A Queen's Error Part 37

Then we went to the chapel, and finally to the refectory; here the hospitality of the white-clad order burst forth; we must have _dejeuner_.

The good Superior waved aside the mention of our cold fowl, and insisted on cutlets and an omelette. Meanwhile, we were to walk with her upon the terrace to improve our appet.i.te--we were simply ravenous already.

"I have brought you to the terrace, monsieur and madam," proceeded the nun, "not only to admire the fine view and increase your appet.i.tes, but also to present you to Madame la Comtesse."

"Madame la Comtesse?" I repeated inquiringly.

She indicated the old white-haired lady sitting at the farther end of the terrace.

"That is Madame la Comtesse, the founder of this religious house," she explained. "She delights to see English visitors. She adores your nation. Come, let us go to her, but I ask you to approach quite near her, or she will not see you clearly. She is shortsighted."

Walking one on either hand of the Reverend Mother, we approached Madame la Comtesse.

The attendant nun had fixed the large white sunshade in a socket in the invalid chair; she was writing at the old lady's dictation. We came quite near before the Comtesse heard us approaching. Then she turned her head and looked at us, her kind old features breaking into a very sweet smile; her glance wandered from the Mother Superior to Dolores, then to me; there it stopped.

A little more frail, a little paler, yet with a bright colour in her cheeks, her still clear eyes gazing up to mine with an alarmed look in them; I knew her.

From the very first moment that she moved in her chair and turned to us; from the instant that that movement of her head disarranged the silk scarf which was wrapped round her throat, and laying it bare, showed a broad red scar upon it, _I knew her_; knew her for my dear old lady of Monmouth Street, Bath, at whose bidding I had crossed the Atlantic and endured many perils. I knew her, and as I gazed upon her her lips moved and formed two words--

"Mr. Anstruther!"

CHAPTER XXII

THE QUEEN'S ERROR

The Reverend Mother looked from Madame la Comtesse to me, and from me back again to the Comtesse.

"Madame," she said, addressing her, "without doubt you are old friends; here is a re-union of the most pleasant!"

We heard her words, both of us, I have no doubt, but we did not answer her; my thoughts were back again in that bas.e.m.e.nt room at Monmouth Street. I saw "Madame la Comtesse," this healthy, bright looking old lady, lying on the disordered bed, her clothes soaked in blood, a great wound in her throat.

How did she come here?

How did she escape?

Those were the two questions which, for the moment, absorbed my whole faculties.

Her face, as I gazed upon it, expressed first blank amazement and alarm; then pleasure; finally the formation in a strong mind of a great resolve; she was the first to recover her entire self-possession, which, perhaps, she had really never lost.

"Mr. Anstruther," she said in English, extending her frail, delicate looking hand, "I am delighted to meet you again."

She took my hand in both of hers, and still holding it looked up into my face.

"You are well," she said, "I can see that, and happy. So you should be with such a charming wife. Please present me to her."

Dolores wanted no presentation; I think she loved the dear old lady at the very first sight. She went to her and gave her both her hands, and the Comtesse drew her face down to hers and kissed her.

"Your good husband did me a great service once, my dear," she said, "perhaps the greatest service a man can do a woman."

Dolores looked down at her wonderingly, and then at me.

"I wish I could tell you what it was, my dear," she continued, "but it is a secret. Still, perhaps your husband will tell you, _when I have told him_. I do not think that he realised the great benefit he did me at the time, for the good reason that he did not know its extent."

Dolores nodded her head and smiled, but I am sure she did not understand. How should she? I did not understand myself.

Our hostess, the nun, stood looking from one to the other of us with a smile on her face of that fixity which denoted that she did not understand a single word of what we were talking about.

Madame la Comtesse noted her isolation at once.

"Pray forgive me, _chere mere_," she said, breaking into French, which she p.r.o.nounced with a very charming accent. "Mr. Anstruther and I are old friends. I meet madame, his wife, for the first time today."

In voluble language the Reverend Mother expressed her gratification at so happy a re-union, and in the midst of her compliments a nun arrived to say that _dejeuner_ was served.

"Go to your lunch, my dears," the Comtesse said, "you must be famished after your long row on the lake." We had told her of our morning excursion. "Come back to me here afterwards," she continued, "if you will, and perhaps I will tell you that which you had a right to know long ago. Go now, and come back to me. I shall be under those trees yonder in the little arbour, which is cool in the heat of the afternoon."

Dolores and I went off to our _dejeuner_, but though it was excellent, we ate but little; we were thinking of the Comtesse.

"What a dear old lady she is," commented my warm-hearted little wife.

"I don't think I have ever seen any one with such a sweet expression as she has!"

Neither had I, save, of course, Dolores.

"But whatever can she have to say to you, Will?" she continued, "and what is this great service you have done her?"

Alas, I could not tell her! I remembered my promise of eternal silence, made to her father before our marriage.

A cold muteness fell upon us both when I shook my head and did not answer her; it was the first time that the barrier of secrecy had arisen between us. The air of the room seemed cold as we sat there, though the sun shone brilliantly without. The fruits the nuns had placed before us at the end of our meal remained untouched.

"Coffee will be served to you on the terrace, monsieur and madame,"

announced our attendant nun, "it is the wish of Madame la Comtesse."

We arose silently, and went forth on to the sunlit terrace again, with its wealth of flowers and perfumed air. We walked without a word pa.s.sing between us, and we came to the arbour in the shade overlooking a grand stretch of blue lake; here was the Comtesse, a table before her with coffee and liqueurs, amongst them a sparkling cut-gla.s.s decanter of yellow Chartreuse. A nun stood ready to pour out the coffee, the same that had written at the old lady's dictation and held her sunshade in the morning. She served us with our coffee, then with a low bow disappeared.

"Sister Therese," remarked the Comtesse, "is a great comfort to me; she writes all my letters and waits on me as if I were her mother."

At the word "mother" the old lady paused, and I saw her blue eyes fixed on a distant sail on the lake, with a sad, almost yearning look in them.

But in a moment it was gone. She turned to us, smiling.

"You must take a gla.s.s of Chartreuse," she said, filling the tiny gla.s.ses, "it is so good for you. It is a perfect elixir!"

We drank the liqueur more to please her than anything else; then Dolores rose. I have never seen such a look of pain on her sweet face as was there then. G.o.d send I never see such again!

"No doubt, Madame la Comtesse," she began, "you wish to speak to my husband alone?"