CHAPTER VI.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.--CONJECTURE AND ANTICIPATION.
THE day for the public solemnization of our marriage was at lengthappointed. In fact, the plan for the future that appeared to me mostpromising was to proffer my services to some foreign court, and that ofRussia held out to me the greatest temptation. I was therefore anxious,as soon as possible, to conclude the rite of a second or publicnuptials, and I purposed leaving the country within a week afterwards.My little lawyer assured me that my suit would go on quite as well inmy absence, and whenever my presence was necessary he would be sureto inform me of it. I did not doubt him in the least--it is a charmingthing to have confidence in one's man of business.
Of Montreuil I now saw nothing; but I accidentally heard that he was ona visit to Gerald, and that the latter had already made the old wallsring with premature hospitality. As for Aubrey, I was in perfectignorance of his movements; and the unsatisfactory shortness of hislast letter, and the wild expressions so breathing of fanaticism in thepostscript, had given me much anxiety and alarm on his account. I longedabove all to see him, to talk with him over old times and our futureplans, and to learn whether no new bias could be given to a temperamentwhich seemed to lean so strongly towards a self-punishing superstition.It was about a week before the day fixed for my public nuptials that Ireceived at last from him the following letter:--
MY DEAREST BROTHER,--I have been long absent from home,--absent onaffairs on which we will talk hereafter. I have not forgotten you,though I have been silent, and the news of my poor uncle's death hasshocked me greatly. On my arrival here I learned your disappointment andyour recourse to law. I am not so much surprised, though I am asmuch grieved as yourself, for I will tell you now what seemed to meunimportant before. On receiving your letter, requesting consent to yourdesigned marriage, my uncle seemed greatly displeased as well as vexed,and afterwards he heard much that displeased him more; from what quartercame his news I know not, and he only spoke of it in innuendoes andangry insinuations. As far as I was able I endeavoured to learn hismeaning, but could not, and to my praises of you I thought latterly heseemed to lend but a cold ear; he told me at last, when I was about toleave him, that you had acted ungratefully to him, and that he shouldalter his will. I scarcely thought of this speech at the time, or ratherI considered it as the threat of a momentary anger. Possibly, however,it was the prelude to that disposition of property which has so woundedyou: I observe, too, that the will bears date about that period. Imention this fact to you; you can draw from it what inference you will:but I do solemnly believe that Gerald is innocent of any fraud towardsyou.
I am all anxiety to hear whether your love continues. I beseech you towrite to me instantly and inform me on that head as on all others. Weshall meet soon.
Your ever affectionate Brother,
AUBREY DEVEREUX.
There was something in this letter that vexed and displeased me: Ithought it breathed a tone of unkindness and indifference, whichmy present circumstances rendered peculiarly inexcusable. So far,therefore, from answering it immediately, I resolved not to reply to ittill after the solemnization of my marriage. The anecdote of my unclestartled me a little when I coupled it with the words my uncle had usedtowards myself on his death-bed; namely, in hinting that he had heardsome things unfavourable to Isora, unnecessary then to repeat; but stillif my uncle had altered his intentions towards me, would he not havementioned the change and its reasons? Would he have written to me withsuch kindness, or received me with such affection? I could not believethat he would; and my opinions of the fraud and the perpetrator were nota whit changed by Aubrey's epistle. It was clear, however, that he hadjoined the party against me; and as my love for him was exceedinglygreat, I was much wounded by the idea.
"All leave me," said I, "upon this reverse,--all but Isora!" and Ithought with renewed satisfaction on the step which was about to insureto her a secure home and an honourable station. My fears lest Isorashould again be molested by her persecutor were now pretty well atrest; having no doubt in my own mind as to that persecutor's identity,I imagined that in his new acquisition of wealth and pomp, a boyishand unreturned love would easily be relinquished; and that, perhaps,he would scarcely regret my obtaining the prize himself had soughtfor, when in my altered fortunes it would be followed by such worldlydepreciation. In short, I looked upon him as possessing a characteristiccommon to most bad men, who are never so influenced by love as they areby hatred; and imagined, therefore, that if he had lost the objectof the love, he could console himself by exulting over any decline ofprosperity in the object of the hate.
