The Lily and the Cross Part 5

CHAPTER V.

A STRANGE REVELATION.

The old Count Laborde had been too much weakened by suffering and privation to recover very rapidly. For a few days he spent most of his time reclining upon a couch in the little cabin, where Mimi devoted herself to him with the tenderest care. At times she would come upon deck at the urgent request of her father, and then Claude would devote himself to her with still more tender care. The old man did not take much notice of surrounding things. He lay most of the time with his eyes closed, in a half-dreamy state, and it was only with an effort that he was able to rouse himself to speak. He took no notice whatever of any one but his daughter. Cazeneau made several efforts to engage his attention, but he could not be roused.

Thus there were short intervals, on successive days, when Claude was able to devote himself to Mimi, for the laudable purpose of beguiling the time which he thought must hang heavy on her hands. He considered that as he was in some sort the master of the schooner, these strangers were all his guests, and he was therefore bound by the sacred laws of hospitality to make it as pleasant for them as possible. Of course, also, it was necessary that he should exert his hospitable powers most chiefly for the benefit of the lady; and this necessity he followed up with very great spirit and a.s.siduity.

By the conversation which he had already had with her, it will be seen that they had made rapid advances towards intimacy. Claude was eager to extend this advance still farther, to take her still more into his confidence, and induce her to take him into hers. He was very eager to tell her all about himself, and the nature of his present voyage; he was still more eager to learn from her all that she might know about the Montresor family. And thus he was ever on the lookout for her appearance on deck.

These appearances were not so frequent as he desired; but Mimi's devotion to her father kept her below most of the time. At such times Claude did the agreeable to the other pa.s.sengers, with varying success. With the lieutenant he succeeded in ingratiating himself very rapidly; but with Cazeneau all his efforts proved futile. There was about this man a sullen reserve and _hauteur_ which made conversation difficult and friendship impossible. Claude was full of _bonhomie_, good-nature generally, and sociability; but Cazeneau was more than he could endure; so that, after a few attempts, he retired, baffled, vexed at what he considered the other's aristocratic pride.

What was more noticed by him now, was the fact that Pere Michel had grown more reserved with him; not that there was any visible change in the good priest's friendly manner, but he seemed pro-occupied and strangely self-absorbed. And so things went on.

Meantime the schooner can hardly be said to have gone on at all. What with light head winds, and currents, and calms, her progress was but slow. This state of things was very irritating to Zac, who began to mutter something about these rascally Moosoos bringing bad luck, and "he'd be darned if he wouldn't like to know where in blamenation it was all going to end." But as Claude was no longer so good a listener as he used to be, Zac grew tired of talking to empty s.p.a.ce, and finally held his peace. The winds and tides, and the delay, however, made no difference with Claude, nor did it interfere in the slightest with his self-content and self-complacency. In fact, he looked as though he rather enjoyed the situation; and this was not the least aggravating thing in the surroundings to the mind of the impatient skipper.

Thus several days pa.s.sed, and at length Claude had an opportunity of drawing Mimi into another somewhat protracted conversation.

"I am very much obliged to you," said Claude, gayly, "for making your appearance. I have been trying to do the agreeable to your shipmate Cazeneau, but without success. Is he always so amiable? and is he a friend of yours?"

Mimi looked at Claude with a very serious expression as he said this, and was silent for a few minutes.

"He is a friend of papa's," said she at last. "He came out with us--"

"Is he a great friend of yours?" asked Claude.

Mimi hesitated for a moment, and then said,--

"No; I do not like him at all."

Claude drew a long breath.

"Nor do I," said he.

"Perhaps I am doing him injustice," said Mimi, "but I cannot help feeling as though he is in some way connected with dear papa's troubles. I do not mean to say that he is the cause of them. I merely mean that, as far as I know anything about them, it is always in such a way that he seems mixed up with them. And I don't think, either, that his face is very much in his favor, for there is something so harsh and cruel in his expression, that I always wish that papa had chosen some different kind of a person for his friend and confidant."

"Is he all that?" asked Claude.

"O, I suppose so," said Mimi. "They have secrets together, and make, together, plans that I know nothing about."

"Do you suppose," asked Claude, "that you will ever be in any way connected with their plans?"

He put this question, which was a general one, in a very peculiar tone, which indicated some deeper meaning. It seemed as though Mimi understood him, for she threw at him a hurried and half-frightened look.

"Why?" she asked. "What makes you ask such a question as that?"

"O, I don't know," said Claude. "The thought merely entered my mind--perhaps because I dislike him, and suspect him, and am ready to imagine all kinds of evil about him."

Mimi regarded him now with a very earnest look, and said nothing for some time.

"Have you any recollection," she asked, at length, "of ever having seen his face anywhere, at any time, very long ago?"

Claude shook his head.

"Not the slightest," said he. "I never saw him in all my life, or any one like him, till I saw him on the raft. But what makes you ask so strange a question?"

