CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
A CHANGE OF QUARTERS.
I was thinking over my short interview with Aurore--congratulatingmyself upon some expressions she had dropped--happy in the anticipationthat such encounters would recur frequently, now that I was able to beabroad--when in the midst of my pleasant reverie the door of myapartment became darkened. I looked up, and beheld the hated face ofMonsieur Dominique Gayarre.
It was his first visit since the morning after my arrival upon theplantation. What could _he_ want with _me_?
I was not kept long in suspense, for my visitor, without evenapologising for his intrusion, opened his business abruptly and at once.
"Monsieur," began he, "I have made arrangements for your removal to thehotel at Bringiers."
"You have?" said I, interrupting him in a tone as abrupt and somethingmore indignant than his own. "And who, sir, may I ask, has commissioned_you_ to take this trouble?"
"Ah--oh!" stammered he, somewhat tamed down by his brusque reception, "Ibeg pardon, Monsieur. Perhaps you are not aware that I am the agent--the friend--in fact, the guardian of Mademoiselle Besancon--and--and--"
"Is it Mademoiselle Besancon's wish that I go to Bringiers?"
"Well--the truth is--not exactly her wish; but you see, my dear sir, itis a delicate affair--your remaining here, now that you are almost quiterecovered, upon which I congratulate you--and--and--"
"Go on, sir!"
"Your remaining here any longer--under the circumstances--would be--youcan judge for yourself, sir--would be, in fact, a thing that would betalked about in the neighbourhood--in fact, considered highly improper."
"Hold, Monsieur Gayarre! I am old enough not to require lessons inetiquette from you, sir."
"I beg pardon, sir. I do not mean that but--I--you will observe--I, asthe lawful guardian of the young lady--"
"Enough, sir. I understand you perfectly. For _your purposes, whateverthey be_, you do not wish me to remain any longer on this plantation.Your desire shall be gratified. I shall leave the place, thoughcertainly not with any intention of accommodating you. I shall go hencethis very evening."
The words upon which I had placed emphasis, startled the coward like agalvanic shock. I saw him turn pale as they were uttered, and thewrinkles deepened about his eyes. I had touched a chord, which hedeemed a secret one, and its music sounded harsh to him. Lawyer-like,however, he commanded himself, and without taking notice of myinsinuation, replied in a tone of whining hypocrisy--
"My dear monsieur! I regret this necessity; but the fact is, you see--the world--the busy, meddling world--"
"Spare your homilies, sir! Your business, I fancy, is ended; at allevents your company is no longer desired."
"Humph!" muttered he. "I regret you should take it in this way--I amsorry--"
And with a string of similar incoherent phrases he made his exit.
I stepped up to the door and looked after, to see which way he wouldtake. He walked direct to the house! I saw him go in!
This visit and its object had taken me by surprise, though I had notbeen without some anticipation of such an event. The conversation I hadoverheard between him and the doctor rendered it probable that suchwould be the result; though I hardly expected being obliged to change myquarters so soon. For another week or two I had intended to stay whereI was. When quite recovered, I should have moved to the hotel of my ownaccord.
I felt vexed, and for several reasons. It chagrined me to think thatthis wretch possessed such a controlling influence; for I did notbelieve that Mademoiselle Besancon had anything to do with my removal.Quite the contrary. She had visited me but a few hours before, and nota word had been said of the matter. Perhaps she might have thought ofit, and did not desire to mention it? But no. This could hardly be. Inoticed no change in her manner during the interview. The samekindness--the same interest in my recovery--the same solicitude aboutthe little arrangements of my food and attendance, were shown by her upto the last moment. She evidently contemplated no change so sudden asthat proposed by Gayarre. Reflection convinced me that the proposal hadbeen made without any previous communication with _her_.
What must be the influence of this man, that he dare thus step betweenher and the rites of hospitality? It was a painful thought to me, tosee this fair creature in the power of such a villain.
But another thought was still more painful--the thought of parting withAurore. Though I did not fancy that parting was to be for ever. No!Had I believed that, I should not have yielded so easily. I should haveput Monsieur Dominique to the necessity of a positive expulsion. Ofcourse, I had no apprehension that by removing to the village I shouldbe debarred from visiting the plantation as often as I felt inclined.Had that been the condition, my reflections would have been painfulindeed.
