Strange Visitors Part 12

Her remarks stung me, and gave, I presume, the favorable turn to my destiny, for I felt the power to undertake a task which I would before have shrunk from.

"I will do my duty in all cases to the best of my ability, madame!" was my brief reply.

"Ah, you do not comprehend, Madame," said Monsieur Pilot, coming briskly to the rescue. "This is a surprise to Mees Reef. My very good friend Monsieur Bristeed has not apprised the young lady of his bounty. I have his commission to purchase for her this establishment, which he is aware you desire to dispose of, Madame. His recommendation of the young lady is surely sufficient."

"The whole establishment?" I asked, with an effort at composure.

"Yes," replied Madame. "I am obliged to start for the West Indies, and must dispose of all. The present instructors are thoroughly competent for their various positions; they merely need a supervisor. You appear young, but I presume experience has fitted you for the office."

"Eminently so, eminently," answered Monsieur Pilot promptly, as if he had been guardian of my reputation for years. "We will consider the arrangements as complete, my clear Madame. I will call tomorrow and close the transaction. _Bon jour_, Madame."

And with rapid strides he hurried me away.

CHAPTER X.

The school became mine. By vigilance and perseverance, I not only retained the pupils Madame had transmitted to my care, but added many thereto.

Monsieur Pilot, lively and friendly, visited me frequently. I liked the little Frenchman; his gaiety served to divert my mind from reflections on the past, which like spectres would sometimes stalk grimly before me when unoccupied, I sought the quiet of my own chamber.

With my increasing success, my pupils' interest fully occupied every moment of my time. Meantime, not a line or word reached me from Bristed Hall. Upon my installment as proprietor of Madame's seminary, I had written to Mr. Bristed, thanking him for his kindness, and informing him that I should take measures to repay the expenditures he had incurred in my behalf, by placing quarterly in the hands of Monsieur Pilot a sum such as I could spare from my income, by means of which I hoped in time to repay my external indebtedness.

The only reply I received to this letter was a peremptory refusal, sent through Monsieur Pilot, to accept any return.

I had been more than a year in my new home. Constant employment had developed my mind, and I flattered myself on having acquired a wisdom and sedateness such as ten years of quiet experience could not have given me.

But of this I was lamentably mistaken.

Of my silly yielding to circ.u.mstances which follow, the reader must not judge too harshly. I was still but an immature woman, not yet twenty; the glamour of youth still hung over me. I craved human love, and took the first that presented itself, just as any other ardent, imaginative girl in my place would have done.

One night late in autumn, when the sharp winds were already giving signals of the coming winter, of leafless trees and frozen ground, feeling the usual sadness which accompanies this season of the year, I walked out upon the piazza in front of the house, looking down upon the street. I thought the keen air would put my blood in more active circulation, and thus dispel from my mind the brown and yellow fancies that filled it as the dying leaves of October strewed the ground.

My pupils had all retired to their rooms, and relieved of my charge, my thoughts were free to recreate. I walked quickly back and forth, drawing in long draughts of the invigorating air, and reviewing the morning's duties. While thus engaged, my attention was arrested by the appearance of a tall man on the opposite side of the street, standing still and watching me. As he caught my startled gaze he lifted his hat and bowed, and before I had time to reflect on his strange proceedings, had crossed the street and was standing on the pavement below.

"Agnes!"

My G.o.d, he called me by name! My blood became like ice. Shaking from head to foot I covered my eyes with my hands, and would have run in, but the whistling wind brought the cry again:

"Agnes! Let me speak with you."

Quick as the words were uttered the dark figure mounted the stone steps, only the little iron railing of the balcony dividing us.

I knew then who it was.

"Will you open the door, or shall I?" said a voice which I remembered too well.

I saw no alternative, without disturbing the neighborhood and betraying myself; so, like a criminal, I stepped softly to the hall and unlocked the door. He came in with a light, free step, and seated himself upon a couch with the ease of an old friend and accomplished gentleman. It was Richard Bristed!

