Fairy Fingers Part 1

Fairy Fingers.

by Anna Cora Mowatt Ritchie.

CHAPTER I.

n.o.bLESSE.

They were seated in the drawing-room of an ancient chateau in Brittany,--the Countess Dowager de Gramont and Count Tristan, her only son,--a mansion lacking none of the ponderous quaintness that usually characterizes ancestral dwellings in that locality. The edifice could still boast of imposing grandeur, especially if cla.s.sed among "fine ruins." Within and without were harmoniously dilapidated, and a large portion of the interior was uninhabitable. The limited resources of the count precluded even an apologetic semblance of repairs.

The house was surrounded by s.p.a.cious parks and pleasure-grounds, in a similarly neglected condition. Their natural beauty was striking, and the rich soil yielded fruits and flowers in abundance, though its only culture was received from the hands of old Baptiste, who made his appearance as gardener in the morning, but, with a total change of costume, was metamorphosed into butler after the sun pa.s.sed the meridian. In his b.u.t.ton-hole a flower, which he could never be induced to forego, betrayed his preference for the former vocation.

The discussion between mother and son was unmistakably tempestuous. A thunder-cloud lowered on the n.o.ble lady's brow; her eyes shot forth electric flashes, and her voice, usually subdued to aristocratic softness, was raised to storm-pitch.

"Count Tristan de Gramont, you have taken leave of your senses!"

A favorite declaration of persons thoroughly convinced of their own una.s.sailable mental equilibrium, when their convictions encounter the sudden check of opposition.

As the a.s.sertion, unfortunately, is one that cannot be disproved by denial, the count sank resignedly behind the shield of silence. His mother returned to the attack.

"Do you mean me to understand that, in your right mind, you would condescend to mingle with men of business?--that you would actually degrade yourself into becoming a shareholder, or manager, or director, or whatever you please to term it, in a railway company?--_you_, Count Tristan de Gramont! The very proposal is a humiliation; to entertain it would be an absurdity--to consent, an impossibility. I repeat it, you have taken leave of your senses!"

"But, my dear mother," answered the count, with marked deference, "you are forgetting that this railway company chances to be an American a.s.sociation; my connection with it, or, rather, its very existence, is not likely to be known here in Brittany,--therefore, my dignity will not be compromised. The only valuable property left us is the transatlantic estate which my roving brother purchased during his wanderings in the New World, and bequeathed to my son, Maurice, for whom it is held in trust by an American gentleman. The members of the a.s.sociation, who desire to interest me in their speculation, a.s.sert that the proposed railroad may pa.s.s directly through this very tract of land. Should that be the case, its value will be greatly increased. At the present moment the estate yields us nothing; but the advent of this railroad must insure an immense profit. We estimate that, by judicious management, the land may be made to bring in"--

His mother interrupted him with a haughty gesture. "_'Speculation!'_ _'yield!'_ _'profit!'_ _'bring in!'_ What language to grow familiar to the lips of a son of mine! You talk like a tradesman already! My son, give up all idea of this plebeian enterprise!"

The count did not answer immediately. He seemed puzzled to determine what degree of confidence it was necessary to repose in his stately mother. After a brief pause, he renewed the conversation with evident embarra.s.sment.

"It is very difficult to make a lady, especially a lady of your rank, education, and mode of life, understand these matters, and the necessity"--

"It ought to be equally difficult to make the n.o.bleman, my son, comprehend them," answered the countess, freezingly.

The count rejoined, as though driven to extremity, "It is the very fact of my being a n.o.bleman, that has made these people, Americans as they are, and despisers of t.i.tles as they profess to be, seek me with eagerness. The _prestige_ of my _t.i.tle_, and the promise of obtaining some privileges respecting Maurice's Maryland estate, are all that I can contribute toward the success of their undertaking. It is true I am a n.o.bleman; but even rank, my dear mother, must have the means of sustaining its existence, to say nothing of preserving its dignity. Even rank is subject to the common, vulgar need of food and raiment and shelter, not to mention the necessity of keeping horses, carriages, domestics, and securing other indispensable but money-consuming luxuries. Our narrow income is no longer sufficient to meet even our limited expenditures. The education of Maurice at the University of Paris, and your own charities, have not merely drained our purse, but involved us in debt. I hail the offer made me by this American company, because it may extricate us from some very serious difficulties. I am much mortified at your resolute disapproval of the step I contemplate."