After all, the change would signify little. I should return as avisitor, and in that character be more independent than as a guest--morefree, perhaps, to approach the object of my love! I could come as oftenas I pleased. The same opportunities of seeing her would still be opento me. I wanted but one--one moment alone with Aurore--and then blissor blighted hopes!
But there were other considerations that troubled me at this moment.How was I to live at the hotel? Would the proprietor believe inpromises, and wait until my letters, already sent off, could beanswered? Already I had been provided with suitable apparel,mysteriously indeed. I awoke one morning and found it by my bedside. Imade no inquiry as to how it came there. That would be anafter-consideration; but with regard to money, how was that to beobtained? Must I become _her_ debtor? Or am I to be under obligationsto Gayarre? Cruel dilemma!
At this juncture I thought of Reigart. His calm, kind face came upbefore me.
"An alternative!" soliloquised I; "he will help me!"
The thought seemed to have summoned him; for at that moment the gooddoctor entered the room, and became the confidant of my wishes.
I had not misjudged him. His purse lay open upon the table; and Ibecame his debtor for as much of its contents as I stood in need of.
"Very strange!" said he, "this desire of hurrying you off on the part ofMonsieur Gayarre. There is something more in it than solicitude for thecharacter of the lady. Something more: what can it all mean?"
The doctor said this partly in soliloquy, and as if searching his ownthoughts for an answer.
"I am almost a stranger to Mademoiselle Besancon," he continued, "else Ishould deem it my duty to know more of this matter. But MonsieurGayarre is her guardian; and if he desire you to leave, it will perhapsbe wiser to do so. _She may not be her own mistress entirely_. Poorthing! I fear there is debt at the bottom of the mystery; and if so,she will be more a slave than any of her own people. Poor young lady!"
Reigart was right. My remaining longer might add to her embarrassments.I felt satisfied of this.
"I am desirous to go at once, doctor."
"My barouche is at the gate, then. You can have a seat in it. I canset you down at the hotel."
"Thanks, thanks! the very thing I should have asked of you, and I acceptyour offer. I have but few preparations to make, and will be ready foryou in a moment."
"Shall I step over to the house, and prepare Mademoiselle for yourdeparture?"
"Be so kind. I believe Gayarre is now there?"
"No. I met him near the gate of his own plantation, returning home. Ithink she is alone. I shall see her and return for you."
The doctor left me, and walked over to the house. He was absent but afew minutes, when he returned to make his report. He was still furtherperplexed at what he had learnt.
Mademoiselle had heard from Gayarre, just an hour before, that _I hadexpressed my intention_ of removing to the hotel! She had beensurprised at this, as I had said nothing about it at our late interview.She would not hear of it at first, but Gayarre had used _arguments_ toconvince her of the policy of such a step; and the doctor, on my part,had also urged it. She had at length, though re
luctantly, consented.Such was the report of the doctor, who further informed me that she waswaiting to receive me.
Guided by Scipio, I made my way to the drawing-room. I found herseated; but upon my entrance she rose, and came forward to meet me withboth hands extended. I saw that _she was in tears_!
"Is it true you intend leaving us, Monsieur?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle; I am now quite strong again. I have come to thankyou for your kind hospitality, and say adieu."
"Hospitality!--ah, Monsieur, you have reason to think it coldhospitality since I permit you to leave us so soon. I would you hadremained; but--" Here she became embarrassed: "but--you are not to be astranger, although you go to the hotel. Bringiers is near; promise thatyou will visit us often--in fact, every day?"
I need not say that the promise was freely and joyfully given.
"Now," said she, "since you have given that promise, with less regret Ican say adieu!"
She extended her hand for a parting salute. I took her fingers in mine,and respectfully kissed them. I saw the tears freshly filling in hereyes, as she turned away to conceal them.
I was convinced she was acting under constraint, and against herinclination, else I should not have been allowed to depart. Hers wasnot the spirit to fear gossip or scandal. Some other _pressure_ wasupon her.
I was passing out through the hall, my eyes eagerly turning in everydirection. Where was _she_? Was I not to have _even a parting word_!
At that moment a side-door was gently opened. My heart beat wildly asit turned upon its hinge. Aurore!
I dare not trust myself to speak aloud. It would have been overheard inthe drawing-room. A look, a whisper, a silent pressure of the hand, andI hurried away; but the return of that pressure, slight and almostimperceptible as it was, fired my veins with delight; and I walked ontowards the gate with the proud step of a conqueror.