CHAPTER IV.
ADELE.
Lord Maltravers was reading a book when the door opened and a beautifulgirl with long silky dark hair entered the room.
Her face was sad, and there were traces of tears on her pale cheeks.
Springing forward, she threw herself on her knees before him, andseizing his hand, which she covered with kisses, exclaimed, in pathetictones, "Oh! Arthur, at last I have found you."
"Adele!" he said, while a hectic flush mantled his cheek.
"Yes," she replied. "It is your own Adele, the little girl you vowed tolove; Adele whom you married two years ago in the little French villagein the _Pas de Calais_. Oh, Arthur! how could you desert me?"
"I--I never married you," he answered, stammering a little.
"Indeed you did."
"It was a mock marriage."
"The good _cure_ who united us is alive. He will bear evidence that Iam your wife. I, Adele Bellefontaine, am in reality Lady Maltravers."
"It is false."
"Oh! do not repudiate me, for, darling, I love you," she pleaded. "Ifyou have forgotten me, I can never forget you."
"How did you find me out?"
"I read an account of your duel in the papers; they said you were illand suffering; I walked fifty miles to come and nurse you, because Iwas too poor to ride."
"You shall have money to go home again, foolish girl," said Maltravers.
"I do not want it. All I ask is your love," replied Adele. "Let mehave the sweet privilege of waiting upon you, Arthur. I will be yourservant, your slave. Do not, for heaven's sake, drive me from you."
Maltravers was ill at ease and could not disguise his agitation.
Two years before, as the poor girl had truly said, he had met her in asecluded village, where he was fishing. He had married the poor peasantgirl and then basely deserted her.
Some letters he left behind revealed his true name, and at the firstchance Adele had come to him, to beg once more for that love for whichshe was pining.
It was impossible for him to acknowledge her claim or recognize herbefore his friends, and for a moment he did not know what to do.
His mind, however, was soon made up; he would threaten her, deny herstory, and drive her from him.
"Rise," he exclaimed; "you are an impudent impostor. If you donot instantly quit this room I will have you arrested. It is thecorrectional tribunal which should deal with such creatures as you."
Adele rose to her feet and clasped her head with her hands as if herthrobbing brain would burst.
Could she believe the evidence of her senses?
"My God!" she cried. "He sends me away! Does he not know that I havea heart which will break? Are a man's vows traced upon the sand orwritten in water when he tells a woman he loves her?"
"Go," continued Maltravers, sternly.
For a minute she was completely overwhelmed and stood like one in adream.
"Yes, I will go," she said in a choked voice. "Heaven knows whither!The folks in my village shall never see me again, or know my shame.I said I would go after my husband and bring him back. My father andmother were to prepare a _fete_. That is over. I have been gatheringDead Sea fruit. It has turned to dust in my hand. I trusted a bad manand my punishment is more than I can bear. Yet, the water is near, andthere is one refuge for the weary and heart-broken. Farewell, Arthur.May God forgive you, as does your Adele."
Not a muscle of Maltravers's face moved. He stared coldly at this poorgirl whom he had wronged so infamously and there was an aristocraticsneer on his well-cut lip.
She staggered rather than walked to the door. She descended the stairslike one dazed. The iron had entered into her soul, and those heartswhich have been seared by the burning hand of misfortune can alonesympathize with her.
Adele gained the street. Mechanically she sought the harbor and enteredupon the broad pathway of the long pier. There was a wild desperationin her eyes; her face was lighted up with a half-insane gleam; no tearscame to her relief. At times a choking sob broke in her throat--thiswas the only evidence of feeling that she gave vent to.
A drizzling rain was falling which kept away the usual promenaders onthe pier. The tide was flood and several vessels were sailing out ofthe harbor.
She paid no attention to anything, seeming to be absorbed in hermisery. Her eyes became fixed and glassy. Occasionally she moaned as ifin pain, and pressed her hand to her side to still the beating of herheart.
When the end of the pier was reached, she stopped, raised her eyes toheaven and her lips moved as if in silent prayer.
Then she sprung lightly over the parapet and fell into the foaming sea,whose waves were beating in clouds of spray against the wooden supportsof the pier.
A large merchantman was passing out of the harbor at the time with allsails set, and the rash act of the poor suicide was witnessed by thesailors on the deck.
Without a moment's hesitation one gallant fellow jumped overboard andswam toward the drowning girl.
He succeeded in reaching her as she was about to sink, and held her up,until a boat from his ship came to her rescue.
Adele and her brave preserver were picked up and conveyed to thevessel, she being in a dead faint.
"Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the sailor, as his eyes fell more closely uponthe girl's features. "It is Adele Bellefontaine, from my village of St.Ange, just as sure as my name is Jacques Belot and she was the onlygirl I ever loved, until she married that scoundrelly Englishman, whodeserted her. If it had not been for Adele, here, I should never havegone to sea."
"What are we to do with her?" asked the captain. "The wind and tide areagainst us and it is bad luck to put back."
"Take her with us, captain," said Jacques, who was a fine, handsomeyoung sailor.
"It is bad luck to have a would-be suicide on board," remarked theboatswain.
"Ah! bah! you old croaker," replied Jacques. "How do you know the girlintended to kill herself?"
"I saw her deliberately jump into the sea."
"And I saw her blown over the side of the pier, by the wind."
The sailors laughed at this sally, which encouraged Jacques. "Won't youtake her to New York, captain?" he continued.
"Yes," replied the captain, good-naturedly, "I suppose I may as well.She will be a companion to my wife. Carry her below, friend Jacques,but mind you don't get so dazzled by the girl's pretty eyes, as toneglect your duty. Take her away."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered Jacques, who raised Adele's slender form in hisarms and transported her to the captain's cabin.
The skipper's wife was glad of a companion and at once proceeded torestore her to consciousness, while Jacques related the affair.
When Adele opened her eyes she looked wildly around her and murmured:"Is this death?"
"No, deary," replied the captain's wife, "this is life. You were savedby Jacques here."
"Oh! let me die."
"What for, child? You are young and pretty. Life should have its charmsfor you."
"I have seen him and he drove me from him. He says I have no claim onhim and threatened me with the police. Oh! it has broken my heart."
She burst into a paroxysm of bitter tears, but they relieved theovercharged fountains of her soul.
"It will do her good," exclaimed her kind protectress.
Jacques Belot gnashed his teeth.
"She said 'he' and she has seen him," he muttered. "I know what itmeans well enough. That vile Englishman has gone back on her. I haveseen him, I can recall his face like a book. He is a lord, they say;his name is Maltravers. You see I forget nothing. We shall meet oneday, and it seems to me that there will be a little account for me tosquare with Mr. Englishman--_sacre-e-e_!"
Presently Adele recognized Jacques, and greeted him as an old friend,but not as a former lover.
To him and the captain's wife she related her story, gaining muchsympathy from them.
"Forget this milor'," said the captain's wife.
"Impossible," rejoined Adel
e.
"He is unworthy of you. Go to America and marry this brave fellow wholoves you and has saved your life."
Adele shook her head sadly.
"Madame," she replied, "though I am deserted, I cannot fail torecollect that I am the legal wife of Lord Maltravers."
"At least promise that you will not again attempt to commit suicide."
"I promise."
With that they were obliged to be content and so the good ship _NotreDame de Calais_ sailed along the English Channel and out into thestorms of the broad Atlantic.