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NOBLEMAN
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NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
BY
JANE G. AUSTIN
AUTHOR OK " THE DESMOND HUNDRED," ETC.
TWENTY-FiaST EDITION
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
Ctx fiitoewDe Press, CambnDfle
1889
Copyright, 1888,
BY TlCKNOR AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved.
Mother! For love ofthee if was begun ;
In thy most honored name to-day V/'j done.
And though all earthly cares must cease
In that fair land of everlasting peace,
Love aye is one, and they who love are one ;
Time cannot end what God in Time begun ;
And thou wilt joy e'en in thine endless rest.
To know thy child obeys thy last behest.
2061748
CONTENTS.
I. Louis THE GRAND AND Louis THK LITTLE, i
II. PROVENCE ROSES n
III. A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES ... 20
IV. BETWEEN Two DAYS .... 25
V. CAIN AND ABEL .... 33
VI. VALERIE'S CHOICE 42
VIL MOLLY 54
VIII. THE SPINNING-WHEEL .... 64
IX. MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES . . 74
X. THE CONSEQUENCES 81
XI. THE FRENCH INVASION .... 85
XII. THE ROSY DAWN 95
XIII. THE DAGGER OF REGINALD DE MONTAR
NAUD 102
XIV. MRS. HETHERFORD TAKES PITY ON MARY, 1 10
XV. THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER . . . . 116
XVI. THE SEARCH-WARRANT .... 127
XVII. AND VALERIE? 134
XVIII. DR. SCHWARZ 142
XIX. LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM ... 15!
XX. THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE ... 157
XXI. THE JOY OF MEETING . . * . . 160
vi CONTENTS.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
XXII. AND THE PAIN OF PARTING . . .171
XXIII. THE BETROTHAL 179
XXIV. GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS . . 190
XXV. THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT
THE TRUTH 201
XXVI. THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIRCE" . . 209
XXVII. THE BUNCH OF GRAPES . . . .221
XXVIII. DAME TILLEY'S LEG 233
XXIX. THE DARK HOUR BEFORE THE DAWN 237
XXX. A BRIDAL PROCESSION .... 247
XXXI. THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR .... 254
XXXII. A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE . 263
XXXIII. THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE . . 268
XXXIV. THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL . 275
XXXV. THE DOCTOR'S DVESSING-ROOM ... 283
XXXVI. DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP . 293
XXXVII. A CRUCIAL TEST 302
XXXVIII. THE "BELLE ISLE" 316
XXXIX. MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME . . 324
XL. MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT ... 328
XLI. LETTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD . . 340
XLII. ON BURYING-HILL 343
XLIII. A PROVENCE Ross ... . 349
XLIV. WHEN THE FOG LIFTED .... 354
XLV. GOOD-BY. . t68
A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER I.
LOUIS THE GRAND, AND LOUIS THE LITTLE.
THE Montespan is in great beauty to-night," said
the Marquis de Vannes to the Comte de Cha-
blais, as the two stood waiting with all the rest of the
world for the entrance of the royal party. It was the
grand gallery of Versailles where they stood ; and
from the lofty ceiling the grim warriors depicted there
by LeBrun looked down in surly admiration upon the
beauties of the world, so notably assembled at the
French court during the first half of the reign of
Louis XIV. ; for Anne of Austria, always a Spaniard,
loved to see herself surrounded by the dark eyes and
to hear the lisping accents of her native land ; nor did
she fail to encourage her poor, timid daughter-in-law
in the same tastes, if, indeed, Maria Theresa can be
said to have had any thing so decisive as a taste, ex-
cept in the direction of chocolate. Differing subtly
from the Spaniards, and yet resembling them in race-
marks, came a troop of Italy's fairest and best-bom,
2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
following the Mancinis and Martinozzis, all hoping for-
tune and preferment from Mazarin. Poor, charming,
doomed Henrietta of England was the magnet of a
bevy of fair aristocrats, whose blonde loveliness con-
trasted, to their mutual advantage, with the brown
beauties of Spain, Italy, and France, and surpassed in
refinement that of the Germans who had already
appeared at the court of France, heralding, perhaps,
the advent of their queer countrywoman, the second
Duchess of Orleans. But we return to the two gal-
lants, themselves no mean personages at court, who
stood discussing the scene with the gay cynicism of
their age.
"In beauty, yes," replied De Chablais, glancing
across the gallery at the Marquise de Montespan, who
stood surrounded by flatterers, rivals, imitators, ene-
mies, every thing but friends : " she looks as content
as the cat who has just lapped up the cream, and is
still singing jubilate over the fall of poor dear La
Valliere."
"Don't be uncharitable, man cher" replied De
Vannes maliciously. "Madame de Montespan was
the friend of the Duchess de la Valliere, and proved
it by dragging an earthly crown from between her
hands and giving her an heavenly one instead. No
doubt Sister Louise de la Misricorde feels deeply
grateful."
" Oh, of course ! especially as this devoted friend
prevents any danger of a lapse from grace by herself
monopolizing the peril formerly shared by both."
" While the widow Scarron meekly offers herself as a
THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. 3
monument of pious peace set in the very whirlpool of
these contending passions."
Monsieur de Chablais turned, and looked keenly at
his friend, then breathlessly asked,
"What do you say, De Vannes? Surely this prude
of a gouvcrnantc will not presume to supersede her
mistress, -as her mistress did her friend and equal ! "
" If by mistress you mean Madame de Montespan,
my friend, I beg to contradict you. Madame de
Maintenon, as we are now to style the widow Scarron,
is the governess, not of Madame de Montespan's chil-
dren, but of the king's."
" A distinction, I perceive ; but where is the differ-
ence ? "
" The difference of serving a master or a mistress."
" I perceive ; but allow me to observe it is a danger-
ous bon-mot, since that master is also our master, and
possesses sharp ears, keen eyes, and remarkably long
arms."
"All which will presently exercise themselves, unless
he is the more careful, upon that handsome youth
devoting himself so frankly to the fair marquise."
" I see. He seems about to devour her bodily, and
she conquers in his behalf that timid and shrinking
reserve we all recognize as her distinctive charm.
Who is he?"
"Son of that poor old Count de Montamaud, I
believe."
"What, the courtier of King Clovis? Is he still
extant?"
" Oh, yes ! and is forever in the king's path, asking
4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
him to make this boy generalissimo of the French
army."
"Is that all? The young fellow is making out a
better road to advancement for himself, if he plays his
cards well."
" If the king surprises him making eyes at madame,
he is likely to be advanced with a vengeance,
advanced to the front ranks of the next forlorn-hope,
against some Dutch city with an unpronounceable
name."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! the king!" announced
an usher passing in front of the speakers, who immedi-
ately fell back into the formal line adopted by the
courtiers about to be passed in review by the mon-
arch, at this moment appearing in the folding-doors
thrown open at his approach. A slight murmur of
adulation and delight replaced the busy hum of con-
versation in the grande galerie, a sort of courtly para-
phrase of the song issuing from the lips of Memnon
as the first rays of morning sunlight touched them ;
and then Louis, followed by several members of the
royal family, passed slowly down the hall, pausing at
almost every step to address now one and then anoth-
er of the rustling and glittering ranks of courtiers, who
bent before his look as a parterre of tulips ben:ls
before the west wind.
" Did ycu mark the glance his Majesty shot at the
Montespan and her new breloque?" murmured De
Vannes to De Chablais without turning his head. " I
would not be in the shoes of that captain of cavalry
for something, unless the marquise puts him in her
pocket before his Majesty reaches that spot."
THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS.
"My Barbary horse against your Damascus sword
that she don't, and that Montarnaud is either ban-
ished, imprisoned, or punished in some manner."
" Done, although I shall lose my sword."
"You will if he does." And as the long's sonorous
and measured accents drew nearer, the courtiers be-
came mute and expectant.
It was in fact true, that the Grande Monarque, who,
like all potent rulers, had microscopic as well as tele-
scopic powers of vision, had, upon his first entrance
into the hall, singled his favorite from among the glit-
tering throng, and at once perceived that she was
carrying on one of those audacious and sudden flirta-
tions which some women toss off as others do a glass
of champagne, or a full inhalation of volatile salts,
a brief exhilaration and stimulus, only fitting them for
more serious and systematic efforts in some other
direction.
Already the stimulus told ; for never had Madame de
Montespan looked more magnificently handsome than
to-night, with her great dark eyes overflowing with bril-
liancy, her cheeks and lips burning with color, her
wonderful hands and arms showing like those of a
statue against the garnet-colored velvet of her robe,
her shoulders and bust rising invincible from a sea-foam
border of priceless lace. Arms and bosom and head
glittered with the jewels this woman loved so much
better than she did soul or honor, and which her royal
tover lavished upon her- with such princely munifi-
cence that she boasted of owning a richer collection
than any queen could claim as private property. To
6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
be sure, they were not all paid for in that reign ; but
the bill was brought in to Louis XVI. about a cen-
tury later, and he, poor scapegoat, settled for all.
Yes, the Montespan was in great beauty to-night ;
and so evidently thought the handsome young man in
the uniform of a captain of cavalry, who stood beside
her, devouring her with his bold black eyes, and bend-
ing more confidentially than deferentially to catch the
words murmured for his ear alone. At the entrance
of the king he drew himself up, and made a move-
ment of adieu : but the marquise, not appearing to
notice the gesture, continued the conversation in a yet
more familiar tone ; and the Vicomte de Montarnaud,
bred in the school of reckless gallantry, whether of
love or war, so popular in that day, followed her lead
without further hesitation or comment, so that in point
of fact a more patient and humble man than Louis
Dieu-donn might have felt a little annoyed at the
slight to himself involved in this absorbing interest in
another, displayed by his haughty mistress. A slight
but ominous frown gathered upon the Olympian brow ;
and the courteous phrases scattered hither and thither
among the expectant crowd by the " lips of fate," as
some people called the royal mouth, grew scanter and
more mechanical, so that several courtiers, not sure of
favor, skilfully contrived to melt away behind their
companions, preferring not to risk the compliments
their royal master was quite capable of bestowing
when in an ill humor.
Suddenly the king's eyes lightened wrathfully, and
yet unaccountably; for the figure upon which they
THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. /
rested was as harmless an one as could be imagined,
and surely a very familiar one, for the Comte de Mont-
arnaud had been longer at court by many years than
Louis himself. An old man, wigged, painted, padded,
decrepit, and courtly, a man whose face nature
had made handsome and noble, and seventy years of
court life had rendered insignificant, crafty, and crin-
ging. As he perceived that the king would address
him, the wizened face lighted with servile joy, and the
poor old back bent in a bow so profound that one
knew not whether to fear the vertebrae should become
dislocated or the peruke tumble off; misfortunes about
equal, since one meant death, and the other the royal
displeasure. Before either danger was fully overpast
the king spoke coldly and haughtily :
"Monsieur de Montarnaud, you asked permission
some time since to marry your eldest son to Mademoi-
selle de Rochenbois, your ward."
" I had thought of it, your Majesty ; but, when your
Majesty deigned to remark that you did not like your
officers to marry too young, I relinquished "
" I withdraw my opposition, and permit the mar-
riage. Nay, more : as you have been a faithful servant
of my august father as well as of myself, the marriage
may take place in the royal chapel ; and we shall see
if some position about the court can be found for the
bride, who will remain here while the vicomte returns
to his duty. Where is she now ?"
" At the Chateau de Montarnaud, your Majesty."
" In Provence, I believe."
" Yes, your Majesty, near Marseilles."
8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Ah, near Marseilles ! And what family have you
there, Monsieur le Comte? You are a widower, I
believe.'
" Since fifteen years, your Majesty. My family con-
sists, besides my ward, of only two sons."
"Two? where is the other? I never heard of him."
" Oh ! your Majesty, he is but a boy yet, hardly
twenty years old, and still with his tutor. He inherits
a little property from his mother, and with it the title
of le Baron de "
"But where is he, I ask? At Montarnaud, near
Marseilles, with Mademoiselle de Rochenbois ? "
"Yes, your Majesty," replied the poor old courtier,
feeling that the prolonged conversation, which at first
had overwhelmed him with delight, was assuming a
tone of menace and aggression any thing but indica-
tive of royal favor to the house of Montarnaud. Nor
was the king's parting speech calculated to assuage
the cruel forebodings of the old man's heart ; for, with
a very pronounced sneer upon his Austrian lips, Louis
passed on, saying,
" Really, Monsieur de Montarnaud, you are a man
of resource. Since it was not permitted to marry
) our elder son to this wealthy ward, you shut her up
in a country-house with the younger one, trusting to
the chapter of accidents for a marriage, public or pri-
vate, before there should be time to prevent it. I
shall, however, expect to receive Madame la Vicom-
tesse de Montarnaud, nee de Rochenbois, within the
month."
"Your Majesty shall be obeyed," stammered the
THE GRAND AND THE LITTLE LOUIS. Q
count, trembling upon his infirm legs as the chill
breath of the royal displeasure swept over his head,
like the first frost of autumn over the parterre of
tulips, to which but now we likened the ranks of
courtiers.
Passing on, the king reached the station of the
marquise and her coterie; and while graciously ac-
knowledging her careless salute, and the profound rev-
erences of her companions, he gayly said to the
former,
"Madame, by the pleased expression upon this
young gentleman's face, I suspect that you are con-
gratulating him upon his approaching marriage and
the already renowned beauty of his bride."
A slight and angry color rose to the haughty
beauty's brow ; and turning her eyes upon the startled,
almost alarmed, face of the young man, she coldly
said,
"Monsieur had not informed me of his happiness."
" His Majesty is pleased to jest. I am not so un-
fortunate as to be in bondage as yet," stammered the
captain of cavalry, divided between the impossibility
of contradicting the king or of speaking to any one
else in his presence, and the desire to retain his place
in the favor of the imperious beauty, to whom he had
just vowed to carry her colors triumphantly through
the next battle in which he should be called to en-
gage, and of whom he had begged and obtained per-
mission to present himself at her apartments the next
day, and there receive from her own hands the scarf
to be thus borne. And although neither the social nor
IO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
the moral code of those days, nor above all the co.le
Montespan, objected to the devotion of anybody's
husband to anybody else's wife, it was nevertheless, aa
both the marquise and her admirer felt, a little out of
taste that a man should in the same breath ask per-
mission of the king to marry a charming young girl,
and of the king's mistress to carry her colors through
the wars.
Louis glanced from the one face to the other, and
took a pinch of snuff with uncommon zest
"The good news is nevertheless true, monsieur,"
said he, in his most debonnaire and gracious tone. " I
love to reward the good soldiers who win so many
laurels for me ; and, as monsieur your father tells me
your heart is set upon this marriage, I have consented,
not only that it shall take place in the royal chapel,
but that Madame de Montarnaud shall be entertained
at court during your absence in the approaching cam-
paign in Holland. The nuptials may be, I fear, a little
hurried ; but you shall have permission to fly to Mont-
arnaud at the earliest possible hour to-morrow."
The king passed on ; Madame de Montespan stifled
a yawn, and turned her back upon the young man,
who with a brow as black as night made his way to
tne lower end of the hall, where his father awaited him
with a pale and frightened face.
PROVENCE ROSES. II
CHAPTER II.
PROVENCE ROSES.
rwas a garden deep in the heart of Provence,
Provence the fair, Provence the intoxicating,
Provence of the Provengals, neighbor of Languedoc
and Dauphiny ; that region redolent of the traditions
of poet and troubadour, of the court of Love and
Beauty, of Blondel and his lion-master, of the dear,
prolix, impossible, inconsequent romances that drove
Don Quixote mad, but whose flavor, like a drop of
attar, has been found sufficient to perfume half the
more modern works of fiction.
It was a garden innocent of the chilling and formal
science just coming into vogue in France under the
auspices of Le Notre, the impress of whose style is
still to be seen, not only in the gardens of Versailles,
but all over France, and even England ; a garden left
very much to Nature, who, sweet prodigal, in this her
beloved summer land, had pleased herself by heaping
together in this little hidden nook a wealth of color
and perfume, of riotous bloom, of glowing sunlight
and alluring shadow, of food for every sensuous ca-
pacity of eye and ear, and that subtlest of senses, the
sense of smell, enough in this one garden to gild all
Switzerland with a charm her grandeur has never at-
tained.
12 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
The place was old and irregular, and succeeding
generations of Montarnauds had left the impress of
their taste in now a dense mass of evergreen forming a
background to a great clump of gorgeous bloom ; now
a fountain, again an arbor, a winding labyrinth leading
to a hidden nook of shaded and perfumed rest ; again
a broad, glowing expanse of massed flowers, geranium,
salvia, calceolaria, hydrangea, dahlias, every thing that
is positive and imperious of color and form, all welter-
ing in the thick yellow sunshine that seemed to sink
into every open pore like wine into the lips of a thirsty
man ; around these lay borders of pansy and mignon-
ette, and all that is fragrant and unobtrusive, and ready
to lend perfume to the beauty of their soulless neigh-
bors ; and anon broad ribbons of tulip-beds, and trel-
lises where passion-flower and jasmine and scarlet
cypress climbed tumultuously over each other to the
very topmost hold, and then waved their long slender
arms hither and yon in the effort to grasp at something
more. Lilies were there, queen lilies such as the Angel
of the Annunciation bears, their milk-white chalices
powdered with the gold-dust of promise ; lilies of the
valley at their feet ; lilies from Japan, that land still
locked in mystery, yet flinging from her half-opened
door this or that object of art and wonder to the
French who stood knocking, louis d'or in hand ; lilies
of Palestine, Solomon lilies, flaunting beneath the
Provencal sun robes whose marvel was selected as the
type of gorgeous apparel by Him who was born among
their glory. And the roses ! at the roses we pause :
for he who has not seen Provence roses in Provence
PROVENCE ROSES. 13
knows not the meaning of those five letters, knows
not why the rose is queen of flowers, knows not why
the rose is the type of love, knows not why the dear
old mediaeval legend changed Bohemian Elizabeth's
hidden charity to roses rather than to another flower.
The color, oh the impossible color ! for the heart of
the summer pulsated in its glow, the soul of the sun
burned in its intensity, the deep rich light permeated
every vein of the petals sumptuous in their substance,
and marvellous in their size. No, no ! we cannot
describe the roses of Provence : but they are there,
and you may see them ; pass by Paris, and go, if you
are wise.
Besides the evergreens, the olive, the pepper-trees,
the ilex, the flowers, and the labyrinth, there were the
birds who made bridal journeys from all the rest of
France to this garden ; the butterflies who floated over
the flower-beds like blossoms detached and drawn
upward by the sun-god ; and there was Valerie ! Va-
lerie, who all day long flitted through the garden,
embodying flower, and bird, and butterfly, and Prov-
encal summer, all in her own mignonne figure ; Valerie
who loved them all, and was beloved by all, and had
feasted all her life upon their beauty, and whose
beauty was a feast and daily food to them. A slip
of a girl, hardly seventeen : lissome as a passion-flowei
vine ; her clear skin pale and dark with the passionate
colorless glow of the South, her purple-black hair
hanging in two shining braids from a head fit to be
modelled for Hebe ; her smooth, low forehead based by
two straight black brows, beautiful and threatening as
I4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
a just-defined thunder-cloud; her great lustrous eyes
full of slumberous passion, full of the joy of happy girl-
hood full of pride and courage, and with a power of
pathos nascent in their depths which the birds and the
butterflies and the roses had never yet seen called out,
had never demanded or dreamed of. But her mouth 1
there was perhaps the keystone of Valerie's beauty.
Yes, the petals of the roses were velvety, and pul-
sating with fire, were of a color impossible to define
or reproduce, were fragrant, and delicious to the
touch ; but the rose-leaves were not alive, they did
not curve, and pout, and suddenly part in dazzling
smiles above little pearls of teeth : they were not the
lips of Valerie, nor could they by movement produce
those little wells of mirth and caresses, and possible
tears, the fossettes, the dimples which came and went
as Valerie smiled. It was after all the mouth, Fran-
cois said to himself as he stood gazing at her while
she played with El Moro her Spanish greyhound,
forcing him to eat the purple and amber grapes she
pulled from the vine above her head, while she sat
throned upon a seat formed in the lowest branches
of an oak near the borders of the garden. Flecks of
sunlight pierced the foliage and lay like golden orna-
ments upon the whiteness of her dress, glowed in the
ruby bracelet upon her arm, and lighted the dusky
masses of her hair to purple sheen. Yes, it was her
mouth, that mouth whose coy kisses had grown so
rare within the last year, but had become so much
more precious than the soulless caresses of childhood.
Last night, when they quarrelled and were reconciled,
she kissed him twice, and
PROVENCE ROSES. 15
"Well, Monsieur le Baron," broke in the ringing
roice of Valerie, "are you envying El Moro his feast,
or axe you composing a Latin poem for your tutor, or
have you gone to sleep? You stand there leaning
against that tree, and looking at me as if you never
had seen me before."
" Perhaps I wish I never had," replied Francois a
little moodily, as he sauntered across the space of sun-
light between the cork-tree and the oak, and stood
leaning against the latter, his arm resting upon the
footstool of the rustic seat.
" Perhaps you, there, run away, mon Moro : run
and catch a cricket to take the flavor of the grapes out
of your mouth, perhaps you wish you had never seen
me, Francois? And why ? "
She leaned one cheek upon her hand, as she
stooped smiling toward him, and the other hand rested
lightly and caressingly upon his head. He caught it
in his own, and, raising his face, looked long and
ardently up into hers. And it is a pity some great
painter had not been hidden among the roses to catch
that picture, and make himself immortal by it ; for the
baron Francois was as nearly handsome as a manly
man should be, and had inherited from his Norman
mother all the high and haughty characteristics of her
race, the cold, clear eyes, blue as steel, and betimes
as trenchant and as cruel, the fair complexion, proud,
thin-lipped mouth, and tawny golden hair. His fig-
ure, too, differed largely from the delicate elegance
lapsing into sensuous roundness of his Provencal sires,
and was tall, large-boned, powerful, and soldierly, like
!6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
those companions who followed William the Conquerei
to the field of Hastings. But just now the steely
eyes were dim with tender fears, and the severe mouth
was tremulous with loving words ; and the hand fit to
wield a battle-axe was clasped in timid constraint over
the tiny fingers of the Provencal girl, as he slowlj
answered :
"Because, if you do not love me, and love me
always, you will be the misfortune of my life."
"What, I, little I? I who can never learn the fine
things you and the abbe" try to teach me ? Little frivo-
lous, childish I, who am fit for nothing but to play with
El Moro, and pelt Mademoiselle Salerne with roses,
and tease old Marie's life out, and sing chansons to
my guitar, and "
" And make the joy of my poor life, Valerie."
" I again? What ! poor little I, the present joy and
possible misfortune of life to so very grave and learned
a youth as Francois, le Baron de "
" Francois, the lover of Valerie ! " interposed the
young baron, catching in his own the other little hand,
and covering them both with kisses, beneath whose
breath a dusky crimson crept slowly up into the girl's
cheek, and lighted its pallor as fire shows through
cream-white porcelain.
"Mamzelle ! Mamzelle Valerie ! Ma petite \ where
then, do you hide ? Answer, for the love of the Virgin i
Mamzelle, I say ! "
" Now what does Marie want, do you suppose ? "
exclaimed Marie's nursling, in a tone of comic vexa-
tion. "Has she found another egg in my canary
PROVENCE ROSES. 1 7
bird's nest? or has the cat turned over in her sleep?
or oh, horrors ! has she discovered the fearful rent I
made in my new dress last night, by running against a
rose-bush in the dark? Now that was your fault,
Francois, and "
" Here she is ! I was just going to propose escap-
ing into the labyrinth ; but it is too late. Well, Marie,
here is Mademoiselle Valerie."
"So I ^ee, Monsieur le Baron," panted the old
woman, holding on to her fat sides, and casting re-
proachful glances up into the tree, where Valerie's
bright and glowing face laughed down at her.
" If you had but answered me, mademoiselle, you
would have had the news sooner."
" And saved your poor old legs, nursey," replied the
child with a burst of tinkling laughter. " Well, now
you have found me, what is it ? Has the king come to
ask me to marry monseigneur the dauphin ? He is a
thought young for me, but still "
"You might have guessed farther afield, my pop-
pet," replied the nurse with a sagacious nod of the
head ; " for it is, if not the king, one of the king's
gentlemen ; and, as for his errand, who knows?"
" One of the king's gentlemen ! What do you
mean, nurse?" demanded Francois, turning so sud-
denly that the old woman uttered an affected little
slirick.
" Mercy, Monsieur le Baron ! you need not eat me
up alive with your sharpr way* so like madame the
comtesse, whom you do not remember."
And Marie crossed herself with a very expressive
1 8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
shake of the head, as if she were not sorry that the
Norman countess was at rest and quiet.
"But who is it? Speak, will you, you provoking
creature?" demanded Valerie petulantly, as she put
one foot down to the lower branch of the tree in
preparation for descent.
"Well then," replied the old woman with evident
enjoyment of the consternation she was about to
evoke, " well, then, Monsieur le Comte has arrived,
and with him Monsieur le Vicomte Gaston."
" My father and Gaston ! " exclaimed Francois in
great astonishment ; while Valerie sprang lightly to the
ground, and passed her hand over her hair, adjusted
her necklace and bracelets, and plumed herself like a
bird.
"Yes, as I tell you, and here they are," replied
Marie, pointing to the terrace leading down from the
chateau, where now appeared the mean and insignifi-
cant figure of the Comte de Montarnaud, his handsome
scowling son Gaston, and two or three attendants, the
latter apparently offering explanations and apologies
which the count waved impatiently and contemptu-
ously aside.
"Valerie 1 " murmured Francois, as the two hastened
to meet the new-comers ; and Marie kept as close as
possible upon their heels, not to lose the explanation
and possible scene impending,
"Valerie, I am sure that ill fortune is upon us.
Promise me that you will always love me; promise
that you will never marry another man ; promise " -~
" Oh > hush > Francois ! you make me nervous with
PROVENCE ROSES. IQ
your tragic air, and your ' Promise, promise ! ' Who
speaks of marrying anybody? See, your father is
already frowning at you ; hold up your head, and look
like a man instead of a schoolboy. How handsome
Gaston has grown ! "
" Frivolous and trifling ! " muttered Francois bit-
terly, and he dropped a step behind his companion,
who ran eagerly forward, both hands extended, eyes
and lips bright with smiles, exclaiming joyfully,
"Ah, monsieur my god-papa, how glad we are tc
receive you ! Monsieur Gaston also ! But why did
not you let us know that you were coming? We
would have received you more worthily."
"Truth to tell, mademoiselle," replied the count,
whose brow showed a decided cloud, "the chateau
seems but carelessly kept, considering it holds so rare
a treasure as yourself. I found Monsieur l'Abb6 Des-
pard, my son's tutor, confessing Mademoiselle Sa-
lerne, my ward's governess, while their two charges
were hidden, who knows where ? "
20 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER III.
