Marie Bromar was concerned. On the other hand he was thoroughly convinced that it would be for his niece's benefit that she should marry this young trader; and he thought also that it was his duty as her uncle and guardian to be round with her, and make her understand, that as her friends wished it, and as the young trader himself wished it, it was her duty to do as she was desired.

Another uncle and guardian in his place would hardly have consulted the girl at all. Between his desire to have his own way and reduce her to obedience, and the temptation to put his arm round her waist and kiss away her tears, he was uneasy and vacillating. She gently put her hand within his arm, and pressed it very close.

'Won't you let me remain with you, uncle? I love you and Aunt Josey' (Madame Voss was named Josephine, and was generally called Aunt Josey) 'and the children. I could not go away from the children. And I like the house. I am sure I am of use in the house.'

'Of course you are of use in the house. It is not that.'