White Lies Part 12

"But such a sweet one," suggested Josephine, apologetically.

"What will the world come to?" said the baroness out loud, and retreated with a sour glance at all of them--except Rose.

She had not been gone five minutes when a letter came by messenger to Edouard. It was from Picard. He read it out.

"Perrin has been with me, to raise money. He wants it in forty-eight hours. Promises good legal security. I have agreed to try and arrange the matter for him."

They were all astonished at this.

"The double-faced traitor!" cried Edouard. "Stay; wait a minute. Let us read it to an end."

"This promise is, of course, merely to prevent his going elsewhere. At the end of the forty-eight hours I shall begin to make difficulties.

Meantime, as Perrin is no fool, you had better profit to the full by this temporary delay."

"Well done, Picard!" shouted Edouard. "Notary cut notary. I won't lose an hour. I'll start at five; Commandant Raynal is an early riser himself."

Accordingly, at five he was on the road; Raynal's quarters lay in the direct line to his uncle's place. He found the commandant at home, and was well received. Raynal had observed his zeal, and liked his manners.

He gave him the week's leave, and kept him to breakfast, and had his horse well fed. At eight o'clock Edouard rode out of the premises in high spirits. At the very gate he met a gaunt figure riding in on a squab pony. It was Perrin the notary coming in hot haste to his friend and employer, Commandant Raynal.

CHAPTER V.

After Edouard's departure, Josephine de Beaurepaire was sad, and weighed down with presentiments. She felt as soldiers sometimes feel who know the enemy is undermining them; no danger on the surface; nothing that can be seen, met, baffled, attacked, or evaded; in daily peril, all the more horrible that it imitates perfect serenity, they await the fatal match. She imparted her misgivings to Aubertin; but he a.s.sured her she exaggerated the danger.

"We have a friend still more zealous and active than our enemy; believe me, your depression is really caused by his absence; we all miss the contact of that young heroic spirit; we are a body, and he its soul."

Josephine was silent, for she said to herself, "Why should I dash their spirits? they are so happy and confident."

Edouard had animated Rose and Aubertin with his own courage, and had even revived the baroness.

It had been agreed between him and Picard that the latter should communicate with Dr. Aubertin direct, should anything fresh occur. And on the third day after Edouard's departure, Picard sent up a private message: "Perrin has just sent me a line to say he will not trouble us, as he is offered the money in another quarter."

This was a heavy blow, and sent them all to bed more or less despondent.

The next day brought a long letter from Edouard to Rose, telling her he had found his uncle crusty at first; but at last with a little patience, and the co-operation of Martha, his uncle's old servant, and his nurse, the old boy had come round. They might look on the affair as all but settled.

The contents of this letter were conveyed to the baroness. The house brightened under it: the more so that there was some hope of their successful champion returning in person next day. Meantime Perrin had applied to Raynal for the immediate loan of a large sum of money on excellent security. Raynal refused plump. Perrin rode away disconsolate.

But the next day he returned to the charge with another proposal: and the nature of this second proposal we shall learn from events.

The day Edouard was expected opened deliciously. It was a balmy morning, and tempted the sisters out before breakfast. They strolled on the south terrace with their arms round each other's waists, talking about Edouard, and wondering whether they should really see him before night.

Rose owned she had missed him, and confessed for the first time she was a proud and happy girl.

"May I tell him so?" asked Josephine.

"Not for all the world. Would you dare?"

Further discussion of that nice point was stopped by the baroness coming out, leaning on Dr. Aubertin.

Then--how we young people of an unceremonious age should have stared--the demoiselles de Beaurepaire, inasmuch as this was their mother's first appearance, lowered their fair heads at the same time like young poplars bowing to the wind, and so waited reverently till she had slightly lifted her hands, and said, "G.o.d bless you, my children!"

It was done in a moment on both sides, but full of grace and piety, and the charm of ancient manners.

"How did our dear mother sleep?" inquired Josephine. Aubertin interposed with a theory that she slept very well indeed if she took what he gave her.

"Ay, IF," suggested Rose, saucily.

"I slept," said the baroness, "and I wish I had not for I dreamed an ugly dream." They all gathered round her, and she told her dream.

"I thought I was with you all in this garden. I was admiring the flowers and the trees, and the birds were singing with all their might. Suddenly a dark cloud came; it cleared almost directly; but flowers, trees, sky, and birds were gone now, and I could see the chateau itself no more. It means that I was dead. An ugly dream, my children, an ugly dream."

"But only a dream, dear mother," said Rose: then with a sweet, consoling smile, "See, here is your terrace and your chateau."

"And here are your daughters," said Josephine; and they both came and kissed her to put their existence out of doubt. "And here is your Aesculapius," said Aubertin. "And here is your Jacintha."

"Breakfast, madame," said Jacintha. "Breakfast, mesdemoiselles.

Breakfast, monsieur:" dropping each a distinct courtesy in turn.

"She has turned the conversation very agreeably," said the baroness, and went in leaning on her old friend.

But the sisters lagged behind and took several turns in silence. Rose was the first to speak. "How superst.i.tious of you!"

"I said nothing."

"No; but you looked volumes at me while mamma was telling her dream. For my part I feel sure love is stronger than hate; and we shall stay all our days in this sweet place: and O Josey! am I not a happy girl that it's all owing to HIM!"

At this moment Jacintha came running towards them. They took it for a summons to breakfast, and moved to meet her. But they soon saw she was almost as white as her ap.r.o.n, and she came open-mouthed and wringing her hands. "What shall I do? what shall I do? Oh, don't let my poor mistress know!"

They soon got from her that Dard had just come from the town, and learned the chateau was sold, and the proprietor coming to take possession this very day. The poor girls were stupefied by the blow.

If anything, Josephine felt it worst. "It is my doing," she gasped, and tottered fainting. Rose supported her: she shook it off by a violent effort. "This is no time for weakness," she cried, wildly; "come to the Pleasaunce; there is water there. I love my mother. What will I not do for her? I love my mother."

Muttering thus wildly she made for the pond in the Pleasaunce. She had no sooner turned the angle of the chateau than she started back with a convulsive cry, and her momentary feebleness left her directly; she crouched against the wall and griped the ancient corner-stone with her tender hand till it powdered, and she spied with dilating eye into the Pleasaunce, Rose and Jacintha panting behind her. Two men stood with their backs turned to her looking at the oak-tree; one an officer in full uniform, the other the human snake Perrin. Though the soldier's back was turned, his off-handed, peremptory manner told her he was inspecting the place as its master.

"The baroness! the baroness!" cried Jacintha, with horror. They looked round, and the baroness was at their very backs.

"What is it?" cried she, gayly.

"Nothing, mamma."

"Let me see this nothing."