"I hardly know," said Mimi, "except that he seems so in papa's confidence,--and I know that papa's chief trouble arises from some affair that he had with some Montresor,--and I thought--well, I'll tell you what I thought. I thought that, as this Montresor had to leave France--that perhaps he had been followed to America, or sought after; and, as you are a member of that family, you might have seen some of those who were watching the family; and the Count do Cazeneau seemed to be one who might be connected with it. But I'm afraid I'm speaking in rather a confused way; and no wonder, for I hardly know what it is that I do really suspect."

"O, I understand," said Claude; "you suspect that my father was badly treated, and had to leave France, and that this man was at the bottom of it. Well, I dare say he was, and that he is quite capable of any piece of villany; but as to his hunting us in America, I can acquit him of that charge, as far as my experience goes, for I never saw him, and never heard of any one ever being on our track. But can't you tell me something more definite about it? Can't you tell me exactly what you know?"

Mimi shook her head.

"I don't know anything," said she, "except what little I told you--that poor papa's trouble of mind comes from some wrong which he did to some Montresor, who had to go to America. And you may not be connected with that Montresor, after all; but I'm afraid you must be, and that--you--will have to be--poor papa's--enemy."

"Never!" said Claude, vehemently; "never! not if your father--Whatever has happened, I will let it pa.s.s--so far as I am concerned."

"O, you don't know what it is that has happened."

"Neither do you, for that matter; so there now; and for my part I don't want to know, and I won't try to find out, if you think I'd better not."

"I don't dare to think anything about it; I only know that a good son has duties towards his parents, and that he must devote his life to the vindication of their honor."

"Undoubtedly," said Claude, placidly; "but as it happens my parents have never communicated to me any story of any wrongs of theirs, I know very little about them. They never desired that I should investigate their lives; and, as I have never heard of any wrongs which they suffered, I don't see how I can go about to vindicate their honor. I have, by the merest chance, come upon something which excited my curiosity, and made me anxious to know something more. I have had no deeper feeling than curiosity; and if you think that my search will make me an enemy of your father, I hereby give up the search, and decline to pursue it any farther. In fact, I'll fall back upon my old name and rank, and become plain Claude Motier."

Claude tried to speak in an off-hand tone; but his a.s.sumed indifference could not conceal the deep devotion of the look which he gave to Mimi, or the profound emotion which was in his heart. It was for her sake that he thus offered to relinquish his purpose. She knew it and felt it.

"I'm sure," said she, "I don't know what to say to that. I'm afraid to say anything. I don't know what may happen yet; you may at any time find out something which would break through all your indifference, and fill you with a thirst for vengeance. I don't know, and you don't know, what may be--before us. So don't make any rash offers, but merely do as I asked you before; and that is,--while papa is here,--refrain from mentioning this subject to him. It is simply for the sake of his--his peace of mind--and--and--his health. I know it will excite him so dreadfully--that I tremble for the result."

"O, of course," said Claude, "I promise, as I did before. You needn't be at all afraid."

"Would you have any objection," she asked, after a short silence, "to tell me how much you do really know?"

"Of course not," said Claude, with his usual frankness. "I'll tell you the whole story. There isn't much of it. I always believed myself to be the son of Jean Motier, until a short time ago. We lived near Boston, a place that you, perhaps, have heard of. He was always careful to give me the best education that could be had in a colony, and particularly in all the accomplishments of a gentleman. We were both very happy, and lived very well, and I called him father, and he called me son; and so things went on until a few weeks ago. I went off hunting with some British officers, and on my return found the old man dying. The shock to me was a terrible one. At that time I believed that it was my father that I was losing. What made it worse, was the evident fact that there was something on his mind, something that he was longing to tell me; but he could not collect his thoughts, and he could only speak a few broken words. He kept muttering, '_Mon tresor_, _Mon tresor_;' but I thought it was merely some loving words of endearment to me, and did not imagine what they really meant. Still I saw that there was something on his mind, and that he died without being able to tell it."

Claude paused for a moment, quite overcome by his recollections, and Mimi's large dark eyes filled with tears in her deep sympathy with his sorrows.

"Well," said Claude, regaining his composure with an effort, "I'll go on. As soon as he was buried I began to search the papers, partly to see how the business was, and how I was situated in the world; but more for the sake of trying to find out what this secret could be.

There was an old cabinet filled with papers and parcels, and here I began my search. For a long time I found nothing but old business letters and receipts; but at last I found some religious books--with a name written in them. The name was Louise de Montresor. Well, no sooner had I seen this than I at once recollected the words of my father, as I supposed him, which I thought words of endearment--Montresor, Montresor. I saw now that it was the name of a person--of a woman; so this excited me greatly, and I continued the search with greater ardor.

"After a while I came to a drawer in which was a quant.i.ty of gold coins, amounting to over a hundred guineas. In this same drawer was a gold watch; on the back of it were engraved the letters L. D. M., showing that it was evidently the property of this Louise de Montresor. A gold chain was connected with it, upon which was fastened a seal. On this was engraved a griffin rampant, with the motto, _n.o.blesse oblige_.

"Well, after this I found another drawer, in which were several lady's ornaments, and among them was a package carefully wrapped up.

On opening it I found the miniature portrait of a lady, and this lady was the same Louise de Montresor, for her name was written on the back."

"Have you it now?" asked Mimi, with intense interest.