Fairy Fingers Part 82

Bertha's words imparted no consolation.

"If you would but unravel this mystery, Madeleine?" Bertha went on. "It depends upon you and you only, to bind me here. When you are ready to stand before the altar with the one you have so long loved, so shall I be! Yes, though it were to-morrow."

"Bertha," answered Madeleine with such sad solemnity that for the first time Bertha's hope that her ardent desire might be accomplished was chilled, "you do not know what an,--an almost impossibility you are asking. Believe me, when I tell you, in all seriousness, that I shall never stand before the altar as a bride. An insurmountable barrier forbids! I shall live on,--work on, alone,--finding consolation in the certainty that I am acting wisely, and bearing bravely what must be endured. Will not this declaration convince you that you have decided rashly, not to say _cruelly_, in making your wifehood dependent upon mine?"

Bertha shook her head pertinaciously: "No--no--no! If I were to yield I should have to relinquish my last hope of seeing you a bride. I do not mean to yield! You need not persuade me; nor you either, M. de Bois. I am as obstinate as the de Gramonts themselves; and yet, in this instance, I think I am more reasonable in my firmness."

Madeleine and Gaston did not forego entreaties in spite of this a.s.sertion; but they had no effect upon Bertha, though she was thankful to be relieved from their importunities by the entrance of Maurice.

Neither Madeleine nor Gaston felt disposed, in his hearing, to run the risk of making Bertha repeat her desire that Madeleine should become a bride. Madeleine roused herself that Maurice might not perceive her sadness, and made an effort to speak of the proposed voyage as a settled plan. The gloom of Maurice was not diminished by her attempt. He would have been less chagrined if he had seen the emotion which her pallid cheeks betrayed when the intelligence of their approaching departure was communicated to her. Ungenerous manhood! he would have suffered less had he known that she whom he loved suffered also!

Later in the day, as he was slowly walking toward the hotel, plunged in one of those despondent moods to which he had been subject before his sojourn in America, he was roused by a clear, ringing voice, though so long unheard, still familiar, and ever pleasant to his ears.

"Maurice!"

"Ronald! There is not a man in the world I would rather have seen!"

"And you are the very man I was seeking. I came to Was.h.i.+ngton on purpose to see you," replied the young artist, who had exerted so strong an influence over the character of Maurice in other days, and who had done so much toward "shaping his destiny."

Ronald was somewhat changed; the rich coloring of his handsome face had paled, or been bronzed over; a few lightly traced, but expressive lines were chronicles of mental struggles, and told that he had thought and suffered. There was more contemplation and less gayety in the brilliant brown eyes; more reflective composure and less impulsive buoyancy in his demeanor. Heretofore his bearing, language, whole aspect had ever communicated the impression of possible power; now it bespoke power confirmed and concentrated, and brought into living action.

The friends.h.i.+p of Maurice and Ronald had not grown cold during the years they had been separated. They had corresponded regularly; their interest in each other, their affection for each other had deepened and strengthened with every year, as all emotions which have their root in the spirit must deepen and strengthen,--the elements of _progress_ being inseparable from those affections which draw their existence from this life-source.

Maurice, during his sojourn in Charleston, had paid weekly visits to Ronald's parents, usually spending his Sundays beneath their hospitable roof; and this made the day a true Sabbath to him. During the two months he had pa.s.sed in Was.h.i.+ngton, Maurice had only written brief letters to Mrs. Walton; for the rapid succession of exciting events had engrossed his time, though it could not make him forget one who was ever ready with her sympathy and counsel. Her replies also had been curtailed by the all-absorbing joy of welcoming her son after his long absence.

The young artist had now achieved an enviable reputation as a painter.

His first works were characterized by a towering ambition in their conception, which his unpractised execution could not fitly ill.u.s.trate; but they had disappointed no one so much as himself. After many struggles against a sense of discouragement, inseparable from high aspirations, frustrated for the moment, he had broken out of his chrysalis state of imperfect action, and spread his wings in strong and serious earnest. His sensitive perception of the great and beautiful, allied to the creative power of genius soon blazoned his prodigal gifts to the world, and he had gloried in that sense of might which makes the true artist feel he has a giant's strength for good or evil.

"I have rejoiced over your new laurels!" exclaimed Maurice, warmly; for he had learned Ronald's distinction through the journals of the day.

"They are so intangible," replied Ronald, smiling, "that I'm not quite sure of their existence. I did not tell you that my father and mother are here and most anxious to see you. When will you pay them a visit?

Can you not come with me now?"

Maurice gladly consented to accompany his friend.

"You are our chief attraction to Was.h.i.+ngton," continued Ronald. "My mother was the first to propose that we should seek you out. Your letters were so sad, and even confused, that she felt you needed her. I think she fancies she has two sons, Maurice."

"She is the only mother I have ever known," answered Maurice; "and life is incomplete when a mother's place is unfilled in the soul."

CHAPTER L.

A SECRET DIVINED.

"Take care! the 'Don' will be jealous!" exclaimed Mr. Walton, as he witnessed his wife's greeting of Maurice,--a greeting as tender as a true mother could have bestowed. "When Ronald was a boy he would rush about like one gone mad if his mother ever ventured to take another child upon her knee,--he would never have his throne usurped. Our 'Don'

was always 'monarch of all he surveyed.'"

