Fairy Fingers Part 40

"And what do I not owe her, myself?" continued M. de Bois. "It was her words, long before her sorrows began, which rendered me conscious of the inert purposelessness of my own existence. It was the effect produced upon me by those words which made me resolve to throw off my sluggish, indolent melancholy and inactivity, and rise up to be one of the world's '_doers_,' not '_breathers_' only. The change I feel in myself came through her; even the very power of speaking to you thus freely comes through her, for she encouraged me to conquer my diffidence, she made me despise my weak self-consciousness, and I cannot offer her a sufficient return; no, not if I took up arms against the whole world, her own family included, in her defence! In my presence, no one shall ever asperse her n.o.bility of word, deed, or act!"

Bertha's speaking eyes thanked him and encouraged him again.

In spite of the manifest rage of the countess he went on,--

"But Mademoiselle Madeleine now holds a position which needs no champion. She has made that position herself, by her own energy and industry, and the unimpeachable purity of her conduct. In this land where _labor_ is a _virtue_, and the most laborious, when they combine intellect with industry, become the greatest,--in this land it will be no blot upon her n.o.ble name, (when she chooses to resume it) that she has linked that name with _work_. She will rather be held up as an example to the daughters of this young country. No one, except Mr.

Hilson, not even her zealous patron, and devoted admirer, Madame de Fleury, yet knows her history; but every one feels that she merits reverence, and every one yields her spontaneous veneration. The young women whom she employs idolize her, and she treats them as the kindest and most considerate of sisters might. Some among them belong to excellent families, reduced by circ.u.mstances, and she has inspired them with courage to work, even with so humble an instrument as the needle, rather than to accept dependence as inevitable. She is fitting them to follow in her footsteps. If her relatives scorn her for the course she has pursued, she will be fully compensated for their scorn by the world's approval."

All eyes had been riveted upon Gaston, as he spoke, and no one perceived that Madeleine was standing in the room, a few paces from the door.

Bertha's exclamation first made the others conscious of her presence.

"Madeleine! we know all! Oh, what you must have suffered! How n.o.ble you have been! Madeleine, you are dearer to me than ever, far dearer!"

The tears that ran softly down Madeleine's cheeks were her only answer.

Bertha, as she wiped them away, said, "These are not like the tears you shed that sorrowful day in the _chalet_, that day when you must have first made up your mind to leave us. Do you remember how you wept then?

Those were tears of agony! You have never wept such tears since,--have you, Madeleine?"

"No, never!"

"I could not then comprehend what moved you so terribly; but, at this moment, I understand all your sensations. Now that we have met again there must be no more tears. You know that I am of age now; I am mistress of my own fortune; and you and I must part no more! You must come and share what is mine. You must have done with work, Madeleine."

"That cannot be, my good, generous Bertha; my day of work has not yet closed."

"Bertha!" exclaimed the countess, who, until then, had stood trembling with anger, and unable to command her voice. "Bertha, have you quite forgotten yourself? Remember that you are under my guardianship, and I forbid your having any a.s.sociation with Mademoiselle de Gramont."

Madeleine advanced with calm dignity towards the countess, and said quietly,--

"Madame--aunt"--

The countess interrupted her imperiously.

"Aunt! Do you _dare_ to address _me_ by that t.i.tle? _You_--a _dressmaker!_ When you forgot your n.o.ble birth, and lowered yourself to the working-cla.s.ses, making yourself one with them,--when you demeaned yourself to gain your bread by your needle, bread which should have choked a de Gramont to eat,--you should also have forgotten your relationship to me, never to remember it again!"

"If I did not forget it, madame," answered Madeleine, with calm self-respect, "I was at least careful that my condition should not become known to you. I strove to act as though I had been dead to you, that my existence might not cause you mortification. I could not guard against the accident which has thrown us together once more, but for the last time, as far as my will is concerned."