I will not detail what pa.s.sed at this interview. But I fell again under his fascination; his magnetic presence lulled my faculties, and, alas, I must relate that this nocturnal intrusion was followed quickly by others!

He a.s.sumed his old ascendancy over me. The past became like an unpleasant dream in my mind, dimly remembered, but never distinctly recalled.

Occasionally, however, a sharp doubt obtruded itself, and roused me for an instant. One evening I ventured to ask:

"Richard, why are your visits so brief, and made only in the night?"

"Why?" he repeated, as if startled by the suddenness of the question, then adding carelessly: "Because you always have that deuced old fellow, Monsieur Pilot, running here. I am not very jealous, yet it would torment me to meet one who dares raise his thoughts to my Agnes. He wants to marry you. Do dismiss him!"

This conjecture proved true, and I was obliged to give a cold rebuff to the man who had befriended me. It is possible Richard Bristed did not care to be recognized by his brother's agent, but I did not think of this at that time.

CHAPTER XI.

After this affair happened Richard visited me more openly, and my pupils, when by chance they met him, were charmed with the stranger. He was only known as "Mr. Richard." "Call me that, Agnes, I hate the name of Bristed.

Introduce me to your friends as Mr. Richard," he said, and I had done so.

About this time he explained satisfactorily, to my credulous mind, the cause of his sudden retreat from Bristed Hall, and gave me reason to believe that the statements his brother had made concerning him were untrue and evil in design.

"My brother, as you have surely discovered, Agnes, is a cold, proud man, and as I was not his equal in wealth or position he selected an heiress, both old and disagreeable, whom he designed me to marry. Your youth and beauty he intended to appropriate to himself. I feared if I made him acquainted with my purpose to unite myself to you he would frustrate all my wishes, and when I discovered that he knew of my plans, I determined to forestall him by making you my wife that very night. I intended to have gone through the form of marriage, which the next day could have been legalized, for I feared the influence of his wealth and position upon your unsophisticated mind.

"However, you refused to trust me, and I left your room maddened by anger and the fear of losing you.

"I met my brother in the hall-way; he said Herbert was ill, and I accused him of trying to injure the boy that he might defraud me. Sharp words pa.s.sed between us. I left him, and in blind haste mounted my horse, thinking I would ride over to N., a distance of some twenty miles, to get the clergyman of the parish, an intimate friend of mine, to drive with me to the Hall and perform the important ceremony.

"The ride I accomplished in a few hours, but I found my friend absent from home. The excitement and disappointment, added to the severe cold to which I was exposed, broke me down, and I was taken suddenly ill. When I recovered, I returned to Bristed Hall only to find my priceless bird flown, and no clue to be had to her whereabouts.

"As to the tale about Herbert, that is all a _ruse_; he is not my son, and only distantly connected with either of us. He is heir to a considerable estate, and Mr. Bristed is managing so that upon Herbert's decease (and poor child, he cannot live long) the inheritance will fall to his lot."

Such was his version of the story, and as I loved him I believed it willingly.

CHAPTER XII.

In his gay society the winter pa.s.sed quickly. With the opening spring he departed--on business, as he said. I felt his loss, but as it was a busy time with me it did not affect me as it otherwise would have done. Many changes were being made in my seminary. I was obliged to employ workmen to add new dormitories to the great house, for pupils were crowding in from every point.

The reputation of the school was growing; I was immersed in business.

Some months elapsed; I ceased to hear from Richard, almost to think of him, amid the activity of the spring term.

"Circ.u.mstances," some say, "are the Devil," and I almost believe that saying. While employed I was happy, my mind well balanced and energetic; but unfortunately for me, summer vacation drew near. It came finally; a sultry sun, parched earth, and scorched verdure made life in the city undesirable. My pupils fled to the country and to their homes until the fall session, and I was left alone. Even my servants were absent, all save one.

Shut up in the empty mansion alone with my own thoughts, I was growing morbidly lonesome.