This jocular appellation of the 'Don,' Mr. Walton had bestowed upon his son on account of his early propensity to fight moral windmills, and the Quixotic zeal with which he espoused the cause of the weak and the fair.

This knight-errant proclivity ripened from the Quixotism of boyhood into the chivalrous devotion which had manifested itself in his somewhat romantic friends.h.i.+p for Maurice,--a friends.h.i.+p productive of such happy results to the young viscount.

Ronald replied, "My affection has gained a victory over my jealousy, as Maurice discovered some years ago. I have just given him a new evidence of that fact by accompanying you and my mother to Was.h.i.+ngton in the hope of seeing him."

"Did you really come for my sake," asked Maurice, much moved.

Mrs. Walton answered, "How could we help being distressed about you?

Your letters were so unsatisfactory. I shall know more of your true state in one _tete-a-tete_,--one good long heart-talk,--than I could learn by a thousand letters."

After this declaration, Ronald and his father jestingly p.r.o.nounced themselves _de trop_ and departed.

Maurice had long since given Mrs. Walton his full confidence, and now to sit and relate the events that had transpired during his stay in Was.h.i.+ngton was a heart-unburthening which lightened his oppressed spirit. It seemed to him as though some ray of hope must break through the clouds which enveloped him, if her clear, steady vision closely scanned their blackness; _she_ might discover some gleam of light which he could not perceive.

When he finished the narrative she asked,--

"And have you no suspicion who this mysterious lover can be? No clue to his ident.i.ty?"

"Not the faintest," answered Maurice.

"But since you have seen Madeleine at all hours of the day, since you have resided in her house, she could not have evinced a preference for any gentleman without your perceiving the distinction."

"She evinced no preferences; no gentleman was upon an intimate footing except M. de Bois, who is engaged to Bertha, much to Madeleine's delight."

"M. de Bois, you tell me," continued Mrs. Walton, "has been her devoted friend during all these years that she has been separated from you. Have you not been able to learn something from him?"

"I have too much respect for Madeleine to force from another a secret which she refuses to impart to me; but I am quite certain that if M. de Bois knows whom Madeleine has blessed with her love, Bertha is still in ignorance. Bertha would have told me at once."

Mrs. Walton mused awhile, then said, "I do not see any loose thread by which the mystery can be unravelled; but you will, of course, make me acquainted with your Madeleine?"

"_My_ Madeleine," began Maurice, bitterly.

"I called her yours involuntarily, because your heart seems so wholly to claim her. She will receive me,--will she not?"

"Gladly, I am sure."

"Then we will go to-morrow."

There were too many chords of sympathy which vibrated responsively in the bosoms of Mrs. Walton and Madeleine, too many planes upon which they could meet, for them to remain merely formal acquaintances. It was Madeleine's nature to treat those with whom she was thrown in contact with a genial courtesy which rose to kindness, often to affection; but it was only to a few that she really threw wide the portals of her large heart. Mrs. Walton's devotion to Maurice was claim enough for her to be ranked among the small number whom Madeleine admitted to that inner sanctuary.

On the other hand, Mrs. Walton was by no means impulsive in forming friends.h.i.+ps; her existence had been brightened by very few. She had much const.i.tutional _reticence_; she enjoyed a secluded life; she was not dependent upon others for happiness. A rich, inexhaustible well-spring of joy,--the one joy of her days,--flowed in through her son, and that pure fount was all-sufficient to water the flowers that sprang in her path. Maurice had awakened her womanly compa.s.sion, first, because Ronald had found in him a brother; next, because he was motherless and almost heart-broken, and finally, because his n.o.ble attributes won her admiring affection. But, although Mrs. Walton had no facility in making friends.h.i.+ps, when she did become attached, it was with a sympathetic and absolute devotion which extended itself involuntarily to the beings who were dear to those she loved; thus her attachment for Maurice awakened an affection for Madeleine before they met; and when she clasped Madeleine's hand, and looked into her fair face, the reserve she invariably experienced toward strangers at once melted away, and in their very first interview these two responsive spirits drew near to each other with a mutual sense that their intercourse must become closer and closer.

Madeleine had frequently seen Ronald when, habited as the _soeur de bon secours_, she kept nightly vigil by the bed of Maurice, and Ronald had marked the cla.s.sic features of the "holy sister," and quickly recognized them again when he was presented to Mademoiselle de Gramont.

After Mrs. Walton had visited Madeleine, Ronald persuaded her to call with him on Mademoiselle de Merrivale. Bertha received her quondam partner of the dance with much warmth and vivacity; but the countess looked with freezing hauteur upon these American friends of her grandson. Though Mrs. Walton was naturally timid, she was unawed by the countess's a.s.sumption of superiority; her self-respect enabled her to remain perfectly composed and collected, and to appear unconscious of the disdain with which she was treated.

This initiative visit was quickly followed by others, and Mrs. Walton proved how little she dreaded the countess by inviting Bertha to dine with her.

"I shall be delighted to go," said Bertha, "that is, if my aunt does not object."