A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES.
Ab he master of the house thus publicly pro-
ouimed his discontent with his reception, a
saiall tumult of defence arose from the parties ac-
cused. The abbe", a handsome young priest, whom
Francois had for a considerable period governed as
he would, bowed humbly and exclaimed,
"Pardon, a thousand pardons, monsieur, but"
while Mademoiselle Salerne the governess, an equally
good-looking young woman with whom Valerie seldom
had any trouble since she had clearly established their
relative positions, clasped both hands, bent her knee
as if about to prostrate herself, and shrieked,
" But can monsieur suspect me of neglect of duty !
Me ! Oh, no, no ! never, it can never be ; for made-
moiselle will explain, that we had but just now finished
our lessons, and "
"Of course, Salerne," interposed Valerie, with
good-humored contempt, " of course monsieur un-
derstands that you are all which is faithful and trust-
worthy; and if I am idle, and like to rest in the
garden rather than to work in the house, it is my own
fault."
"Or mine, since I asked you to come out this after-
A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES. 21
noon, not supposing that my father intended that I
should be kept at my task like a schoolboy, now that
I am old enough to wear a sword, and "
" There, there, there, there ! " exclaimed the count,
raising both hands to his ears : " I had no idea of
rousing such a hornet's nest by my idle remark.
Mademoiselle, let me lead you to the house." And,
offering his hand to Valerie with all the stately dignity
of the court, he led her on between the beds of roses,
which seemed 'Suddenly to lose their color and their
fragrance, and up the broken, shallow steps to the
terrace, and so into the old chateau, with its sparse
and antique furniture, its mouldering tapestries and
tarnished gildings ; for the counts of Montarnaud
had spent many a fair fortune coming to them in the
hand of the heiresses they loved to marry, spent it in
war, sometimes for and sometimes against their liege
lord, the king ; spent it in mad revelry, in gaming, in
luxury, in every form of self-delight, until when Raoul,
the present count, came to his dignities, he found
them so shorn of the means of maintenance that he
had spent very nearly all of what remained in dancing
attendance first at the court of Louis XIII., that is to
say, at the court of Cardinal Richelieu, and then at
that of the Regent Anne of Austria, that is to say, at
that of Mazarin. Finally he was at present bending
his aged knees at the shrine of the young King Louii
XIV., who, so far from being the shadow of a prime
minister, had given to the ministers, who desired to
know upon the death of Mazarin to whom they were
to apply for orders, the truly royal answer,
22 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Mot-mime ! "
But this devotion, bringing no especial pleasure or
advantage to either the cardinals, the queen-regent,
the young king or his mistresses, naturally brought no
profit to the aged courtier, whose influence was
stretched to its utmost limit in procuring the appoint-
ment of captain of cavalry for his eldest son, and the
privilege for himself of winning a few louis d'or now
and again at the royal card-tables.
The causes thus accreted had to-day produced two
effects : the first, that the Chateau de Montarnaud
was very poorly furnished and very meagrely kept;
the second, that the count would not have failed to
obey any command the king had deigned to lay upon
him, if it had involved carrying Mademoiselle de
Rochenbois to Paris in fetters, and obtaining a lettre-
de-cachet for Francois if he opposed the movement.
Such extreme measures were not, however, likely to
prove necessary in the opinion of the count, who
knew his world as well as Monsieur de Meaux knew
his Bible, or Louis XIV. his own importance. So, in
leading the young girl into the chateau, he dropped
the imperious and fault-finding tone he had assumed
among his dependents and toward his son, and spoke
of the gayeties of the court, of the magnificence of
the young king and the splendors of his entertain-
ments, of the new-born beauties of Versailles, the new
comedies of Moliere performed in the royal theatre
of that palace, and of the charms of several of the
court ladies; ending with a significant glance and
b w, as he added,
A BLIGHT UPON THE ROSES. 23
"Not but what I think we might rival even the
dazzling beauty of the Marquise de Montespan, not
to mention inferior charms, by the importation inte
he capital of attractions quite as aristocratic and cul
tivated, and infinitely fresher. In fact, mademoiselle
the king himself has been good enough to inquire whj
you were not presented already, and to give orderi
that the ceremony should no longer be delayed. Does
that please you ? "
The color mounted swiftly to the young girl's face,
and before replying she cast a glance through the
glass-door by which they had just entered the saloon.
Upon the terrace stood Francois with his brother Gas-
ton ; and, although their conversation was inaudible,
the looks and gestures of both indicated annoyance on
the part of the younger, insolence on the part of the
elder, and a most unfraternal state of feeling on the
part of both. The count's eyes followed those of his
ward, and rested upon the two young men with a look
of dissatisfaction for a moment ; then he said,
" Francois is nothing but a boy, and needs to see
the world. I think I will close the chateau now that
you are about to leave it, and send him to travel with
the abbe* for a while. He will come home a man."
" It is quite determined, then, that I should go to
Paris ! " exclaimed Valerie in a startled tone.
" The king himself invites you to do so," replied
the count smoothly. " And what is more, my dear, he
wishes you to be presented as Madame the Vicomtesse
de Montarnaud."
"Monsieur ! I the wife of Gaston ! Impossible 1 "
24 4 NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"And why impossible, mademoiselle? Gastou *
not an ffl-looking fellow ; he has a good position in th
army, with prospects of promotion, since his Majesty
deigns to notice him ; he loves you romantically ; I,
his father, and your guardian, beg you to listen favora-
bly to his suit ; and, most important of all, the king
commands you to do so."
"O monsieur!" and choking with anger, grief,
and terror, the young girl hid her face in her hands,
and rushed from the room.
The Count de Montamaud looked after her, wrinkled
his leathern cheeks in a smile of marvellous cunning,
and slowly inhaled a pinch of snuff.
" Une ingenue! " murmured he, dusting some grains
of the fragrant dust from his jabot ; " but it is a fault
that cures itself, and wfll make her none the less
attractive at court. It was poor La Valliere's road to
BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2$
CHAPTER IV.
BETWEEN TWO DAYS.
THE conversation of the brothers, meantime, was
no more amicable than it looked. Truth to tell,
no great affection had ever assisted between them
since early childhood, when the mother's undisguised
partiality for the son who inherited her physique, very
much of her character, and the family title she had
reluctantly abandoned in assuming that of Mont-
arnaud, had sown the seeds of jealousy in the ardent
Southern temperament of the elder, and had given
Franois a certain independence and assurance of
manner ill fitting him in later days to submit to the
domination of a brother. Another cause of annoy-
ance to Gaston was the fact that while himself remain-
ing dependent upon his father's very slender resources,
his title of vicomte being but an empty honor, his
brother inherited, with his mother's family name and
title, a very pretty little property, whose modest in-
come was paid directly into his own hands, and added,
perhaps unnecessarily, to the independence of his
manner, and reticence as to his movements. The
perils of excessive riches were, however, greatly les-
sened by the policy of the young baron's father, who
during his non-age exacted so large a proportion of
26 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
his revenue toward the maintenance of the household,
that there was no great danger of extravagant habits
growing up in the young man's life, especially as he
had always lived in the Chateau de Montarnaud, and
never visited any city larger than Marseilles. This
seclusion had induced a certain rusticity of dress,
speech, and manner, affording infinite amusement of
an unamiable nature to the elder brother, who had,
since boyhood, lived mostly with his father in Paris,
and later had mingled in the army with the gay gal-
lants of the court who either for their sins, or from
ambitious motives, had sought the variety of killing a
few Dutchmen or Spaniards, as the case might be, or
at least of airing the ribbons, scarfs, and favors of
their lady-loves upon the field of battle. In every
folly, every new affectation or whimsical device, Gas-
ton de Montarnaud suffered not even De Lauzun or
De Guiche to surpass him so far as his revenues would
permit ; and, as insolence and flippancy are but cheap
luxuries, he possessed them in abundance.
As the Count de Montarnaud led his ward toward
the chateau, and the brothers followed, Francois pale
and disturbed, Gaston in unusually high spirits, the
latter opened the conversation by remarking,
"That is a wonderfully happy effort of old Marie's
in your doublet, Francois. It is a great economy for
you that she can fashion them from the old bed-
hangings, is it not?"
"My doublet was fashioned by the best tailor in
Marseilles, from his best piece of stuff; and, which will
perhaps strike you as incredible, vicomte, it is paid
for," replied Francois sententiously.
BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2 7
" It does seem incredible that any man in his senses
should pay for such a garment as that. But you had
nothing to pay for that dagger and sheath, my prudent
brother ; for I recognize it as the one our ancestor
Count Paul wore at Cressy."
" Not of quite so old a fashion as that, brother, al-
though not new," replied Francois tranquilly. " It is
the dagger with which about a century ago Reginald
de Montarnaud, who was a Catholic, slew his elder
brother who was a Huguenot, and had, moreover,
stolen the promised bride of the younger."
"The younger brothers of our house have ever
been envious of their elders ; but in these days it is
the elder who is the soldier, while the younger weaves
daisy-chains in the gardens of Montarnaud," retorted
Gaston with a sneer. " But, unhappily, for the future,
my dear boy, you must pursue your sports alone.
Your playmate goes to Paris with me to-morrow."
" With you, indeed ! "
" With my father and me, since you are so precise,
Monsieur Huguenot ; and, by the way, you had better
look. up a suit of our great-grandfather's court clothes,
in which to dance at my wedding a week or so
hence."
'* And *hom do you marry, if I may inquire?" de-
manded Francois, turning pale as death, and clinch-
ing his hand upon the pommel of his dagger.
"What, has not my little Valerie told you? oh the
pretty coquetries of these timid darlings ! " exclaimed
Gaston in a coxcombical tone ; but Francois was too
much affected by the matter to attend much to th?
28 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
manner of his speech, and could only repeat "Va*
lerie ! " in a tone of dismay and terror that delighted
Gaston beyond measure. He twirled his mustache,
smiled insufferably, set his left arm akimbo, and re-
plied,
" Yes, Valerie, my little baron. The king himself
commands the nuptials, I have consented, the lady is
delighted, and my father hastens on the affair. Made-
moiselle de Rochenbois with her servants, and es-
corted by my father and myself, sets out for Paris
to-morrow morning ; and the marriage will be cele-
brated in the royal chapel of Versailles immediately
upon our arrival. You knew, of course, that I was so
happy as to possess Mademoiselle Valerie's approval,
and that the marriage was in process of arrange-
ment?"
" I knew that you were a liar when you were a boy,
and I have no reason to imagine you improved since,"
replied Francois, staring steadily into the eyes of his
brother, who, returning the look more fiercely if less
fixedly, slowly replied,
"Among gentlemen, Monsieur le Baron de "
" Gaston ! Gaston, I say 1 " chimed in the shrill
voice of the Count de Montarnaud, whose subtle in-
stinct warned him that the quarrel of the brothers was
at & point where interference without apparent suspi-
cion was his most appropriate rdle, and, advancing as
he spoke, he ended by linking his arm in that of his
elder son, and leading him away ; while Francois with
i furious gesture rushed into the chateau, and vainly
wught through all its orecincts for Valerie, who was
BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 2c,
closely shut in her own room, refusing to admit even
Marie or Mademoiselle Salerne. This state of tilings
continued until nine o'clock, the hour for supper,
when Marie appeared to report that mademoiselle had
a headache, and required nothing, but wished her
guardian and the young gentlemen a very good night.
As the old woman a few moments later passed through
a dark corridor between the dining-saloon and the
staircase, she was frightened nearly out of her senses
by a cold hand grasping her own, into which it pressed
a paper and a silver piece, while a voice hoarsely mut-
tered,
" Give the paper to your mistress without delay."
" Oh, Monsieur le Baron, oh ! I took you for, 1
know not what ! Oh, such a fright as you have given
me!"
" Never mind : silver will cure it, old woman. How
is mademoiselle? What is she doing?"
" Doing ! She is doing nothing, nor will she allow
me to do any thing, although monsieur tells me to be
all ready to set out with mademoiselle for Paris in the
morning, to come back perhaps never. And there
she sits at this blessed moment, I dare say, in the
great fauteuil that was madame the countess's, her
elbow on its arm, her pretty chin in her hand, her
great eyes fixed on the black square of sky outside
her casement (for I am sure she can see nothing
else) ; and never a word can I get from her except,
' Hold your tongue,' and ' I want nothing,' and * Let
me alone, good Marie ! ' Not so much as to say
which of her dresses is to be packed, and whethet
the will carry El Moro and the canary-birds."
3O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Well, go, good ^larie, go and give her my note,
and perhaps there will be a change," whispered Fran-
9ois hurriedly, for footsteps were approaching; and
while the nurse clambered wearily up the stair, the
lover strode out into the night, leaving his father and
brother to take their supper, and mature their plans for
the morrow, without his help.
Two hours or so later the chateau was quiet, its
lights extinguished, its inmates supposed to be asleep
hi preparation for the fatigues of the morrow ; but,
'whether in houses or their inmates, great apparent
calms occasionally cover intensity of emotion or
action.
The count, to be sure, slept on principle ; for he, too,
had principles, logical outgrowth of his religion, a com-
fortable faith comprised in one tenet, viz. : To gain
the utmost personal advantage at the least possible
personal sacrifice.
One of the leading principles of this faith was care
of the digestive organs, and the securing of that
amount of rest and sleep essential to a person no
longer young, who desires to retain the appearance of
youth. So the count having supped artistically, gen-
tly ruminated sufficiently, and gone to bed cheerfully,
now slept peacefully, and was out of the question.
Valerie de Rochenbois, on the contrary, was per-
haps more widely awake than she had ever been in
all her life, for she was thinking more deeply. The
few words dropped by her guardian, and the express-
ive glances of his elder son, had conveyed to hei
quick intuition the whole story of their visit and in-
BETWEEN TWO DAYS. 3!
tentions in her behalf; her facile fancy already pic-
tured existence at the gorgeous court of Versailles^
herself one of those admired and fortunate beings of
whose elegance, beauty, and luxury she had heard so
much : and the picture was very alluring to the pleas-
ure-loving fancy of the girl. True, the figure of Gaston
de Montarnaud, whom she did not very much like,
made an unpleasant shadow in the scene ; but Valerie ,
had a grand capacity for closing her eyes upon things
she did not wish to see, and, like many another girl
called to a similar decision, she was too maidenly a
maid to know how important an item the husband is
in a woman's married life.
Contrasting with Gaston to whom she was indiffer-
ent, stood Francois whom she loved, no, liked with a
promise of love, and toward whom just now she felt
a species of resentment for having, by his declaration
of that afternoon, evoked certain feelings in her own
heart interfering with the single-sighted delight she
otherwise would have felt in the brilliant prospect
opened to her by Gaston and his father.
To sum up this most contrarious and yet essen-
tially feminine state of mind, she foresaw that she
should hate the man she wished to marry, and she
already began to love him whose fortunes she did not
wish to share ; and she was vexed at Francois that he
could not give her what Gaston offered, and felt a cold
repulsion toward Gaston, in that he coupled himself
with what he offered.
No wonder, plunged into this conflict of two tides,
and not knowing into what maelstrom they would soon
32 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
whirl her, that Valerie's great dark eyes ached with the
intensity of their wakefulness, or that she declined,
both sharply and briefly, to decide upon the merits of
the pink paduasoy, or the somewhat frayed brocade, or
to give directions for the conveyance of her canary-
birds. Poor old Marie, in fact, had suffered so many
and such severe repressions, that it was in a silence
most unwonted that she entered the chamber after her
brief interview with the baron, and laid his note upon
the lap of her young mistress, still seated in the deep
fauteuil, still staring fixedly at the blackness beyond her
window. Valerie, half-eagerly, hay-angrily, caught up
the paper, and approached the candles burning upon
the dressing-table : its contents were brief, and to her
fancy somewhat peremptory :
"I must see you before the morning, that you may reply
distinctly to my offer of hand and heart and name, before you
are called upon to answer a similar offer from my brother. I
shall be under your window as the clock strikes midnight, and
hope you will be there ready to answer simply and truthfully the
question I have asked, and ask again: Will you be mine,
Valerie, my wife, and my beloved? It is the most solemn
utterance of my whole life : do not play with it, do not trifle
with your reply.
FRANCOIS."
As the young girl read these words, a blush, a smile,
a frown, passed in rapid alternation across her face j
and then she stood meditating, folding and re-folding
the paper between her fingers, and finally holding it in
the flame of the candle until it fell a floating cinder
upon the polished floor.
CAIN AND ABEL. 33
CHAPTER V.
CAIN AND ABEL.
THE count slept, Valerie meditated, Francoii
waited, and Gaston prowled. The fact was,
that this young man, although half a century before
the time of Voltaire and Rousseau, was a bit of a
philosopher on his own account, and, banished from
the polished circles of the court and the smiles of
Madame de Montespan, could solace himself very
tolerably with certain village companions, not as re-
fined certainly, but perhaps quite as edifying to his
moral character, as the cavaliers and grandes dames of
Versailles. When, therefore, the Count de Montarnaud
left the salon to secure his beauty-sleep, Monsieur le
Viromte, throwing a dark cloak about him, strolled
down through the garden and over a field or two by a
way quite familiar to his feet since boyhood, to the
auberge of the wretched village of Montarnaud, where
he knew that a little circle of flatterers and vassals
would hail his appearance with slavish delight.
But oh, the wheels within the wheels of even so tiny
a microcosm as the Chateau de Montarnaud !
Mademoiselle Salerne, aged twenty-six, and not ill-
looking, had allowed her heart as she would have said,
her fancy as we will call it, to go astray, secret! v to lie
34 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
sure, but none the less violently, in the direction of the
vicomte, whose sinister face and supple form seemed
to her those of a Antinous, whose insolent and affected
manners were in her estimation the ideal of dignity
and high-breeding, and whose careless compliments,
flung at her from time to time merely because Gaston
de Montarnaud knew no other mode of addressing a
good-looking young woman, stood for so many avowals
of love.
When, therefore, Mademoiselle Salerne discovered,
hi some occult fashion of her own, that the object of
her idol's present visit to Montarnaud was to woo her
pupil for his wife, and was informed that she as gou-
vernante to Mademoiselle de Rochenbois would on the
morrow accompany her to Paris, the state of mingled
jealousy, pleasure, doubt, and agitation taking posses-
sion of her mind was something as terrific as the
proverbial tempest in a teapot, and quite sufficient to
banish slumber from the beady black eyes of the vic-
tim, even had she not found the night too short to
furbish up her dilapidated wardrobe, and prepare for
her journey.
Hence it came, that, as Gaston quietly left the cha-
teau, Adele Salerne first peeped out of her window
after his retreating figure, and then, moved by some
vague impulse of jealousy and suspicion, seized a
mantle, and, flinging it round her head and shoul-
ders, ran swiftly through the corridor and down the
stairs in pursuit, or at least in espial, of the nocturnal
rambler. Now, it so happened that the Abb6 De-
spard, although not in love, was as wakeful and as dis-
CAIN AND ABEL. 35
turbed in mind as the governess ; for not only did the
note of preparation and change in the chateau fore-
bode the breaking-up of a happy home to him, with
the return to laborious and subservient duty in the
cathedral at Marseilles ; but his conscience, a good,
- trong, serviceable young conscience, troubled him with
suggestions that the hatred, the despair, and the jeal-
ousy he had read during the last few hours upon the
face of his pupil were, in good measure, referable to
the perfect freedom in which the young man had ruled
his own life, and pursued the love-affair whose inter-
ruption now threatened such disaster to all concerned.
" I have been a false steward, an unfaithful guard-
ian. Monsieur le Comte has every right to send me
back to my bishop in disgrace, a dishonored priest !
I have been weak, timid, cowardly : I have allowed
my pupil to lead me, instead of I him; and now I
know his temper ; I know that of the vicomte ; and
mademoiselle, how will she choose?"
Half muttering, half thinking these, and a thousand
phrases like them, the chaplain paced up and down
the long half-lighted library, whither he had retreated
from the frigid and insolent companionship of his
master, and his master's son ; his tall figure clad in
the black soutane, now vanishing into the gloom at
either end of the gallery, now showing spectrally in the
vague circle of light shed by the two candles, which,
mounted upon quaint twisted branches of lacquered
brass, only served to make the gloomy hall more
gloomy than total darkness. At one end of the
libr.uy a door stood ajar, a side-door, giving upon a
36 A NAMELESJ NOBLEMAK.
small lobby whence a narrow staircase led to the upper
stories of the chateau; opposite this staircase a door
led to the terrace, and so to the gardens ; and it was
by this quiet staircase, lobby, and portal, that Ma-
demoiselle Salerne had chosen to set forth upon her
voyage of observation ; and, as the moment of ner
arrival at the foot of the stair was also the moment in
which the chaplain reached the end of the library next
this staircase, it fell out that his eyes, accustomed
to the darkness, discerned the outline of a slender
female figure flitting across the lobby, and out at the
door, and his ears assured him that the light footfall,
and gentle rustle of garments, were not those of old
Marie, or Pauline the inferior woman-servant.
" Mademoiselle Valerie ! Francois has persuaded
her to meet him in the garden ! What imprudence !
If Monsieur le Comte or Monsieur Gaston hear them !
My fault again, always my fault, miserable that 1
am ! I should have foreseen, I should have pre-
vented ! " And with these broken exclamations, prov-
ing that the good abbess conscience was more acute
than his knowledge of the world, and the art of man-
aging lovers, he threw his berretta upon his head, and
left the house by the same path as the governess. But
Adele, light of foot and lithe of motion, was already
far down the garden path in the direction she had seen
Gaston take ; and, in fact, pursued him so closely, that,
as he passed through the wicket at the lower end of
the garden, Adele, hidden in a great clump of laurel
could almost have touched him. Not daring to follow
firther, the governess slowly retraced her steps toward
CAIN AND ABEL. 37
the house, but in a dark alley ran almost into the arms
of a tall, black-clad figure, who first seized his opponent
mechanically, but, releasing her immediately, bowed
low in the darkness, murmuring reproachfully,
" O mademoiselle, what imprudence ! "
" Imprudence, father ! " exclaimed a hard and shrill
voice, differing as much from Valerie's cooing tones as
a cat-bird's from a linnet's : " I only ran down the
garden for a breath of fresh air, after stitching away in
my own room all the evening. What imprudence,
mon pere ? "
" It is always imprudent to take the night air, and
you need your rest for the journey to-morrow," replied
the abb composedly as he passed on, leaving the per-
plexed and somewhat indignant governess to her own
meditations.
" Is he also following Monsieur Gaston ? " murmured
she : " he never would dare upbraid him, no matter in
what peccadillo he discovered him ! Can it be that
Monsieur Francois is astray to-night? Is Mademoi-
selle Valerie safely housed? Truly this is a night of
adventure, a night of interest, a night such as does not
often come to this stupid old chateau ! I will stay out
until the priest and Monsieur Gaston return : they
must pass this way."
Wrapping herself more closely in her mantle as she
whispered this resolve, Adele accordingly settled her-
self upon a well-shaded garden-bench, and remained
motionless; quite unconscious that the pries., aftei
passing her by a few yards, had stopped, and I* nt his
acute ear to listen for her return into the house Find
38 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
ing that this return did not take place, he crept a little
nearer, and soon distinguished the deeper shadow
against the green of the ilex behind the bench. Again
noiselessly withdrawing, the abbe' retreated to a safe
distance, and, sternly staring up at the walls of the
chateau, seemed to question them of their secrets.
"Mademoiselle Salerae is posted as a spy there, 01
as a vidette to watch against surprises ! That means
that her mistress is out here with Fra^ois ! Shall I
return, and force the truth from her by my authority as
her confessor? or shall I wait and watch? Ha 1 what
is that?"
It was a light in Valerie's window : it was Valerie
herself looking down into the garden. Still moving
noiselessly upon the soft mould of the garden-beds,
the abb crept in that direction, uncertain even yet as
to the course proper for him to pursue ; but infinitely
relieved to perceive that Mademoiselle de Rochenbois
was safe, and not in the commission of imprudences
for which he might feel himself more or less account-
able.
Truth to tell, Valerie had seldom passed so mau-
vais un quart d'heure as after reading Francois' note,
nor had by any means resolved what to reply to
it, when the town-clock struck twelve ; and she felt,
as Godiva did, as Cinderella did, that the moment of
meditation was past, the moment of action had ar-
rived. But what action? Godiva was governed by
a grand motive, Cinderella by a grand passion and a
fairy godmother; but poor little Valerie possessed
neither grand motive, nor passion, nor godmother, in
CAIN AND ABEL. 39
fact, nothing as guide but a very pronounced desire
to please, first herself, then Francois, then everybody ;
and no amount of meditation showed her how all
these objects were to be combined. To be sure, the
Snark tells us of a mind so equably divided that when
it would call upon Richard or William, it could decide
upon neither, and so summoned Rilchiam; but the
Snark was not composed in those days, and it is
unkind to play with Valerie's feelings in this manner,
so let us resume serious history.
The clock struck twelve : a handful of sand thrown
against Valerie's window announced a visitor below;
and, opening the casement, the young lady was startled
to find the top of her lover's blonde head upon a level
with the sill.
" Why, how came you there, Francois ? " exclaimed
she.
" The fruit-ladder. I was afraid they would hear if
we spoke aloud. There is not a moment to spare, for
everybody but my father is up and about. I went to
see if all was safe, and nearly ran over your governess.
But never mind all that. Tell me, Valerie, tell me
like a brave and honest girl, tell me that you love me
as I love you."
" Certainly, I love you, Francois : I am very fond of
you ; but "
"But what? Speak out, Valerie, be honest."
" How can I speak out when I don't know what tc
say?" demanded Valerie pettishly. Francois uttered
an exclamation as of physical pain.
" O Valerie ! You do not know ! You are trifling
40 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
with me : you know that this is life and death to me,
and you hesitate and toy as if with the choice of a
ribbon."
"But you see, Francois," retorted the young girl
with vivacity, " if it is life or death to you, so it is to
me ; and I can't tell, all in a minute, which is life and
which is death. If it were a ribbon it wouldn't
matter: but it's the court and the king, and all the
gay, beautiful life there, with Gaston, whom I don't
love ; or it's this stupid old chateau, and poverty, and
disgrace, and rust and mould, with you, whom I am
fond of, no doubt, and yet"
"And yet not enough fond of to choose instead
of the court and the king and Gaston," suggested
Francois.
"That's the very question," replied Valerie naively.
" And I'm really afraid, that, whichever I choose, I shall
spend all the rest of my life regretting the other."
"Then by all means, mademoiselle," began the
baron in a rage ; but was interrupted by a loud and
mocking voice from below :
" What, what ! A robber ! An assassin ! Thieves t
Murderers ! An attack upon the chateau ! "
And with a well-directed kick the vicomte drove
the fruit-ladder from its position, and brought it with its
burden to the ground. Francois, considerably hurt by
the fall, but a good deal more humiliated than hurt,
jumped up with a furious exclamation, and, seizing his
brother by the throat, bore him to the ground.
