CHAPTER XXII.
A SURPRISE FOR HONORA.
OCTOBER 22, 1791.
E]
Events crowd. This morning the one girl I have taken into my confidencecame to my room with a strange tale. A stranger had arrived, an elegantyoung gentleman of foreign appearance, who had not yet given his name,but who must be a person of importance, if bearing and address go foranything. He came on horseback, attended by his valet, and his firstword, after some directions in regard to his horse, was a request to seethe landlady. When told she was ill, he asked for the clerk, and to himwas about to put some question, when an exclamation from the doorwayinterrupted them. Turning, they saw madame standing there, her facepetrified into an expression of terrified surprise.
"Mrs.--"
"Hush!" sprang from the lady's lips before he could finish hisexclamation; and advancing, she laid her hand on his arm, saying, inFrench, which, by the way, my clerk understands: "If you hope anythingfrom us, do not speak the name that is faltering on your tongue. Forreasons of our own, for reasons of a purely domestic nature, we aretraveling incognito. Let me ask you as a gentleman to humor our whim,and to know us at present as Madame and Mademoiselle Letellier."
He bowed, but flushed with embarrassment.
"And mademoiselle? She is well, I trust?"
"Quite well."
"And yourself?"
"Quite well, also. May I ask what has brought you into these parts,whom we thought in another and somewhat distant country?"
"Need you ask?"
They had drawn a little apart by this time, and the clerk heard no more;but their manner--the lady's especially--was so singular that he thoughtI ought to know that she was here under a false name, and so had sentMargery to me with the news. As for the gentleman and Madame Letellier,they were still conversing in the lowest tones together.
Interested intensely in this new development in the drama hourlyunfolding before my eyes, I dismissed Margery with an instruction ortwo, and passed into the hidden chamber, where I again laid my ear tothe wall. The mother would have something to say when she returned, andI determined to hear what it was.
I had to wait a long time, but was rewarded at last by the sound ofvoices and the distinct exclamation from the daughter's lips:
"Oh, mamma! what has happened?"
The mother's reply was delayed, but it came at last:
"My face is becoming strangely communicative. You will read all mythoughts next. What makes you think anything has happened? Is this aplace for occurrences?"
"Oh, mamma! you cannot deceive me. Your very limbs are trembling. See,you can hardly stand; and then, how you look at me! Oh, mamma, dear! isit good news or bad? for from your eyes it might be either. Has he--"
"He, he--always he!" the mother passionately interrupted. "You do notlove your mother. You are thinking always of one whom you never saw tilla year ago. My doubts, my fears, my sufferings are nothing to you. Imight die--"
"Hush! hush! Whenever did you speak like this before, mamma? Love you!Did ever a child love her mother more? But our affection is sure, whilethat of him you do not like me to mention is threatened, and itsexistence forbidden. I cannot help but think, mamma, and of him. If Icould, I were a traitor to the noblest instincts that sway a woman'sheart. I may not marry him--you say I never will--but think of him Imust, and pray for him I will, till the last breath has left my lips.So, what is your news, dear mamma? Has papa written?"
"It is too early for the mail."
"True, true. Some one has come, then; a messenger, perhaps, from NewYork. M. Dubois--"
"Dubois is a traitor. He has not kept the secret of our whereabouts. Wehave to settle with Monsieur and Madame Dubois, meanwhile--"
"What?"
"Honora, can I trust you?"
"Trust me?"
"Ah! who is trembling now?"
"I! I! But how can I help it! You glance toward the door; you seemafraid some one will come. You--you--"
"Tut! do not mind me! Answer what I ask. Could you see the marquis--talkto him, hear him urge his love and plead for yours, without forgettingthat your obedience is mine, and that you are not to give him so much asthe encouragement of a glance, till I either give you permission to doso or command from you his immediate and unqualified dismissal?"
"See him?" It was all the poor girl had heard.
"Yes; see him. You have come from Paris--why not he? Since Dubois hasproved himself a traitor--"
"Oh, mamma!" came now in great sobs, "you are not playing with me. Hehas come; he is here; the horse I heard stop at the door--"
"Was that of the marquis," acknowledged the mother. "He is in thesitting room, child, but he does not expect you at present. This eveningyou shall see him if you will promise me what I have asked. Otherwise hemust go. I will have no complications arising out of a secret betrothal.If you have not sufficient strength--"
"Oh, I have strength, mamma! I have strength. Only let me see him, andprove to myself that he is not worn by trouble and suspense, and I willdo all you ask of me. Ah, how well I feel! What a beautiful--what alovely day this is! Must I not go out till evening? May I not take onewee walk in the garden?"
"Not one, my child. At nine o'clock you may go to the sitting room for ahalf hour. Till then, think over what I have said, and prepare your lipsto be dumb and your eyes to remain downcast; for I am firm in mydemands, and nothing will make me change them."
