Fairy Fingers Part 12

"But, Madeleine, if you will but listen to me"--

Madeleine went on bitterly. "And I am young yet,--young and strong, and capable of exertion; and I have dared to believe that, while one is young, some of the benefits received could be repaid by the cheerful spirit of youth,--by the performance of needful offices,--by hands ever ready to serve, and a heart ever open to sympathize; but, if I am an enc.u.mbrance, an annoyance while I am _young_, what an intolerable burden I must become when youth pa.s.ses away! Then I shall either be repulsed with aversion, or sheltered with undisguised reluctance,--forced to remember every moment that the hospitality I receive is an _alms_! Oh!

it is too horrible! Death would be a thousand times preferable."

"And you can forget how dreadful it would be for us, who love you, to lose you?"

"I forget _everything_, except the misery of my own degraded position! I ask for nothing save that G.o.d, in his mercy, will free me from it, I care not how! I look despairingly on all sides, and see no escape! I am bound, hand and foot, by the chains of my own n.o.ble birth, and shut within the iron walls of circ.u.mstance. I struggle vainly in my captivity; no way of freedom is open to me! And yet I can never again resign myself to pa.s.sive endurance."

"If you only knew how wretched you make me by talking in this strain!"

"I make you wretched, as I have made all others, by my presence here,--yes, I know it! You see how ungrateful, how selfish misery has rendered me, since I am cruel even to you whose pure love I never doubted."

Before Bertha could make a fresh attempt to console her cousin, Baptiste entered, bearing a letter. He looked dismayed when he beheld Madeleine's face of woe, and Bertha's tearful countenance; but the latter checked his glance of inquiry by asking abruptly what he wanted.

Still regarding Madeleine with an expression of deep concern, he replied, "The _valet_ of Count Damoreau has just left this letter for Mademoiselle Madeleine, and desired that it should be delivered to her at once."

"Very well; that will do."

Bertha took the letter, and motioned to Baptiste to withdraw.

"What _can_ Count Damoreau have to write to you about? Do open the letter and tell me."

"Not now, Bertha. Leave me to myself for a little while. I scarcely know what I am doing or saying. I entreat you to leave me!"

"Madeleine, if I were in trouble, I would not send you from me."

"Go, if you love me! And you--_you_, at least, _do_ love me!"

"_If_ I love you? I will even leave you to prove that I do; but it is very hard."

Bertha walked slowly away, taking the path that led from the chateau. In a few moments she paused, turned suddenly, and quickened her steps in the opposite direction, prompted by an impulse to seek Maurice and tell him of Madeleine's grief. Perhaps he might have the power to console her.

Count Tristan had been prevented opening the letters which M. de Bois had delivered. When the two gentlemen reached the chateau, several visitors were awaiting the count, and their stay was protracted. The instant his guests took their leave, he hastened to the library, which his mother entered at the same moment. He listened impatiently as she briefly recounted the scene which had taken place in the summer-house.

"The time has come when we must put an end to this madness," answered the count; "and I trust that I hold the means in my hands. These are the replies of Madeleine's relations."

He broke one of the seals, and glanced over the contents of the letter, gnawing his under lip as he read.

"Well, my son, what reply?"

"This letter is from M. de Bonneville. He writes that his chateau is only large enough for his own family,--that it would be a great inconvenience to have any addition to his home circle; and _we_--I suppose _we_ have not been inconvenienced for the last three years"--

"I am not astonished at such a reply from M. de Bonneville. I expected nothing else. Give me Madame de Nervac's letter. She is a charming woman, whom every one admires and respects, and I know her kindness of heart."

The count handed the letter. His mother opened it, and read,--

"MY DEAR COUSIN:

"Are you not aware that a woman of any tact, who has still some claims to admiration, could hardly commit the absurd _faux pas_ of establis.h.i.+ng in her own house, and having always by her side, a person younger and handsomer than herself? To consent to your proposition concerning Madeleine would therefore be a suicidal act"--

"This is insupportable!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the count. "It seems that we are to be forced into continuing to bear this burden, though it may bring us to ruin. What insupportable vanity Madame de Nervac betrays! You see what her kindness of heart is worth!"

"There is still one letter to open," remarked his mother, clinging to a faint hope.

"Oh, it will be a repet.i.tion of the others,--you may be sure of that!"

He tore it open angrily; but, glancing at the first lines, exclaimed, "What do I see? Have we found one reasonable and charitable person at last? The Count Damoreau writes,--

"'A thousand thanks, my dear cousin for the opportunity you afford me of being useful to that lovely and unfortunate relative of ours. I have always regarded her with admiration and affection, and always appreciated the n.o.ble generosity which prompted your kindness to the orphan.'"

"The count is a man endowed with most excellent judgment," remarked the countess with complacency.

Her son continued reading the letter,--

"'I am at this moment about to make a number of necessary repairs in my chateau, which will cause me to absent myself for some time. I shall probably spend a year or two on the continent.'"

"So much the better! He will doubtless take Madeleine with him,"

suggested the countess.

Count Tristan in an altered tone read on,--

"'As I shall travel entirely _en garcon_, of course it will be impossible for Madeleine to accompany me, but an admirable opportunity presents itself for placing her in a situation that is very suitable. My friend, Lady Vivian, of Edinburgh, who forms one of the party here, is in search of an humble companion. I have spoken to her ladys.h.i.+p concerning Madeleine. She made some slight demur on account of the young lady's attractive person, but finally consented to offer her this situation.'"

"A de Gramont hired out as an humble companion! What an indignity!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the countess.

The count continued reading,--

"'I will myself write to Madeleine and apprise her of what I have done, and present the many advantages of such a position.'"

"She must not receive the letter!" said the countess, earnestly. "She is capable of accepting this offer for the sake of wounding us. But Count Damoreau has insulted us grossly. How has he dared to entertain such an offer for a member of our family,--one in whose veins flows the same untainted blood? Why do you not speak, my son? But indignation may well deprive you of speech!"

"I can only say that in _some manner we must at once rid ourselves of Madeleine_."

"I would rather see her dead than in a situation which disgraced her n.o.ble name," answered the countess, violently.

"I quite agree with you," returned the count, with a sardonic look; "but, unfortunately, life and death are not in our hands!"

As he spoke, there was a gleam in his malignant eye, almost murderous.

His foot was lifted to crush the worm in his path, and, could he have trodden it out of existence in secret, the deed would have been accomplished with exultation. His hatred for Madeleine had strengthened into a fierce pa.s.sion as his fears that Maurice loved her threatened to be confirmed. Far from sharing his mother's indignation at the proposal of Count Damoreau, he had made up his mind to force Madeleine into acceptance, if no other presented itself for freeing the chateau from her presence.

CHAPTER VII.

A CRISIS.

Count Tristan was in the heat of argument with his haughty mother, when the door of the library opened, and Madeleine entered. One who had beheld the tempestuous burst of grief, the torrent of tears, the heart-rending despair that convulsed her frame but half an hour before, in the little _chalet_, would scarcely have recognized the countenance upon which the eyes of the Countess de Gramont and her son were now turned. Not the faintest shadow of that whirlwind of pa.s.sionate anguish was left upon Madeleine's face, unless it might be traced in the great calm which succeeds a heavy storm; in the death-like pallor which overspread her almost rigid features; in the steady light that shone from her soul-revealing eyes; in the firm outline of her colorless lips; in the look of heroic resolve which imparted to her n.o.ble lineaments a higher beauty than they ever before had worn.