" Oh, it is you, you wretched animal ! " gasped the
vicomte, no match for his brawny brother in any
CAIN AND ABEL. 4!
thing but courage, of which he had plenty. " How
dare you insult my affianced wife? Take that, then ! "
" Ugh ! " growled the stricken man, smarting from a
blow across the eyes nearly blinding him, and return-
ing it with a tremendous thrust. " You lie ! She is
ny affianced wife ! "
"Lie, do I?" hissed Gaston, his bad blood fully
roused; and Cam and Abel clutched each other in
mortal fray. A moment, and the slighter form toppled
against the wall, and fell a crumpled heap at its foot ;
while the other, oppressed with the sudden horror of
completed crime, turned and fled into the darkness
and the night; and Valerie, bending low from her
window, wrung her hands, and shrieked for help, moan-
ing hi her poor little selfish heart,
"Francois has murdered Gaston, and I have lost
them both."
42 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
CHAPTER VI.
VALERIE'S CHOICE.
A LITTLE way down the garden-path Francois
paused in his headlong flight, stood still, and
began slowly to retrace his steps. Having yielded to
two impulses of the wild beast caged in most men's
natures, Fight and Flight, he now submitted to the
tardier but in the main stronger coercion of educa-
tion, civilization, or, if you please, honor, the legitimate
child of education and civilization.
Three steps of retrogression, and the young man
felt his arm grasped from behind, and an eager voice
demanded,
" What is it, Monsieur le Baron ? You have fought
with your brother? You have killed him? Is he
dead?"
"We fought? Idonotfcnow. God forbid ! lam
going to see. Come, man pere."
" Come ! Go, I should rather say. Fly while there
is time. The house will be roused in a moment : the
governess is flying along the terrace already, shrieking
like a sea-gull, and Mademoiselle Valerie"
" What are you thinking of, abW ? Fly ! Escape !
What words are these for a gentleman to hear? If I
have by sore mischance killed my brother, I will abide
VALERIE'S CHOTC.F 43
the consequences of my deed. God knows I never
meant more than an angry blow."
"Then no justice of God or man demands your
life as forfeit ; and yet the count in his first anger
At any rate, wait here for a moment or two, until I
discover the real state of the case. If the vicomte is
not dead, you ought all the more to keep out of your
father's sight for a day or two. Will you wait here
five minutes until I go up there and make a report? "
"Well, yes, I will wait five minutes here ; not, mind
you, that I fear my father's wrath, but that I will not
intrude upon the grief of Mademoiselle de Rochen-
bois, whom even from this distance I can hear calling
so piteously upon her Gaston."
The abb6 had not paused for more than the first
clause of this reply, but was already springing up the
steps to the terrace, where all the inhabitants of the
chateau were now assembled ; and presently Francois,
himself invisible beneath the dense shadows of the
garden, perceived that his father, the abbe, and two
men-servants were lifting, and heavily carrying in at
the open doors, a something what was it ? a
corpse, or a wounded man? Was he, standing there
in *hat fragrant garden, where so few hours before he
had sported like a child with his cousin, was he a
murderer? His brother's blood was on his hand
indeed, but was it life-blood ?
And the young baron, asking himself this question,
facing this possibility, made in those five minutes one
of those strides in life which eventless years may not
measure, as the Alpine adventurer, losing his hold
44 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
upon the ice, whirls in a moment down the steep de-
scent whereon by choice he had painfully crept for
hours. Perhaps he survives, perhaps he does not ;
but, at the best, such plunges leave some aches and
scratches behind.
" Will he never come ? " exclaimed Francois, and
on the instant heard the soutane of the priest brush-
ing along the rose-hedged walk.
"Well, monpere!"
"Well, my son ! He is not dead, and may not be
mortally hurt: they cannot yet tell. But Mademoi-
selle Salerne accuses you of the murder, as she calls it ;
and your father is in a white rage because the king
will be displeased at him. He has sent one man into
Marseilles for a surgeon, another for the police to
arrest you. He speaks, too, of his seigneurial rights,
and of cutting off the hand which has shed the blood
of an elder brother. If he finds you to-night he will
do some mad thing, not to be remedied to-morrow.
Vou must hide for a day or so at least."
Francois made a haughty gesture of dissent, and
twisted his arm from the hold of the priest, who re-
luctantly produced his last argument,
" Mademoiselle Valerie wishes it."
"Wishes me to fly?"
" Yes. She gave me this note, and whispered, ' Foi
God's sake bid him keep out of the way ! ' "
"A note! How shall I read it ? All depends upon
what she says. Man pere, have you some of that
magical stuff you were showing me this morning, that
which makes light in the dark? Can you make light
for me now?"
VALERIE'S CHOICE. 45
" Yes : come into the garden-house." And the
abbe 1 , smiling a little to himself at seeing the depend-
ence of the pupil suddenly overtopping the self-
assertion of the young noble, led the way into the
tool-hcuse, and produced from his pocket a phial of
phosphorus, in those days as valuable an adjunct of
wonder-work as in our time are cabinets with sliding-
doors, wires, magnets, darkened rooms, and boundless
credulity.
Dipping a splint of prepared wood in this phial,
the abb procured a light, at which Frangois glanced
rather apprehensively, but soon forgot in reading these
few words, very badly written upon a crumpled bit of
paper :
" Gaston is not dead, and I am sure I hope he will not die ;
but until one knows, you must not be seen here. Hide your
self ; efface yourself thoroughly. The abbe may tell me where.
For my sake, Francois. VALERIE."
It was not very loving, it was not very definite : but
it ended with " for my sake," and surely Valerie would
never so enforce her behest unless she meant more
than met the eye ; and if, being his, she desired him
to save himself for her sake So far did Frangois
untangle the maze of his emotions, and then, turning
to the impatient priest, said with a sigh,
"Well then, mon pere, I will depart for a while:
but whither? To my estates in Normandy?"
"The messengers of Monsieur le Comte would ar-
rive there as soon as yourself, mon baron," replied th
tutor, in a tone of more authority as he felt himself
46 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
becoming master of the occasion. " No : you shaB
come with me to Marseilles ; and I will show you a
very poor but a very safe refuge, where you may lie
securely hid until your brother's fate is disclosed.
Then we shall see."
" As well there as anywhere, if I must indeed hide."
" Let us set out at once, and on foot, since to bring
horses from the stable would declare our intention."
"Very well." And Francois, absorbed in thought,
set forth at so round a pace that the priest, less used
to physical exertion, although well fitted for it, was
more than once obliged to beg for consideration.
Two hours later the young men halted in a quiet
street of Marseilles, before a small house largely de-
voted to a grocer's shop, bearing upon the door-posts
the name of Jacques Despard.
" It is my father's house and shop, monsieur," said
the abbe with quiet dignity, and led the way up a
staircase built on the outside at the end, as was the
fashion of that day, unlocked a door upon the land-
ing, looked in, beckoned the baron to follow, and,
unlocking a second door, ushered him into a small
bedroom, sparsely but neatly furnished, and very tidy.
" There, Monsieur le Baron," said the abbe", closing
the door, and drawing a long breath, " here you are
safe, and welcome for as long as you choose to stay.
This is my own room, always kept ready for my arrival
by day or night, and never entered by any member of
the household save my sister, who loves to keep it in
order because she loves me. I will go now, and tell
her that I have here a guest who desires to remain in
VALERIE'S CHOICE. 4;
secret ; and she will attend you without curiosity and
without stupidity. Then I must hasten back to the
chateau before the family are about, lest my absence
should suggest your place of retreat."
He left the room, and presently returned with a
brisk, brown little maiden, whom he presented as,
" My sister Clotilde, monsieur, and your hostess."
Francois bowed gravely and courteously ; and Clo>
tilde dropped a respectful courtesy, saying shyly, yet
eagerly,
" Monsieur is very welcome ; and I have already
told the abb6 how discreet and how attentive I will
try to be to his friend. Monsieur will excuse the poor
place, I am sure."
" I am most grateful for its shelter, mademoiselle,
and only sorry to make you trouble," replied Francois
in his grand, grave fashion ; and Clotilde, dropping
another courtesy, followed her brother from the room,
saying,
"As soon as old Nannette has gone to mass, and
my father and Henri are in the shop, I will bring
monsieur some breakfast."
"Any time, any thing," replied Frangois wearily;
and, as the door closed, he threw himself into a chair,
and laid his head upon his folded arms on the table.
After all, he was only a boy.
That evening with his supper Clotilde brought her
prisoner a note which she handed to him saying,
" It is a billet, monsieur, which I found in a parcel
of linen sent me by my brother the abb ; and I think
it must be for you, since Vincent knows I do not read
writing, although I can make out print very well."
48 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" It is for me, mademoiselle," said Francois eagerly }
and Clotilde left the room murmuring,
"He calls me mademoiselle, which is very nice;
but he is as solemn as if we assisted at his father's
funeral."
The abbess note ran thus :
" MONSIEUR MY HONORED PUPIL, I have the pleasure
of announcing that the Vicomte de Montarnaud is not so
dangerously wounded as was at first feared, and bids fair to
recover under the careful tendance of Mademoiselle Valerie,
her governess, and old Marie, all of whom are constant at his
bedside. But I cannot advise you to return hither at present ;
for the comte is far more enraged at the delay in presenting
himself, with his son and Mademoiselle de Rochenbois, before
the king, than at the danger to his son's life ; and would, could
he lay hands upon you, make you suffer severely for his annoy-
ance, and possible disgrace at court.
" Nor have I any better news to give you of Mademoiselle
Valerie, who seems in a state of mingled grief and irritability
very difficult to encounter. I ventured to ask this morning if
she had a message for you ; and she only replied, ' Bid him keep
out of the way, if he wishes to please me ; ' and when I again
asked if she would not write a line to comfort you in your
exile, she sharply inquired, since when priests had made it their
duty to act as go-betweens for lovers ? The question touched
me sharply, monsieur, and I turned away without reply.
" In conclusion, I can only recommend you on all accounts,
-your own, Monsieur le Comte's, Mademoiselle Valerie's, and
even my own, if you will allow me to mention it, to remain
strictly hidden, at least until I come to you, which will be in
two or three days at latest, I send you a packet containing
some clothes, your dressing-case, your own table-service, and
some books, among them the Satires of Horace which we
were lately reading, and which you may find congenial to your
present mood; also the 'Imitation of Christ,' a work more
VALERIE'S CHOICE. 49
edifying in its spirit than the first, but not nearly so good
Latin.
" Until our meeting I remain
" Your faithful tutor and servant,
"VINCENT DE PAUL DESPARD."
The third evening after this, just as Francois, who
had read a good deal of Horace and a little of Thom-
as 3 Kempis, had counted all the stones of the dead
wall opposite his window, and made some progress in
taming the sparrows, which he fed with crumbs on his
window-sill, was putting on his plumed hat with the
intention of sallying forth to meet his tutor upon the
road, or, failing this, to push on to the chateau, and
end this miserable suspense, the door was hurriedly
opened, and Pre Vincent entered with a face so full
of ill news, that the young baron exclaimed,
" My brother is worse, is dead ! "
" No monsieur, but "
" Valerie is betrothed to \ jn ? "
" I do not know, monsiev r, but
" Has not she written to me ? "
" Yes, monsieur, but "
" Give it me, please, then, and in pity do not say
* but ' again to-night."
" But, Monsieur le Baron "
" But, mon pere ! "
And half petulant, half laughing, Francois snatched
the letter from the abbe~'s tardy fingers, and, tearing it
open, hastily read,
' I have not written to you before, Fran9ois, because I knew
D( t what to say, and also because I was busy in attending Gas
5O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
ton, whom you hurt very much : and it is a horrible thing for a
brother to try to kill his brother, especially the younger the elder ;
for, as my guardian says, some persons might say you wished
to secure the title and estates of Montarnaud in addition to
your own. And it was all a mistake too ; for Gaston was wan-
dering in the garden, to look at the light in my window, and
vexing himself with fears that I should not accept his suit, and
really took you for a robber. He is much better now, so much
that to-morrow, or even to-night if possible, we are to set out
for Paris, carrying him in a litter, and travelling by easy stages ;
for my guardian will no longer delay obeying the king's com-
mand, and says he would risk the lives of all belonging to him,
and after all the rest his own, rather than further tempt the
royal displeasure.
" Ah, Fra^ois I my heart is not in what I have written, and
you will again call me frivolous and heartless, I know you
will ; but, dear, what can I do ? My uncle would take me by
main force if I resisted ; he would kill me sooner than seem to
disobey the king ; and I, well, then, I will be brave, at least,
and say the truth, I want to go. I do not love Gaston, I
do not love, not really love, anybody ; but I must see Ver-
sailles ; I must breathe the air of the court ; I must wave my
wings like those great painted butterflies of our fair garden, in
the perfumed sunshine of the royal presence. I shall be sorry,
I know it already, but I go I "
There was more of it; but at this last word the
lover, muttering a black and bitter malediction, rent
the sheet into twenty fragments, crushed them in his
hand, and, flinging them upon the hearth, turned a
ghastly face upon his tutor, saying,
"So it is decided. She has gone with him to
Paris ! "
"Monsieur le Comte, v.th Mademoiselle de Ro-
chenbois her attendants and Monsieur Gaston, left
VALERIE'S CHOICE. $!'
the chateau about an hour before I did," said the
abb gently, for the pain upon his pupil's white face
stirred his very heart.
" Will you kindly leave me alone, mon pere, for hall
an hour or so ? Or, no, I will walk for a while. There
is now no motive for concealment. In half an hour I
will return."
"God be with you, my son, and give you strength ! "
" Amen, my father."
HaH" an hour later the baron, returning to his little
room, found an inviting supper spread, and the abb
cheerfully superintending Clotilde's last arrangements.
"Come, my son ! " exclaimed he as the young girl
withdrew. " Let us first of all eat ; since Clotilde tells
me you sent away your dinner untasted, and I have
taken nothing since morning."
"As you will, mon pere" replied Francois carelessly ;
but even so the priest noted that the voice had a stur-
dier ring and a more manly tone than he yet had heard
hi it, and was further rejoiced by seeing his pupil par-
take of Clotilde's delicacies, not with any great enjoy-
ment certainly, but with the honest appetite of a
healthy young fellow of one and twenty.
"And now, mon abbe" began the baron, pushing
back his chair, " I have to bid you good-by, with
inany thanks for your kind hospitality here, and your
greater kindness in the days past, the days of my
youth as they already seem, for the life of Montarnaud
is past."
"And whither go you now, Monsieur le Baron?
What are your plans, if I may ask ? " inauired
52 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
somewhat incredulously ; for truly the transition from a
runaway schoolboy to a self-reliant young noble was a
little sharp, a little incredible. But Francois, proving
his new manhood by failing to resent the other's un-
belief in it, quietly answered,
" I hardly know, except that I go to-morrow into
Normandy, to sell my possessions there to this rich
contractor who wishes so much to become a proprie-
tor. My one and twentieth birthday is past since
resterday."
"You will sell" began the abbe aghast. But
Franfois interrupted him : " Do not let us argue, mon
pere" said he quietly, but with the air of the grand
seigneur which had so lately come upon him. " I have
no longer a country, a home, or a name. The king of
France has stolen my father's honor and my fiancee's
faith. He shall not rank me among his subjects, lest
I, too, become a traitor and a coward. I renounce all
that makes me a Frenchman; and, so soon as this
business is concluded, I leave the country of Louis
XIV., of Raoul de Montarnaud, of Gaston his son,
and of Valerie de Rochenbois, never, so help me
God ! to set foot upon its soil again."
" And where will you go ? and how will you live ? "
asked the abb, a tinge of excitement rising to his
sallow cheek, and kindling his fervent eyes.
" I have hardly considered as yet," replied his pupil.
"There is good fighting to be had in the Netherlands
and I am not an ill swordsman."
" I have a thought ! You were lamenting that birth
and fortune prevented your pursuing your surgical and
VALERIE'S CHOICE. 53
anatomical studies. The army hospitals are rough but
rapid schools ; and to save life, and ameliorate human
suffering, is a nobler and a rarer art than slaughter.
Then, too, I might find work as chaplain."
"What!" exclaimed the young man, his fair face
flushing eagerly. " You will go with me ! You, too,
will expatriate yourself, and for my sake, man pere !
I wished it so much, but would not ask it for fear I
should seem to claim pity and help."
" Pride, my son," quietly suggested the abb6 ; and
then, the young man's nature suddenly overtopping
the priest's, he grasped Fran?ois by the hand, cry-
ing,
"Courage, mon ami! we will go out together to
conquer the world, and win for ourselves the place
she does not wish to grant us. The sword of the
Lord and of Gideon shall prevail over more formid-
able enemies than yet have assailed us. Va! "
54 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER VII.
MOLLY.
QUEEN ELIZABETH, of various memory, com-
manded her portrait to be painted without
shadow ; and the idea was so little wise that we may
fairly conclude it to have been all her own, and that
Burleigh and the rest of the councillors who made
the greatness and the goodness of the maiden queen
(probably wife of Essex) thought this one of the
occasions when their royal charge might be left to
her own guidance, without danger to any one but
herself.
And why was it so absurd an idea? Simply because
it ignored one of the primal laws of creation, the law
of contrasts. Why is coming day so lovely? Because
it is so strong a contrast to the darkness, colorlessness,
repose, of night. Why is night so lovely when its
soft and perfumed darkness falls between us and the
world which has wearied us all day ? Because of the
contrast to that day we welcomed so blithely, and
shall again welcome on the morrow.
Why did the God of beauty make the skies and sea
blue, the forests green, the birds, the flowers, the rain-
bow, the gems and minerals, of every tint into which
light may be divided, if not to teach us the refresh-
MOLLY. 55
ment and delight of contrast? So Elizabeth was, after
all, a more pretentious autocrat than her father. He
only aspired to reform and rule the Church : she
would have reformed and governed creation.
In another reign Madame de Pompadour held
power for twenty years. How? By studying and
utilizing the science of contrasts. The chief me-
morial she has left upon earth is that combination
of sky-blue and carnation-pink still known by her
name, that soft and vivid contrast adapted from
Nature's azure eyes and softly tinted cheeks ; and one
can hardly help weeping to-day over the memoirs of
the poor wretch as one reads of her piteous efforts to
maintain her bad eminence, exerting herself day by
day to hold the sated voluptuary, at once her slave
and her master, by ever freshly linked chains, largely
forged at the anvil of contrast. To-day she moved
before him in all the grandeur of jewels, cloth of gold,
lace, embroidery, all that composed the grande toilette
of that age ; to-morrow she was the artless peasant-
inaid, with her snow-white linen, scarlet bodice, and
brief kirtle, showing the pretty feet and ankles in their
gay hose and shoon ; now she swam in the postures
of an Eastern dance, clad in the gold-shot tissues, the
transparent veil, and tinkling ornaments, of a baya-
dere ; and again she drooped meekly before her lord
in the costume of a nun, coiffed and wimpled, her
bold eyes modestly down-dropt, her white unjewelled
fingers clasping a rosary.
Ah, poor wretch, indeed ! How she must have
longed at times to dare to be herself, to be gloomy 01
56 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
angry, or tearful or silent, as the mood seized her, to
know the liberty of Jeanne Poisson once more. And,
after all, she was a Catholic, and must at least have
been taught the superstitions of her faith : she must
by times have thought of death and judgment and
hell ; she was not " advanced " enough to doubt the
existence of both God and the Devil as real persons,
and suppose the thought of them took possession of
her imagination while the king waited to see her in
the bayadere dress. Well, she reigned by the power
of contrasts, and achieved her last coup of this sort
when she was carried from her lodgings in the royal
palace, from her pink and blue, her jewels, her cos-
tumes, her magnificence, to the sordid hearse, quite
good enough to-day for her whose word a few months
earlier could shake the world ; and Louis XV., stand-
ing at his window to watch the wretched funeral and
the dismal, rainy November day, took snuff, and
laughed, and said,
"The marquise has rather poor weather for her
journey."
Is the digression a trifle long? Pardon it ; for it is
to make you in love with contrast, and to lead you
from Versailles, with its Montespans and Pompadours,
and the rose-garden of Provence, with Valerie, sum-
moned by a king to grace his court, to a desolate
winter sea-coast, its sparse vegetation cut down by
unremitting frosts, its few and scattered dwellings
cowering before the winds that contemptuously hurl
handfuls of sand in their blinking eyes, or tear the
thatch from their roofs like hair from a dishonored
MOLLY. 57
head; or, growing more furious than contempt ious,
shake the whole sturdy frame until it rocks upon its
foundations, yet meekly holds its own at last, as the
Wat Tylers generally do.
It is with one of these houses that we have to do,
a low but comfortably large farmhouse, set down in
the sand with a sort of apologetic uncertainty, as if
it hesitated to turn its back, either upon the faint
wheel-track denoting a highway, or upon the sea sul-
lenly sliding up a shallow beach about a hundred
rods away. The wheel-track meant agriculture and
commerce, the sea stood for fisheries and driftwood ;
and the question evidently vexing the mind of the
undecided house was, whether Humphrey Wilder, its
master and owner, was a farmer or fisherman, and so
had most need to conciliate land or sea. The house
never found out, nor shall we ; so let it pass. As for
the man, see him as he stands beside the stout gray
horse harnessed to the farm-wagon, wherein he has
already bestowed sundry bales and boxes suggestive
of provender for man and beast, and an abundance
of wraps, fit for an arctic exploration at the least.
Perhaps Wilder wishes it were arctic, rather than as
hot as he is like to find the end of his journey : for he is
bound with Deborah, his wife, to the quarterly meet-
ing of Friends at New Bedford ; and Deborah, like her
who dwelt beneath her palm-tree near Ramah, was a
prophetess, and ruled in Israel, yet never had been
able to so rule the quiet spirit of her husband as to
induce him to join the society wherein she was a
powerful and favorite speaker ind guide. This was a
58 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
great grief, also a great surprise and discomfiture, to
Deborah, who had married in calm opposition to all
her relatives and fellow-religionists, because she ad-
mired Humphrey's stalwart form and honest English
face and manly ways, and fully expected to add to
these natural graces all those spiritual ones in which
she so abundantly rejoiced. But, greatly to her aston-
ishment, the good-tempered, placid fellow, so ready to
yield to her in most matters, so impossible to quarrel
with, although not hard to wound, developed in some
few directions a will as immovable, as silent, and as
positive as the Peak o' Derby, in whose shadow it had
its early growth. One of these directions was reli-
gious : Humphrey did not especially cling to the
Church of England, wherein he had been bred, but
he distinctly refused to belong to any other ; and the
only offensive weapon he ever used, in the discussions
he could not always avoid vith Deborah, was the Book
of Common Prayer, which he sometimes brought out,
and read aloud wherever it happened to open, in a
sonorous voice, around and through whose diapason
the wife's shrill and thin tones harmlessly wandered,
like the twitter of sparrows around the organ of a
cathedral.
Fancy, if you please, Deborah of Ramah's emotions
if Lapidoth had declined all sympathy with Barak,
and had quite refused to admire Jael, or to listen to
his wife's song of triumph I
Another blank wall agiinst which Dame Wilder
presently ran her head was her husband's determina-
tion that Molly, the first and only child, should be
MOLLY. 59
christened in the parish church where her forbears had
been for centuries before she was born, and should be
educated as they had been in catechism and church-
service.
Deborah submitted simply because she couldn't help
it: but she wrung from the conqueror a reluctant
consent to join a party of emigrants about leaving
Old England for New; for, as she pathetically re-
marked,
" She could better bear her disgrace in the wilder-
ness than among her own folk."
"If it's disgrace to wed an honest man, that's
stanch to State and Church, and will have his child so
trained, why didst do it, dame?" asked Humphrey
calmly ; and Deborah found no reply but tears, and a
renewed petition to join the emigrants, to which her
husband finally consented ; pleasing himself in select-
ing a site for his new dwelling so far from any gather-
ing place of Friends that it was only on stated occasions,
like the quarterly-meetings, that Deborah could find
an audience for the grief and shame she never failed
to put in evidence before she finished speaking, how-
ever she might begin. Wilder invariably attended
these occasions, probably because his British pluck
suggested that it would be cowardly to shirk any thing
so disagreeable ; but Molly always remembered how,
as she sat one Sunday afternoon on her father's knee,
and looked with him at the ghastly prints in " Fox's
Book of Martyrs," he muttered over one of them,
" Maybe that chap didn't witness for his faith any
stronger in his half-hour with the lions, than another
may do in a dozen years or so of pin-pricks."
6O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Who pricked him, father? Show me the picture,"
demanded Molly ; but, putting her off his knee, the
father answered with a short laugh,
" Never mind, my little maid ; never mind. Come
now, say thy catechism and the collect for this day."
And so they came to America, and settled near
some Old-World neighbors named Hetherford, hard by
the village of Falmouth at the beginning of Cape Cod ;
and here, nourished by the salt Atlantic breeze, and
the plenteous freedom of out-door life, as she followed
her father around his fields or out in his fishing-boat,
Molly Wilder grew from a fragile, lily-white child to a
stately maiden, inheriting her father's finely-developed
figure and fair English coloring, deepened in the eyes
from the honest blue of Wilder's to a deep grey, suit-
ing well with their steadfast and earnest expression,
and with the black lashes and brows which nature had
capriciously borrowed from the mother's dark face to
bestow upon her fair daughter. But Molly's mouth
and chin were all her own, resembling neither the
somewhat rough-hewn and bovine features of her
father, nor the thin-lipped shrewish mouth and pointed
chin of her mother ; for Molly's chin was wide and
soft and creamy-white, with just the faintest depression
in its midst, as if Love had been about to set a
dimple there, but had been frightened away by the
cold purity of the lips above, so bright of tint, so ex-
quisite of moulding, so soft and sweet in their rare
smiles, but ordinarily so grave. If Valerie de Ro-
chenbois' mouth was made for kisses, surely Mary
Wilder's was made for prayer ; and if still the kisses
MOLL Y. 6 1
came, they would be like benedictions, rather than the
light caresses Valerie so freely bestowed.
One of the minor crosses of Deborah Wilder's life
(and she lived, so to speak, in a forest of crosses large
and small) was her daughter's hair. It was so abun-
dant in quantity, so bright in its chestnut tint, so wavy
in its growth, mutinously breaking into little burnished
curls on the temples, and in the nape of the columnar
neck, especially after an encounter with the sweet
strong wind, so often Molly's playmate, that it could
neither be hidden nor disregarded ; and although the
girl herself seemed to take no especial thought of it,
beyond brushing it smoothly behind her ears, and
knotting it in a great coil at the back of her head,
whence it too often slipped, and fell a great burnished
serpent, almost to her heels, Deborah was always
worrying lest this rare abundance and rich coloring
should prove a snare, either to the child herself, or
some admirer yet to appear ; and more than once she
would have shorn her like a lamb, but that Humphrey
sternly forbade; and at last Molly took the matter
into her own hands, and quietly met her mother's last
proposition to shorten it, with,
" Nay, mother, father has said he will have my hair
as it is, and I shall never touch scissors to it again."
