Fairy Fingers Part 51

CHAPTER x.x.x.

BERTHA.

If Madeleine had been asked which of her relatives would first have sought her after the unexpected _rencontre_ at Madame de Fleury's, she would have answered, "Bertha,"--Bertha, whose devotion had been so unflagging, so open, so daring. But on the day which succeeded that stormy interview, Count Tristan and Maurice had visited Madeleine, yet Bertha remained absent; another day pa.s.sed, and still she came not.

The Countess de Gramont had resolved, at least, to postpone a meeting she might not be able wholly to prevent. She formed her plans so dexterously that Bertha was chained to her side, fretting through the tedious hours, yet powerless to secure a moment's freedom.

Exasperation caused Bertha sleepless nights; and on the third morning she rose with the sun, summoned her maid, sent for a carriage, and was on her way to Madeleine's residence some three hours before it was likely that the slumbers of the countess would be broken.

Madeleine was preparing for her matinal walk, when her cousin was announced.

After the first joyous greetings were over, Bertha said, with tender delight,--

"And now that I have found you, my own Madeleine, I mean to come to see you every day."

Madeleine shook her head sadly. "Madame de Gramont will never permit that."

"How can she help it if I choose to order all my dresses made here? The choice and discussion of becoming attire shall occupy as much of my time as it does of Madame de Fleury's. I mean to become her rival and almost ruin myself in splendid toilets,--that is, unless you accept my proposition."

"What proposition, Bertha?"

"To give up your--your--your--What shall I call it? Your _occupation_,--your _vocation_,--I have a great mind to say your '_trade_,' that the word may shock you. Live with me; travel with me; go where I go. Will you not consent?"

"No," answered Madeleine, gently, but resolutely.

"Do not decide hastily. You cannot know how much I need you, Madeleine.

Your counsels were indispensable to me even in days when I had no secret to confide: now--now"--

"Now you _have_ a secret? Is it indeed so?"

Bertha nodded, paused awhile, then went on abruptly,--

"I have been pestered to death by men who aspired to my hand, and my uncle declares there is no possibility of my finding peace until I make some choice."

"And you intend to secure peace upon his terms? Possibly among those who aspired to your hand there is one who has discovered the entrance to your heart."

"Among those who have aspired,--ah, there is the difficulty! Among those there is none."

"Then you love one who has never aspired?"

"I fear so," answered Bertha, ingenuously, and yet blus.h.i.+ng deeply.

Madeleine looked troubled; she had long entertained a pleasant hope which she saw about to vanish.

"And you have loved him,--how long?" she asked, gravely.

"Oh, a very short time; only since day before yesterday," replied Bertha.

This answer added to Madeleine's discomposure. There was no hope for Gaston de Bois.

"Why do you look so sorrowful?" inquired Bertha, noticing her cousin's expression.

"I am thinking of one who has loved you long, with such devotion, with such self-abnegation, with such an ardent desire to become worthy of you, that I could not but sigh over his disappointment. But this sudden affection of yours may not be very deep."

"Ah, but it _is_! And as for suddenness, when I say I have only loved him since day before yesterday, I mean that I only then discovered how much I cared for him."

"And how came you to know that he was dear to you?"

"You will be very much shocked when I answer that question; but you always said I was eccentric. I first felt that I loved him when I saw him getting into a great rage, and when I positively fancied that I caught the sound of a horrible oath, which he uttered in an undertone!"

"That _is_ original! I never before heard of a young lady being inspired by love for a young man when he was angry, or when he was profane."

"Ah, but he was angry in a good cause," returned Bertha, earnestly. "It was righteous indignation, and it was the violence with which he defended one whom I love, that won my heart completely."

"Whom did he defend?" asked Madeleine, unsuspiciously.

"_You_,--_you_, my own, best Madeleine, and for _that_ I loved him. It was so wonderful, knowing how const.i.tutionally diffident he is, to see him so courageous. And when I remembered how he used to hesitate and stammer, it seemed marvellous to hear him talk on with an ease, a fluency, a fervor truly eloquent. I never ask to listen to finer oratory. My aunt, in spite of her indignation, was confounded into silence. Count Tristan could not say a word, and Maurice looked as though amazement alone kept him from throwing himself in his friend's arms, and I fear I almost felt like doing the same."

"It was Gaston de Bois, then?" cried Madeleine, with sudden transport.

"Yes. Who else could it be? And he was so comical at the same time that he was so pathetic! At first I almost felt like laughing at his odd gesticulations. And then he talked so n.o.bly, so grandly, that I felt like weeping; and you know it is my nature to laugh and to cry in spite of myself. I have made up my mind that I could never love anybody who could not make me do both _at once_, just as he did, in such a comically pathetic manner."

"How shall I thank you? Gaston de Bois is my best, my truest, friend!"

said Madeleine, rapturously.

"I know _that_ well enough! Once I feared he might be the mysterious individual whom you loved; but he said himself that you were a sister to him; and I almost leapt for joy at those words. A sister never fills the _whole_ of a man's heart,--does she?"

"Not such a heart as Gaston de Bois'. He will tell you himself who occupies the sovereign place in that heart when he knows that he may speak."

"But how is he to know? You must promise me not to tell him, not to give him even the faintest hint, of what I have communicated. Promise me that you will not."

"I promise. But you forget how diffident M. de Bois is, how distrustful of his own merits. He will not easily believe that you _can_ think of him. And, meantime, you"--

"Will suffer. Yes, I know it; but I should suffer more if I were guilty of an unmaidenly action. So you will keep your promise?"

"I will keep it faithfully."

It was time for the cousins to part. Bertha returned to the hotel with a lighter heart, because she had transferred its weighty secret to another's keeping. But Madeleine's joy was mingled with forebodings that Gaston de Bois would not suspect his own happiness for a long, sad period, if ever.

When she went forth, it was long past the hour usually devoted to her walk. The capitol grounds were gay with promenaders. Madeleine and Ruth attracted more attention than was agreeable, and, after a short ramble, turned homeward.

As they pa.s.sed out of the gates, the first person they met was Gaston de Bois. He bowed, hesitated, seemed half inclined to walk on without speaking, but changed his mind and joined them.

It was long since Madeleine had seen him apparently so ill at ease or so distressed. She smiled as she reflected how quickly three little words (which she, alas! was forbidden to speak) would change that perturbed look to one of ineffable happiness.

For a few moments he walked moodily by her side, replying at random to her casual remarks. It chanced that Ruth was not conversant with the French language, and Madeleine, struck by his abstracted air, inquired in that tongue whether he had any cause for vexation.

Gaston answered, vaguely, that he was troubled; he did not himself know with how much real cause. A moment after, he mentioned her interview with Count Tristan, and, stammering a little in his old fas.h.i.+on, asked whether she would deem it a great liberty if he desired to know the object of the count's visit.