"This meeting was not Mademoiselle Madeleine's fault," cried M. de Bois, coming to the rescue. "It was my folly,--another blunder of mine! I was dolt enough to think that you had only to see her for all to be well; and, instead of warning Mademoiselle Madeleine that you were in Washington, I kept from her a knowledge which would have prevented your encountering each other. It was all my imprudence, my miscalculation! I see my error since it has subjected her to insult; and yet what I did,"

continued he more pa.s.sionately, and regarding Maurice, as he spoke, "was for the sake of one who"--

Madeleine, seized with a sudden dread of the manner in which he might conclude this sentence, broke in abruptly,--

"Were I not indebted to you, M. de Bois, for so many kindnesses, I might reproach you now; but it was well for me to learn this lesson; it was well for me to be certain that my aunt would discard me because I preferred honest industry to cold charity."

"Discard you?" rejoined the countess, furiously. "Could you doubt that I would discard you? Henceforth the tie of blood between us is dissolved; you are no relative of mine! I forbid you to make known that we have ever met. I forbid my family to hold any intercourse with you. I appeal to my son to say if this is not the just retribution which your conduct has brought upon you!"

The count answered with deliberation, as though he was pondering some possibility in his wily mind; as if some idea had occurred to him which prevented his fully sharing in his mother's wrath, or, rather, which tempered the expression of his displeasure,--

"Madeleine's situation has rendered this the most proper and natural course open to us. She could not expect to be formally recognized. She could not suppose it possible, however much consideration we might entertain for her personally, that the Countess de Gramont and her family should allow it to be known that one of their kin is a dressmaker! Madeleine is too reasonable not to see the impropriety (to use a mild word) there would be even in such a suggestion."

"I see it very plainly," answered Madeleine, not unmoved by the count's manner, which was so much gentler than his mother's, and not suspecting the motive which induced him to a.s.sume this conciliatory tone.

The count resumed: "We wish Madeleine well, in spite of her present degraded position. If circ.u.mstances should prolong our stay in Washington, or in America,--and it is very possible they may do so,--we will only request her to remove to California or Australia, or some distant region, where she may live in desirable obscurity, and not run the risk of being brought into even _accidental_ contact with us."

"No,--no!" exclaimed Bertha, vehemently. "We shall not lose her again,--we must not! _You_ may all discard her, but _I_ will not! I will always acknowledge her, and I must see her! She is dearer to me than ever; I will not be separated from her!"

Did Bertha see the look of admiration with which M. de Bois contemplated her as she uttered these words?

The countess asked in an imperious tone,--

"Bertha, have you wholly forgotten yourself? I will never permit this intercourse,--I forbid it! If _you_ are willing to brave my displeasure, I presume Madeleine, ungrateful as she has proved herself to be, for the protection I granted her during three years, will not so wholly forget her debt as to disregard my command."

How often Madeleine had been reminded of that debt which her services at the Chateau de Gramont had cancelled a hundred times over!

Before she could respond to her aunt's remark, Bertha went on,--

"You do not comprehend my plan, aunt. Madeleine, of course, must give up her present occupation; there is no need of her pursuing it; I am rich enough for both. She shall live with me and share my fortune. Madeleine, you will not refuse me this? For nearly five years I have mourned over our separation, and wasted my life in the vain hope of seeing you again.

You would be ashamed of me if you knew in what a weak, frivolous, idle manner, I have pa.s.sed my days, while you were working so unceasingly, and with such grand results. I shall never learn to make good use of my hours except under your guidance. Long before I reached my majority I looked forward gladly to the time when I should be a free agent and could share my _fortune_ with you. My aunt knows that I communicated my intention to her before you left the Chateau de Gramont. And now, Madeleine, my own best Madeleine,--you will let the dream of my life become a reality,--will you not? Say yes, I implore you!"