As the appointed day drew near, Isora's despondency seemed to vanish,and she listened, with her usual eagerness in whatever interested me,to my Continental schemes of enterprise. I resolved that our secondwedding, though public, should be modest and unostentatious, suitablerather to our fortunes than our birth. St. John, and a few old friendsof the family, constituted all the party I invited, and I requestedthem to keep my marriage secret until the very day for celebrating itarrived. I did this from a desire of avoiding compliments intended assarcasms, and visits rather of curiosity than friendship. On flew thedays, and it was now the one preceding my wedding. I was dressing to goout upon a matter of business connected with the ceremony, and I then,as I received my hat from Desmarais, for the first time thought itrequisite to acquaint that accomplished gentleman with the rite ofthe morrow. Too well bred was Monsieur Desmarais to testify any othersentiment than pleasure at the news; and he received my orders anddirections for the next day with more than the graceful urbanity whichmade one always feel quite honoured by his attentions.
"And how goes on the philosophy?" said I: "faith, since I am about to bemarried, I shall be likely to require its consolations."
"Indeed, Monsieur," answered Desmarais, with that expression ofself-conceit which was so curiously interwoven with the obsequiousnessof his address, "indeed, Monsieur, I have been so occupied of late inpreparing a little powder very essential to dress, that I have not hadtime for any graver, though not perhaps more important, avocations."
"Powder--and what is it?"
"Will Monsieur condescend to notice its effect?" answered Desmarais,producing a pair of gloves which were tinted of the most delicateflesh-colour; the colouring was so nice, that when the gloves were on,it would have been scarcely possible, at any distance, to distinguishthem from the naked flesh.
"'Tis a rare invention," said I.
"Monsieur is very good, but I flatter myself it is so," rejoinedDesmarais; and he forthwith ran on far more earnestly on the meritsof his powder than I had ever heard him descant on the beauties ofFatalism. I cut him short in the midst of his harangue: too mucheloquence in any line is displeasing in one's dependant.
I had just concluded my business abroad, and was returning homewardwith downcast eyes and in a very abstracted mood, when I was suddenlystartled by a loud voice that exclaimed in a tone of surprise:"What!--Count Devereux,--how fortunate!"
I looked up, and saw a little dark man, shabbily dressed; his face didnot seem unfamiliar to me, but I could not at first remember where I hadseen it: my look, I suppose, testified my want of memory, for he said,with a low bow,--
"You have forgotten me, Count, and I don't wonder at it; so please you,I am the person who once brought you a letter from France to DevereuxCourt."
At this, I recognized the bearer of that epistle which had embroiledme with the Abbe Montreuil. I was too glad of the meeting to show anycoolness in my reception of the gentleman, and to speak candidly, Inever saw a gentleman less troubled with _mauvaise honte_.
"Sir!" said he, lowering his voice to a whisper, "it is most fortunatethat I should thus have met you; I only came to town this morning, andfor the sole purpose of seeking you out. I am charged with a packet,which I believe will be of the greatest importance to your interests.But," he added, looking round, "the streets are no proper place formy communication; _parbleu_, there are those about who hea
r whispersthrough stone walls: suffer me to call upon you to-morrow."
"To-morrow! it is a day of great business with me, but I can possiblyspare you a few moments, if that will suffice; or, on the day after,your own pleasure may be the sole limit of our interview."
"_Parbleu_, Monsieur, you are very obliging,--very; but I will tell youin one word who I am and what is my business. My name is Marie Oswald: Iwas born in France, and I am the half-brother of that Oswald who drew upyour uncle's will."
"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed; "is it possible that you know anything ofthat affair?"
"Hush--yes, all! my poor brother is just dead; and, in a word, I amcharged with a packet given me by him on his death-bed. Now, will yousee me if I bring it to-morrow?"
"Certainly; can I not see you to-night?"
"To-night?--No, not well; _parbleu_! I want a little consideration as tothe reward due to me for my eminent services to your lordship. No: letit be to-morrow."
"Well! at what hour? I fear it must be in the evening."
"Seven, _s'il vous plait_, Monsieur."
"Enough! be it so."
And Mr. Marie Oswald, who seemed, during the whole of this shortconference, to have been under some great apprehension of being seen oroverheard, bowed, and vanished in an instant, leaving my mind in a mostmotley state of incoherent, unsatisfactory, yet sanguine conjecture.