CHAPTER V.
When Edmond Greisse was back at Granpere he well remembered hismessage, but he had some doubt as to the expediency of deliveringit. He had to reflect in the first place whether he was quite surethat matters were arranged between Marie and Adrian Urmand. Thestory had been told to him as being certainly true by Peter thewaiter. And he had discussed the matter with other young men, hisassociates in the place, among all of whom it was believed thatUrmand was certainly about to carry away the young woman with whomthey were all more or less in love. But when, on his return toGranpere, he had asked a few more questions, and had found that evenPeter was now in doubt on a point as to which he had before been sosure, he began to think that there would be some difficulty ingiving his message. He was not without some little fear of Marie,and hesitated to tell her that he had spread the report about hermarriage. So he contented himself with simply announcing to herthat George Voss intended to visit his old home.
'Does my uncle know?' Marie asked.
'No;--you are to tell him,' said Greisse.
'I am to tell him! Why should I tell him? You can tell him.'
'But George said that I was to let you know, and that you would tellyour uncle.' This was quite unintelligible to Marie; but it wasclear to her that she could make no such announcement, after theconversation which she had had with her uncle. It was quite out ofthe question that she should be the first to announce George'sreturn, when she had been twice warned on that Sunday afternoon notto think of him. 'You had better let my uncle know yourself,' shesaid, as she walked away. But young Greisse, knowing that he wasalready in trouble, and feeling that he might very probably make itworse, held his peace. When therefore one morning George Vossshowed himself at the door of the inn, neither his father nor MadameVoss expected him.
But his father was kind to him, and his mother-in-law hovered roundhim with demonstrations of love and gratitude, as though much weredue to him for coming back at all. 'But you expected me,' saidGeorge.
'No, indeed,' said his father. 'We did not expect you now any morethan on any other day since you left us.'
'I sent word by Edmond Greisse,' said George. Edmond wasinterrogated, and declared that he had forgotten to give themessage. George was too clever to pursue the matter any farther,and when he first met Marie Bromar, there was not a word saidbetween them beyond what might have been said between any youngpersons so related, after an absence of twelve months. George Vosswas very careful to make no demonstration of affection for a girlwho had forgotten him, and who was now, as he believed, betrothed toanother man; and Marie was determined that certainly no sign of theold love should first be shown by her. He had come back,--perhapsjust in time. He had returned just at the moment in which somethingmust be decided. She had felt how much there was in the little wordwhich she had spoken to her uncle. When a girl says that she willtry to reconcile herself to a man's overtures, she has almostyielded. The word had escaped her without any such meaning on herpart,--had been spoken because she had feared to continue tocontradict her uncle in the full completeness of a positive refusal.She had regretted it as soon as it had been spoken, but she couldnot recall it. She had seen in her uncle's eye and had heard in thetone of his voice for how much that word had been taken;--but it hadgone forth from her mouth, and she could not now rob it of itsmeaning. Adrian Urmand was to be back at Granpere in a few days--inten days Michel Voss had said; and there were those ten days for herin which to resolve what she would do. Now, as though sent fromheaven, George had returned, in this very interval of time. Mightit not be that he would help her out of her difficulty? If he wouldonly tell her to remain single for his sake, she would certainlyturn her back upon her Swiss lover, let her uncle say what he might.She would make no engagement with George unless with her uncle'ssanction; but a word, a look of love, would fortify her against thatother marriage.
George, she thought, had come back a man more to be worshipped thanever, as far as appearance went. What woman could doubt for amoment between two such men? Adrian Urmand was no doubt a prettyman, with black hair, of which he was very careful, with whitehands, with bright small dark eyes which were very close together,with a thin regular nose, a small mouth, and a black moustache,which he was always pointing with his fingers. It was impossible todeny that he was good-looking after a fashion; but Marie despisedhim in her heart. She was almost bigger than he was, certainlystronger, and had no aptitude for the city niceness and POINT-DEVICEfastidiousness of such a lover. George Voss had come back, nottaller than when he had left them, but broader in the shoulders, andmore of a man. And then he had in his eye, and in his beaked nose,and his large mouth, and well-developed chin, that look of command,which was the peculiar character of his father's face, and whichwomen, who judge of men by their feelings rather than theirthoughts, always love to see. Marie, if she would consent to marryAdrian Urmand, might probably have her own way in the house ineverything; whereas it was certain enough that George Voss, whereverhe might be, would desire to have his way. But yet there needed nota moment, in Marie's estimation, to choose between the two. GeorgeVoss was a real man; whereas Adrian Urmand, tried by such acomparison, was in her estimation simply a rich trader in want of awife.
In a day or two the fatted calf was killed, and all went happilybetween George and his father. They walked together up into themountains, and looked after the wood-cutting, and discussed theprospects of the inn at Colmar. Michel was disposed to think thatGeorge had better remain at Colmar, and accept Madame Faragon'soffer. 'If you think that the house is worth anything, I will giveyou a few thousand francs to set it in order; and then you hadbetter agree to allow her so much a year for her life.' He probablyfelt himself to be nearly as young a man as his son; and thenremember too that he had other sons coming up, who would be able tocarry on the house at Granpere when he should be past his work.Michel was a loving, generous-hearted man, and all feeling of angerwith his son was over before they had been together two days. 'Youcan't do better, George,' he said. 'You need not always stay awayfrom us for twelve months, and I might take a turn over themountain, and get a lesson as to how you do things at Colmar. Iften thousand francs will help you, you shall have them. Will thatmake things go straight with you?' George Voss thought the sumnamed would make things go very straight; but as the reader knows,he had another matter near to his heart. He thanked his father; butnot in the joyous thoroughly contented tone that Michel hadexpected. 'Is there anything wrong about it?' Michel said in thatsharp tone which he used when something had suddenly displeased him.