Bertha had spoken with such genuine warmth and hearty earnestness that a colder nature than Madeleine's must have been melted. She folded the generous girl tenderly and silently in her arms, and, after a pause, which the countenance of her aunt made her aware that the proud lady was on the eve of breaking, answered, sadly,--

"It was worth suffering all I endured, Bertha, to have your friendship tested through this fiery ordeal, and to know that your heart cannot be divided by circ.u.mstances from mine. But your too liberal offer I cannot accept; the path I have marked out I must pursue until I reach the goal which I am nearing. An incompleteness in the execution of my deliberate plans would render me more miserable than I am to-day in being cast off by my own family."

"Do not speak such cruel words," returned Bertha. "They do not cast you off; that is, _I_ do not, and never will; and I am sure"--

She turned to look at Maurice, who had stood silent through the whole scene, leaning upon the mantel-piece, his head still resting on his hand, and his eyes fixed upon Madeleine. His mind was too full of conflicting emotions for him to speak; above all other images rose that of the being whom Madeleine had declared she loved. Did she love him still? Was he here? Did he know her condition? Was M. de Bois, whom she had entrusted with her secret,--M. de Bois, who had protected and aided her,--the object of her preference? Maurice could not answer these torturing questions, and the happiness of once more beholding the one whom he had so long fruitlessly sought, made him feel as though he were pa.s.sing through a strange, wild dream, which, but for _one doubt_, would have been full of ecstasy.

When Bertha appealed to him by her look, he could no longer remain silent.

"You are right, Bertha; Madeleine is to me all that she ever was. I am as proud of her as I have ever been; more proud I could not be! _To renounce her would be as impossible as it has ever been._"

Madeleine, who had appeared so firm and composed up to that moment, trembled violently; her heart seemed to cease its pulsations; a cold tremor ran through her veins; a mist floated before her eyes; exquisite happiness became exquisite pain! She turned, as though about to leave the room, but her feet faltered. In a second, M. de Bois was at her side, and gave her his arm; she took it almost unconsciously. The voice of her aunt restored her as suddenly as a dash of ice-water could have done.

"Your father's commands and mine, then, Maurice, are to have no weight.

We order you to renounce all intercourse with this person, whom we no longer acknowledge as a relative, and you unhesitatingly declare to her, in our very presence, that you disregard our wishes. This, it seems, is the first effect of Mademoiselle de Gramont's renewed influence, which we have before now found so pernicious."

"Do not fear, madame," answered Madeleine; "I will not permit"--

"Make no rash promise, Madeleine,"--interrupted Maurice. "My father's wishes and my grandmother's must ever have weight with me; but when I honestly differ from them in opinion, I trust there is no disrespect in my saying so. Blindly to obey their commands would be to abnegate free agency and self-responsibility."

"I have not forgotten," said the countess, freezingly, "that the first disrespect towards me of which you were guilty was originated by Mademoiselle de Gramont. I perceive that she is again about to create a family feud, and separate father and son, grandmother and grandchild.

All her n.o.ble sentiments and heroic acting have ever this end in view.

During the period that she concealed herself from us she has evidently never lost sight of this great aim of her existence, and has closely calculated events, and bided her time that she might manoeuvre with additional power and certainty. She has not disgraced us enough; she is planning the total downfall of our n.o.ble house, no matter whom it buries in the ruins. It is not sufficient that we have to blush for the _dressmaker_, who would exchange the device graven upon her ancestral arms for that of a scissors and thimble; but she is laboring to bring her disgrace nearer and fasten it more permanently upon us."

M. de Bois, who felt that Madeleine was clinging to his arm, as though her strength was failing, answered for her,--

"The daughter of the Duke de Gramont has not become less n.o.ble, madame, through her n.o.ble industry. She has not brought to her own, or any other cheek, a blush of genuine shame. I, who have watched over her from the hour that she left the Chateau de Gramont, claim the proud privilege of giving this testimony. No d.u.c.h.ess has the right to hold her head higher than the Duke de Gramont's orphan daughter."

Before any one could reply, he led Madeleine from the room, and out of the house. The movement which Maurice and Bertha, at the same moment, made to follow her was arrested by the countess. Before they had recovered themselves, Madeleine was seated in her carriage, and had driven away. M. de Bois was walking rapidly to his hotel.