"You may trust me." There was despair in the tones now....
As they talked but little after this, and as I was greatly interested inseeing the young man who had been heralded by such glowing descriptions,I stole back to my room, and, putting on a green shade, hastened to joinmy guests in the front part of the house. One glance from beneath myhurriedly uplifted shade was sufficient to assure me as to which of thegentlemen there assembled was the one I sought. So frank a face, so finea form, so attractive a manner, were not often seen in my inn, andprepossessed at once in his favor, I advanced to the owner of all thesegraces, and, calling him by name, bade him welcome to my house.
He must understand our language well, for he immediately turned withgentle urbanity, and discerning, perhaps, something in my face whichassured him of my sympathy and respect, entered into a fluentconversation with me that at once increased my admiration and awakenedmy pity. For I saw that his nature was strong and his feelings deep, andas the future could have nothing but shame and misery, I instinctivelyfelt oppressed by the fate which awaited him.
He did not seem to feel any apprehension himself. His eyes were bright;his smile beaming; his bearing full of hope. Now and then his glancewould steal toward the door or through the open windows, as if he longedto catch a glimpse of some passing face or form; and at last, swayed bythat sympathy which we women all feel for true love in man or woman, Iasked him to accompany me into the garden, promising him a view thatwould certainly delight him. As the garden was plainly visible from theoak parlor, you can readily understand to what view I alluded. But hehad no suspicion of my meaning, and followed me with some reluctance.
But his aspect changed materially when, in walking up and down thepaths, I casually remarked:
"This is the least inhabited side of the inn. Only one room is occupied,and that by two foreigners--Madame and Mademoiselle Letellier. Yet ithas a pleasant outlook, as you yourself can see."
"Is she--are they behind those windows?" he asked, with an impetuosity Icould not but admire in a man with so much to recommend him to theconsideration of others. "I beg your pardon," he added, a moment later,after a stolen glance at the house. "I know those ladies, and anythingin connection with them is interesting to me."
I believed it, and had hard work to hide my secret trouble. But hispreoccupation assisted me, and at length I found courage to remark:
"They are from Paris, I understand. A fine woman, Madame Letellier. Mustbe much admired in her own land?"
He seemed to have no reason for resenting my curiosity.
"She is," was his q
uick reply. "She is not only admired, but respected.I have never heard her name mentioned but with honor. I am happy to beknown as her friend."
I gave him one quick look. Good God! What lay before this man! And he sounconscious! I felt like wishing the inn would fall to atoms before oureyes, crushing beneath it the sin of the past and his false hopes forthe future. He saw nothing. He was smiling upon a rose which he hadplucked and was holding in his hand.
"This inn is one of the antiquities," I now observed, anxious to know ifany hint of its secrets had ever reached his ears. "They say it is oneof the first structures reared on the river. Have you ever heard any ofthe traditions connected with it?"
"Oh, no," he smiled. "The Happy-Go-Lucky is quite a stranger to me. Youcherish up all its legends, though, I have no doubt. Are there any talesof ghosts among them? I can easily imagine certain disembodied spiritswandering through its narrow halls and up and down its windingstaircases."
"What spirits?" I asked, convinced, however, by his manner that he wastalking at random, with the probable aim of prolonging our walk withinview of the window behind which his darling might stand concealed.
"Madame must inform me. I have too little acquaintance with this countryto venture among its traditions."
"There is a story," I began; but here a finely modulated but piercingvoice rang musically down the paths from the house, and we heard:
"Your eyes will certainly suffer, Mrs. Truax, if you let the hot sunglare upon them so mercilessly." And, turning, we saw madame's smilingface looking from her casement with a meaning that struck us both dumband led me to shorten our walk lest my interest in the romance thengoing on should be suspected and my usefulness thus become abridged.
Was it to forestall my suspicions, rid herself of my vigilance, or toinsure herself against any forgetfulness on her daughter's part, thatmadame, some two hours later, sent me the following note:
"DEAR MRS. TRUAX: I can imagine that after your walk in the blazing sunlight you do not feel very well this evening. I must nevertheless request of you a favor, my need being great and you being the only person who can assist me. The Marquis de la Roche-Guyon, with whom I saw you promenading, has come to this place with the express intention of paying court to my daughter. As I am not prepared to frown upon his suit, and equally unprepared to favor it, I do not feel at liberty to refuse him the pleasure of an interview with my daughter, and yet do not desire them to enjoy such an interview alone. As I am ill, quite ill, with a sudden and excruciating attack of pain in my right hip, may I ask if you will fulfill the office of chaperon for me, and, without embarrassment to either party, take such measures as will prevent an absolute confidence between them, till I have obtained the sanction of my husband to an intimacy which I myself dare not encourage?
"Very truly your debtor, if you accomplish this, MADAME LETELLIER."
The Forsaken Inn: A Novel Page 22