"Thee has thy father's own stubborn temper,"
replied Deborah angrily ; but there the matter rested.
The wagon was ready and waiting ; and Humphrey,
stamping his feet, and drawing the muffler tight around
his neck, looked dubiously toward the sea, which
tossed and moaned restlessly beneath a low-hung.
62 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
stormy sky ; while the gulls, skimming along close to
the water, uttered harsh cries of terror or warning as
they fled before the chill east wind.
" It looks set for dirty weather, and that by noon of
this day," said the farmer uneasily. "Molly, my
maid, I don't feel right to leave you here your lone ;
yet you're a brave wench, and a stout one too, and
Amariah will be back to-morrow."
" I'm not afraid, father. Why should I be ? " replied
Molly quietly, as she carefully arranged a hot soapstone
in the bottom of the wagon for her mother's feet to
rest upon. Her father stepped closer, and spoke in a
lower voice :
"The most that worries me is that money in the
secretary yon. If it were not for that, I'd say shut up
the house, and go stop at neighbor Hethei ford's; but
I don't like to leave so much in the house alone, and
I don't like any but thee, my lass, to know of it
Reuben is a good enough fellow ; but yet "
" Don't be uneasy, father," interrupted Molly hastily ;
for Deborah's voice preceded her out of the house
like a blast of the shrill east wind :
" Mary, Mary ! Surely thee has forgotten the elder-
flower wine I was to carry to Friend Mehitable Barker,
and the nut-cakes "
"They're all in, safely, mother," replied Molly, and
hurriedly continued in her father's ear,
" Nobody will know of the money, whatever hap
pens; and I will not leave the house until you
return."
" God bless you, my faithful little girl 1 " muttered
MOLLY. 63
the father, and turned to meet his wife, who staggered
out of the house, her arms full of last packages, and
allowed herself and them to be stored in the wagon
by Humphrey's somewhat hurried movements, hurling
back last charges at Molly all the while.
" Now don't thee forget, Mary, to change the water
on the pickles every day, and feed the hens with hot
food ; and mind that Amariah looks well after the pigs,
and see if thee can spin out all the rolls I have put in
the top drawer ; and be sure have Mercy Hetherford
over to sleep with thee every night ; and don't thee
let Reuben stay after dark, and "
But just at this point the horse and his driver came
to an understanding, through which the wagon started
suddenly forward, cutting short the good dame's
speech with a jerk.
A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SPINNING-WHEEL.
A SOBER little smile flitted across Molly's lips
as she noted the vivacious manner in which her
mother turned upon her father, as the wagon drove
away, and fancied the comments she would make upon
the jerk with which her directions had been abruptly
ended. Then shivering a little she entered the house,
but paused on the threshold to look over at the roofs
of some farm-buildings half hidden by the sand-hills.
"I hope Mercy will come before dark, and then
Reuben needn't come with her. 'After dark,' says
mother ! With my will he'd never come."
And, closing and barring the front door, Molly
passed through the melancholy "fore-room," as the
parlor, sacred to visitors and solemn occasions, was
called, to the great sunshiny kitchen extending across
the back of the house, its wide latticed window looking
southerly toward the sea, its porched door opening
toward the east, and the family bedroom extending
across the western end. Tabitha, the great tortoise-
shell cat, came forward to meet her mistress, arching
her back and mewing in a sentimental sort of way,
which brought another smile to Molly's lips, as, stoop^
inor to pat her, she gayly said,
THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 65
"Why, Tab, surely you are never going to be lone-
some, and so soon too ! You and I are the garrison
of the fortress, and must make a brave show, though it
be with quaking hearts beneath."
She gave the cat her breakfast, and then busied her-
self in clearing the table, washing the dishes, and
various household details, all performed in the rapid,
noiseless, and thorough fashion of one who brings to
such homely work the will, the mind, and the con-
science that would fitly administer the affairs of a
castle or a palace, had the individual been so placed.
Her active work finished, Molly drew the great
spinning-wheel to the centre of the glittering kitchen ;
and humming cheerily a hunting-song, in which her
father often indulged when alone with her in his boat
or tossing the hay upon the meadows, she began the
graceful toil, than which no sport was ever more be-
coming to lithe maiden form 'or shapely hands and
arms.
The song had given place to a quaint old hymn,
when a sharp tap upon the southern window made the
spinner snap her thread, as she hastily turned to see a
man's face pressed against the glass and smiling upon
her. Not an unknown or alarming face, but yet a
very repulsive face, mean, sordid, cruel, with small
gray eyes, too closely set, a narrow hollow brow, scant
red hair, hardly perceptible in eyebrows and lashes,
although straggling in patches over the cheeks and
around the thin-lipped, deceitful mouth.
And this was the man to whom Deborah Wilder
fain would give her only child, and that immediately.
65 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
As Molly recognized him, the song died from her lips,
the look of placid content from her eyes ; and, passing
to the door, she slipped the bolt across it before she
a proached the window, and, opening it a little way,
coldly said,
"Good-morning, Reuben: have you a message?"
"Only that Mercy is coming over this afternoon.
Shall I tie my horse, and come in for a little? "
" You know for yourself that my father said you were
not to come in unless Mercy was with me : she does
not appear to me to be here now."
"You are over-nice, Mistress Molly. Well, I only
came to say to you, that after dinner I am going to
ride over to the Corners ; and, if you like, you may go
too."
" But I don't like, thank you, Master Reuben, so
that errand is soon done," said Molly scornfully ; and
Reuben's scowl did not improve his beauty, as he
retorted,
" You might at least be civil, mistress : what's amiss
now, I wonder?"
" The weather is very much amiss for standing at
open windows ; so, if you'll excuse me, I'll e'en close
this one, and go on with my work." And with a little
laugh, as icy as the wind, she closed the casement,
and turned the button securing it, then went back to
her wheel without vouchsafing another look at the
angry suitor, who went away muttering savagely,
" Your mother will make you mend your mjtmers,
my lady, when she comes home: and, once we're
married, I'll see what a little wholesome correct? will
do ; I won't forget, never fear."
THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 67
Ten minutes longer the spinning-wheel kept its
rhythmic measure, as you may hear it in Mendelssohn's
Lied ; and then of a sudden Molly dropped the thread,
and, clasping her hands together, stood with lifted
head and steadfast eyes, while over her young face
crept the look its lines would have taught a physiog-
nomist to sometime expect there, although it might not
be for years.
Joan of Arc resolving to give her young life to
France ; Charlotte Corday dedicating hers to Liberty ;
Anne Askew consecrating hers to God, all these
could recognize that look, and strike hands with one
fit to be their sister ; but like other great crises in our
lives it passed unseen, unnoted, in silence, save as the
girl's pale lips murmured almost inaudibly,
" No ! let what will come, I have made my mind :
I will never be Reuben Hetherford's wife."
But the moments in which one remains on the pin-
nacle of a grand resolve are not minutes, and do not
hold a second breath. Even as she spoke, a trouble
began to shadow the girl's bright eyes, and dim the
hero-light of her expression. Like a cloud, the pre-
science of conflict, and weary argument, and slow,
crushing oppression, came over her, as she remembered
her mother, who, for reasons of her own, had this
marriage so much at heart, and who so well knew how
to wear out her opponent in ^.y struggle ; and who
never relinquished a point, though life was fretted
away in fruitless opposition, as in the matter of her
husband's religion. All this, and much, much more,
passed through the girl's mind in that first prophetic
68 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
flash ; and then she set herself, with the dogged prac-
ticality inherited from her father, to consider the
matter, point by point, as it would probably develop ;
and not so much from her own point of view as from
her father's, whom she loved far better than herself,
and had of late unconsciously taken under the pro-
tection of her own young strength and resolute nature :
for the years which sharpened Deborah's tongue, and
exasperated her temper, seemed stealing a little from
the stone and iron of her husband's resistance ; and
a weary look was growing in his eyes, and a harassed
wrinkle upon his brow, that made Molly's heart ache
sorely when she noted them.
And in this matter she knew but too well that she
herself should not be the only or even the chief suf-
ferer; and here was the keenest grief, yet never a
shadow of wavering. Did Anne Askew waver when
she saw the rack, think you ? or Jeanne d'Arc when
she came to her funeral pyre ? And this Molly was of
their stuff, and could not shrink, though dearer than
her own flesh was to become the martyr.
But it was with a heavy sigh that she at last drew
her hand across her brow, and said,
" Oh, poor, poor father ! If only I could take it
all, and all at once, and never see your dear eyes look
so tired again ! But it must go on. Yes "
She sank into a chair, and sat motionless for a long
hour ; while the fire burned low upon the hearth, and
the sparkle died out of the burnished pewter platters,
and the wheel, but now so joyous, stood mute and
motionless, and the cat ceased her purring, and moved
THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 69
uneasily about the room, muttering a discontented
half-mew. Without, the clouds that all the morning
had been trooping up from the under-world, and
massing their forces far out at sea, found themselves
ready to unmask their batteries, and with a shrill blast
of onset swept down in a terrific whirl of wind and
sleet and sand from the beach, all hurtling together
against the window and down the wide-throated chim-
ney, swooping the ashes from the hearth far across the
floor, and into the cat's great golden eyes, until she
arched her back, and spit and miauled in angry terror.
Roused from her revery, Molly looked about her
for a moment abstractedly ; then, with a visible effort
at self-command, resuming her usual manner, she rose
and went to the window, and saw that the storm had
burst in snow and sleet, with every appearance of
continuance.
" All the better. The Hetherfords will keep away,"
said she aloud, then, looking about her, saw that her
careful father had supplied her with wood and water
for twenty-four hours at least, and remembered that a
man from the Hetherford farm was to look after the
live-stock at the barn until Amariah's return with the
horse and wagon next day. Then she swept up the
ashes, prepared dinner for herself and Tabitha, and,
when all was again in order, resumed her spinning,
but not her song, no, not even her hymn. Four
o'clock, and the outer porch door was thrown vio-
lently open, the inner latch rattled, and a shrill voice
cried,
"Molly! Molly Wilder! Let me in ! It's me!"
70 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Why, Mercy ! I never looked for you in this
storm ! " exclaimed Molly, hastening to undo the door,
and admit the whitened, dishevelled figure of a girl
about her own age, but bearing too much resemblance
to Reuben Hetherford for beauty, although his scant
red locks had developed upon his sister's head into an
abundant chevelure of deep auburn, the eyes to a
pair of blue orbs twice the size of his, and his thin
lips to a pretty, if somewhat shrewish, mouth. Still
the family resemblance, the intention of the face, was
too marked to allow Mary Wilder, at least, to admire
it ; and her manner, though courteous, was certainly
a little cool, as she relieved her visitor of her snow-
laden scarlet cloak and hood, and placed a chair for
her beside the fire.
"So you didn't expect me?" began the visitor,
drawing the long over-stockings from her feet, and
extending them to the cheerful blaze. "Well, mother
said it was as much as my life was worth to come out ;
and if you hadn't acted so silly when Reuben called
at noontime, I needn't have come, for she would have
sent him to fetch you over."
" How was I silly? " asked Molly calmly.
" Why, not letting him in, and running round fasten-
ing the doors and windows, as if he was a band of
robbers at the very least. Ma'am says it's enough to
put bad thoughts in a young man's head, when he
wouldn't have had them himself."
" My father and mother both told me, while Reuten
=>at by last night, that I was not to have him in the
house except while you were here, and even so, he
THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 7 1
was not to stay after nine o'clock. Your mothei
would not have me disobey my mother, I suppose,"
said Mary quietly.
" Well, I don't care, I'm sure," replied Mercy, with
a toss of her head. "But she's going to send him
over, the minute he gets back from the Corners, to
lake us both home on the sled. She says maybe
we'd get snowed up here by to-morrow morning ; and,
anyway, it's better for you to be over there nights
while your mother is away."
"Your mother is very kind, but I shall stay here,"
returned Molly still very quietly, although a deep red
rose began to burn on either cheek, and her lips
closed a little tighter than their wont.
Mercy looked at her shrewdly for a moment, warm-
ing first one, then the other, of her chilled feet, then
said, with a short, sharp laugh,
" My ! Won't you and Reuben just fight when
once you're married ! You're mighty proud of never
giving in, but I guess you'll find your master then.
I used to try to stand out against him sometimes, but
I got sick of it."
"Why, what could he do to make you afraid of
him?" asked Molly a little curiously.
" Stick pins in me, pull my hair, pinch little bits
right out of my arms, put things to scare me in the
dark, set a dog on me, make mother mad, and lots of
things beside. You'll find out if you undertake any
high and mighty ways after you're married." And
Mercy smiled delightedly at the prospect of the
future. Molly smiled too, a smile half contempt, half
72 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
conscious strength, and said, in her calm and even
tones,
"I shouldn't like to have my hair pulled, or my
arms pinched, or to be made into a pincushion ; and I
think the best way to avoid it will be not to marry
Reuben if those are his fashions."
" Oh ! but you've got to marry him, you know," ex-
claimed Mercy, alarmed at the possible result of her
revelations. "He'll be good enough to you, of
course, especially if you don't contradict him. He
thinks every thing of you."
" Hear the wind ! It will be a dreadful night at
sea ! " exclaimed Molly, going to the window, looking
out for a moment, and then partially drawing the cur-
tain ; but as she did so the cat jumped up in a chair,
and, putting her fore-paws upon the window-ledge,
looked out intently. Molly laughed blithely, exclaim-
ing,
" Well, Mrs. Tabitha, so I must leave the window
uncurtained for your accommodation, must I ? Well,
there, you 9hall have a corner to yourself."
She adjusted the heavy moreen curtain in such a
manner as to leave a small portion of the window
uncovered, and then, drawing a little table in front of
the fire, said cheerily,
"And now we'll have our tea, and forget every thing
beside. Mother made us a whole pantry full of
goodies yesterday. She did not seem to think I
could take care of myself at all."
"Did she make some of her pound-cake ?" asked
Mercy eagerly; for Mrs. Hetherford's larder was by
THE SPINNING-WHEEL. 73
no means so bounteous as that of Deborah Wilder,
and Miss Mercy was both an epicure and a gourmand.
The pound-cake was produced, and cut into great
golden squares ; the nut-cakes, the snap-gingerbread,
the pies, and the sweetmeats were all set forth; the
rich cream-toast was steaming upon the table ; and
Molly had filled the two glasses with milk, the inno-
cent beverage not yet superseded in rural districts by
tea or coffee, when a jingle of bells, a stamping of
feet, and the sharp rap of a whip-handle upon the
door, announced a visitor.
" It's Reuben, come to take us both home ! " ex-
claimed Mercy confidently : and the next moment
proved her prophecy correct ; for as Molly opened the
door, the shaggy, snow-dropping figure of a man
entered the room, and, removing the flapping hat tied
over his ears, showed the mean features of Reuben
Hetnerford.
4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER IX.
MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES.
T T 7ITH grave hospitality, untinged by any flutter
VV of maiden delight in welcoming as guest the
man whose life-long guest she may become, Molly
Wilder received the new-comer, invited him to throw
off his wraps, and to seat himself at the bountiful tea-
table. Reuben accepted the invitation with alacrity ;
and having placed himself in the seat of honor, at
the foot of the table, he asked a blessing, followed
at once by a smile of bashful delight, as he added,
"Seems almost as if we were married already ; don't
it, Molly?"
Molly made no reply: her whole consciousness
seemed absorbed in the great resolve she had just
made, and never for a moment forgot; and while
Reuben, full of vulgar hilarity, heaped his own and his
sister's plate with many a jest as to his generosity as a
provider, and the bountiful table he loved to keep, and
while Mercy, luxuriating in unlimited dainties, forgot all
but their enjoyment, their hostess was watching both
with dispassionate scrutiny, and figuring to herself a
life wherein three times in every day she must confront
that crafty and vulgar face, lighted as now by the
greed of animal enjoyment, hear those harsh and
MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 75
uncultivated accents, and reply to jests that found no
sympathy in her more refined sense of humor, or
gossip that did not interest her. She was aroused
from this revery by her lover's direct address :
" You ought to have gone over to the Corners with
me, Molly, there was so much news stirring, about
the fighting up in Canada, and all that. Say, I suppose
you wouldn't let me go up there, and be a soldier,
would you? not before we're married anyway, and
after that I wouldn't want to go."
" Do you now ? " asked Molly, with a strong flavor
of scepticism in her voice.
" Well, the pay is better than for farming, especially
in the winter-time ; but maybe I'll make some money
without risking your chance of getting a husband.
They say, over at the Corners, that a big French
vessel a man-of-war got driven up the bay by
this gale ; you know how it's blown for most a week ;
and the Johnny Crappos couldn't manage her, and she
got ashore down on the Elizabeth Reefs, and just
thumped to pieces there ; that was last night, no, night
afore last, and they've got 'em all prisoners down at
the fort, that is, most all ; but they think some got
away : and they've offered a reward of twenty dollars
a head for all that can be found and brought in before
next Monday, when they're going to march 'em up to
Boston to change off for some of our own men laid
by the heels in Quebec. Now, if a fellow cou'.d find
one of them lurking round, and get the twenty dollars,
eh?"
"Would you sell a poor, trembling fugitive that
listed you? " asked Molly in a low voice.
76 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Would I ? Wouldn't I, though ? " chuckled Reu-
ben, filling his mouth with mince-pie. " It would just
be fun to lead him on, thinking you were going to hide
him away safely, and once he was in the trap, phew !
how quick you'd kick away the prop, and let down
the door ! And it ain't likely they'd be armed, so
there wouldn't be any great danger."
"That's a consideration, certainly," replied his
fiancee in so strange a voice that Mercy, whose
capacity even for pound-cake and cream-toast was
utterly exhausted, turned, and looked sharply at her
for a moment, then exclaimed,
"Why, Molly Wilder, what's the matter with you?
You're as white as a sheet, and your eyes are like a
cat's in the dark. If there'd been any thing to lay it
to, I'd say you were awful mad."
" But as there isn't," said Molly, pushing back her
chair.
"But as there isn't," echoed Reuben, also rising,
"I think we'd better be going. You know, Molly,
mother wants you to come over there to-night, and
stay till the storm's over."
"Your mother is very kind, as I said to Mercy,"
replied Molly steadily; "but I cannot leave home."
" Oh, but you must ! " retorted Reuben with easy
positiveness. " Mother and I both think it's best, and
mother won't let Mercy stay over here anyway."
"I am sorry, because in that case I must stay
alone," replied Molly, still in her tone of calm and
immovable decision.
Mr. Hetherford began to wax angry, and to ex-
MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 77
change his lover-like tone for the surly and tyrannical
one befitting his idea of the marital character and
privileges.
" It's all waste time and breath for you to say any
more about it," announced he at length. " You're a-
going over to my house in just about ten minutes, and
you may as well go with a good grace. A girl like
you can't judge what's best for her ; and, while your
father and mother are away, me and my mother are
the ones to say for you."
" I do not acknowledge the right at all, Mr. Hether
ford, replied Molly coldly ; " and, although very grate-
ful to your mother and yourself"
" Hang all that ! " roared Hetherford : " I say you're
to go, and you're going."
"I deny your right to command, and I shall not
obey."
" I should like to know who has a better right to
command a woman than her husband, or he who is
soon to be her husband."
" You will never be my husband, Reuben Hether-
ford."
" Oh, pshaw ! I've heard girls talk before."
" I never talk without meaning what I say. I have
determined, fully determined, to break off my engage-
ment to you, and I now do so. It is a thing alto-
gether settled in my own mind, and your violence just
now has only hastened the announcement of my pur
pose."
" Nonsense, Molly ! " interposed Mercy, who read
more shrewdly than her brother the signs of determi
78 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
nation and strength in the face of her friend, and who
wished to temporize if possible, and gain time to
bring the maternal forces into the field. " Don't you
and Reuben go to quarrelling to-night. Sleep over it,
and you'll feel different in the morning ; and, if you
won't come over to our house for him, come for me.
It's awfully lonesome for us two girls in such a storm
as this, in this empty house ; and, besides, I daren't
stay when mother has sent for me. She'd be awful
mad, and maybe come over after us herself. Do
come home with me, and Reuben sha'n't say a word
about it, anyway."
But Molly put her arms about the girl's neck, and,
kissing her tenderly, repeated as firmly as ever,
" I must stay here, Mercy ; for my father and mother
left me here, and I must obey them as you do yours.
As for Reuben, I do not love him, and I could not
make him happy or be happy myself with him ; and it
is much better the thing should end just here. I hope
you will still be friends with me, Mercy, you and all
your house."
" As for that, I don't know," replied Mercy a trifle
viciously, for her temper was getting the upper hand
of her diplomacy. "I don't suppose we should
feel just the same, any of us. But I don't be-
lieve we need spend much time settling all that,
until your mother comes home, and we hear what
she says."
"Yes : I guess she'll bring you to your senses, Mis-
tress Mary," chimed in Reuben, whose face had for
some moments presented a curious study of conflict
MOLLY ACCEPTS THE CONSEQUENCES. 79
ing emotions, alarm and wounded love holding place
inferior to a sort of cruel impatience, as if he longed
above all things else to have this calm and haughty
rebel in his power, and to try upon her fair person
and disdainful spirit some of those arts of subjugation
mentioned by his sister a little while previously. But,
looking at him with a smile of superb contempt, she
said very quietly,
" It is of no use for us to talk more upon this mat-
ter, Mr. Hetherford. No human power can compel
me to become your wife, and most certainly I never
will. Neither will I leave this house ; and, since
Mercy cannot remain with me, I must remain
alone."
"I wouldn't stay anyhow, after your using my
brother such a fashion," exclaimed Mercy angrily. " I
reckon you'll sing another song though, after your
mother comes home. You'll be glad enough to eat
humble-pie then, and maybe "
" Hold your tongue," interrupted Reuben savagely,
he being one of the many persons who cannot endure
anybody's ill-temper but their own ; and turning to
Molly, with an attempt at her own quiet dignity, he
said,
"Well, Mary, we shall have to leave you, since
you're so set on staying ; and if I go out of your house
this way I shall not enter it again without a good deal
of urging. You had better think twice before you say
the last word : you had better look well at the conse-
quences '
" I have thought and I have looked, and I am quite
80 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
ready and willing to take all the consequences of my
decision in both matters," replied Molly calmly ; and
without another word Reuben Hetherford flung on his
outer garments, and left the house.
THE CONSEQUENCES. 8l
CHAPTER X.
THE CONSEQUENCES.
TT is one thing to assert one's willingness to take the
JL consequences of one's own action, and another to
know what to do with them when they come. Molly
Wilder was by no means tenderly attached to Mercy
Hetherford : but she was her companion of infancy,
she was the only girl she had ever familiarly associated
with ; she had tried to look upon her as a future sis-
ter, and she had always held a place of quiet superi-
ority over her. When, therefore, she found her offers
of assistance, in muffling her guest against the storm,
angrily repulsed; when her efforts at placation pro-
duced only bitter retorts, or insulting silence ; when
she saw her late friend turn upon the threshold, and
ostentatiously wipe the dust from off her feet, before
springing into the sleigh Reuben had driven close to
the step, a pang such as she had never known in all
her placid life stung through her hc^rt. The only girl
friend she had ever known repudiated and threw her
off ! By her own act, it was true : and not for one
moment did the stanch heart waver in its determina-
tion ; although, as in a flash - lurid light, she again
saw the chance of many a bitterer pang, many a
deeper wound, whe.i her mother should know of her
82 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
resolve, and should revenge the disappointment not
only upon herself, but the dear father whom she loved
better than herself.
She stood gazing out at the open door, the slow
tears rising to her eyes and brimming unheeded over,
while the sleigh was slowly turned, and so slowly driven
out of the yard, that one might imagine the driver was
granting time for even the tardiest of recalls; but
none came, and it passed out of sight, leaving the
ghostly sound of the snow-muffled sleigh-bells linger-
ing for a few moments upon the night ; and then no
sight, no sound, but the white expanse of the level
waste broken by spectral and snow-sheeted forms of
familiar objects, and the hiss of the sleety snow as it
smote the unshuttered windows, and heaped itself in
fantastic wreaths and drifts about the lonely house.
A sudden dash of stinging sleet upon her face
roused Molly from her abstraction ; and with a heavy
sigh she closed the door, shook the snow from her
clothes and hair, and, re-entering the kitchen, shut the
porch-door, and looked about her. The chairs hasti-
ly pushed back, the plates and knives and glasses
around the table, even the wet print of feet beside the
hearth, all told of late companionship and present
abandonment ; and for the first time a little chill of
terror crept through the girl's healthy blood, and of a
sudden she remembered Reuben's story of the escaped
Frenchmen supposed to be prowling in the neighbor-
hood. What sort of being a Frenchman might be,
Molly did not know; but he was an enemy of "her
country if not of herself; and it was not so many years
tHE CONSEQUENCES. 83
since the Wilders had left their English home, that
they should have forgotten one of her prejudices, or
ceassd to feel her cause as much their own here in the
colony, as there at the centre of government.
But Molly was constitutionally brave, and not at all
given to imagination : so after a momentary glance at
the prospect of invasion by a horde of desperate, fully-
armed, and ruffianly men, probably black, or at least
yellow of complexion, and murderous of demeanor,
she set the subject aside, and going back to the door
saw that it was securely fastened ; then taking a can-
dle she went through the sacred and carefully-closed
parlor to the front door, examined that also, recalled
to mind the care with which her mother had looked
to the security of every window in the house ; and,
having thus convinced her reason of the unreasonable-
ness of terror, found herself fully prepared for that
sort of unreasoning and intangible terror, as impossible
to combat as the flying shadows of the windmill sails.
" There is nothing to be afraid of," said she aloud,
as she skurried through the dismal parlor, and closed
the door behind her. A fluttering at the heart, al-
most depriving her of breath, mocked at her brave
words ; and pressing her hand to her side she leaned
against the door-casing, and, panting a little for breath,
looked slowly around the kitchen. The familiar and
homely scene re-assured her: upon the hearth sat
Tabitha slowly blinking her great golden eyes at the
fire, whose leaping blaze again made mirrors of the
pewter platters ranged upon the dresser, turned the
precious brazen kettle into a shield of pure gold,
84 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
and danced upon the jolly face of the tall clock in the
corner, just ready now to strike eight. The bounti-
fully-spread table still stood as the convives had left
it, and, with the rich colors and picturesque abundance
of its viands, made a feature of the scene as attractive
in its place as the table spread by young Porphyro for
Madeline was in another.
