The Span o' Life Part 40

"I am sorry for any family that holds so black a sheep as Sarennes,"

I said, to break the awkward pause that followed.

"His family need know nothing, beyond that he died on the field of battle, a much more desirable fate than he was likely to meet with in France, had he lived; for, believe me, information has gone forward that will insure the trial and, I trust, the punishment of every peculator who has helped to ruin this miserable colony, no matter which way the present crisis may turn."

"Now that we have confidence in each other, may I ask why you never let me know of your presence in Canada?"

"To be frank, I had no desire to awaken old a.s.sociations. So far as I knew the past was a book that had been read and done with.

Nothing was to be gained by reopening it under the same conditions, and I had no reason to suppose they could be altered. Remember it is only now my eyes have been opened, and I see the error of my warped and ignorant judgment. We have travelled a long road, Chevalier, to meet in friends.h.i.+p, and I am glad we can so meet at last. I always regret when my feeling towards an honourable man cannot go beyond mere liking."

"Gaston," I cried, "I never received so handsome a compliment in all my life!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

I MAKE A FALSE MOVE

I can make no pretence to marshal the train of thought that swept through my brain when the priest took his way and left me to myself.

Engrossed as I was with my own affairs, I could not but speculate on the curious chance that had driven him into a life of renunciation and me to one of exile at the same time and for the same cause, and that now brought us together before the woman we both loved.

I use the word advisedly and without any reflection on his integrity; but it would be an insult to my intelligence could I look on his face, worn by suffering and emotion, and mark the tone of his voice, and, most confirmatory of all, the jealous care with which he avoided any mention of her name, and not acknowledge the presence there of the gentlest pa.s.sion that ever refined the soul of man.

He had found abundant opportunity for self-denial and sacrifice in the career he had chosen, but I doubted if he had found either peace or entire resignation. During his interview with General Murray, and especially during his familiar talk with me, I had caught a dozen reflections of his old bearing and manner, and I could not believe he had laid aside all human longings and emotions, however he might refuse to recognise them, when he doffed the outward habit of his cla.s.s for the soutane and shovel hat of the Jesuit. It were childish to think so.

Thus occupied I sate heedless of the hours that went by, until chilled by the change of the day to evening. As I moved slowly towards my quarters, the only result of the hours of solitary thought that remained by me, was that Margaret was unmarried, and that she had come out to meet with me and for this alone.

That same evening I paid my respects to the Superior, la mere do la Nativite, a well-bred woman, who should have graced the world rather than a convent, and to her I proffered my request that I might be allowed to wait upon Mme. de St. Just.

"Most certainly, monsieur, if it be her desire. She is a guest to whom we owe much. If you will permit, I will send and inquire."

In a few moments the sister sent returned with word that Mme. de St. Just would see the Chevalier de Maxwell at eleven the next morning.

"Very well, monsieur, you may then meet her here in the parlour,"

added the Superior, pleasantly, and I bowed my thanks and withdrew.

I spent the night in great unrest, inventing imaginary difficulties when I overthrew those which really existed, picturing the expected interview in a thousand forms, framing and reframing every appeal I should make, and so wore out the night in a fever of consuming antic.i.p.ation.

I was thankful I had been captured while on staff duty; for I had ever made it a practice to dress myself with the most scrupulous attention when going into action, so that death himself might not find me unprepared--and, thanks to this, I was now enabled to make a fitting appearance.

The feeling that I was outwardly prepared went far to rea.s.sure me, and when the time came for my meeting I had banished my uneasy apprehensions of the night, and recovered my habitual confidence.

My sole anxiety was, lest I should fail in conveying an adequate impression of my appreciation of her sacrifice and undertaking for my sake, but when I saw her every doubting fled.

I do not know how she was dressed, beyond that it served but to heighten her queenly beauty; which, rare as I remembered it, had now grown and developed beyond all my faint conceptions. Her amber hair had deepened into the richest auburn, its colour was undisguised by powder, and its abundance undistorted by the art of the hair-dresser. Her eyes were steady, and clear, and truthful; every line of her face had rounded out the promise of her youth, and her shape and carriage were divine. She moved like a G.o.ddess.

