Kate Danton, or, Captain Danton's Daughters Part 50

My Darling Virginie:--When you read this, we shall have parted--perhaps forever. My pet, I am married! To-day, when I drove away, it was not to call on Mrs. Major Forsyth, but be married. Oh, my dearest, dearest Virginie, I am so happy, so blessed--so--so--oh! I can't tell you of my unutterable joy! I am going away to-night, in half an hour. I shall kiss you good-bye as you sleep. In a day or two I leave Canada forever, to be happy, beyond the power of words to describe, in another land. Adieu, my pet. If we never meet, don't forget your happy, happy Rose.

[Miss Grace Danton to Doctor Frank Danton.]

Danton Hall, May 21, 18--.

My Dear Frank:--Do you recollect your last words to me as you left St. Croix: "Write to me, Grace. I think you will have news to send me before long." Had you, as I had, a presentment of what was to come? My worst forebodings are realized. Rose has eloped.

Reginald Stanford is a villain. They are married. There are no positive proofs as yet, but I am morally certain of the fact. I have long suspected that he admired that frivolous Rose more than he had any right to do, but I hardly thought it would come to this.

Heaven forgive them, and Heaven pity Kate, who loved them both so well! She knows nothing of the matter as yet. I dread the time when the truth will be revealed.

The morning of the 19th brought Captain Danton a letter from Quebec, in a strange hand. It came after breakfast, and I carried it myself into his study. I returned to the dining-room before he opened it, and sat down to work; but in about fifteen minutes the Captain came in, his face flushed, his manner more agitated and excited than I had ever seen it. "Read that," was all that he could say, thrusting the open letter into my hand. No wonder he was agitated. It was from Madam Leblanc, and contained the news that Rose had made a clandestine marriage, and was gone, no one knew where.

Inclosed there was a short and rapturous note from Rose herself, saying that she had been married that day, and was blessed beyond the power of words to describe, and was on the point of leaving Canada forever. She did not give her new name. She said nothing of her husband, but that she loved him pa.s.sionately. There was but one name mentioned in the letter, that of a Mrs. Major Forsyth, whom she left home ostensibly to visit.

From the moment I read the letter, I had no doubt to whom she was married. Three days after Rose's departure for Quebec, Mr. Stanford left us for Montreal. He was only to be absent a week. The week has nearly expired, and there is no news of him. I knew instantly, as I have said, with whom Rose had run away; but as I looked up, I saw no shadow of a suspicion of the truth in Captain Danton's face.

"What does it mean?" he asked, with a bewildered look. "I can't understand it. Can you?"

There was no use in disguising the truth; sooner or later he must find it out.

"I think I can," I answered. "I believe Rose left here for the very purpose she has accomplished, and not to visit Virginie Leblanc."

"You believe that letter, then?"

"Yes: I fear it is too true."

"But, heavens above! What would she elope for? We were all willing she should marry La Touche."

"I don't think it is with M. La Touche," I said, reluctantly. "I wish it were. I am afraid it is worse than that."

He stood looking at me, waiting, too agitated to speak. I told him the worst at once.

"I am afraid it is with Reginald Stanford."

"Grace," he said, looking utterly confounded, "what do you mean?"

I made him sit down, and told him what perhaps I should have told him long ago, my suspicions of that young Englishman. I told him I was certain Rose had been his daily visitor during those three weeks' illness up the village; that she had been pa.s.sionately in love with him from the first, and that he was a villain and a traitor. A thousand things, too slight to recapitulate, but all tending to the same end, convinced me of it. He was changeful by nature. Rose's pretty piquant beauty bewitched him; and this was the end.

"I hope I may be mistaken," I said; "for Kate's sake I hope so, for she loves him with a love of which he is totally unworthy; but, I confess, I doubt it."

I cannot describe to you the anger of Captain Danton, and I pray I may never witness the like again. When men like him, quiet and good-natured by habit, do get into a pa.s.sion, the pa.s.sion is terrible indeed.

"The villain!" he cried, through his clenched teeth. "The cruel villain! I'll shoot him like a dog!"

I was frightened. I quail even now at the recollection, and the dread of what may come. I tried to quiet him, but in vain; he shook me off like a child.

"Let me, alone, Grace!" he said, pa.s.sionately. "I shall never rest until I have sent a bullet through his brain!"

It was then half-past eleven; the train for Montreal pa.s.sed through St. Croix at twelve. Captain Danton went out, and ordered round his gig, in a tone that made the stable-boy stare. I followed him to his room, and found him putting his pistols in his coat-pocket. I asked him where he was going, almost afraid to speak to him, his face was so changed.

"To Montreal first," was his answer; "to look for that matchless scoundrel; afterwards to Quebec, to blow out his brains, and those of my shameful daughter!"

I begged, I entreated, I cried. It was all useless. He would not listen to me; but he grew quieter.

