Major Frank Part 13

"I don't feel disposed."

"As you like," she said, turning to the instrument and striking the keys as if she would break them.

I took up an old newspaper and pretended to be reading it.

In the end she played a prelude, and then began the air of Bettly in the chalet--

Liberte cherie, Seul bien de la vie, Regne toujours la!

Tra la, la, la, tra la, la, la!

Tant pis pour qui s'en fachera!

I threw aside the paper, and, approaching the piano, I whispered--

"Do you remember how this charming little opera ends?"

"Certainly, like all other pieces suitable for the theatre; but in real life it is just the contrary, and I like reality."

Fritz came to announce supper. The gentlemen were cheerful, the Captain noisy and jovial; Francis only gave short and dry answers, and showed me her ill-humour by only giving me the tips of her fingers when she wished us all good-night.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Unromantic though it may sound, I must confess to having slept well on the first night I spent under the roof of my mother's ancestors. Sleep surprised me whilst I was reflecting on the strange and incomprehensible character of Francis. Proud, generous, n.o.ble-hearted, quick-witted, beautiful--and yet with all her charms (which I could feel had already begun to work upon me) spoilt by a detestable education, by the manners of a sutler and a rudeness of the worst kind. And then, in addition to all this, there was the question of her past life which I had heard painted in such black colours. It seemed doubtful whether Major Frank could ever become Lady Francis van Zonshoven.

When I awoke the sun was streaming through the one window whose shutters I had purposely left open, with the intention of taking an early morning walk. I crept silently down the stairs so as not to awake anybody, but I met Fritz in the vestibule, and he made his military salute in silence. The hall door was wide open. I took the direction of the home-farm, where I hoped to obtain a gla.s.s of new milk, and draw the tenants out a little about the inhabitants of the Castle--one in particular.

I had not gone very far before whom should I see coming from the farm but Francis herself, with a basket of fresh eggs.

After a moment's hesitation I asked--

"Are we again good friends?" For I had an idea she would have taken another path if she had seen me a little sooner.

"I never knew we had ceased to be so," she answered, colouring a little.

"Hem! Towards the close of the evening, in spite of what you may say to the contrary."

"Say, rather, in spite of myself. Believe me, Leo, I was not morose out of caprice; I was troubled and anxious. I saw my manner displeased you, but I was afraid that to flatter grandfather's weakness you were suffering yourself to become his dupe."

"And even in that case I could not permit you to interfere."

"You had told me you were poor, that you must economize, and then to squander your money in such a way in our house--it seemed to me like card-sharping."

"No, no; nothing of the sort. But supposing it had been, you have tact enough to understand that it was beneath my dignity to take the money back."

"That's true, I am of your opinion; but I warned you beforehand that my manners were bad."

"I think it less a question of bad manners than a certain arrogance, a certain despotism----"

"Well, then, pardon the arrogance, the despotism," she said jestingly; "still, if I confess you were in the right and that I deserve correction, will you on your part acknowledge that you are making somewhat too much ado about a little mistake?"

"But you, who are so proud, how can you suppose that a man will consent to be protected by a woman?"

"Again you are right, Leopold; such a man would be like so many others I know."

"Pardon me, Francis; our friendship is like a tender plant, and we must cultivate it so as to prevent its taking a crooked turn."

"If you regard our friendship in such a serious light," she resumed, whilst a slight blush suffused her cheeks, "I will capitulate on condition that our little quarrel of last night be forgotten and forgiven."

I felt myself under the charm again, and seizing her hand in a transport of joy, I covered it with kisses.

"Leo, what are you doing?" she cried, pale and with tears in her eyes.

"Sealing the bond of our friendship."

"Leo, Leo! you know not what you do," she said softly; "you forget to whom you are speaking--I am Major Frank."

"I will have no more of Major Frank; my cousin Francis Mordaunt must suffer me to offer her my arm." And taking her hand again, I gently drew her arm within mine. She submitted in silence, with a singular expression of dejection on her face.

"I feel it will do me good to talk to you for once in this way, though it may be the first and only time. Where are you going, Leo?"

"To the farm yonder; I see you have been there already for eggs; let me carry the basket for you."

"No, thank you. I had not reckoned on the eggs, but the good people insisted upon my taking them; I went to see a patient."

"A patient! Do you play the doctor?"

"I do a little of everything; but the patient in question is a dog, a dear, faithful creature, my poor 'Veldher,' who has broken his leg, and will suffer no one to touch him but myself. Another trouble I have brought on myself; and yet, if the others could be remedied as easily!" she said, with a profound sigh.

She became pale as death, her lips quivered, and, withdrawing her arm from mine, she stood still, covering her face with her hands as if she would force back the tears already rolling down her cheeks. I remained by her side, and after a pause I said, with gentle earnestness--

"Tell me what has happened, Francis; it will be a relief to you and ease your mind."

"Yes," she resumed, calmly, "I must confide my sufferings to some one, but not now. I will not spoil our morning walk by calling up such a frightful scene. I can myself scarcely understand how it is possible that I, who cannot bear to see dumb creatures suffer, have to reproach myself with the death of one of my fellow-men."

"I beseech you to tell me all, trusting in me for my sincerest sympathy."

"Not now," she cried; "what good would it do? It would only embitter the few minutes we have to spend together."

"May I help you with a word it seems to cost you trouble to p.r.o.nounce? Is it not a certain unfortunate incident with regard to your coachman?"