more so," said the man, promptly, and raising his head.
"What I wish to know is, whether your desire to go is connected with SirWynston and his servant?" said Mrs. Marston.
The man hesitated, and shifted his position uneasily.
"You need not answer, Merton, if you don't wish it," she said kindly.
"Why, ma'am, yes, it has something to say to them both," he replied, withsome agitation.
"I really cannot understand this," said she.
Merton hesitated for some time, and appeared much troubled. "It wassomething, ma'am--something that Sir Wynston's man said to me; and thereit is out," he said at last, with an effort.
"Well, Merton," said she, "I won't press you further; but I must say,that as this communication, whatever it may be, has caused you,unquestionably, very great uneasiness, it seems to me but probable thatit affects the safety or the interests of some person--I cannot say ofwhom; and, if so, there can be no doubt that it is your duty to acquaintthose who are so involved in the disclosure, with its purport."
"No, ma'am, there is nothing in what I heard that could touch anybody butmyself. It was nothing but what others heard, without remarking it, orthinking about it. I can't tell you anymore, ma'am; but I am veryunhappy, and uneasy in my mind."
As the man said this, he began to weep bitterly.
The idea that his mind was affected now seriously occurred to Mrs.Marston, and she resolved to convey her suspicions to her husband, and toleave him to deal with the case as to him should seem good.
"Don't agitate yourself so, Merton; I shall speak to your master uponwhat you have said; and you may rely upon it, that no surmise to theprejudice of your character has entered my mind," said Mrs. Marston,very kindly.
"Oh, ma'am, you are too good," sobbed the poor man, vehemently. "Youdon't know me, ma'am; I never knew myself till lately. I am a miserableman. I am frightened at myself, ma'am--frightened terribly. Christ knows,it would be well for me I was dead this minute."
"I am very sorry for your unhappiness, Merton," said Mrs. Marston; "and,especially, that I can do nothing to alleviate it; I can but speak, as Ihave said, to your master, and he will give you your discharge, andarrange whatever else remains to be done."
"God bless you, ma'am," said the servant, still much agitated, and lefther.
Mr. Marston usually passed the early part of the day in active exercise,and she, supposing that he was, in all probability, at that moment farfrom home, went to "mademoiselle's" chamber, which was at the other endof the spacious house, to confer with her in the interval upon thestrange application thus urged by poor Merton.
Just as she reached the door of Mademoiselle de Barras's chamber, sheheard voices within exerted in evident excitement. She stopped inamazement. They were those of her husband and mademoiselle. Startled,confounded, and amazed, she pushed open the door, and entered. Herhusband was sitting, one hand clutched upon the arm of the chair heoccupied, and the other extended, and clenched, as it seemed, with theemphasis of rage, upon the desk that stood upon the table. His face wasdarkened with the stormiest passions, and his gaze was fixed upon theFrenchwoman, who was standing with a look half-guilty, half-imploring,at a little distance.
There was something, to Mrs. Marston, so utterly unexpected, and even soshocking, in this tableau, that she stood for some seconds pale andbreathless, and gazing with a vacant stare of fear and horror from herhusband to the French girl, and from her to her husband again. The threefigures in this strange group remained fixed, silent, and aghast, forseveral seconds. Mrs. Marston endeavored to speak; but, though her lipsmoved, no sound escaped her; and, from very weakness, she sank,half-fainting, into a chair.
Marston rose, throwing, as he did so, a guilty and furious glance at theyoung Frenchwoman, and walked a step or two toward the door; hehesitated, however, and turned, just as mademoiselle, bursting intotears, threw her arms round Mrs. Marston's neck, and passionatelyexclaimed, "Protect me, madame, I implore, from the insults andsuspicions of your husband."
Marston stood a little behind his wife, and he and the governessexchanged a glance of keen significance, as the latter sank, sobbing,like an injured child into its mother's embrace, upon the poor lady'stortured bosom.
"Madame, madame! he says--Mr. Marston says--I have presumed to give youadvice, and to meddle, and to interfere; that I am endeavoring to makeyou despise his authority. Madame, speak for me. Say, madame, have I everdone so?--say, madame, am I the cause of bitterness and contumacy? Ah,mon Dieu! c'est trop--it is too much, madame. I shall go--I must go,madame. Why, ah! why, did I stay for this?"