'There is nothing wrong; nothing wrong at all,' said George slowly.'The money is much more than I could have expected. Indeed I didnot expect any.'
'What is it then?'
'I was thinking of something else. Tell me, father; is it true thatMarie is going to be married to Adrian Urmand?'
'What makes you ask?'
'I heard a report of it,' said George. 'Is it true?'
The father reflected a moment what answer he should give. It didnot seem to him that George spoke of such a marriage as though therumour of it had made him unhappy. The question had been askedalmost with indifference. And then the young man's manner to Marie,and Marie's manner to him, during the last two days had made himcertain that he had been right in supposing that they had bothforgotten the little tenderness of a year ago. And Michel hadthoroughly made up his mind that it would be well that Marie shouldmarry Adrian. He believed that he had already vanquished Marie'sscruples. She had promised 'to try and think better of it,' beforeGeorge's return; and therefore was he not justified in regarding thematter as almost settled? 'I think that they will be married,' saidhe to his son.
'Then there is something in it?'
'O, yes; there is a great deal in it. Urmand is very eager for it,and has asked me and her aunt, and we have consented.'
'But has he asked her?'
'Yes; he has done that too,' said Michel.
'And what ans
wer did he get?'
'Well;--I don't know that it would be fair to tell that. Marie isnot a girl likely to jump into a man's arms at the first word. ButI think there is no doubt that they will be betrothed before Sundayweek. He is to be here again on Wednesday.'
'She likes him, then?'
'O, yes; of course she likes him.' Michel Voss had not intended tosay a word that was false. He was anxious to do the best in hispower for both his son and his niece. He thoroughly understood thatit was his duty as a father and a guardian to start them well in theworld, to do all that he could for their prosperity, to feed theirwants with his money, as a pelican feeds her young with blood fromher bosom. Had he known the hearts of each of them, could he haveunderstood Marie's constancy, or the obstinate silent strength ofhis son's disposition, he would have let Adrian Urmand, with hisbusiness and his house at Basle, seek a wife in any other quarterwhere he listed, and would have joined together the hands of these twowhom he loved, with a paternal blessing. But he did not understand.He thought that he saw everything when he saw nothing;--and now he wasdeceiving his son; for it was untrue that Marie had any such 'liking'for Adrian Urmand as that of which George had spoken.
'It is as good as settled, then?' said George, not showing by anytone of his voice the anxiety with which the question was asked.
'I think it is as good as settled,' Michel answered. Before theygot back to the inn, George had thanked his father for his liberaloffer, had declared that he would accede to Madame Faragon'sproposition, and had made his father understand that he must returnto Colmar on the next Monday,--two days before that on which Urmandwas expected at Granpere.
The Monday came, and hitherto there had been no word of explanationbetween George and Marie. Every one in the house knew that he wasabout to return to Colmar, and every one in the house knew that hehad been entirely reconciled to his father. Madame Voss had askedsome question about him and Marie, and had been assured by herhusband that there was nothing in that suspicion. 'I told you fromthe beginning,' said he, 'that there was nothing of that sort. Ionly wish that George would think of marrying some one, now that heis to have a large house of his own over his head.'
George had determined a dozen times that he would, and a dozen timesthat he would not, speak to Marie about her coming marriage,changing his mind as often as it was formed. Of what use was it tospeak to her? he would say to himself. Then again he would resolvethat he would scorch her false heart by one withering word before hewent. Chance at last arranged it for him. Before he started hefound himself alone with her for a moment, and it was almostimpossible that he should not say something. Then he did speak.
'They tell me you are going to be married, Marie. I hope you willbe happy and prosperous.'
'Who tells you so?'
'It is true at any rate, I suppose.'
'Not that I know of. If my uncle and aunt choose to dispose of me,I cannot help it.'
'It is well for girls to be disposed of sometimes. It saves them aworld of trouble.'
'I don't know what you mean by that, George;--whether it is intendedto be ill-natured.'
'No, indeed. Why should I be ill-natured to you? I heartily wishyou to be well and happy. I daresay M. Urmand will make you a goodhusband. Good-bye, Marie. I shall be off in a few minutes. Willyou not say farewell to me?'
'Farewell, George.'
'We used to be friends, Marie.'
'Yes;--we used to be friends.'
'And I have never forgotten the old days. I will not promise tocome to your marriage, because it would not make either of us happy,but I shall wish you well. God bless you, Marie.' Then he put hisarm round her and kissed her, as he might have done to a sister,--asit was natural that he should do to Marie Bromar, regarding her as acousin. She did not speak a word more, and then he was gone!
She had been quite unable to tell him the truth. The manner inwhich he had first addressed her made it impossible for her to tellhim that she was not engaged to marry Adrian Urmand,--that she wasdetermined, if possible, to avoid the marriage, and that she had nolove for Adrian Urmand. Had she done so, she would in so doing haveasked him to come back to her. That she should do this wasimpossible. And yet as he left her, some suspicion of the truth,some half-formed idea of the real state of the man's mind inreference to her, flashed across her own. She seemed to feel thatshe was specially unfortunate, but she felt at the same time thatthere was no means within her reach of setting things right. Andshe was as convinced as ever she had been, that her uncle wouldnever give his consent to a marriage between her and George Voss.As for George himself, he left her with an assured conviction thatshe was the promised bride of Adrian Urmand.