Fairy Fingers Part 8

"But I do," reiterated Gaston, warmly. "Fancy a man saying to a woman he adores, yet in whose presence he trembles like a school-boy, or a culprit, 'I--I--I--lo--ov--ov--ove you!'"

"The fact is," began Madeleine, laughing good-naturedly.

"_There! there!_" cried M. de Bois, with a gesture of impatience and discouragement; "the fact is, that you laugh yourself,--_you_, who are so forbearing!"

"Pardon me; you mistook"--

"You could not help it, I know. It is precisely that which discourages me. And yet it is very odd! I have one method by which I can speak for five minutes at a time without stopping or hesitating."

"Indeed! Why, then, do you not always employ that magical method in society?"

"It would hardly be admissible in polite circles. Would you believe it?--it is very absurd, but so is everything that appertains to us unfortunate tongue-tied wretches."

"Tell me what your method is."

"I--I--I do not dare; you will only laugh at me again."

"No; I promise I will not."

"Well, then, my method is to become very much animated,--to lash myself into a state of high excitement, and to hold forth as though I were making an exordium,--to talk with furious rapidity, using the most forcible expressions, the most emphatic e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns! Those unloose my tongue! My words hurl themselves impetuously forward, as zouaves in battle! Only, as you may conceive, this discourse is not of a very cla.s.sic nature, and hardly suited to the drawing-room,--especially, as I receive great help, and rush on all the faster, for a few interjections that come under the head of--of--of swear--ear--earing!"

"_Swearing?_" was all Madeleine could say, controlling a strong inclination to merriment.

"Yes, downright swearing; employing strong expletives,--actual oaths!

Oh, it helps me more than you can believe. But just imagine the result if I were to harangue Mademoiselle Bertha in this style! She would--would--"

"Would think it very original, and, as she has a joyous temperament, she might laugh immoderately. But she likes originality, and the very oddity of the discourse might impress her deeply. Then, too, she is very sympathetic, and she would probably be touched by the necessity which compelled you to employ such an extraordinary mode of expression."

"Ah, if that were only true!"

"I think it _is_ true."

"Thank you! thank you!"

Madeleine was opening a skein of silk, and, extending it to M. de Bois, she said: "Will you a.s.sist me? It is for Bertha I am working. Will you hold this skein? It will save time."

Gaston, well pleased, stretched out his hands. Madeleine adjusted the skein, and commenced winding.

"Besides, who knows?" she went on to say. "It seems to me very possible that the very singularity of such an address might captivate her, and give you a decided advantage over lovers who pressed their suit in hackneyed, stereotyped phrases."

"You think so?"

"I should not be surprised if such were the case, because Bertha has a decided touch of eccentricity in her character."

"If I only dared to think that she had ever given me the faintest evidence of favorable regard!"

"When she sees you embarra.s.sed and hesitating, does she not always finish your sentences?"

"Is it pos--pos--pos--" stammered Gaston.

"Possible?" said Madeleine. "Yes, I have observed that she invariably does so if she imagines herself unnoticed. I have besides remarked a certain expression on her transparent countenance when we talked of you, and she has dropped a word, now and then,"--

"What--what--what words? But no, you are mocking me cruelly! It cannot be that she ever thinks of me! I have too powerful a rival."

"A rival! what rival?" asked Madeleine, in genuine astonishment.

"The Viscount Maurice."

The silken thread snapped in Madeleine's hand.

"You have broken the thread," remarked M. de Bois; "I hope it was not owing to my awkward hold--old--olding."

"No, no," answered Madeleine, hurriedly, and taking the skein out of his hand, but tangling it inextricably as she tried to draw out the threads.

"You--you--you--think my cousin Maurice loves Bertha?" she asked, hardly aware of the pointedness of her own question.

"I do not exactly say _that_; but how will it be possible for him to help loving her? Good gracious, Mademoiselle Madeleine! what have I said to affect you? How pale you have become!"

Madeleine struggled to appear composed, but the hands that held the snarled skein trembled, and no effort of will could force the retreating blood back to her face.

"Nothing--you have said nothing,--you are quite right, I--I--I dare say."

"Why, you are just as troubled and embarra.s.sed as I was just now."

"I? nonsense! I'm--I'm--I'm only--only--"

"And you stammer,--you actually stammer almost as badly as I do!"

exclaimed Gaston, in exultation. "Ah, Mademoiselle Madeleine! I have betrayed to you _my_ secret,--you have discovered _yours_ to me!"

"Monsieur de Bois, I implore you, do not speak another word on this subject! Enough that, if _I had a secret_, there is no one in the world to whom I would sooner confide it."

"Why, then, do you now wish to hide from me the preference with which you honor your cousin?"

Madeleine replied, in a tremulous tone, "You do not know how deep a wound you are probing, how heavy a grief you"--

"Why should it be a grief? What obstacle impedes your union?"

"An insurmountable obstacle,--one that exists in my own heart."

"How can that be, since that heart is his?"

"Those to whom I owe everything," replied Madeleine, "cherish the antic.i.p.ation that Maurice will make a brilliant marriage. Even if my cousin looked upon me with partial eyes, could I rob my benefactors of that dearest hope? Could I repay all their benefits to me by causing them such a cruel disappointment? I could never be so ungrateful,--so guilty,--so inhuman. Therefore, I say, the obstacle lies in my own heart: that heart revolts at the very contemplation of such an act. I pray you never to speak to me again on this subject; and give me your word that no one shall ever know what I have just confided to you,--I mean what you suspect--what you suspect, it may be, _erroneously!_"

"I promise you on the honor of a gentleman."

"Thank you."

A step was heard on the path leading to the summer-house.