As she thus spoke, mademoiselle again burst into a paroxysm of weeping,and again the same significant glance was interchanged.
"Go; yes, you shall go," said Marston, striding toward the window. "Iwill have no whispering or conspiring in my house: I have heard of yourconfidences and consultations. Mrs. Marston, I meant to have done thisquietly," he continued, addressing his wife; "I meant to have givenMademoiselle de Barras my opinion and her dismissal without yourassistance; but it seems you wish to interpose. You are sworn friends,and never fail one another, of course, at a pinch. I take it for grantedthat I owe your presence at our interview which I am resolved shall be,as respects mademoiselle, a final one, to a message from that intriguingyoung lady--eh?"
"I have had no message, Richard," said Mrs. Marston; "I don'tknow--do tell me, for God's sake, what is all this about?" And asthe poor lady thus spoke, her overwrought feelings found vent in aviolent flood of tears.
"Yes, madame, that is the question. I have asked him frequently what isall this anger, all these reproaches about; what have I done?" interposedmademoiselle, with indignant vehemence, standing erect, and viewingMarston with a flashing eye and a flushed cheek. "Yes, I am calledconspirator, meddler, intrigant. Ah, madame, it is intolerable."
"But what have I done, Richard?" urged the poor lady, stunned andbewildered; "how have I offended you?"
"Yes, yes," continued the Frenchwoman, with angry volubility, "what hasshe done that you call contumacy and disrespect? Yes, dear madame, thereis the question; and if he cannot answer, is it not most cruel to call meconspirator, and spy, and intrigant, because I talk to my dear madame,who is my only friend in this place?"
"Mademoiselle de Barras, I need no declamation from you; and, pardon me,Mrs. Marston, nor from you either," retorted he; "I have my informationfrom one on whom I can rely; let that suffice. Of course you are bothagreed in a story. I dare say you are ready to swear you never so much ascanvassed my conduct, and my coldness and estrangement--eh? These are thewords, are not they?"
"I have done you no wrong, sir; madame can tell you. I am nomischief-maker; no, I never was such a thing. Was I, madame?" persistedthe governess--"bear witness for me?"
"I have told you my mind, Mademoiselle de Barras," interrupted Marston;"I will have no altercation, if you please. I think, Mrs. Marston, wehave had enough of this; may I accompany you hence?"
So saying, he took the poor lady's passive hand, and led her from theroom. Mademoiselle stood in the center of the apartment, alone, erect,with heaving breast and burning cheek--beautiful, thoughtful, guilty--thevery type of the fallen angelic. There for a time, her heart allconfusion, her mind darkened, we must leave her; various courses beforeher, and as yet without resolution to choose among them; a lost spirit,borne on the eddies of the storm; fearless and self-reliant, but with nostar to guide her on her dark, malign, and forlorn way.
Mrs. Marston, in her own room, reviewed the agitating scene through whichshe had just been so unexpectedly carried. The tremendous suspicionwhich, at the first disclosure of the tableau we have described, smotethe heart and brain of the poor lady with the stun of a thunderbolt, hadbeen, indeed, subsequently disturbed, and afterwards contradicted; butthe shock of her first impression remained still upon her mind and heart.She felt still through every nerve the vibrations of that maddeningterror and despair which had overcome her senses for a moment. Thesurprise, the shock, the horror, outl
ived the obliterating influence ofwhat followed. She was in this agitation when Mademoiselle de Barrasentered her chamber, resolved with all her art to second and support thesuccess of her prompt measures in the recent critical emergency. She hadcome, she said, to bid her dear madame farewell, for she was resolved togo. Her own room had been invaded, that insult and reproach might beheaped upon her; how utterly unmerited Mrs. Marston knew. She had beencalled by every foul name which applied to the spy and the maligner; shecould not bear it. Some one had evidently been endeavoring to procure herremoval, and had but too effectually succeeded. Mademoiselle wasdetermined to go early the next morning; nothing should