The Golden Lion of Granpere Part 7

'She does not mean to be undutiful, Michel.'

'I do not know about meaning. I like reality, and I will have it too. I consulted herself, and was more forbearing than most fathers would be. I talked to her about it, and she promised me that she would do her best to entertain the man. Now she receives him and me with an old frock and a sulky face. Who pays for her clothes? She has everything she wants,--just as a daughter, and she would not take the trouble to change her dress to grace my friend,--as you did, as any daughter would! I am angry with her.'

'Do not be angry with her. I think I can understand why she did not put on another frock.'

'So can I understand. I can understand well enough. I am not a fool. What is it she wants, I wonder? What is it she expects?

Does she think some Count from Paris is to come and fetch her?'

'Nay, Michel, I think she expects nothing of that sort.'

'Then let her behave like any other young woman, and do as she is bid. He is not old or ugly, or a sot, or a gambler. Upon my word and honour I can't conceive what it is that she wants. I can't indeed.' It was perhaps the fault of Michel Voss that he could not understand that a young woman should live in the same house with him, and have a want which he did not conceive. Poor Marie! All that she wanted now, at this moment, was to be let alone!

Madame Voss, in obedience to her husband's commands, went up to Marie and found her sitting in the children's room, leaning with her head on her hand and her elbow on the table, while the children were asleep around her. She was waiting till the house should be quiet, so that she could go down and complete her work. 'O, is it you, Aunt Josey?' she said. 'I am waiting till uncle and M. Urmand are gone, that I may go down and put away the wine and the fruit.'

'Never mind that to-night, Marie.'

'O yes, I will go down presently. I should not be happy if the things were not put straight. Everything is about the house everywhere. We need not, I suppose, become like pigs because M.

Urmand has come from Basle.'

'No; we need not be like pigs,' said Madame Voss. 'Come into my room a moment, Marie. I want to speak to you. Your uncle won't be up yet.' Then she led the way, and Marie followed her. 'Your uncle is becoming angry, Marie, because--'

'Because why? Have I done anything to make him angry?'

'Why are you so cross to this young man?'

'I am not cross, Aunt Josey. I went on just the same as I always do. If Uncle Michel wants anything else, that is his fault;--not mine.'

'Of course you know what he wants, and I must say that you ought to obey him. You gave him a sort of a promise, and now he thinks that you are breaking it.'

'I gave him no promise,' said Marie stoutly.

'He says that you told him that you would at any rate be civil to M.

Urmand.'

'And I have been civil,' said Marie.

'You did not speak to him.'

'I never do speak to anybody,' said Marie. 'I have got something to think of instead of talking to the people. How would the things go, if I took to talking to the people, and left everything to that little goose, Peter? Uncle Michel is unreasonable,--and unkind.'

'He means to do the best by you in his power. He wants to treat you just as though you were his daughter.'

'Then let him leave me alone. I don't want anything to be done. If I were his daughter he would not grudge me permission to stop at home in his house. I don't want anything else. I have never complained.'

'But, my dear, it is time that you should be settled in the world.'

'I am settled. I don't want any other settlement,--if they will only let me alone.'

'Marie,' said Madame Voss after a short pause, 'I sometimes think that you still have got George Voss in your head.'

'Is it that, Aunt Josey, that makes my uncle go on like this?' asked Marie.

'You do not answer me, child.'

'I do not know what answer you want. When George was here, I hardly spoke to him. If Uncle Michel is afraid of me, I will give him my solemn promise never to marry any one without his permission.'

'George Voss will never come back for you,' said Madame Voss.

'He will come when I ask him,' said Marie, flas.h.i.+ng round upon her aunt with all the fire of her bright eyes. 'Does any one say that I have done anything to bring him to me? If so, it is false, whoever says it. I have done nothing. He has gone away, and let him stay.

I shall not send for him. Uncle Michel need not be afraid of me, because of George.'

By this time Marie was speaking almost in a fury of pa.s.sion, and her aunt was almost subdued by her. 'n.o.body is afraid of you, Marie,'

she said.