" We're not afraid, Tabby, are we ? It's a deal
better to be alone than to have poor company : don't
you think so, puss ? "
And Molly still a little fluttered, and not quite ready
for active employment, sank into the great leathern
arm-chair beside the hearth, and stooped to take the
cat upon her knee. As she did so a gentle tapping
upon the window attracted her attention ; and, turning
with a start she saw the face of a man, an utter stran-
ger to her, pressed against the pane left uncurtained
for Tabitha's convenience, and looking fixedly at her.
THE FRENCH INVASION. 85
CHAPTER XI.
THE FRENCH INVASION.
IN presence of real danger the terrors roused by
imagination vanished at once ; and after a moment's
steady contemplation of her unknown foe Molly rose,
and, crossing the room to the great walnut-wood sec-
retary mentioned by her father, she ostentatiously
took from one of the drawers a clumsy pistol, such as
was then in vogue, and, placing her finger upon the
trigger, pointed it toward the window. The wild,
white face was not withdrawn : indeed, a faint smile
crossed the lips, and with a visible effort they uttered
the one word,
"Bread!"
Bread ! It was a history ; it was an explanation ;
it was a fiat. The man who demands bread at the
risk of his life must be in that extremity of need,
which, like the presence of death, postpones every
other consideration; and Molly's brave yet tender
heart would no more have dreamed of refusing such
a demand than of deserting her father's death-bed.
She threw down the pistol, and turned to the bounti-
fully- sp-ead table lying so tantalizingly before the eyes
of the starving man ; then pausing, she muttered half
aloud,
86 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Drenched and shivering ! He will die out there,
and yet "
She turned empty-handed to the window, and, un-
buttoning it, said gently,
"You need warmth and shelter as much as food.
Come round to that door, and I will let you in ; and
when you are dry you may go sleep in the barn."
The wild eyes stared up in her face uncomprehend-
ingly ; but as she pointed toward the door, and closed
the window, the dimly seen figure moved away, and
Mary hastened to undo the door, even despite a gro-
tesque terror lest a troop of Frenchmen might be
lurking without, and rush in behind this poor, starving
wretch who probably feared them as much as she did.
As she lifted the latch her fears seemed verified ; for
with a swoop and a howl like that of demons or of
Sioux warriors, the storm rushed down upon her, tear-
ing the door from her hand, and flinging it wide,
scattering the fire from the hearth, and so rudely
ruffling Tabitha's fur that she set up her back, and
spit, then slunk away with flattened ears and bristling
tail, to hide beneath the settle. Molly, in spite of her
lithe strength, staggered aside before that rude onset,
and in so doing escaped a worse one ; for at the back
of the blast, hurled like a stone from a catapult, came
the figure of a man who, flung forward from the hands
of the giant without, staggered headlong, and fell as if
dead at Molly's feet. But at first she did not heed
him : the fierce attack of the storm had roused the
somewhat sluggish temper that had carried more than
one of her yeoman ancestors to the fore-front of the
THE FRENCH INVASION. 87
fray, there to die if need be, but never to yield.
Stepping aside from the prostrate form, Molly went to
seize the shivering door, and with perhaps unnecessary
vigor slam it in the face cf the hooting wind, thrusting
out the snow that would have prevented, with her
feet. Then, slipping the stout oaken bar into its
staples, she nodded triumphantly, and ran to throw
back the blazing brands lying out upon the floor.
Finally, as the renewed blaze sprang cheerily up,
and filled the room with light, she turned to examine
this waif thrown upon her hands by famine and storm.
He still lay as he had fallen, his head and face clearly
visible in the ruddy light; and as Molly glanced at
them a sudden misgiving seized her mind : Who was
this whom she had invited beneath that lonely roof, to
whom she herself had unbarred the safe-shut door?
this man, young, handsome, elegant, as she never had
seen man before. Miranda-like she noted the clear,
fine lines of every feature, the tawny gold of the
thick-set hair, and the long moustache sweeping below
the chin, the fine teeth gleaming between such haughty
lips, and the white, smooth hand with its great ame
thyst ring.
Had a stranger such as this come to Mary Wilder's
door in health and strength asking hospitality, she
would, spite of storm and cold and hunger, have
told him in her calm and gentle fashion that it was
quite impossible for her to receive him, and he must
go on ; but now here he was, and what was to be
done but feed and waim and help him? But why
did he not move ?
88 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
At this point of her perplexed inspection, Molly
started in horror : the left arm, upon which the sense*
less man lay, was doubled beneath him in a manner
impossible to a perfect limb. Surely it was broken.
Raising the head and shoulders as carefully as
possible, and resting them upon her knee, Molly
drew out and straightened the wounded member ; but
gently as she did it the pain brought consciousness,
and with a deep groan the wounded man opened his
eyes, and after some wandering regards fixed them so
piercingly upon the young girl's face that she colored
deeply as she said,
" You are very much hurt, I am afraid, sir."
" Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle : je suis f&che "
murmured the stranger ; and then his voice trailed off
in an inarticulate murmur, and he was again insensible.
These few words, however, had told the story, and
completed the discomfiture of Molly's mind. The
Frenchmen had come indeed ; and this, chief perhaps
of a band of desperate marauders, was lying here in
the midst of her own kitchen, nay, his head upon her
knee. A thrill of mingled terror and excitement not
altogether unpleasant sped along Molly's unused
nerves, and sent a deep flush to her cheek ; then laying
the handsome head gently upon the floor she went to
fetch a cushion to place beneath it, murmuring,
" I must not let him die though he be my enemy ;
and my two arms are sound, thank God, and his is
broken."
Then from her mother's cupboard she brought the
bottle of strong waters, never used save in times of
THE FRENCH INVASION. 89
need, the hartshorn, the camphor, the flannels for rub-
bing, and all the simple arcana of domestic remedies
which every skilful housewife of those days kept on
hand, and well knew how to apply. Under this treat-
ment the scattered senses once more returned, and the
bold blue eyes again fastened curiously upon the
girl's face, bending over him, and continued to watch
her as she went to warm some broth left from dinner.
" It's lucky I didn't give you any more of it,
Tabby," whispered she, as the cat rubbed appealingly
against her feet, and the Frenchman, with a faint
smile, added,
" Non, Minon, non / "
"Here is some broth. Shall I feed you?" asked
Molly, sitting down upon the floor beside her patient,
who replied by opening his mouth; so, raising his
head again upon her arm, she gravely and deftly pro-
ceeded to administer the food, which her patient re-
ceived with both the eagerness of starvation and the
restraint of civilization.
As she laid him back upon the cushion a frown of
pain contracted the brows ; and, glancing down at the
wounded limb, he muttered some words in French,
and then, turning to Molly, slowly said,
" Man arm, it is to break."
" Your arm is broken ? Yes : I am very sorry, and
yet more sorry that I know not how to help you,"
replied Molly sadly, her ready sympathy entirely re-
pressing her somewhat dormant sense of humor. Th
stranger shook his head impatiently at finding himself
unable to understand her fluent speech, and th<!n,
90 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
silently moving his lips for some moments as if con-
ning some half-forgotten lesson, he said in the same
slow fashion,
" I am doctor, me. I can to make whole tne arm
the men to break."
" You are a doctor, and can set broken arms for
people, do you mean ? " asked Molly slowly. " But can
you set your own? This one?" touching it as she
spoke. The stranger listened eagerly, and with a
smile, brilliant even through its wanness, replied,
"Yes. To set, it is true. I do know so few Eng-
lish."
" So little English," corrected Molly, smiling in re-
turn; and from that moment the two began in the
freemasonry of youth and necessity and mutual liking
to invent a language, half very, very poor English,
half signs and looks and inflections of voice, a little
dashed with French whose meaning Molly guessed,
and largely tinctured with that sort of magnetism by
which some persons comprehend each other, they
know not how.
In some one or in all of these ways the stranger
soon made Molly comprehend that the broken arm
must be attended to without further delay, and that
splints, bandages, and other matters were to be pro-
vided ; and Molly understood and obeyed all with a
quick intelligence, delighting her patient, who told
her in excellent French that she should have been a
Sister of Mercy upon a field of battle. Molly, per-
ceiving at a glance that this speech was a mere matter
of expression, and not of direction, simply smiled in
THE FRENCH INVASION. 9!
reply, and went on splitting pieces off a bit of planed
board by means of a sharp little hatchet, which her
guest presently remarked in French would have made
a far more efficient weapon in her hands than the
pistol with which she had threatened him.
Merely nodding her head good-humoredly at this
second address without meaning to her ears, Molly
proceeded to tear some strips from an old linen sheet,
and to lay out some pins, a basin of warm water, soft
towels, and finally, with a look of inquiry, to pour
some of the Holland gin into a glass, and set it
beside the other matters.
" Yes, my child, it will very likely be wanted, for
this will be no painless matter," muttered the young
man in his own language, as he sat upright in the
easy-chair where he had hitherto reclined, and began
to try to pull off his coat. Molly gravely and mod-
estly proffered her help, and by slitting the sleeve of
the broken arm from wrist to shoulder, the garment
was removed ; the waistcoat came more easily ; then
the young man with his right hand untied and re-
moved his cravat, unbuttoned his shirt at the neck,
and looked at Molly, who blushed scarlet, but steadily
stood waiting to perform the services nobody else was
there to render.
" Unefille brave et pure commc un angc" said the
doctor, rebuttoning his collar; and then pointing to
the scissors upon the table, he gestured to Molly that
she should cut away the sleeve of the shirt without
removing the garment; she did it at once, and the
wounded limb was laid bare. Molly uttered a little
9 2
A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
cry of dismay, for the bone had in one place pro-
truded through the flesh, and the whole arm was
bruised and wounded cruelly.
"Yes, it is to look sick," said the doctor, noticing
her consternation. "The vessel went to wreck itself
above the rocks. I in the water. The water so
strong, so terrible, to hurl one into the rocks. My
arm to go between this and that rock ; the water to
hurl me again, and my arm to stay there. What mar-
vel that it broke me?"
His animated gestures, voice, and eyes made mean-
ing of his oddly-chosen words; and Mary compre-
hended all, and replied softly,
" God was very good to bring you alive out of such
peril."
"God, le bon Dieu, yes 1 He is good al
ways," replied the other, bending his head devoutly,
while Mary began softly to wipe away the crusted
blood from the edges of the wound. The patient
watched her movements attentively, and said to him-
self half aloud,
" A good nurse, a capital little nurse, but will she
endure seeing the operation? She will lose her head
when she hears the bones grate against each other,
and then Oh for one of my old comrades of the
hospital, or even my dear abb ! Where is he now,
I wonder? Food for fishes, or prisoner to those dogs
of Englishmen?"
He ground his teeth, and Molly thought it was in
pain.
"Do I hurt you? Do I touch you too roughly?"
THE FRENCH INVASION. 93
asked she gently ; and the courteous stranger smiled
re-assuringly into her face as he replied,
" Hurt me ? Oh, never, never ! It is you who are
my good angel ! "
"And now what next?" asked Molly, completing
her task a little hastily, for these words were English
without need of an interpreter.
The doctor looked at his arm, and shook his head.
" It will be difficult, it will be painful," said he in
French. " She cannot do it, I will not ask it : I must
try for myself."
He looked about him, and fixed his eyes upon one
of the iron staples used to secure the bar across the
door ; then, partly by motions, partly by broken lan-
guage, he instructed Molly to cut a strong band of
linen, to tie it securely around the wrist of the
wounded arm, and finally to loop it over the staple.
Then with patient iteration and pantomime, he made
her understand that so soon as the bone was pulled
into place, whether he was insensible or not, she was
to apply the splints and the bandages in the manner
already explained to her, and secure them in place
before attending to any thing else. .
Molly, very pale, but bright-eyed and resolute, nod-
ded comprehension, and watched as the loop of linen
was laid over the staple ; and the practised surgeon,
manipulating the wounded arm with his right hand,
began steadily to draw upon it, while great beads of
anguish stood out upon his brow, and his teeth ground
together in agony ; then came the horrible grating of
the fractured bone, and then the snap as the ends
suddenly fitted into place.
94 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Les eclisses, the wood ! " murmured the patient,
sinking into the chair Molly had pushed close behind
him.
' Yes ; I understand ; drink a sip of this to keep
yoj from fainting, and I will bind it up," said she,
holding the glass to his pallid lips.
A few moments later the arm was properly secured
and safely slung in one of Humphrey Wilder 's great
silk handkerchiefs ; and then Mary opened the door
of the bedroom, prepared the bed, and, coming back
to her half-fainting patient, she took his right arm, laid
it about her own Juno-like shoulders, and slowly rising,
half lifted him to his feet, put her arm around his
waist, and so led him to the bed and laid him upon it.
Then she drew off his soaked and ragged boots and
stockings, brought a jug of hot water, and placed at
his feet, covered him warmly, and bending above him,
as a mother might above her child, softly said, " Good-
night ! Our Father keep and help you 1 "
Then closing the door, she went to sit beside the
fire, and cry her pure eyes almost blind in maiden
shame and loneliness.
THE ROSY DA WN. 95
CHAPTER XII
THE ROSY DAWN.
IN the gray light of the next morning Molly Wilder
roused herself from an uneasy sleep upon the set-
tle beside the fire, smouldered now into a heap of
warm ashes, within whose confines Tabitha crouched,
purring sleepily, her head upon her folded paws. For
a few moments the young girl lay staring about her,
wondering at her strange situation, and vaguely recall-
ing events so romantic and so utterly foreign to her
usual life that at first she mingled them with her
dreams ; but when her eyes fell upon the coat hang-
ing over a chair beside the hearth, the litter of ban-
dages and splints upon the table, and the linen band
still hanging from the staple, the whole scene of the
previous night returned upon her ; and, springing to
her feet, she went at once to peep in at her patient.
He slept, but uneasily, for rising fever already
tinged his cheeks and parched his lips ; and, while
Molly bent over him, he turned his head, moaned
heavily, and muttered some words of which she only
distinguished the name, " Valerie ! "
" It will be the name of his sweetheart, no doubt,"
said Molly to herself with a little pang of novel pain ;
aid still she stood reading the unconscious face, and
96 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
wondering if in the great world she had never seen,
there were more men as noble, as handsome, as charm-
ing of manner, as this waif, so strangely cast by the
waves at her very door, and yet not for her, but this
Valerie, whoever she might be ; and she wondered if
Valerie, in her far-off stately home, would ever know
and be grateful to humble Mary Wilder, the colonial
farmer's daughter, who had nursed her lover back to
life when else he might have perished.
From these unprofitable musings she was roused by
a knock upon the outer door, so loud as to break the
light slumber of the invalid, whose eyes flew open with
a look of ready alarm.
" Be still, be very quiet ; make no noise, for your
life ! " exclaimed Molly in a low and impressive voice ;
and then, running on tiptoe into the kitchen, she col-
lected every article belonging to or betraying the pres-
ence of the stranger, and bringing them into the bed-
room threw them down upon a chair, and closed the
door. By this time the knock was repeated louder
and longer than before. Molly glanced about the
room, arranged her own dress a little, and went to
open the door. A middle-aged man, with a round
foolish face, set in a hay-colored beard just now full
of icicles, stood upon the step, stamping, and slapping
his hands, covered with great striped yarn mittens of
Deborah Wilder's manufacture ; for this was Amariah
Coffin, the Wilders' hired man, and a privileged mem-
ber of the household. Molly, who had feared Reu-
ben Hetherford, or some messenger from that family,
greeted the alternative with relief.
THE ROSY DA WN. 97
"Good-morning, Amariah ! when did you get
home?"
"Just now. Your mother was so scared at the
arind last night, that she sent me off as soon as the
horse was rested. I suppose she thought I could
hold the roof on, or talk to the pigs and stop their
squealing : they always have such a lot to say when
the wind blows; some folks think it's because the
devils were sent into them, and the old gentleman is
always busy in a gale of wind."
" Well, I suppose you would like some breakfast
pretty soon, wouldn't you ? "
" Bless your heart, no, child ! didn't you know I
was to board over to Hetherford's while the folks are
gone ? Surely your ma'am told you."
" Oh, yes, yes ! I had forgotten." And Molly blushed
scarlet at her own pre-occupation of thought; but
Amariah was already building up the fire, and did not
notice her confusion, as he went on to say,
" No : what I want is to make some warm porridge
for the lambs, and get whatever you have for the pigs.
If the hens' victuals are ready, I'll carry that out too,
for it's kind of snowy for you."
An odd feeling of annoyance crept over the young
girl's mind as these homely details of her daily life
were pressed upon it, and she glanced unconsciously
at the bedroom door as dreading lest they should
penetrate within it ; but in the next moment she took
herself severely to task, and a feeling of honest shame
at her momentary treason sent the blood again to her
cheeks.
98 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Yes, these matters of lambs and pigs and poultry
were her life, and her father's and mother's lives ; and
she was not going to disown them for all the hand-
some shipwrecked gentlemen the waves could ever
bring to her. No doubt "Valerie " was a dainty lady
who- had never heard of such vulgar details, but that
was not her affair. She should do her duty by this
wounded man, nurse him and shelter him, and, when
he was weU, help him to escape from Reuben Hether-
ford, and all the other cowards who would betray and
sell him, and then he would go back to his Valerie ;
and she well, at least, she never could be forced to
marry Reuben Hetherford.
Amariah's rough voice broke in upon her revery
with a laugh. "Well, Molly, I should think it was
shearing-time by the way your wits are wool-gathering.
Where's Mercy Hetherford, I say?"
" Oh ! she didn't come ; or rather, she didn't stay ; "
and then Molly hurriedly explained the occurrence
of the previous night, while Amariah, who took a
fatherly interest in all affairs of the child who had
grown into womanhood under his eyes, listened atten-
tively, one hand shading his face from the leaping
flame, while with the other he mechanically stirred the
porridge for his lambs, his goggling blue eyes fixed
upon Molly's face.
" Sho ! " exclaimed he at last : " now the fat's all in
the fire; and won't ma'am be mad when she gets
home and finds what a spot of work you've cut out for
her? Did you tell Reuben up and down you wouldn't
have him?"
THE ROSY DA WN. 99
"No matter about that. All is, Mercy won't be
here to sleep or to help me, and I don't want you to
ask any of them to come. I'm not at all afraid of
being alone six days."
" 'Cause, if you did," pursued Amariah sturdily, " I
shall tell him not to take you at your word till after
your mother gets home. She'll fix it."
" Amariah ! Don't you dare to say such a word to
Reuben Hetherford, or to say any thing about me in
any way. It is surely no concern of yours."
" No consarn of mine, when I used to drag you
both on one sled, and take you both up on Dobbin,
and O Gee rusalem ! "
This final exclamation was not, as might be sup-
posed, the result of injured feeling on the old man's
part, but of a great spatter of boiling porridge,
launched from the unwatched kettle upon his wrist,
and inflicting a burn painful enough to absorb all his
attention for some moments. Molly, thankful for any
change in the conversation, busied herself in spread-
ing some of her mother's simple salve upon a cloth,
and binding up the wrist as cleverly, if not as tremu-
lously, as she had done the broken arm of the previous
night. Amariah submitted gratefully, and, when it was
finished, said,
" There, now ! That's better than new. You're a
master-hand at comforting a fellow's hurts, Molly, and
I'll do as much for you some day."
" Do it to-day, by promising not to speak of me tc
Reuben Hetherford, or to any of the Hetherfords,' 1
said Molly, so quickly that Amariah laughed aloud.
100 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Short accounts make long friends, you say,"
chuckled he. "Well, I'm a man of my word, and
it's a bargain. Blow the horn if you want any thing.
I'll come and shovel the paths, and draw some water,
after I've done my milking and got my breakfast."
And with this brief valedictory, Amariah took his
bucket of mush, and went out to the barn. Molly
slipped the bolt upon the outside door, drew a long
breath, and hastened back to her patient. She found
him wide awake and very feverish.
"Is it the English to prisoner me?" demanded he,
catching Molly's hand in his burning fingers, and
grasping it painfully.
" No, no," replied she soothingly, " it is a friend :
we are all friends to you, and will prove ourselves so.
You are quite safe here, and I will care for you."
" Foi de what name are you, mademoiselle ? "
" Mary, Mary Wilder, and your friend."
" Marie, nom de la sainte vierge, nom de lafoi, nom
beletbon!
"And what may I call you, my friend?" asked
Molly, interrupting the feverish murmurings with her
cool, clear voice, like a breath of morning air pene-
trating the close, warm room of an invalid.
" To call me, say you, Marie," replied the stranger,
fixing his burning eyes upon her face. "They .call me
Francois le baron mais non, non I je riai pas de
nom, de la fatrie, ou des amis "
"Francois, did you say?" asked Mary again, as
she drew her hand from the detaining fingers, and
smoothed the hair from the scorching brow. " Well,
THE ROSY DAWN. IOI
then, Francois, try to believe that Mary will protect
you, and care for you until you are well, and keep
yourself just as quiet and peaceful as you can. Do
you understand, do you believe?"
"I believe in Marie, la sainte Marie," murmured
Francois dreamily; and Molly softly went into the
outer room to prepare such simple food as she knew
was best for him, to contrive means for his comfort
and security, and to go about her own homely duties,
wondering the while at the strange new joy and light
that had come into her life, transforming its dull
monotony into an absorbing romance, and all at once
enlarging its horizon, as if from a narrow valley she
had climbed some sun-clad height, and found an un-
known world lying at her feet, bathed in the glory of
that light that never was on sea or shore.
102 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE DAGGER OF REGINALD DE MONTARNAUD.
THE day went busily on. About noon, Amariah
having dug a series of artistic paths in various
directions, swept the snow from the wood-pile and
chip-yard, drawn fresh water, and made the circuit
of the house to see that all looked as it should,
came into the kitchen to warm his hands, and have a
word with Molly, who received him less cordially than
usual, fearing that some sound from the bedroom
might betray the presence of her charge, whose in-
creasing fever rendered him restless and talkative.
Fortunately, Amariah, being subject to earache in cold
weather, had tied a red knitted comforter over the top
of his head and under his chin ; and while this gar-
ment no doubt added to his personal beauty, it seri-
ously impeded his powers of hearing and his quickness
of movement.
" Say, Molly," began he, after a brief account of the
condition of matters under his charge at the barn and
elsewhere, "have you heard any thing about those
Frenchers that are lurking round Falmouth?"
" Reuben Hetherford said something about it," re-
plied Molly carelessly. " Has he found them yet? "
"No; but I shouldn't wonder if he did, for he's
THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. IOJ
looking everywhere. He came over to our barn this
morning, and hunted the mows as if he was looking
for a stolen nest."
"He did? I wonder at his impudence, then ! If
he comes again I wish you would tell him that while
my father is away I am in charge of his property, and
that I don't allow any intrusions. Mind now, Amariah,
I mean it ; and I won't have Reuben Hetherford or
any one else peeping and prying round the place."
"Sho, Molly, what's got into you to flare up that
way about a trifle ? I don't seem to know you to-day.
I expect it's all along of getting mad with Reuben
yesterday. Well, well, there's three things a wise man
can't understand, and one of 'em is, the way of a man
with a maid ; but so fur as I see, the way of a maid
with a man is contrarier yet. But say, Molly, I
shouldn't so much wonder if one of them 'ere fellows
was somewhere round these parts, after all. I wouldn't
say it to scare ye, but I do wish that you'd go over to
Hetherford's for the nights. I'd feel a heap safer
about ye."
" What makes you think anybody is about here ? "
asked Molly, turning pale, and sitting down suddenly.
" There, now, you're scared ; and that was just what
\ didn't mean to do. Tain't nothing, child, but "
" Yes, it is, Amariah, and I want to know what. I
am not at all frightened, but it is right that while
father is away I should be told of every thing that
happens about the place. Tell me, please."
There was an air of quiet authority in her voice
that penetrated through the red comforter even to the
IO4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
old man's dull brain ; and he looked in some surprise t
the handsome woman standing tall and straight before
him, realizing, perhaps for the first time, how far she
was removed from the little child whom he had
coaxed, or frightened, or spoiled, or laughed at, a few
years before. For a moment or two he said nothing ;
but when he did speak it was in an altered voice :
"Well, the fact is, Mistress Mary, that I saw foot-
steps round the well this morning that must have been
made after the snow fell last night. Now, I don't
suppose you went out there ; and there was nobody else
in the house, you say."
" The wind blowing all night would have filled them
up if they had been made before morning. Probably
some one going by stopped to drink, or else "
"They was made last night, and the water being
spilt round the places froze right up ; and when I
swept off the light snow this morning, there they was.
They was made in the first part of the storm last
night."
"Well, is that all?"
The question was abrupt and impatient. We who
know all, can understand that the girl's nerves were
sharpened and alert to discover the extent of her
danger as speedily as possible; but Amariah only
thought her peremptory and ill-natured, and answered
dryly, -
"No, it ain't all. When I looked round the barn
after daylight, I saw plain enough that some one had
been there since I left yesterday morning."
" Of course there had. Reuben Hetherford put up
his horse last night."
THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. 1 05
" I know he did. But it ain't very likely Reuben
Hetherford raked down a lot of hay off the mow, and
made a sort of bed in one of the empty stalls, and,
when he'd done with it, kicked it under the oxen's
feet and left it there. Now, who but a Frencher
vould suppose I bedded down my cattle with good
English hay? Tell me that, will you? "
"Very likely father did it in his hurry of going
away, or perhaps Reuben threw it down, and the oxen
got it under their feet, or "
" Well, then, ' Mary, Mary, quite contrary,' " ex-
claimed the old man in a passion, " what will you say
to the knife I found in that stall? A thing such as
murderers and house-breakers and Frenchers carry in
their pockets to kill innocent folk in their beds ! A
knife with crinkle-crankles all over the blade, and a
handle all fixed off with gold, and topped with a cross
a regular Papist cross such as drove us all out of
merry England to this savage country, where you can't
so much as get a crop of barley off the sand and
rocks they call land."
" Did you really find such a knife, Amariah? " asked
Molly in a low voice.
"Yes, I did, child; and though I wouldn't have
scared you by telling of it if you hadn't been so pro-
voking with your perhapses and perhapses, I'm kind
of glad the cat's out of the bag, after all ; for now I
reckon you'll have some sense, and go over to "
" Where is that knife ? Show it to me."
" I hain't got it : you'll have to take my word for
it ; and I haven't generally been called a liar."
106 A NAMELESS
" You haven't got it ! Where is it, then ? "
" Reuben Hetherford can tell if you're o' mind to
ask him about it."
" O Amariah ! have you given it to him ? "
"Why, yes. What's got into you, child? I don't
know you for the same since your folks went away."
"But what for? Tell me all about it, do, good
Amariah ! tell me the wnole story."
" Well, if you won't be so scared, and look so white.