"Don't tell Kate," he said. "I won't see her; say I have gone upon business. If I find Stanford in Montreal, I will come back. Rose may go to perdition her own way. If I don't--" He paused, his face turning livid. "If I don't, I'll send you a despatch to say I have left for Quebec."

He ran down-stairs without saying good-bye, jumped into the gig, and drove off. I was so agitated that I dared not go down stairs when luncheon-hour came. Eeny came up immediately after, and asked me if I was ill. I pleaded a headache as an excuse for remaining in my room all day, for I dreaded meeting Kate. Those deep, clear eyes of hers seem to have a way of reading one's very thoughts, and seeing through all falsehoods. Eeny's next question was for her father. I said he had gone to Montreal on sudden business, and I did not know when he would return--probably soon.

She went down-stairs to tell Kate, and I kept my chamber till the afternoon. I went down to dinner, calm once more. It was unspeakably dull and dreary, we three alone, where a few days ago we were so many. No one came all evening, and the hours wore away, long, and lonely, and silent. We were all oppressed and dismal. I hardly dared to look at Kate, who sat playing softly in the dim piano-recess.

This morning brought me the dreaded despatch. Captain Danton had gone to Quebec; Mr. Stanford was not in Montreal.

I cannot describe to you how I pa.s.sed yesterday. I never was so miserable in all my life. It went to my heart to see Kate so happy and busy with the dressmakers, giving orders about those wedding-garments she is never to wear. It was a day of unutterable wretchedness, and the evening was as dull and dreary as its predecessor. Father Francis came up for an hour, and his sharp eyes detected the trouble in my face. I would have told him if Kate had not been there; but it was impossible, and I had to prevaricate.

This morning has brought no news; the suspense is horrible. Heaven help Kate! I can write no more.

Your affectionate sister,

Grace Danton

[Lieutenant R. R. Stanford to Major Lauderdale.]

Quebec, May 17.

Dear Lauderdale:--The deed is done, the game is up, the play is played out--Reginald Reinecourt Stanford is a married man.

You have read, when a guileless little chap in roundabouts, "The Children of the Abbey," and other tales of like kidney. They were romantic and sentimental, weren't they? Well, old fellow, not one of them was half so romantic or sentimental as this marriage of mine. There were villains in them, too--Colonel Belgrave, and so forth--black-hearted monsters, without one redeeming trait. I tell you, Lauderdale, none of these unmitigated rascals were half so bad as I am. Think of me at my worst, a scoundrel of the deepest dye, and you will about hit the mark. My dear little, pretty little Rose is not much better; but she is such a sweet little sinner, that--in short, I don't want her to reform. I am in a state of indescribable beat.i.tude, of course--only two days wedded--and immersed in the joys of _la lune de miel_. Forsyth--you know Forsyth, of "Ours"--was my aider and abettor, accompanied by Mrs. F. He made a runaway match himself, and is always on hand to help fellow-sufferers; on the ground, I suppose, that misery loves company.

To-morrow we sail in the Amphitrite for Southampton. It won't do to linger, for my papa-in-law is a dead shot. When I see you, I'll tell you all about it. Until then, adieu and _au revoir_.

Reginald Stanford.

[Mrs. Reginald Stanford to Grace Danton.]

Quebec, May 18.

Dear Mamma Grace:--I suppose, before this, you have heard the awful news that my Darling Reginald and I got married. Wouldn't I like to see you as you read this? Don't I know that virtuous scowl of yours so well, my precious mamma-in-law? Oh, you dear old prude, it's so nice to be married, and Reginald is an angel! I love him so much, and I am so happy; I never was half so happy in my life.

I suppose Madame Leblanc sent you the full, true, and particular account of my going on. Poor old soul! What a rare fright she must have got when she found out I was missing. And Virginie, too.

Virginie was so jealous to think I was going to be married before her, as if I would ever have married that insipid Jules. How I wish my darling Reginald had his fortune; but fortune or no fortune, I love him with all my heart, and am going to be just as happy as the day is long.

I dare-say Kate is furious, and saying all kinds of hard things about me. It is not fair if she is. I could not help Reginald's liking me better than her, and I should have died if I had not got him. There! I feel very sorry for her, though; I know how I should feel if I lost him, and I dare say she feels almost as bad. Let her take Jules. Poor Jules, I expect he will break his heart, and I shall be shocked and disappointed if he does not. Let her take him.

He is rich and good-looking; and all those lovely wedding-clothes will not go to waste. Ah! how sorry I am to leave them behind; but it can't be helped. We are off to-morrow for England. I shall not feel safe until the ocean is between us and papa. I suppose papa is very angry; but where is the use? As long as Reginald marries one of his daughters, I should think the particular one would be immaterial.

I am sorry I cannot be present at your wedding, Grace; I give you _carte blanche_ to wear all the pretty things made for Mrs. Jules La Touche, if they will fit you. Tell poor Jules, when he comes, that I am sorry; but I loved Reginald so much that I could not help it. Isn't he divinely handsome, Grace? If he knew I was writing to you, he would send his love, so take it for granted.