'n.o.body need be. If they will let me alone, I will do no harm to any one.'

'But, Marie, you would wish to be married some day.'

'Why should I wish to be married? If I liked him, I would take him, but I don't. O, Aunt Josey, I thought you would be my friend!'

'I cannot be your friend, Marie, if you oppose your uncle. He has done everything for you, and he must know best what is good for you.

There can be no reason against M. Urmand, and if you persist in being so unruly, he will only think that it is because you want George to come back for you.'

'I care nothing for George,' said Marie, as she left the room; 'nothing at all--nothing.'

About half-an-hour afterwards, listening at her own door, she heard the sound of her uncle's feet as he went to his room, and knew that the house was quiet. Then she crept forth, and went about her business. n.o.body should say that she neglected anything because of this unhappiness. She brushed the crumbs from the long table, and smoothed the cloth for the next morning's breakfast; she put away bottles and dishes, and she locked up cupboards, and saw that the windows and the doors were fastened. Then she went down to her books in the little office below stairs. In the performance of her daily duty there were entries to be made and figures to be adjusted, which would have been done in the course of the evening, had it not been that she had been driven upstairs by fear of her lover and her uncle. But by the time that she took herself up to bed, nothing had been omitted. And after the book was closed she sat there, trying to resolve what she would do. Nothing had, perhaps, given her so sharp a pang as her aunt's a.s.surance that George Voss would not come back to her, as her aunt's suspicion that she was looking for his return. It was not that she had been deserted, but that others should be able to taunt her with her desolation. She had never whispered the name of George to any one since he had left Granpere, and she thought that she might have been spared this indignity. 'If he fancies I want to interfere with him,' she said to herself, thinking of her uncle, and of her uncle's plans in reference to his son, 'he will find that he is mistaken.' Then it occurred to her that she would be driven to accept Adrian Urmand to prove that she was heart-whole in regard to George Voss.

She sat there, thinking of it till the night was half-spent, and when she crept up cold to bed, she had almost made up her mind that it would be best for her to do as her uncle wished. As for loving the man, that was out of the question. But then would it not be better to do without love altogether?

CHAPTER VIII.

'How is it to be?' said Michel to his niece the next morning. The question was asked downstairs in the little room, while Urmand was sitting at table in the chamber above waiting for the landlord.

Michel Voss had begun to feel that his visitor would be very heavy on hand, having come there as a visitor and not as a man of business, unless he could be handed over to the woman-kind. But no such handing over would be possible, unless Marie would acquiesce.

'How is it to be?' Michel asked. He had so prepared himself that he was ready in accordance with a word or a look from his niece either to be very angry, thoroughly imperious, and resolute to have his way with the dependent girl, or else to be all smiles, and kindness, and confidence, and affection. There was nothing she should not have, if she would only be amenable to reason.

'How is what to be, Uncle Michel?' said Marie.

The landlord thought that he discovered an indication of concession in his niece's voice, and began immediately to adapt himself to the softer courses. 'Well, Marie, you know what it is we all wish. I hope you understand that we love you well, and think so much of you, that we would not intrust you to any one living, who did not bear a high character and seem to deserve you.' He was looking into Marie's face as he spoke, and saw that she was soft and thoughtful in her mood, not proud and scornful as she had been on the preceding evening. 'You have grown up here with us, Marie, till it has almost come upon us with surprise that you are a beautiful young woman, instead of a great straggling girl.'

'I wish I was a great straggling girl still.'

'Do not say that, my darling. We must all take the world as it is, you know. But here you are, and of course it is my duty and your aunt's duty--' it was always a sign of high good humour on the part of Michel Voss, when he spoke of his wife as being anybody in the household--'my duty and your aunt's duty to see and do the best for you.'

'You have always done the best for me in letting me be here.'

'Well, my dear, I hope so. You had to be here, and you fell into this way of life naturally. But sometimes, when I have seen you waiting on the people about the house, I've thought it wasn't quite right.'