Lor, child, you ain't so growed-up now as you was a
while ago. There, set down in your little chair, and
I'll tell you ; though, come to think of it, there ain't
such a sight more to tell. I found the thing, a dagger
they call it, I believe, in the stall where they had laid
down for a sleep ; and when they went away one of
'em dropped it I expect. So when I went over to
breakfast, I carried it along, and showed it to Reub ;
and he was dreadful worked up about it, thinking
he'd catch the fellow right off, and get the bounty,
twenty dollars, you know. And so he asked me to let
him take it, and I did ; and as soon as breakfast was
over, he came over and searched our barn, and then
he rode off post-haste, and says he'll track the feller
twenty mile but what he'll find him."
The story finished, Amariah began slowly to button
himself into his great frieze coat, and to draw on the
monstrous mittens which had been sedulously toasted
during his stay upon the spears of the great iron and-
irons. Mary sat in her little chair mute and white ;
her hands tightly locked upon her knee, her eyes
bteadfastly regarding the foolish round face of the old
THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. 1 07
man. She was considering how far it was best to trust
him, and whether he might prove a valuable ally. She
knew his fondness for herself, and his honesty and
singleness of heart ; but she also knew how incompetent
his simple nature was to cope with the cunning and
determination of Reuben Hetherford's, and she deter-
mined not to trust him, for the present at least
So Amariah, much to his discontent, found himself
allowed to depart with no token of relenting upon the
part of his young mistress in the Hetherford direction ;
and Molly shot the bolt behind him, and flew back to
the bedside of her patient with the feeling of mingled
relief and terror of a mother-bird who sees the preda-
tory urchin pass by her nest, and knows not when he
may return and rifle it.
Francois looked up at her with haggard eyes.
" He is burned in a fire ; he is too tight," murmured
he plaintively. Mary read his meaning by intuition.
" Your poor arm is too tightly bandaged ! " ex-
claimed she. " That is soon set to rights. O Fran-
cois ! I will do a great deal before I let them take
you."
He did not understand the words, but he did the
tone, and gratefully murmured in his own language,
" It is an angel sent by the good God to care for
me. Not a woman, women are false and cruel,
women are Valerie."
She heard the name : she could not know in what
connection it was spoken, and a sharp pain ran through
her heart, and blanched her lips.
" Never mind ! " murmured she, " I will nurse you
IO8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
and care for you, and defend you with my own life if
need be ; and when all is done you shall go and b<
happy with your Valerie."
The arm was cooled and bound up, the feverish
face and neck softly bathed, the yellow hair, so strong
and thickset that it seemed more like golden wire
than hair, reduced to order, even the long moustaches
combed and arranged, and then Mary stood looking
and meditating. Fastidious neatness was part of her
religion, both natural and revealed : besides this, she
was an excellent nurse ; and neither a neat woman nor
a good nurse would voluntarily select a very soiled and
tattered shirt and a pair of military trowsers as the best
and most comfortable costume for an invalid ; but how
was she to remedy the matter?
She went to the great chest-of-drawers at the end
of the bedroom, and took out one of her father's
capacious and comfortable vestments, carried it into
the kitchen, and hung it over the back of a chair in
front of the fire ; standing beside it she looked down
at Tabitha, who was just awakening from a nap, and
softly said,
"You'd do it, Tabby, wouldn't you?" And then
covering her face in both her hands, she stood quiet a
moment, and whispered to herself,
" It is nought but selfishness to count the cost wl en
one may help a sick and wounded man. It is not
Molly who is to be thought of now, but Francois."
Then taking her scissors and the warm garment in
her hands, she went back to the bedside, and saying
very soberly, and in her mother's dialect,
THE DAGGER OF DE MONTARNAUD. IOQ
"It is right that thee should have some clean
clothes, Francois ; " she swiftly cut around the bind-
ing and down the other sleeve of the fragment of a
shirt, raised the head and shoulders of her patient
upon her strong right arm, and deftly threw the clean
garment over his head, contriving to draw the loose
wide sleeve over the broken arm without more pain
than could be silently borne.
"And now I think thee can take off thy other
clothes, and move to the fresh side of the bed, while 1
make thee some gruel," said Mary in a calm maternal
voice, hiding so completely the quaking of her girlish
heart, and the shame of her maiden modesty, that the
young man looked up at her in quick surprise ; but as
his eyes met hers he read so well the doubt, and self-
control, and pain in their calm depths, that he needed
not to look again, and only replied gravely,
" I thank you, mademoiselle : I can to do so."
So Mary closed the door, and, falling upon her knees
beside Tabitha curled in the armchair, buried her face
in her vari-colored fur, and wept a few hot sudden
tears. One must have some sympathy, and Tabitha
was a good confidante, for she never said, "I told
you so," and never repeated what was said to her.
1 10 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
CHAPTER XIV.
MRS. HETHERFORD TAKES PITY ON MAUY.
E gruel was made and taken, the bedroom
JL was arranged in its usual orderly fashion, all
traces of the stranger within its precincts, except his
actual presence, were carefully put away ; and about
three o'clock, Molly, a little weary at last, sat down
beside the bed to rest, and watch the unquiet slumbers
of her patient. The fever, a little subdued by the
bathing and clean linen, had returned ; and although
the sick man slept, it was brokenly, and with incessant
murmurs and tossings, which constantly threatened to
disarrange the wounded arm, and make matters worse
than in the beginning.
While Molly vainly sought by fanning, or re-arran-
ging the pillows, or gently bathing the burning fore-
head, to still these restless motions, she was startled
by a sharp and sudden knock upon the outer door.
" Q.u'est-ce que c*est! " exclaimed Francois sharply,
and starting up in his bed. Molly gently replaced his
head upon the pillow.
" Keep very still ! Do not speak or stir," said she
in a firm, low voice. " Some one is coming in, and
must not hear you. There is danger if they do."
" Danger, danger I Les mautits Anglais," whis-
MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. Ill
pered Francois deliriously. Mary nodded without
frying to understand, placed her finger upon her lips,
and left the room carefully, closing the door, and draw-
ing her great spinning-wheel across it. Then she
nastened to open the outer door ; and not too soon,
for the visitor was knocking loudly and impatiently
upon it. As she raised the latch, a much-muffled and
irate woman pushed impatiently in.
" Mrs. Hetherford ! " exclaimed Molly.
" Yes, it's me ; and I didn't know as you were ever
going to let me in. Were you asleep at this time of
day?" asked the visitor, looking sharply around.
" No ma'am, but busy in another room. Won't you
sit down, and throw off your cloak? "
"Well, I can't stay long. I've enough to do at
home ; but the fact is, child, I took pity on you, though
you don't deserve it, and come over to give you some
wholesome advice and oversight."
"You are very kind, ma'am," replied Molly de-
murely, while the ghost of a smile flitted across her
lips.
" Kind ! Well, I think it is kind to come out such
a law-boned day as this, especially for a busy woman
like me ; but then I look upon you the same as I do
on Mercy, and when you're married to Reuben you
will be the same, you know."
" I told Reuben last night that I should never marry
him/' said Molly gently, but very firmly.
The matron tossed her head, sniffed contemptu-
ously, and untied the strings of her green silk hood,
of the shape called pumpkin, and possibly imitated
from that national vegetable.
112 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
" I've heard of young folks falling out before now,' J
said she, " and I've heard of their falling in again."
"But, as Reuben and I have not quarrelled, we
cannot make it up," replied Molly. " I have always
thought it was a mistake for me to have promised to
marry him, and while I was alone yesterday, before he
and Mercy came over, I made up my mind to break
it off. I am not at all angry, and there is no chance
of my thinking differently."
" Marie, sainte viergc Marie ! " murmured a voice
from the bedroom, plainly audible to Mary, but in
Mrs. Hetherford's ears confused with a sudden screech
from Tabitha, upon whose tail her mistress had trod-
den, as she lay asleep before the fire.
" Mercy on us ! Why don't you turn that nasty
cat out of doors? and how the wind whistles round
this house ! " exclaimed Mrs. Hetherford, turning from
the fire to look about the room with half-formed sus-
picion of she knew not what. The mutterings from
the bedroom continued, but less distinctly ; and Mary,
with a light laugh, drew her spinning-wheel a little
way from the door, and began to whirl it busily, say-
ing the while,
" The wind makes a good deal of noise, to be sure,
but I drown it with the sound of my spinning-wheel.
Mother left me such a lot of rolls to yarn off, that I
have not much time to get frightened. You'll excuse
my keeping at work, I hope."
" Oh ! you're very excusable," said Mrs. Hetherford
in an offended tone, and drawing her cloak about her.
"I'm a good deal in i hurry myself, and couldn't
MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. 113
well leave to come over here ; but, as I said, I took
pity on you, more for your own folly than any thing
else, and I run over to ask you once more to come
and stay at my house till your mother gets back. It
isn't suitable anyway for a girl like you to be all alone
in the house, specially o' nights ; and Mercy got mad
when she and Reuben were here last night, and
wouldn't come if I was to send her; and Reuben,
he's took it to heart, what you said ; and the only way
to make things straight is for you to give up your will
this once, and come along."
"I thank you very much, Mrs. Hetherford, very
much indeed, but I cannot come," replied Molly,
more coldly and briefly than she was aware of speak-
ing ; for her whole mind was absorbed in listening to
the low murmurs so distinct to her own ear, and her
physical powers were strained to the utmost in keep-
ing up the incessant whirl of the wheel, which for the
moment drowned all other sound. No wonder, there-
fore, if her reply struck short-tempered Mrs. Hether-
ford's ears as churlish and ungrateful. She rose at
once, and, tying the pumpkin hood tightly under her
chin, said, in a voice tremulous with anger,
"Well, that's short and sweet, and to the point,
Mistress Mary Wilder ; and the next time I leave m>
woik and come sneaking over here to coax an un-
grateful minx to visit me, I guess you'll know it. I
should think, at any rate, you might treat a woman old
enough to be your mother with some little pretence of
respect ; but I suppose that isn't Quaker fashion. I
don't kow much about that kind of cattle, but J heai
114 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
the courts at home are shipping them all out of the
country. I hope there won't any more come over
here."
'' Didn't you know that Reuben has promised my
mother that he will join them if I will? " asked Molly
maliciously ; and then, perceiving that the hood and
her own anger had effectually closed the good wo-
maii's ears to any indefinite sounds, and that she was
actually leaving the house, she abandoned the spin-
ning-wheel, and, following her to the door, laid a
hand upon her arm, saying gently,
"Don't leave me in anger, Mrs. Hetherford, and
forgive me if I spoke improperly to you. You have
been very good to me all these years, and I do not
want you to be offended now. Don't you know how
many mince-turnovers, and cocked hats of ginger-
bread, you have made for me?"
" Oh ! your mother can make 'em a sight better.
Reuben told me so once."
" Yes, and never had another crumb of pie nor cake
all that week," laughed Molly. " That was years ago,
but I remember it perfectly. Come, auntie Hether-
ford, give me a kiss for old times' sake, and don't go
away in anger."
"There, there! O Molly! I always said you'd be
like sunshine in our house, and you'd be the making
of Reuben ; and now you say you won't. There, you
needn't try to coax me round, for I won't be ccaxed.
If you want me for a friend you've got to give in, and
come over to my house. Come now, be a good child,
and say you will, and let Reuben drive the sled ovei
MRS. HETHERFORD PITIES MARY. 1 15
for you before night. Say you will, now, that's a
pretty o^e."
" I am so sorry, so sorry to displease you, dear kind
tnend ; but I cannot, I must not. It is my duty to
stay here, and I can do nothing else."
The pain of her kind heart in thus breaking off, as
she knew she did, the ties of a life-time in familiar
companionship and neighborly kindness, if not in real
love, showed itself plainly in her face and in her
voice ; but the angry mother only felt the slight to her
son, and the matron resented the young girl's resist-
ance of her entreaties and effort : so with no reply
save an indignant toss of the head, Mrs. Hetherford
plucked her cloak from Molly's clinging fingers, and
plunged out into the snow. At a little distance waited
the sled on which she had come, with Reuben stand-
ing beside the horse's head. He looked eagerly
toward the door as it opened, but, perceiving at a
glance that his mother had failed in effecting a recon-
ciliation, turned suddenly away, with no response to
Molly's forced smile and salutation.
"And there go," said she aloud, as she closed and
bolted the door, "almost the only friends I ever
claimed outside this house, and now they are enemies.
Had it not been for you, Francois, I could hardly
have said Mrs. Hetherford nay, though I would never
have married her son. Truly, Valerie may be a little
grateful to me for my care of her lover."
Il6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XV.
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER.
'THHE sleepless nights, the anxious days, passed on,
JL stealing the color from Molly Wilder's cheek,
the roundness from her form, the elasticity from her
step, until the sixth morning arrived, and Amariah
presented himself in the kitchen, fully equipped for a
journey, and ready for any last words from his young
mistress; but as he looked steadily in her face, his
own shadowed with concern, and in his kindly, homely
voice, and half paternal way, he exclaimed,
"Why, Molly, child, how you have fell away, and
how pale you look ! You don't eat enough, I'll bet,
though I've brought in two chickens, and as much as
two dozen eggs, besides all you had in the house. I'm
main sorry you fell out with Reuben, and so staid
here all alone. It ain't no use to ask you to go over
there for to-night? "
" Not a bit of use, Amariah. So you are going to
start directly?"
"Yes, right away. I'll get over to Falmouth before
night, and the stage will be along in the morning ; so
yoa can look for us to-morrow before dark. I've
engaged Reuben's Hez to sleep in the barn to-iu^ht,
BO if you get scared you've only to blow the horn,
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 117
same as you would for me ; and he'll fetch in some
fresh water in the morning. You've got wood
enough ? "
'Enough for a week, I should think," said Molly
smiling merrily.
"And there's nothing more that I can do for you
before I go?"
" No. Here is a little note for my father, and I
want you to give it to him when he is alone."
"I understand; and I'll do it all right. Well, I
guess I'd better be going. Good-by."
" Good-by, Amariah." And closing the door, Molly
watched until the comfortable box-sleigh, well filled
with blankets and rugs, drove away ; and then, still like
the mother-bird flying back to her wounded nestling,
'she hastened into the bedroom, and stood for a mo-
ment looking anxiously down at her patient.
" Yes, he is a great deal better," said she half aloud,
and Francois, looking affectionately up at her, mur-
mured in reply,
" Yes, better, much of better."
"But are you enough better to bear moving?"
asked Molly anxiously. " My father and mother are
coming home to-morrow, and you must not be here
unless you will trust them as well as me."
Francois shook his head, saying eagerly, " No, no J
I can to trust no one but Marie."
"Then I must hide you. Will it hurt you very
much to go through the cold house, and up into a
cold garret? I am afraid it will."
" Tell again, my Marie : I not to understand."
Il8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
So Molly, with patient iteration and gesture, ex-
plained her plan, and Francois at length understood.
In fact, even in five days these two had invented a
language quite their own, although compounded of
both French and English, besides that unwritten lan-
guage previously mentioned, and used during some
portions of their lives by most persons, at least those
of sensitive organization. But as our two linguists did
not reduce their invention to written character, or
indeed seek to adapt it to popular comprehension, it
is impossible to transcribe it precisely ; and in relating
that Francois or Molly said thus and so, it is understood
that the language is not precisely their own, but rather
its interpretation.
Thus, then, after their own fashion, the two arranged
their plans, and chatted merrily and happily until the
twilight fell, and Molly prepared a little supper for her
charge, watched him with maternal satisfaction as he
took it, then, making every thing tidy about him for
the night, sat down beside the bed, and began to sing
softly one of the old hymns her father still retained
from his early training in the Church.
Francois lay and looked at her for a while, and
then said,
" I am glad you sing nothing gay, and I am glad
your voice is so deep and rich. It is not in the least
like a bird-song."
"And why are you glad of that?" asked Molly in
surprise.
" Because I could not bear that any woman should
sing to me in a high, clear voice, trilling and soaring
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 119
like a lark, so sweet, so penetrating, so maddening.''
He had run off into French in the last words, and
Molly drew away the hand he had seized in his.
" I suppose Valerie sang like that, and you could
not bear that I should try to imitate her," said she
impetuously, and so rapidly that Fra^ois did not
understand a word, except the name.
"Valerie!" repeated he almost sternly, "what do
you know of Valerie ? "
"Nothing. You have spoken the name in your
delirium, that is all. Pardon my freedom in repeating
it," said Molly coldly ; and then she rose and went into
the other room, and never knew when Tabitha rubbed
against her feet, and purred her sympathy, for she was
staring through the uncurtained window with eyes that
saw nothing for the bitter tears that blinded them.
Suddenly out of the darkness shaped itself a face,
the mean repulsive face of Reuben Hetherford looking
steadily in upon her. A sharp terror seized upon
Molly's heart ; not for herself in any case, but for that
helpless stranger whose life and liberty she had prom-
ised to defend to the uttermost. Could Reuben from
that angle see past her into the bedroom ? Had he
heard voices ? Did he suspect something, or was it
only herself for whom he was looking?
Not daring to answer these questions by an appeal
to himself, and yielding to the terror and repulsion of
the moment, more than to reason, Molly sharply drew
the curtain across the window, making sure that every
crevice was covered, and then flying to the door satis-
fied herself that it was securely bolted. As she did so.
120 A NAMELESS NOBLEMtfT.
a low rap upon the panel startled he/, and Reuben
Hetherford's voice called,
" Molly, Molly Wilder ! It's Reuben ! "
But at the same moment another voico ui the oppo-
site direction called also,
" Marie / Chere Marie ! Venez-ici de gra<e ! "
Running light and swift as a cat across the inte r vcn-
ing room Mary stood beside her patient's bed, and
grasping his outstretched hand whispered,
" Be quiet, be quiet, Francois, for heaven's sake 1
Some one is outside 1 "
Then back again to the door to say coldly and for
biddingly,
" Is that you, Reuben? What do you want? "
But no one replied ; and this sudden abandonment
of his purpose, in a man so obstinate as Hetherford,
alarmed Molly more than any persistence could have
done ; for it seemed as if, his suspicions having been
in some way confirmed, he had retreated to take action
upon them.
" I will not delay an hour after daylight," said Molly
aloud as she returned to the bedroom ; and then sit-
ting beside Francois, her hand again in his, she told
him of Reuben's visit, and of all the causes for her
terror of him.
An hour later the farmhouse was quiet and peaceful ;
he innocent child sleeping rosily upon her hard and
careless bed beside the fire, with Tabitha purring at her
side ; and the worn and wounded man of the world, of
camps and battle-fields and courtly life, tossing rest-
lessly upon his too luxurious bed, and dreaming now
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 121
of Valerie hiding among the roses of the Provencal
gaiden, and now of Mary bending over him with calm
pitiful eyes, and hand of gentle ministry.
Morning broke, and Tabitha and Molly shook off
their healthy slumbers just as Francois fell into his
first sound sleep. Creeping on tiptoe to look at him,
Molly covered him more warmly, closed the door, re-
newed the fire, and hung the tea-kettle over the merry
blaze. Then she put the high fender in front of it,
looked around the kitchen murmuring, " I am so giad
Amariah is safely out of the way ! " and, wrapping a
warm shawl about her shoulders, tied the ends in a
great knot behind after the picturesque gypsy fash-
ion. Then she passed into the cold and cheerless
front entry and up-stairs, followed by Tabitha, who
ruffled her fur in expostulation at the change of tem-
perature, but evidently felt it a duty to attend her mis-
tress. From the upper landing ascended a narrow
enclosed staircase ; and mounting this, Molly found her-
self in the garret, a great unfinished loft, dark except
for a little square window at either end, and gloomy
and quiet and funereal as one might expect of a place
evidently used as the final resting-place of such ob-
jects as had fulfilled their uses below, and were now
consigned to this limbo as an intermediate step to
oblivion.
" A little scary up here, as Mrs. Hetherford says,
isn't it, Tabby?" said Molly standing at the head of
the stairs, and looking about her; while Tabby, divin-
ing the presence of mice, began eagerly to prowl about
the eaves, and sniff in the dark corners. Her mistress,
122 A NAMELESS NCBLEMAN.
meantime, softly humming one of the solemn melodies
Frangois had approved, began to remove a confused
mass of lumber heaped behind the chimney, which,
large and square and cumbrous, occupied great part
of the middle of the place. Beyond it a rude parti-
tion of quilts and curtains divided off a little nook
intended for Amariah's lodging, until Mrs. Wilder
decided to banish him to the barn ; and this screer
still hanging made one wall of the hiding-place Moll)
had already in her mind contrived for the refuge of
her prisoner. The chimney itself formed another side,
the eaves of the house a third ; and across the fourth,
which was nearest the stairs, Molly re-arranged the
old spinning-wheel, the boxes, the discarded tin fire-
screens, and re-hung the ghostly garments from nails
driven into the rafters in such manner that they
seemed to keep watch and ward, like disembodied
sentinels, over the approach to the hidden nest the
young girl was so cunningly devising for her wounded
nursling. The weakest side was that of the quilt and
shawl partition, which Mrs. Wilder's restless spirit
might any day lead her to remove, or at any rate to
pull aside. Molly stood for some moments, her finger
on her lip, looking at this screen, and meditating how
to make it either more substantial or more inaccessi-
ble. Then a merry smile crossed her lips ; and going
the truckle-bedstead in the corner, still left as Ama-
riah had last used it, she dragged the great feather-bed
off upon the boards, ripped it up with the scissors hang-
ing at her side, and emptied the contents upon the
floor in front of the screen, where they made a flufly
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER, 12$
and unquiet heap not to be approached, especially by
feminine skirts, without danger of suffocation to the
intruder, and waste to the feathers.
"There, Tabby !" exclaimed Molly as she carefully
turned the tick inside out, and then rolled it togethei
in a downy and dusty parcel, " mother said she should
have to empty that bed, and clean the feathers : so
we've been smart, and done it for her, the first part,
anyway; and she won't meddle with them before
spring, I know."
Then, still smiling at her own exploit, Molly took a
final survey of her arrangements so far, and went down
stairs ; where she found that the kettle had boiled over,
and nearly extinguished the fire, and Francois had
awakened, and was feeling rather abused at remaining
so long unnoticed. A few bright words, a few deftly-
rendered services, made him quite comfortable and re-
stored his good humor, however ; and as Molly turned
away, saying with a sunny smile, " Now you shall have
your breakfast," he caught her dress, and detained
her to say,
" You will to pardon my bad humor. The fault, it
is yours, because that you to spoil me have : you are
too much good to me, so unworthy."
" You were not ill-humored, only a little tired," said
Molly gently; "and it is the greatest pleasure I ever
knew to take care of you."
She blushed brightly as she spoke, and her calm
eyes fell before the gaze Francois fixed upon them.
He released her dress without reply ; and, while she
hastened away to provide his morning meal, the young
124 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
man lay very quiet, his brow slightly knitted, his face
troubled and thoughtful.
Breakfast over and removed, Molly cheerily said,
" And now, Francois, you must be very patient and
good, while I go and finish preparing your hiding-
place. I have to make it comfortable now, and then
we will see how we can get up there."
" Yes, you make a priest's chamber as they did in
the old time, for Huguenot to-day, for Catholic to-
morrow," said Francois smiling. " Well, go then,
dear child : I will be content."
So Molly again mounted to the dark and cheerless
garret ; and of the small space now so safely concealed
from any but the most rigorous search, she soon con-
trived to make as cosey and comfortable a little nook as
ever sheltered Huguenot minister or Catholic priest.
The great mass of masonry composing the chimney,
once thoroughly heated by the kitchen-fire, retained
its warmth through the night ; and Molly arranged the
bed close, beside it. Some skins of foxes and smaller
game, which her father had shot and cured, made a
soft and delightful carpet ; a chair and a little table
were found among the lumber, and a candlestick and
store of candles laid ready. Finally she brought a
basin and jug, some of the fine towels her mother had
made her spin, and had hired woven for the possible
trousseau provided for thrifty maidens of that day,
and the little looking-glass from her own room.
" There, that will do, Tabby ; and now we will go
and bring him up-stairs," said she, looking admiringly
around when the mirror was hung, and all complete.
THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER. 12$
Tabby arched her back, enlarged the circumference of
her tail, and purring approvingly followed her mistress
down-stairs. They found Francois out of bed, looking
very pale and exhausted, but partially dressed, and
ready for departure.
" How brave you are, and how strong, to get up all
alone ! " exclaimed Molly admiringly ; and then she
brought a great soft shawl, and muffled him so far as he
would suffer it, and some of her own shoes, quite large
enough for his slender and patrician feet, and offered
her shoulder to the uninjured arm of the invalid, who
laid it caressingly about her neck.
"You are like Juno ; no, it is Diana that you are,"
said he hi French : " so fearless, so strong, so chaste,
so unconscious of the Acteons of the world."
" Lean on me as heavily as you like, and be very
careful with the stairs," replied Molly in English ; and
neither cared a whit for comprehending the spoken
words, since the tone translated itself.
The priest's chamber was reached, the candle light-
ed, and the invalid carefully laid upon his bed, when
a thundering knock upon the front door resounded
through the house.
" It is danger ! " exclaimed Francois : " they know
of me, and they will perhaps do harm for you. Let
me to them, and I will swear you know not that I
here am."
" No, no, Francois ! all will be well without that,"
replied Molly hurriedly. " Only keep very, very quiet,
and, even if we come up here, make no noise unless
you are actually discovered."
126 A NAMELESS &OBLEMAJV.
Then blowing out the candle, she went out, paused
to arrange the pile of lumber a little more carefully,
took a final view of every thing, hurried down stairs,
and locked the door at the foot ; then, flying to the
bedroom so lately vacated, stripped the clothes from
the bed, and finally, running back to the front door,
she unbolted and opened it. Upon the step stood
Reuben Hetherford, and a man whom Molly remem-
bered to have seen at the Corners, but whose name
she did not know.
THE SEARCH-WARRANT. I2/
CHAPTER XVI.
THE SEARCH-WARRANT.
/^OOD-MORNING, Mistress Mary Wilder," said
V_T the stranger, with grave politeness ; for Reuben,
like Judas Iscariot and other celebrated traitors, hung
back in shame at the treason he yet was determined
to effect.
" Good- morning, sir," replied the girl briefly: "may
I ask your name and errand, an' it please you ? "
" My name is John Dibley, and my errand to search
for an escaped prisoner, suspected to be concealed in
this house."
"And why should you so suspect, Master Dibley? "
asked Mary, with a steady glance at Reuben, who,
stung into speech by its contempt, hurriedly ex-
claimed,
" There is no use in denying it, Molly. I saw last
night, when I looked in at the kitchen window, I
saw you stoop over some one in the bed, and I saw a
hand holding your dress as you turned away, and I
heard a voice not yours."
" People who look in at windows and listen at key-
holes are very apt to get their stories wrong," replied
Molly calmly. " If you mistook my cat Tabitha for a
Frenchman, and her white paw for a hand, and have
128 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
brought Master Dibley over from the Corners this cold
morning to arrest the poor puss, I can do no less than
show her to him. Master Dibley, if you will come in,
I will lead you through every room in this house, and
deliver up all the Frenchmen you may find. Master
Reuben Hetherford shall keep watch on the outside,
lest some of them escape ; or, if he prefers, he may
stare in at the kitchen window. Inside the house I
have my father's orders not to admit him."