"Margaret," I said, as I advanced towards her, forgetting all the openings I had so carefully rehea.r.s.ed, "I can scarce believe I am awake. It seems incredible I should speak face to face with you here."

"It is indeed a strange meeting," she returned. The words were nothing, but they were spoken in a tone of perfect quiet and control, without any trace of the emotion that broke my voice and dissipated my self-possession.

"It is a meeting for which I have dreamed, but tried not to hope,"

I said, with much feeling.

"And I had lived for nothing else," she returned, with unfaltering voice and the same absence of emotion.

"Then, Margaret, it has come at last!" I cried, joyously, the temporary cloud pa.s.sing as she spake.

"No, it has not!" she said, with the coldest decision, and, with that incongruity of thought which springs upon us at the most inopportune moments, I wondered if every woman for whom I cared was to change her whole nature, the moment I left her side. I remembered Lucy, and now here was Margaret, whom I had known as the embodiment of impulsive affection, fencing with a coolness that enforced my admiration. I saw she had fully prepared herself, and instantly I resolved to change my ground.

"Margaret," I said, falling back on the most unstudied tones at my command, "it was only yesterday I learned from Gaston the true reason of your presence here. We have both suffered too cruelly from the accidents of the past to risk any misunderstanding now for the want of perfect openness between us."

"That is what I desire above all things in the world," she answered.

"Then let us begin at the beginning. Why was it you never let me know of your plan?"

"I do not hold that any explanation is due on my part," she replied, still in the same tone of self-possession. "Remember I did not seek this interview, and I do not see that you have any right to question me on matters which concern only myself."

"Great heavens; Margaret! Can anything concern you and not touch me?"

"Once I believed it could not. I am older now."

"How can you speak thus coldly?" I cried, shocked at her incredible calm. "If there is anything I can do or say, for Heaven's sake, demand it. You cannot know what torture it is for me to see you like this. I have dreamed of you, longed for you, despaired of you through all these years, and I have a right to a different treatment.

Is it on account of Lucy?"

"Partly," she answered, somewhat moved. "Why did you never tell me of her?"

"How could I?"

"There was nothing dishonourable about it."

"A thing does not need to be dishonourable to be ruinous. The dishonour would have been in my speaking when I was pledged to silence."

"Was it more honourable, think you, to allow a young girl to live in a world of mock affection, and to expose her to what I have gone through?"

"But did I ever by word or sign make the slightest move to engage your affections, after I discovered the truth?"

"Pardon me, if I say that question could only serve to embarra.s.s a child. I will answer it by another. Does a man need to speak to declare his love?"

"No, by heavens, he does not, Margaret!" I cried, throwing all defence to the winds. "It speaks in every tone of his voice, in every glance of his eye, and I would be a hypocrite beneath contempt were I to pretend I did not always love you. I loved you from the moment I first saw you, a girl, before Temple Bar, and I will love you, G.o.d help me, till I die!"

"If this be the case, then, had I not a higher claim on you than any woman living? Were you not bound to protect me against my ignorance of such a barrier?"

"Absence, and I had hoped forgetfulness, would prove your best protection," I replied, with happy inspiration.

"The implication is skilful," she said, quietly, without a trace of the emotion I expected from my allusion, "but no mistake on my part can serve to lessen your want of good faith towards me. Do you think a woman would have considered any point of personal honour where the life of one dearest to her hung on her sacrifice?"

"It is quite beyond my poor powers to judge of what a woman might do." I replied, with a sudden rash indiscretion. "I find I have but little knowledge of women or the motives which sway them."

"Then there is but little to be gained by continuing this conversation," she returned, with a stately bow, and swept out of the room, leaving me to curse the folly that had betrayed me into so false a move. And with this bitter morsel for reflection I sought my solitary room.

Nothing in the world, short of actual dishonour, can cause a man of sensibility keener suffering than the knowledge that he has made a fool of himself. This I had done to the top of my bent. Why had I not apprehended the effective point of attack from the outset, and, instead of attempting any defence, thrown myself on her compa.s.sion and generosity? Why had I not...? But it were futile to reiterate the charges I brought against my own folly.