Count Tristan de Gramont was a widower, the father of but one child. It must not be supposed that, although he seriously purposed embarking in a business enterprise, he had failed to appropriate a goodly share of that pride which had both descended by inheritance, and been liberally instilled into his mind by education. His character was strongly stamped with the Breton traits of obstinacy and perseverance, and he was gifted with an unaristocratic amount of energy. When an idea once took possession of his brain, he patiently and diligently brought the embryo thought to fruition, in spite of all disheartening obstacles. He was narrow-minded and selfish when any interests save his own and those of his mother and son were at stake. These were the only two beings whom he loved, and he only loved them because they were _his_--a portion of _himself_; and it was merely himself that he loved through them. In a certain sense, he was a devoted son. His education had rendered him punctilious, to the highest degree, in the observance of all those forms that betoken filial veneration. He always treated his august mother with the most profound reverence. He paid her the most courteous attentions,--opened the doors when she desired to pa.s.s, placed footstools for her feet, knelt promptly to pick up the handkerchief or glove she dropped, was ever ready to offer her his arm for her support, and seldom combated her opinions.

The first time he had openly ventured to oppose her views was in the conversation we have just related.

She looked so regal, as she sat before him in a richly carved antique chair, which she occupied as though it had been a throne, that, in spite of the blind obstinacy with which she refused to see her own interests and his, Count Tristan could not help regarding her with admiration.

She was still strikingly handsome, notwithstanding the sixty winters which had bleached her raven locks to the most uncompromising white.

Those snowy tresses fell in soft and glossy curls about her scarcely furrowed countenance. Her forehead was somewhat low and narrow; the face, a decided oval; the nose, almost straight; the eyes almond-shaped, and of a jetty blackness, flashing out from beneath brows that were remarkable for the fine, dark line that designated their arch. The mouth was the least pleasing feature,--it was too small, and unsuggestive of varied expression; the lips not only lacked fulness, but wore a supercilious curl that had become habitual.

Her form was considerably above the medium height, and added to the sense of grandeur conveyed by her presence. Her carriage was erect to the verge of stiffness, and her step too firm to be quite soundless.

Advancing years had not produced any unseemly _embonpoint_, nor had her figure fallen into the opposite extreme, and sharpened into meagre angularity; its outline retained sufficient roundness not to lose the curves or grace.

She had made no reply to her son's last remark, which forced him to begin anew. He thought it politic, however, to change the subject.

"You remember, my mother, that some seven of our friends are engaged to dine with us to-morrow. I trust you will not disapprove of my having invited two American gentlemen to join the party. After the letters of introduction they brought me, I was forced to show them some attention and"--

He paused abruptly, without venturing to add that those gentlemen were directors of the railway company of which he had before spoken.

"My son, you are aware that I never interfere with your hospitalities, but you seem to have forgotten that my Sevres china is only a set for twelve, and I can use no other on ceremonious occasions. With Bertha and Madeleine we have one guest too many."

"That is a matter readily arranged," replied the count. "Madeleine need not appear at table. She is always so obliging and manageable that she can easily be requested to dine in her own room. In fact, to speak frankly, I would _rather not_ have her present."

"But, should she be absent, Bertha will be annoyed," rejoined Madame de Gramont.

"Bertha is a simpleton! How strange that she does not see, or suspect, that Madeleine always throws her into the background! I said a while ago, my mother, that _your charities_ had helped to drain our purse, and this is one which I might cite, and the one that galls me most. Here, for three years, you have sheltered and supported this young girl, without once reflecting upon the additional expense we are incurring by your playing the benefactress thus grandly. It is very n.o.ble, very munificent on your part; still, for a number of reasons, I regret that Madeleine has become a permanent inmate of this chateau."

"Madeleine was an orphan," replied the countess, "the sole remaining child of the Duke de Gramont, your father's nephew. When she was left homeless and dest.i.tute, did not the _honor of the family_ force me to offer her an asylum, and to treat her with the courtesy due to a relative? Have we not always found her very grateful and very agreeable?"

"I grant you--very agreeable--_too_ agreeable by half," returned the count; "so agreeable that, as I said, she invariably throws your favorite Bertha into the shade. I confess that the necessity of always reserving for this young person, thrust upon us by the force of circ.u.mstances, a place at table, a seat in the carriage, room upon every party of pleasure, makes her presence an inconvenience, if not a positive burden. And will you allow me to speak with great candor? May I venture to say that I have seen you, my dear mother, chafed by the infliction, and irritated by beholding Bertha lose through contrast with Madeleine?"

His mother replied with animation: "Bertha is my grandniece,--the granddaughter of my only sister; the ties of blood, if nothing more, would bind me more closely to her than to Madeleine. Possibly there may have been times when I have not been well pleased to see one so dear, invariably, though most inexplicably, eclipsed. Bertha may shine forth in her most resplendent jewels,--her most costly and exquisite Parisian toilet; Madeleine has only to enter, in a simple muslin dress, a flower, or a knot of ribbons in her hair, and she draws all eyes magnetically upon her."

"That is precisely the observation I have made," answered Count Tristan; "and, my mother, have you never reflected how seriously your _protegee_ may interfere with our prospects respecting Maurice?"

The countess started. "Impossible! He could not think of Madeleine when a union with Bertha would be so much more advantageous."