Mr. Dibley looked foolish, but stepped inside the
door, which Molly immediately shut and bolted.
"I I kind of brought Reuben along as a spe-
cial constable a h " stammered he.
Mary stopped, with the door of the parlor in her
hand, and turned round upon him, while the morning
light, streaming in from behind, seemed to magnify
and irradiate her form, and touch the dusky lights of
her coronal of hair into gleams of red gold, until she
looked like a crowned queen scorning the invader of
her realm.
"Do you know my father, Master Dibley?" asked
she quietly.
" Yes, mistress : he is an honest and honorable man."
" And do you think he or his household would har-
bor those who were enemies of the colony, or of the
king?"
" No, mistress ; and yet "
"And do you know that I, one weak girl, am all
alone in this house, keeping it safely until my parents
shall return? and do you suppose it likely that I should
admit and hide a Frenchman, or any other man, in
their absence?"
THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 12<)
"That is what I said to Reuben Helherford. 1
said, says I "
" But why did you come, then? And why, above all
things, should you bring that man to help you, as
special constable or any thing else? Don't you see,
sir, that all he wanted was the chance to offer me this
insult and slight ? We two have quarrelled, after being
troth-plight lovers ; and that, as you may see for your-
self, is reason enough for all this moil. I warrant,
now, he asked you to make a special constable of
him?"
"Well, yes, Mistress Mary, he did," confessed poor
Dibley, glancing longingly at the front door; "and
now that you tell me all this, I see that the youth has
been too hasty, and I, perhaps, too ready to believe
him. So I take your word that there is no one in the
house but yourself, and "
" Nay, nay, sir, you shall not do so ! Since you
and your special constable are here, and, it may be, a
whole posse more in ambush round the house, you
must e'en go through with it, and look at least into
every room. I must tell my father, when he returns,
that his daughter was cleared from the suspicion Reu-
ben Hetherford has brought upon her."
"Nay, mistress, be not so angry. I coirprehend
the matter now, and I am fully satisfied "
"So am not I, then, Master Dibley; and I do in-
sist upon your following me. This is the parlor ; and
as you see, except in the drawers of that secretary,
there is no place of concealment. Here is the
kitchen ; and there upon the hearth sits Tabitha, my
130 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
companion and bed-fellow since my parents' depart-
ure. No doubt, Reuben Hetherford may have seen
me bending over and petting her, and even seen her
paw holding my dress; for we have been guilty of
such follies in our loneliness, have we not, poor
Tabitha? Here, then, is the bedroom; and I crave
your pardon not to have arranged it more fittingly
since I arose. I was not expecting company so soon.
Here is the door of the cellar : and, I pray you, step a
little carefully on these damp and rotten boards ; my
father has talked so long of mending them ! Lo, you
now ! You have fallen, and I am afraid hurt your
leg ! Be careful, I beg ; for the potato-hole is close
beside you, and you may easily slip in."
" I have ! " cried the unhappy constable, stumbling
headlong into the little pit toward which Molly had
artfully led him : " if you held your candle so that I
could see, it were better than to give tardy warning of
danger."
" Our cellar is but a dark and cramped place for a
visitor," replied Molly meekly : " had I known that you
were coming, I would have lighted it with more than
this one poor candle. Here is father's cider-barrel,
and here the pork, and here "
But Mr. Dibley was already limping up the broken
staircase, muttering his satisfaction ; and, with a faint
smile upon her lips, Molly followed him, and in spite
of his resistance insisted upon conducting him up-
stairs, where she threw open the bedroom she usually
occupied, the unfinished one opposite to it, and then
laid her hand upon the garret door, saying,
THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 131
" Now, here is the garret door locked ! But wait
here, an' it please you, and I will look for the key.
Surely mother would not have carried it to New Bed-
ford with her, would she ? "
" It is useless, it is quite useless, to look for it,
Mary," exclaimed the constable, trying to prevent her
from going down stairs : " I am quite and altogether
satisfied, and have been so from the first."
" But so am not I, Master Dibley," persisted Molly,
" I have been suspected of harboring enemies of my
country ; and I want you to be able to say that you
have thoroughly searched this house, and found only
Tabitha besides myself. I will go and look for the
key ; and, if I cannot find it, I will draw the staple, and
so take off the lock."
As she spoke, she slipped past the reluctant con-
stable, ran down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where
she looked carefully around her, thought she distin-
guished Hetherford's figure outside the window, and
for his edification began rummaging the drawers,
boxes, shelves, and every sort of receptacle in the
room. Suddenly she heard Dibley's heavy feet creep-
ing down the stairs ; and, snatching the key from the
box where she was looking at that moment, she rushed
out, and confronted him with it.
" At last, sir ! " exclaimed she : " I have searched
through all mother's boxes, and here it is. Now come
up again, please, and we will look."
" If your garret is as grewsome an abode as your
cellar, I do not believe even a Frenchman would hide
there," said Dibley, smiling grimly ; for Molly's bright
132 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
face and cheery tone made him ashamed of churl-
ishness.
" It is not much better," said she, unlocking and
throwing open the door : " I will go first to show you
where the loose boards are ; for, if you fell through, it
might prove a worse affair than the potato-pit. This
way, please."
" Thank you, my dear child ; but I can see every
thing from here," replied Dibley with paternal kind-
ness, and wholesome fear of the loose boards. " That
is a lot of household stuff out of use, I suppose."
"Yes. Shall I pull it down for you to see that
there is nothing behind it?"
" No, no, maiden : I am satisfied, I tell you. I
could see if there were a mouse hidden in the place.
I can make my affidavit to have searched the house
from garret to cellar, more especially the cellar, and to
have found nought therein alive but one fearless
maid and one tortoise-shell cat."
"Yes, remember the cat above all, since she may
be the Frenchman Reuben lletherford tspied through
the window."
Chatting and laughing merrily, the two descended
the stairs, Molly locking the door behind her, <cid so
down to the front door. Upon the step waited Reuben
Hetherford as if he had never moved. Molly re-
garded him with cold and wrathful eyes ; and in spite
of his effort to slink behind florid Mr. Dibley, turning
to bid an apologetic good-by, she had a last word for
him :
"My father will know how to thank you for this
THE SEARCH-WARRANT. 133
good turn done to his house and daughter, Master
Hetherford ; and be sure he shall know all your kind-
ness so soon as he is at home."
Reuben made no reply, and the two departed. As
the sound of their sleigh-bells died away, Molly locked
the door, and, going into the kitchen, threw herself
upon the settle in as near to a fainting condition as
she had ever known. She did not cry, she did not
moan, or laugh, or speak, only lay upon the wooden
bench, white and still and mute as a snow image, all
the life and warmth gone out of her, and only the
sense of a terrible fatigue remaining. Tabitha, who
had restlessly promenaded the kitchen for some time,
looked up at her with eyes narrow in the morning
sunshine for a few moments, then leaped softly upon the
end of the bench, and walked carefully up the length
of the recumbent figure until, reaching the head, she
curled herself upon it for a nap. The contact roused
Molly, who, smiling feebly, rose to her feet, saying,
"I must not stay idling here, while he is making
himself sick with anxiety. Come, Tabitha, let us go
up."
134 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XVII.
AND VALERIE?
A BOUT sunset the jingle of bells and the sound
JL\. of voices announced the arrival of the travellers ;
and Molly, running to the door to receive them, was
startled at seeing her mother, much muffled and covered
with rugs, lying in the sleigh, with her husband holding
her head upon his lap, and Amariah sitting on a firkin
to drive, as the seat had been removed.
"What has happened? What is the matter with
mother?" demanded she, running out into the snow,
and peeping over the edge of the box-sleigh.
" Mother has a bad cold and a touch of rheuma-
tism, that is all," repiied the father cheerily ; while
poor Deborah herself only moaned inarticulately.
Amariah, however, was ready with his explanation :
" She felt it her duty to ride on the outside of the
stage-coach, and exhort some ribald fellows, who only
laughed at her ; and so got cold, and has a rheumatic
fever to pay for it."
"Peace, Amariah!" exclaimed his master sternly.
" When your opinion is wanted it will be asked ; and
meantime help me lift your mistress, and carry her into
the house."
But this operation was a severe one ; for the least
AND VALERIE? 135
movement was so painful to the unfortunate woman,
that she constantly begged her husband to abandon
the attempt, and he as often complied, until at last
Molly suggested lifting the blanket upon which she
lay, and so bringing her in. This plan succeeded a
little better ; and in a few moments poor Deborah was
laid in her own bed, and Molly was carefully and
affectionately attending her. But, even in the midst of
her sincere grief and care for her mother's sufferings,
the young girl found time to note and smile a little at
the odd fortune which in two successive days had
given her two such diverse patients to attend in the
same bed, and each so unconscious of the other's prox-
imity. Diverse in every respect, as she soon found ;
for in proportion as Francois was gentle, patient,
grateful, and cautious of letting his needs be known to
his nurse, Mrs. Wilder was fractious, complaining, and
requiring, so that when Molly at last came out to put
the finishing touches to the meal her father had nearly
prepared by himself, she looked so pale and tired that
he said tenderly,
" You are very weary, my child. You must have
some one to help you, now that mother is laid by."
" Oh, no ! thank you, father dear. I am very strong,
you know, and after the first it will not be so hard."
"You do not look so very strong now, my lass,"
persisted the father, softly smoothing the nut-brown
hair with his great palm. " It was too much for you
to be so long alone, and so worried. Amariah told me
of your falling-out with Reuben ; and I heard over at
the Corners of his malice in accusing you of harboring
136 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
a Frenchman, and bringing Dibley here to search my
house. Of a truth I shall have a word to say to
friend Reuben."
" I was not frightened of John Dibley, father, and
there is no harm done," said Molly with a gallant
attempt at carelessness, as she met her father's stead-
fast eyes.
" No, you were not frightened, I well believe, my
stout-hearted wench," replied he proudly. " But you
were angered and shamed to have your discretion so
called in question. They did not know my maid
when they fancied she would harbor strange men
unknown to her father, or willingly deceive him in any
fashion."
As he spoke, Humphrey Wilder drew his daughter
toward him, and tenderly kissed her brow. The caress
was unwonted, and put the last touch to the tumult of
emotion in the young girl's heart. Sinking upon her
knees at her father's side, she burst into a passion of
tears. It was the first time since she was a little child
that he had seen her so moved ; and, pressing her head
to his breast, he soothed and chid her as if she had
still been one.
"Why, there, then, my moppet, what ails thee?
Tel 1 father all thy little troubles. Fie, fie ! thee shall
not sob so, and spoil thy pretty eyes. What is it,
child?"
"Nothing, father dear, nothing but but I am so
tired, and I have been so put about with all these
things," sobbed Molly, clinging for a moment close to
that great loving heart, never cold or silent to her, and
AND VALERIE? 137
then shrinking away with the remorseful consciousness
that she was keeping a secret from the father who so
entirely trusted her, and allowing him to accept a tacil
denial of the charg* so truly brought against her by
Hetherford.
Remorse and shame dried the tears that tenderness
lad caused to flow ; and, wiping her eyes, Molly sprang
to her feet, and hastily moved out of reach of the
caressing hand whose touch seemed liked a brand of
infamy to her excited mood.
" I have been growing nervous in this last week, I
am afraid, father," said she smiling wanly ; " but I shall
try to do better now that you are at home."
"You are tired, child," replied her father tenderly,
" and now get thee to bed and rest. I will do all that
thy mother requires until morning. Sleep and rest,
and waken my own bright-eyed little Molly."
Glad to escape the loving scrutiny of those calm
eyes, Molly paid a short visit to her mother's bedside,
saw that she was quite comfortable, and apparently
almost asleep, and then retreated up-stairs to her own
room. Waiting there some moments to make sure
that her father would not summon her for some last
message or charge, she blew out her candle, and,
lighted only by the moonlight shining in through the
window above the front door, unlocked the garret-
door, and softly crept up the stairs. She found Fran-
9ois awaiting her with eager curiosity ; for the sounds
of the arrival, and of Mrs. Wilder's removal from the
sleigh to the bedroom, had reached his retreat, but all
inthout explanation. Moreover he had now become
138 A NAMELESS bOBLEMAN.
so accustomed to the constant companionship of his
gentle nurse, and so interested in the conversations
they constantly kept up, that he had been very lonely
for some hours, and was disposed to be a little peev-
ish in consequence.
Molly perceived the mood, and with ready tact
soothed it away by a few soft and half-caressing words
and touches, before she began the story of the arrival
and her mother's illness ; which she narrated in the
detailed and minute style so comfortable to an invalid.
But the quick ear of the listener noticed a change
'.n the voice, a weariness in the manner, and a hidden
are in the look of the girl's face ; and, when she had
4nished all her little story, he took her hand in his,
*nd said,
" And what else, sweet one ? "
"What else, Francois? What do you mean? "
"Tell me what lies behind all this? The arriert
pensec we call it ; and I know not how to say it in Eng-
lish, nor yet in our new language."
" Well, I will tell you, Francois ! " exclaimed the girl
vehemently. " I cannot endure the idea of cheating
my father another moment. He has heard of the
search, and he said they did not know me if they
ihought I would deceive him ; and he looked into my
face, and my silence told him a lie if my tongue did
not. I never lied before since I was a little child ;
and I feel so guilty, so mean, so base ! Francois, I
cannot do it ! "
She twisted her hands together, and clinched her
teeth to keep down the rising emotion. Not twice
AND VALERIE? 139
n one day should such weakness master that calm and
Assured mind ; not twice in one day should man look
upon Mary Wilder's tears. A brief silence ensued,
and then Fran?ois coldly asked,
" And what do you intend to do, mademoiselle ? "
" To tell my father that you are here, and trust to
his good heart and discretion. That is, I should do
so if I only thought of my own wishes ; but I prom-
ised you that I would not tell any one."
"You did promise so, and I believed you."
" Believe me still, then ; for I have net betrayed you
by word, or Iook 3 or silence."
"You are only preparing to do so."
" Not without your leave, Francois. I cannot take
back or break my promise if you hold me to it ; but
you will not be so cruel, will you? "
" Oh ! rest content, mademoiselle : I hold you to
nothing that your so sensitive conscience holds wrong.
Betray me if you will, and as soon as you will. I dare
say the jails are comfortable enough in your little
town of Boston ; and I may be exchanged, or the war
may cease, before I am very old. Go and call the
respectable Monsieur Wilder as fast as possible, I pray
you."
And, awaiting this event, Francois threw himself
over upon his other side, with small care for his
broken arm, and lay with his back to Molly, silent
and forbidding, as if counting her already an enemy.
She sat very still, and looked at him ; the feeble
light of the candle showing the wan whiteness of her
face, the brightness of her fixed eyes, and the hands
140 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
so tightly clasped upon her knee. Three long minutes
ticked themselves away upon the watch hanging at the
head of the bed ; and Francois, unable to endure the
utter silence, threw himself back into his former posi-
tion, looked keenly at the statuesque figure beside him,
and mockingly asked,
"What ! not gone yet, mademoiselle?"
"You are wrong and cruel to treat me so, Fran-
ois ! " exclaimed Molly, in a voice sharpened by pain
and the sense of wrong : " I have not showed myself
so weak or so treacherous as you seem to wish to think
me."
" It is needless to remind me of my obligations to
you, mademoiselle. I am crushed beneath their
weight already, and only wish there were a possible
way of repaying them."
"And you think I am taunting you with your obli-
gations, as you call them? " exclaimed Molly in a tone
perilously near contempt : " how little you know me,
and I thought we were so well acquainted ! A traitor,
a liar, and mean enough to recall my own services to
one willing to forget them ! Can I do any thing for
you before going down stairs? "
" To call your father ? "
Molly turned away with no reply but a look of indig-
nant reproach ; and Francois caught her dress.
" Stay, Marie ! You can do something for me.'.'
"What is it? Do not hold my dress, please."
" You can forgive me. I have been cruel and un-
just ; I have tortured you who are so kind and patient
with me ; I have been unmanly, childish, I know not
AND VALERIE? 141
what. But it is you who have spoiled me ; no one,
not my mother, not any one, has been to me as you
have been ; and I repay you thus ! Say that you for-
give me, Marie."
"Yes, I forgive you," said Molly wearily.
" Not that way, not so coldly and sadly ! Give the
bad child the child's kiss of forgiveness here upon his
brow ; ah, do ! sweet Marie ! "
" No, Francois ! you are not a child, and I cannot
treat you as one, not in that way, at any rate."
" Then treat me as a man, and kiss me because I
love you, Marie, darling Marie, my Marie ! "
He seized her hand, and tried to draw her toward
him. She did not struggle or resist, only standing in
all her calm stateliness of form, looking down upon
him, she said in quiet scorn,
"And Valerie?"
142 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XVIIL
DR. SCHWARZ.
THE next morning, when Molly at length suc-
ceeded in finding time and opportunity to carry
up her patient's breakfast without observation, she
found him grave, courteous, and rather formal.
She had expected eager questioning as to her pos-
session and knowledge of the name she had used at
their last interview, and whose sound had so aston-
ished him then that he had let her go without another
word ; but, instead of this questioning, she found her-
self confronted by a certain polished reserve, that air
of high breeding at once the most intangible and the
most effective of weapons, in the hands of those who
have the right to employ it.
But Molly, in her way, was as proud as our friend
the baron in his, and, replying to his polite speeches
as politely, she performed her wonted services with
her usual faithfulness and dainty nicety ; and, in set-
ting aside some portion of the breakfast to serve as
lunch, remarked that she might not be able to come
up again before the noontide dinner, as she should be
busy with her mother in all the time possible to spare
from the house.
"I am truly grieved to be so much trouble," replied
DR. SCffWAKZ. 143
Francois courteously, " but I trust it will not be foi
very long. I think I shall attempt my escape to-night
or the next night. My arm requires attention which I
cannot give it, and it is as well to risk imprisonment
as the loss of a limb, and perhaps death."
If he thought to startle her out of her calm by
either of these announcements, he did not succeed ;
perhaps her pale face grew a little paler, her quiet
voice a little more calm, but she only said,
" I am indeed grieved that your arm is worse. A
doctor is coming this morning to see my mother, and
if you choose to trust him "
" A thousand thanks ! WiH you permit me to re-
mind you of my wish for absolute secrecy? "
" I only mentioned the matter. I did not intend to
do any thing without your permission."
" Then if you will be so very good as to do nothing
at all ! "
"Certainly. I must leave you now. Good-morn-
ing."
"Au revoir, mademoiselle."
And as Molly closed the door at the foot of the
stairs, and turned the key, her prisoner said to him-
self,-
" Valerie de Rochenbois would never make so stately
a dame du chdteau as this country girl. Francois, It
baron de-rien-de-tout, is not the idiotic pride of birth
washed out of you by all these waters? "
Entering the kitchen with her little tray of dishes,
Molly was met by her father, hastily coming in at the
porch door, but apparently too much absorbed in his
144 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
own errand to notice that of his daughter, whom he
eagerly accosted.
" Here is the doctor, Molly, to see thy mother. It
is not the man I sent for to New Bedford, for he was
away, as Friend Haslow writes to me ; but another,
very good also. He is a Dutchman, and his name is
Schwarz, Peter Haslow says. Here he is."
The stamping of snowy feet upon the step an-
nounced that Dr. Schwarz had followed his host from
the barn, where their first interview had taken place,
and where he had lingered to watch Amariah's atten-
tions to his horse, whose wet coat and heaving sides
told that he had travelled long and vigorously. Molly
regarded him with some curiosity ; for she could have
counted upon the fingers of one hand all the strangers
who ever had come beneath that roof since her re-
membrance, and this Dutch doctor seemed not the
least peculiar among them. A tall, stout figure, muf-
fled in many coats, capes, and comforters, a mass of
sandy hair floating upon the shoulders, and mingling
with a shaggy beard of the same color, a monstrous
pair of green glasses : these were her first impressions
of the new doctor, who, in answer to Wilder's greeting
and presentation to his daughter, replied hi fluent but
strongly accented English,
" I kiss your hands, dear mees. Is the lady your
mamma no better yet? "
"No better, I am afraid," returned Molly, glancing
at the speaker in some surprise, and wondering if the
German-English was always so like the French-Eng-
lish, to which she had grown accustomed Will you
come in and see her now? "
DR. SCHWARZ. 145
"Directly, dear mees. May I take off the coats
first, here at the fire ? "
The coats removed, the doctor warmed his thin,
dark hands before the blaze, casting curious glances
about him, from behind the green goggles, as Molly
lather felt than saw.
" Now, then, we are ready, if you please," said Dr
Schwarz suddenly; and Molly led the way into th
bedroom, where the invalid was eagerly expecting him.
Standing silently beside her mother, the girl listened
intelligently to the clear questioning, the rapid con-
clusions, the assured diagnosis, of the new physician,
and settled in her own mind that here was a very
different, a much more advanced, practitioner than
Dr. Crake at the Corners, or even Dr. Pilsbury, the
magnate of New Bedford, for whom her father had
sent before arriving at home.
" It is rheumatic fever that attacks your mother,
mees, and danger of the lungs also," said the doctor,
rising from his seat beside the bed, and leading the
way into the kitchen, where Humphrey Wilder impa-
tiently awaited his verdict.
"Danger of inflammation of the lungs, do you
mean?" asked he, catching the last words.
"Yes, my friend. She should be watched for th
next two days or so, very carefully."
" By a doctor, do you mean, sir? " asked Molly.
"Precisely, mees. It may save a life to her, to
receive certain remedies in season."
" And cannot you remain with us for the space of
two days?" asked Wilder anxiously. " I will pay you
any thing in reason for your time and pains."
146 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Dr. Schwarz hesitated, coughed violently, and
walked to the window and back. Molly, watching
him attentively, asked herself what motive this utter
stranger could have for playing a part among simple
country-folk, not rich enough to attract cupidity, and
with no secrets in their lives worth any man's investi-
gation ; and yet some instinct of her nature warned
her that this man had entered her father's house with
a purpose other than the avowed one, and that, in
spite of his apparent reluctance, he had every inten-
tion of remaining. The suspicion was confirmed when
he turned around, and, looking at her, said to her
father,
" Well, yes, Master vVilder, as they call you, I will
see the good wife past her danger. I am not in prac-
tice anywhere, so am not tied; but in passing from
New Amsterdam, where I live, to Boston, I staid at
New Bedford, and introduced myself to your Dr.
Pilsbury there. I cannot go back to New Bedford
and here again : so, if you wish it much, I will remain
two days and nights."
"We shall esteem it a great favor, truly," said
Wilder calmly. " Molly, you can prepare a bed for
Dr. Schwarz, can you not? Perhaps in the parlor."
"He shall have my room up-stairs, father," said
Molly quietly ; " but you had better make a fire in the
parlor, where he may sit meanwhile."
" Not so, not so, my friends," interposed the doc-
tor hurriedly : " I shall go to walk directly. I have a
passion for the country and the open air. I shall see
as much of it as possible while my patient needs me
DR. SCHWARZ. 147
not No parlor, no fire, no seclusion, for me, if you
please. In the house I shall find myself most happy
in the sickroom, or here in this admirable kitchen."
" Sit here, then, in my armchair, friend, and tell
me how you of New Amsterdam like to become Eng-
lishmen," said Wilder heartily; and, as the two men
settled to masculine talk, Molly went quietly arounc 1
the room preparing dinner, attending upon her mother,
and listening to every word, and watching every mo
tion, of the mysterious stranger.
" He may be Dutch, but he understands French,"
said she to herself, as she caught a " Pardieu! " un-
consciously let slip in the heat of discussion.
The midday meal was served and eaten ; and Dr.
Schwarz, after a brief visit to this patient, declared his
intention of taking a long walk, and proceeded to
muffle himself accordingly. Molly watched him with
the same quiet attention she had bestowed upon all
his movements, and was a little startled when he sud-
denly turned upon her, as her father preceded him
out of the door, to ask,
" Well, and what do you think of the doctor from
New Amsterdam? "
" I have not yet made up my mind, sir," replied the
girl, in her grave, unmoved manner.
"Take advice, then, my charming mees, take ad-
vice upon him," muttered the doctor as he passed
her ; but Molly breathlessly detained him, while she
demanded,
"What do you mean, sir? Advice of whom? Of
my mother?"
148 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Not so much of her, perhaps, as of those who
have seen the world, who know how a Dutch doctor
should appear; who how should I know? A young
lady has always a friend of whom she takes advice."
He went out as he spoke, leaving Molly in a be-
wilderment of doubt, hope, fear, hesitation.
"At any rate, I must take Francois his dinner, 1 '
said she to herself; and, first seeing that her mother
was comfortably settled for a possible nap, she has-
tened to arrange the dainty bits reserved from the
family repast upon her little tray, covered with a clean
napkin, and carried them to her prisoner.
He met her with a conciliatory smile, and, taking
the tray from her hands, laid it down, saying,
" It is not to eat that I am in haste, but to see you,
my Marie stern and sweet."
" And I have news for you ; but I cannot stay many
minutes, for my father will be coming in, and my
mother may need me," replied Molly, replying with
her eyes to the tender smile and the loving words.
" Do you know Dr. Schwarz? "
" Le docteur Schwarz ? No ; and I hope he knows
not of me."
" I think he does, or at least suspects." And then
Molly, in her clear, brief style, related all the events
of the morning, not forgetting her impressions, the
French exclamation, and the mysterious counsel given
by the doctor as he left the house.
Francois listened to all attentively, and, when the
story was finished, remained for many moments silent,
his head between his hands in his favorite attitude of
reflection : at last he said
DR. SCHWARZ. 149
"You are always right, dear Marie. This man is a
spy ; one of two : first, a friendly spy, who looks for
me to do me well ; next, an enemy spy, who would
prison me for twenty dollars. Either it is one whom
I know would look for me if he were himself free, or
it is one sent by this Ayterfor "
" Hetherford, Francois."
" Eh, Men / it is all one ; but it may be of him, and
it may be well, and what next, my Marie?"
" That is what I want to ask you. I have arranged
that he shall sleep in my room, and the door of that
is close to the foot of these stairs : now, cannot we
contrive that you should see him as he comes up the
stairs?"
"Surely, surely, and yet say to me one time
again, how does he look?"
And as Molly patiently recapitulated the description
of the stranger's odd physique and costume, Francois,
listening attentively, shook his head.
" Still it may be a disguise," said he in French, and
then, seizing Molly's hand, continued to her,
" Now, see, dear little one. You give me the key :
I go down, and sit on steps at the door inside. This
man come up, and I hear his talk with will it be
you?"
" My father, I suppose," said Molly, blushing a
little.