"Youth does not think--it chooses by the attraction it experiences towards this or that object," answered the count. "Before Maurice last returned to the university, nine months ago, his admiration for Madeleine was unmistakable. Now that he is shortly to come home, and for an indefinite period,--now that our plans must ripen, I have come to the conclusion that Madeleine must be removed, or they will never attain fruition; she must not be allowed to cast the spell of her dangerous fascination over him; something must be done, and that before Maurice returns; in a fortnight he will be here."

Before the countess could reply, a young girl bounded into the room, with a letter in one hand, and a roll of music in the other.

It would be difficult to find a more perfect type of the pure blonde than was manifested in the person of this fair young maiden. The word "dazzling" might be applied without exaggeration to the l.u.s.trous whiteness of a complexion tinged in the cheeks as though by the reflection of a sea-sh.e.l.l. Her full, dewy lips disclosed milky rows of childlike teeth within. Her eyes were of the clearest azure; but, in spite of their expression of mingled tenderness and gayety, one who could pause to lay the finger upon an imperfection, would note that something was wanting to complete their beauty;--the eyebrows were too faintly traced, and the lashes too light, though long. The low brow, straight, slender nose, the soft curve of the chin, the fine oval of the face, were obviously an inheritance. At a single glance it was impossible not to be struck with the resemblance which these cla.s.sic features bore to those of the countess. But the sportive dimples, pressed as though by a caressing touch, upon the cheeks and chin of the young girl, destroyed, even more than the totally opposite coloring, the likeness in the two countenances. The hair of the countess had been remarkable for its shining blackness, while the yellow acacia was not more brightly golden than the silken tresses of Bertha,--tresses that ran in ripples, and lost themselves in a sunny stream of natural curls, which seemed audaciously bent on breaking their bounds, and looked as though they were always in a frolic. In vain they were smoothed back by the skilful fingers of an expert _femme de chambre_, and confined in an elaborate knot at the back of Bertha's small head; the rebellious locks _would_ wave and break into fine rings upon the white brow, and lovingly steal in stray ringlets adown the alabaster throat, ignoring conventional restraint as sportively as their owner.

Bertha de Merrivale, like Madeleine, was an orphan, but, unlike Madeleine, an heiress. The Marquis de Merrivale, Bertha's uncle, was also her guardian. He allowed her every year to spend a few months with her mother's relatives, who warmly pleaded for these annual visits. Her sojourn at the chateau de Gramont was always a season of delight to Bertha herself, for she dearly loved her great-aunt, liked Count Tristan, enjoyed the society of Maurice, and was enthusiastically attached to Madeleine.

"A letter! a letter from Maurice!" exclaimed Bertha, dancing around her aunt as she held out the epistle.

The countess broke the seal eagerly, and after glancing over the first lines, exclaimed, "Here is news indeed! We did not expect Maurice for a fortnight; but he writes that he will be here to-morrow. How little time we shall have for preparation! And I intended to order so many improvements made in his chamber, and to quite remodel"--

"Oh, of course, everything will have to be remodelled for the Viscount Maurice de Gramont! Nothing will be good enough for _him_! Every one will sink into insignificance at _his_ coming! We, poor, forlorn damsels, will henceforth be of no account,--no one will waste a thought on _us_!" said Bertha.

"On the contrary," replied her aunt, "I never had your happiness more in my thoughts than at this moment. Be sure you wear your blue brocade to-morrow, and the blue net interwoven with pearls in your hair, and that turquoise set which Maurice always admired."

"Be sure that I play the coquette, you mean, as my dear aunt did before me," answered Bertha, merrily. "No, indeed, aunt, that may have done in _your_ day, but it does not suit _ours_. We, of the present time, do not wear nets for the express purpose of ensnaring the admiration of young men; or don our most becoming dresses to lay up their hearts in their folds. I am going to seek Madeleine to tell her this news, and I have another surprise for her."

"What is it?" inquired the countess, in an altered tone.

"This great parcel of music, which I sent to Paris to obtain expressly for her. But I have something else which she must not see to day,--this bracelet, the exact pattern of the one my uncle presented to me upon my last birthday, and Madeleine shall receive this upon her birthday; that will be _to-morrow_."

As she spoke, she clasped upon her small wrist a band of gold, fastened by a knot formed of pearls, and gayly held up her round, white arm before the eyes of the count and countess.

The latter caught her uplifted hand and said gravely, "Bertha, music and bracelets are very appropriate for _you_, but they do not suit Madeleine. Madeleine is poor, worse than poor, wholly dependent upon"--

"There you are mistaken, aunt," returned Bertha, warmly. "As _I_ am rich, she is not poor;--that is, she will not always be poor, and she shall _not_ be dependent upon any one--not even upon _you_. I mean to settle upon her a marriage portion if she choose to marry, and a handsome income if she remain single."