"True, true, your father. Well, the risk is the
more, but no matter. I shall look, and I shall listen :
if it is my man, it is well ; if .not, no harm. You
understand all this, cherie ) "
ISO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Yes, Francois ; and if it is a friend he will help
you to leave us," said Molly heavily.
"If it is he I hope, he will do me good to my
arm," suggested Francois; and Molly's face grew
bright and hopeful, as he had fancied it would.
LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM.
CHAPTER XIX.
LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM.
IN the barn Dr. Schwarz found, as he had expected,
Amariah, diligently doing nothing ; and, slipping a
bit of silver into his hand, said cordially,
" Come now, my fine fellow, and show me the walk
I ought to take."
"Thank'y, sir. Why had you ought to take a
walk?"
"That's another thing; and you have not studied
physic, have you ? "
"Well, Idunno."
" It is British and it is rustic to ask questions, and
to evade replies; but nevertheless I wish to walk,
and, if you are the good fellow I think, you will
show. me the way."
" Oh, well ! I don't mind a walk, though you
couldn't well miss of the way so long as you saw this
house, or Hetherford's over there."
And Amariah, who had lounged to the door of
the barn, nodded toward the snow-covered roof and
stone chimney mentioned as the only ones in sight.
The doctor regarded them attentively through his green
goggles.
" And that is Hetherford's, is it ? " asked he. " And
152 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
who is Hetherford himself? Let us walk that way as
well as any other."
" All right, master," replied Amariah placidly ; and
as the pair strolled along the snowy track the old
fellow, who dearly loved the sound of his own voice,
gave his attentive listener a brief sketch of Reuben
Hetherford's history, including his futile courtship of
Molly, and his revengeful attempt to annoy and
mortify her by bringing a constable to search the
house while she remained alone in it.
" Frenchmen ! " interrupted the doctor at this point.
" But are there, then, Frenchmen about here ? "
" Sho ! You must have seen 'em, or leastways heard
tell of 'em in New Bedford ! " exclaimed Amariah
sceptically. " Why, it was town's talk there."
"Well, but New Bedford is not here. What has
been seen of them here?" asked the doctor; and
Amariah, nothing loath, told of the footsteps beside the
well, of the disturbance of the hay, and of the knife
or dagger in Reuben Hetherford's possession.
"Now, but that is curious if true," said Dr.
Schwarz. "Is not that the man going to his* barn
now?"
"Yes, that's him. Want to see him? "
" Oh, no ! it is as well to hear your story as to hear
it from him; and yet yes, let us turn in and speak
to him a little. Say that I am the Dutch doctor of
New Amsterdam who cures your mistress. I cannot
speak so good as you, friend Amariah."
" That's a fact," replied Amariah complacently. " I
never see a Dutchman that could, and I've seen a*
LOYALISM AND LOYOLAISM. 153
many as half a dozen in my day. You talk as good
as any of 'em."
"Yes, we all talk the same, I know," replied Dr.
Schwarz, with a little inward chuckle ; and then they
entered the barn, and Amariah repeated his lesson very
faithfully. Reuben received the stranger civilly, having
already heard of his arrival, and was easily led into
talk of the late shipwreck, the escape of some of the
prisoners, and his own attempt at their recapture. Dr.
Schwarz listened admiringly, contriving by artful ques-
tions or remarks to draw out all of information or ru-
mor that Hetherford had to give.
"These French! these French!" exclaimed he at
length, as the well began to give token of going dry
under such diligent pumping. "They have forever
been the enemies of the Dutch, and more than ever
now that our stadt-holder has married your princess,
and Holland and England are one, and France the
enemy of both. Oh, I know them, I know them well,
the murderous villains ! Why, they are not content to
kill a man outright, but needs must poison their swords
and daggers, so that even a scratch, even to grasp the
handle in your warm palm, is death by torture. Oh ! I
have seen it, I have known it in my own country."
" Sho ! You don't say ! "
"There, now ! Listen to that ! " exclaimed Reuben
and Amariah in one breath, as they pallidly stared into
each other's eyes.
" I told you I found that knife in Wilder's bam,"
faltered Reuben; but Amariah's fright was not suffi-
cient to allow this statement to pass unquestioned.
154 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"No, you didn't find it, nuther!" exclaimed he.
" I found it, and you took it away from me ; and now,
if you've got pizened along of it, I dunno as I'm to
blame."
"Well, I don't want it any longer. You can have
it back as soon as you like," said Reuben miserably.
" And I hope no harm's done yet. Could you tell if
you saw it, doctor, whether it was poisoned, or not? "
"That depends, my friend. There are poisons and
poisons, you know. I have studied these matters very
much, but I cannot always be sure. Show me, and
I will tell you."
" All right. I've got it here in my drawer." And
Reuben, going to a rude standing desk where he was
in the habit of keeping account of his hay and other
crops, unlocked it, and produced the dagger we first
have seen in the gardens of Montarnaud. As the
eyes of Dr. Schwarz fell upon it, he made a slight
movement of impatience, and extended his hand;
then checking himself, said carelessly,
" Yes, it is French. I see that at first."
" Well, look at it close, and tell, if you can, whether
it is poi^ned," insisted Reuben, pressing it into his
hand. The doctor scrutinized it solemnly lor some
time, blade, hilt, and especially the wavy lines ara-
besqued upon its surface.
" Ha ! Do you see those words, my friend ? "
exclaimed he suddenly, thrusting the dagger under
Hetherford's eyes, and pointing excitedly to the half-
obliterated Latin motto beneath the crest of the
Montarnauds.
LOYALISM AND LOYOLA ISM. 155
" I thought that was writing, but I couldn't quite
make it out," said Reuben, trying to look wise, and
only looking scared.
" Probably you do not read Arabic," suggested Dr
Schwarz considerately.
" Well, no, I don't know as I do."
" Phen of course you would not read here, as I
do, ' I carry the message of the cobra.' That means
that the blade is so imbued with the venom of the
deadliest serpent of India, that its merest scratch is
certain death. And you, unhappy man, have had it
lying in that desk among loose papers, and I know
not what ! How can you be sure that you are not
already wounded? "
" Wounded ! " shrieked Reuben, minutely survey-
ing his red and callous hands ; " I don't see any thing,
but here, you look, doctor ! "
"First, let me put this evil thing out of harm's
way," replied Dr. Schwarz, carefully folding the dag-
ger in a handkerchief. " You do not want any thing
more to do with it, I presume ? "
" Ludamassy, no ! Here, what's this on my left
thumb? ain't it a wownd?"
" Why yes, it does look like one. Does it burn
and sting with sharp thrills of pain? "
"I don't know. I never thought about it till
now."
" I dare say you will feel it to-night ; and if you do
you must wrap it in a poultice of rye-meal, with an
cnion outside it, and keep it very warm until morning.
I don't believe it is poison ; but, if it should be, that
156 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
will be the best thing to do : nothing will do much
good, I am afraid."
"Oh, Jehoakim! A pretty night's rest I'll get,
watching for my death, may be," groaned poor Reuben,
as pale as death, and already grasping his scratched
thumb with despairing energy.
" But I hope it is not of the dagger that you are
hurt," suggested the doctor, already upon his way to
the door, having achieved his errand. " I shall hear
in the morning from our good Amariah that you are
quite well, I hope ; and I will carry away the dagger,
and destroy it in a way that none but medicos under-
stand. It is not safe to leave it in the world."
" I don't want to see the hateful thing again, nor I
don't suppose Amariah does, either: do you, 'Riah?''
asked Reuben, gazing at his thumb.
" Well, I'd like to try it onto a fox, or a woodchuck,
or some of them vermin. I'd like to see how it
works," replied Amariah meditatively ; but the doctor
indignantly turned upon him in the interests of hu-
manity,
" What ! you desire to torture some poor innocent
creature, and see him die in agony for your own curi-
osity ! Now, fie upon you, Amariah ! I had thought
better things of you ! No : I shall destroy the dagger
so soon as I come at the means, and it shall not do
more harm to nobody in this world."
Silenced, if not convinced, Amariah followed his
guest, who, already satisfied with the walk he had so
clamorously demanded, was striding down the snowy
road toward the Wilder farm.
THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE. 157
CHAPTER XX.
THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE.
A MARIAH ! It is time you were milking ! " called
jL\ Humphrey Wilder's placid voice from the barn
as the two men approached ; and Mr. Coffin, noncha-
lantly obeying the summons, left the doctor to proceed
to the house alone. Coming in from the dull and
chilly twilight of out-of-doors, the kitchen with its
clean-swept hearth, brilliant fire, and odor of cleanli-
ness, looked a little paradise of content ; and Tabitha
seated squarely in the middle of the rug before the
fire, her shoulders up to her ears, her eyes half closed,
her paws tremulously sheathing and unsheathing then*
claws in the fulness of her delight, seemed the ruling
genius of the place.
Dr. Schwarz stood looking about him with a smile
for some moments, and then throwing aside his wraps,
approached the fire, saying,
"A poor shipwrecked fellow might be very well
contented here, to be sure."
The door toward the front of the house hastily
opened, and Molly Wilder entered softly and swiftly ;
but at sight of the motionless figure beside the fire
hesitated slightly, and colored a little. The keen ob-
server behind the green goggles smiled also.
1 58 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" I have startled you ! You thought to find the
room empty as you left it. You were careful not to
make a noise to let the mother hear you," said he
quietly.
Molly regarded him uneasily, and made no reply.
The doctor smiled again, and followed her to the other
end of the room.
" Have you taken my advice ? " asked he softly.
"What advice, sir?"
" I advised you to seek help in forming an opinion
of me, me, myself: I advised you to describe all that
I say and do, me, the queer Dutch Dr. Schwarz, late
of Leyden, Holland, and see what one thinks of me."
"I I do not understand," stammered Molly.
" Fie, now, my dear young lady ! that is not worthy
of such honest eyes, and so brave a mouth ! See, I
will tell you a secret if you will keep it for me."
" I do not know that I ought to keep it."
" Yes. It harms no one ; it concerns no one but
me, and another, and perhaps you a little."
" I will try to keep it."
" I trust you. See this dagger ! "
He suddenly drew it from his pocket, and laid it
upon the dresser against which she leaned. Mary
flushed scarlet with surprise, but said nothing, nor
offered to touch it.
" You have seen that before ? " asked Schwarz.
"Never."
" But it was your servant who found it in this barn."
" I know that he did, but I never saw it."
"Truly 1 Well, this knife belongs to a dear friend
THE DOCTOR PROBES A LITTLE. 159
of mine who is lost. I am here to search for him ;
since, by some stories I heard at New Bedford, I judge
that he is somewhere here concealed. Now, I ask no-
body to betray a secret they have promised to keep.
As I trust you now, so he may have trusted you ; and
you would be burned alive sooner than betray a trust.
See how I read your face ! But still if that man, my
friend, knew that I am here, knew that I am ready to
carry him away to a place of safety, he would be very
glad. If one could find him, and place this dagger in
his hands, and say, ' The friend who once before brought
you this, now sends it to you, and is waiting, as he
waited then, to help you,' if one could say that to
this mail, I think it would be doing him good service."
Without a word, but with a long and steady look
into the face so near her own, Molly took up the
dagger, wrapped it again in the doctor's handkerchief,
and placed it in her pocket.
"Molly! Molly! Where's that man? I feel a
deal worse," cried the invalid from the bedroom.
" Here, madam, and coming so soon as the hands
are duly warmed," replied Schwarz, returning to the
fire ; but Mary detained him.
"Are you really a doctor? " demanded she sternly :
" you are not surely daring to trifle with my mother's
life!"
" No, no, good child, a thousand times no," replied
the stranger warmly : " I am not indeed a physician by
diploma; but I have studied much in helping my
friend to study, for he is truly an accomplished physi-
cian, and I am utterly competent to crre the excellent
mother. Now, madam, I come."
160 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAJ*
CHAPTER XXI.
THE JOY OF MEETING.
SEATED beside his patient's bed, and gravely lis-
tening to all her maundering complaints, Dr.
Schwarz nevertheless saw and heard with a smile of
good-humored malice Molly's quiet exit from the
kitchen, and made himself so agreeable to her mother
that the good lady never remembered to peevishly
call, "Molly, Molly, I say! What is thee about?"
as she had done nearly every five minutes of her wak-
ing hours since she had been ill.
By and by the door opened as quietly as it had
closed, and Molly's light step was heard moving about
the kitchen, in attendance to her ordinary duties.
Dr. Schwarz wound up his rambling description of
the manners of Dutch mothers very briefly, and, stroll-
ing into the outer room, placed himself in the young
girl's way with an air of expectation ; but she sur-
veyed him with calm and abstracted gaze, and when
he ventured softly to say, " Well, what of the dagger,
my child ? " she sweetly and innocently replied,
" Oh ! I have just put it safely away. Did you want
it again so soon ? "
" No, no, but "
" Yes, mother ! Excuse me, sir, but my mother
calls"
THE JOY OF MEETING. l6l
Nor could the doctor find another moment for pri-
vate speech with this artless and simple young crea-
ture from that moment until about nine o'clock, when
Humphrey Wilder, after fully enjoying a prodigious
gape, said to his guest,
"When you would like to go up-stairs, doctor, I
will show you your bedroom."
" Now, if you please, directly," exclaimed the doc-
tor with much alacrity : " I will but say good-night to
my patient, and leave her in your hands until the
morning, unless some change occurs. The baths of
hot spirit may be continued "
"That reminds me, Molly," interposed her father,
" to ask how you could have disposed of more than
half that case-bottle of strong waters? I got your
little billet by Amariah, asking me to fetch some more,
and I did so, but "
" Hush, dear father ! Do not worry mother with
hearing of these domestic mishaps," murmured Molly,
laying her hand upon her father's lips, and coloring a
little angrily as she felt the keen eyes of Dr. Schwarz
steadfastly regarding her through the odious green
goggles.
" A mishap ! What ! did you spill it ? " persisted
Wilder, whose mind was cf that honest order which,
not entertaining many ideas at once, does full justice
to each as it comes forward.
" Why, after a fashion, yes, father," said Molly, with
a short laugh. " But no more on't now, I pr'ythee ;
for our guest is waiting, and I would look once more
to his lodging before he goes up-stairs."
162 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"I doubt not that all is well prepared already,
maiden, but perhaps there is some final touch that
might not be given until the moment of my appearing
on the scene, so in God's name go and give it ; and
if, like a fortress, you have a signal, a watchword for
the night, let it be for this time, ' An old friend ! '
Say that, as you make those last preparations up-stairs,
and all will go well."
During this somewhat mysterious speech Wilder
had obeyed a summons from his wife, who desired a
pillow raised a trifle, and then replaced exactly as it
was before, and now stood, candle in hand, patiently
waiting while Molly fled up the stairs swift as a young
deer, and the doctor went to pay his parting visit to
his patient.
"All is ready now, father," announced the girl,
re-entering the room, her cheeks lightly colored by
some strong emotion, but her eyes fearless and bright
as they met the doctor's shrewd gaze, while, with the
courtesy of that age, he raised her hand to his lips in
saying good-night.
" A brave girl, an heroic girl, fit to be the wife of a
noble, and the mother of heroes if the noble only
thought so," muttered the doctor, following his host
up-stairs, and on the landing pausing to look keenly
about him, and say aloud,
"You have quite a large house, Master Wilder;
many rooms not always in use, I perceive."
As the accents of his sonorous voice resounded
through the silent spaces about him, the door of the
garret stairway opened silently a very little way, and an
THE JOY OF MEETING. 163
eager eye peeped out. Schwarz saw it, and said noth-
ing: Wilder did not see it, and, going forward into
the bedroom, complacently replied,
" Why, yes, it is a pretty good house, doctor. You
see, when we built, nigh twenty years ago, Molly was a
baby, and we hoped that God would send us more
children; so we framed the house to accommodate
them. But He did not see fit so to do ; and we have
never finished more than this, which is Molly's bed-
room. But when she marries our neighbor, Reuben
Hetherford, he is to come here to live ; and they will
finish off the other rooms, and inhabit them. That is,
always, if God so wills."
" But this Hetherford is a mean fellow, and a cow-
ard," objected the doctor. " It is he who brought the
constable to search thy house and insult thy daughter.
I heard of his boastings and threats in the matter, and
of the knife he had found, and all the silly story,
before I came to Falmouth."
"I know, friend, I know," replied Wilder with a
slow and puzzled look upon his honest face. " That
is a matter to inquire into, and verily I am prompted
by nature to be exceeding wrathful; but this mar-
riage is a matter long settled, and Deborah, my wife,
has set her mind upon it, and when her mind is set
she does not often give up her way ; and "
"But, friend, every man should be master of his
own house, and every father should guide his own
child; and surely you never will allow your wife to
sacrifice this fine girl to a wretched little spy, who
But we shall speak more of this to-morrow if you will
1 64 ^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
it is too cold to keep you standing here ; so good-night,
my worthy host, good-night."
"Good-night, friend. It is but a cheerless room
surely ; and yet my little Molly sleeps here the winter
through."
" Then I should be ashamed to speak of the cold,"
said the doctor, smiling grimly ; and candle in hand he
followed his host to the landing-place, saw him well
down the stairs, heard the door into the kitchen close,
and then without looking round he said aloud,
" So the mot d'ordre for the night is ' An old friend,'
and the countersign should be "
" Constant and true," replied a voice close behind
him, and the next moment the friends were locked in
each other's arms.
" Have a care, mon baron, or this stupid candle will
set thy curls on fire ! " exclaimed the abbe, whom we
will no longer thinly disguise as Dr. Schwarz ; and a
mutual laugh relieved the emotion which with two
women would have dissolved in tears.
" Have a care yourself, mon abbe, or they will hear
us ! '' whispered Francois. " Let us go into your room :
for, if the invalid should be worse, they might come to
seek the doctor, and you can hide me away ; but if
you were up-stairs in my priest's chamber "
"Then it was up-stairs that you were hidden all the
time," interrupted the abbe". " Come, my son, let us
get into the bed, and cover all but our noses ; then,
while they are slowly freezing, we will relate and listen
lo every thing. This frightful cold congeals my very-
ideas."
THE JOY OF MEETING. 165
"And yet you are tolerably protected : even the top
of your head and your chin are covered with more
than their natural thatch," laughed Francois, plucking
at the tow-colored wig and beard. "I never cher-
ished very profound regard for thy nose before ; but,
truly, I am compelled to love it now, for it is the only
morsel of thy real face left uncovered."
" If it will make thee happier, thou shalt see the
whole," replied the abb, pulling off wig, beard, and
goggles, and displaying his own close-cut black hair,
well-shaven chin, and dark Provencal eyes.
" Ah, that is better ! " exclaimed his pupil, atten-
tively regarding him by the light of the flickering
candle. " Why, abbd, thou art a comely fellow, now
that I look at thee closely. I never noted it before."
" I can believe it," returned the abb in gentle sar-
casm. "Thou hast been so occupied in admiring
thyself, thou hast had no eyes for me until now."
" Would not one think we were two girls fresh from
our two convents, instead of men who have oftener
faced death than the looking-glass?" laughed the
baron; and then the two friends, without disrobing,
hid themselves from the freezing atmosphere, beneath
the mountain of home-spun blankets and woollen
comforters with which Molly had piled the bed.
"And now, friend, for thy story first," said Francois
affectionately. " And, to begin with, where didst thou
find thy disguise? "
" The wig and beard were bought for last carnival-
time in Rome, and the coats and mufflers from a
worthy trader in this fair land," replied the abb6 com-
1 66 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
placently. " When we packed our mails to leave the
Holy City, I put up the wig and beard, thinking
another carnival might find us poorer than we then
were, and less able to buy the means of amusing our-
selves. I did not think they would serve in so merry
a frolic as we had the other night, with the ice-cold
waves on one hand, and these blood-thirsty, or rather
dollar-thirsty, provincials on the other. Well, to go
back to the time when we reached Ghent, and found
that the Dutch, instead of our dear allies, had become
our sworn enemies, and joined themselves with our
hereditary foes the English : you remember how you
said that, although you never would set foot in France
again, you would go to the other side of the world
and fight her battles ; and so we attached ourselves to
the poor ' Vainqutur] so terribly vanquished by the
winds and waves of Buzzard's Bay, as they call the
gulf where we wtre wrecked. You being ranked as
surgeon, and I as chaplain, we each were allowed our
luggage ; and I brought along the Roman chest without
unpacking it. When, out here, the captain quietly
told us that the ship was unmanageable, and, if we
escaped death among the rocks toward which we
drifted, we had the cheering prospect of a prison or a
platoon from the natives, who, like all colonists, were
more bitter in the quarrel of their mother-country than
she was herself, you will remember that we went
down to our stateroom to select such matters as would
serve us best if we arrived on shore alive. You took
your dagger, your silver spoon and fork, your dressing-
case, and some clean linen; I took all the money
remaining to us, or, rather, to you "
THE JOY OF MEETING. l6j
"It is all the same thing, my dear abbe, go on,"
" My breviary and this wig, for I rapidly reasoned
Ihus : We two are not to be drowned yet, I feel it : we
are then to be prisoners; if so, we are to escape;
after escape, nothing is more necessary than a good
disguise ; here it is, allons done ! and I put it in the
pocket of my breeches. You see, my baron? "
"I see. And then? "
"And then the' Vainqueur* vtzrti. to pieces among
the rocks, and some of us saw you swimming like a
merman toward a little cove, and hoped you reached
land safely; but just then our captors came off in
boats, and picked us who remained undrowned off
the wreck, agreeably mentioning, in some barbarous
imitation of French, that we were prisoners, and
would be shot if we attempted an escape. I am, as
you know, a priest, and not a soldier ; so I submitted
with such grace as I might, but was careful not to let
it be discovered that I spoke English, lest I should
become important enough to be looked after more
closely than the rest. Happily, no one betrayed me ;
and our captors evidently did not think a slender,
beardless fellow, in half a shirt and black breeches,
very much of a prize, and did not even search me.
We were taken to some log-cabins and mud-walls
called a fort, and waited there several days, while a
man rode to Boston and back for orders ; and while
they searched the country for you and two or three
other poor fellows who swam toward shore, and may
or may not be drowned or beaten to death upon those
accursed rocks.
168 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Finally, four days ago, they marched us out en routt
for Boston, their principal village or town, I believe ;
and on the road I succeeded in giving them the ?1 ip,
and hid in a barn, and behind hay-ricks, and in the
woods, until the search for me was over, and the con-
voy passed on. Before this I had bought a coat and
a muffler of a countryman, in whose house we stopped
to rest on the first day ; and now, after all was quiet,
I came boldly out into the road, having first, you
understand, assumed my disguise, and took my route
for this place."
" What ! Running back to the prison you had just
escaped?"
" Running back to the friend who would not have
deserted me, had the cases been reversed."
" It is true, it is equal. None the less, I thank you
heartily. Go on, if you please."
" Well, I came to a town wherein stood a tavern,
and to the tavern I boldly betook myself; and, being
questioned with the solemn impertinence characteriz-
ing these savages, I replied that I was a Dutchman of
New Amsterdam, named Schwarz; and, being de-
manded my profession, I said physician for want of a
better."
" ' Oh ! going to visit Humphrey Wilder's wife,' sug-
gested the landlord, who headed the inquisitorial tri-
bunal. I nodded solemnly, and waited to hear more,
for a whole chorus of women broke in; and, by
good use of my ears, I soon found that this goodman
Wilder and his wife had parsed through the place in
the morning, she very ill and he very scared, and that
THE JOY OF MEETING. 169
he had mentioned sending to New Bedford, a place
some forty miles from here, as I understand, for a
physician ; and then they again demanded of me if I
were coming in his place. At a hazard I inquired,
" ' Did not Master Wilder mention the consultation
1 physicians to be held over his wife's case ? '
" ' No ; but I dare say Dr. Pilsbury does in his letter,'
says my landlady, producing a letter from her pocket.
" ' Oh, there is a letter ! ' exclaimed I, holding out
my hand so confidently that she put it into it at once ;
and I as unhesitatingly pocketed it, saying, 'I will
go over to Wilder's directly, then, and carry the letter
myself; for, since my brother Pilsbury has written, he
will not come at once.'
" The argument was unanswerable to the slow bu-
colic mind, and although my landlady gasped a little
she did not object : and I at once proceeded to hire
a sleigh and horse, averring that I had left the stage-
coach a mile or so from the town, for the purpose of
visiting a friend ; but, as three mouths opened to re-
quire the name of this friend and a description of
his house, I stopped them by demanding in turn the
details of some hints I had heard thrown out in the
Wilder matter, and, above all, what they had to do
with the French prisoners of whom I had heard, and
upon whom I expended a good Hollandische oath or
two ; for, you know, hatred of the French is at this
moment the strongest bond of union betveen the
Dutch and English.
" Then I heard the whole story of this rascal Heth-
erford's suspicions and discoveries, and of his calling
I/O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
upon the law to aid him; and then the constable
himself, who drank a grog there at the moment, told
his part of the story; and from the whole I easily
understood that you were actually hidden here, and
that this good girl with the calm, strong face was
concealing you. Then, for the first time, I resolved
to come to this house to see the sick woman. Before
that, I had no further intention than to secure a vehicle
and some pretence for driving round the country, in
hopes of coming upon you in some way. But all this
Hetherford and constable matter made it very easy for
a man trained in the Seminary to understand the whole
plot in an instant, especially when I gathered that
Mademoiselle Marie was all alone in the house i<y
several days, and also nights, after our shipwreck.
" So, making a long story short, I opened and read
good Dr. Pilsbury's letter of regrets that he could not
come, and at the bottom wrote, in an excellent imita-
tion of his crabbed script, a postscript recommending
Dr. Schwarz of New Amsterdam. I came, I saw, and
I conquered ; for I am here with you, my baron, and
the horse in the stable waits to carry us away when
and how you will."
" To carry us away ! " echoed the baron, in a tone
so unexpected that his companion turned to look at
him in the darkness, and said, in a half-offended
tone,
" One would say you were sorry to go, my baron 1 "
AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. IJl
CHAPTER XXII.
AND THE PAIN OF PARTING.
AND now I will tell you my adventures," ex-
claimed Francois, not replying to the semi-
accusation of his friend; and, plunging with some
precipitation into the history already so well known to
us, he rapidly rehearsed it, dwelling very little upon
the part concerning Molly, and a good deal upon the
insolent intrusions, as he described them, of Reuben
Hetherford.
" But he is the betrothed husband of this young
woman," remarked the abbe" dryly, "and naturally
feels an interest in her connection with a handsome
young man whom she hides in her bed-chamber."
" Betrothed ! What nonsense you talk, my dear
Despard ! " exclaimed Francois a little imperiously.
" Mademoiselle Marie had already broken any such
ties before I had the honor of meeting her."
" Nevertheless her father told me to-night that she
was to marry him," persisted the abb.
" She will not, then," replied his friend so sullenly
that the abb thought it best to defer some remarks
not likely to be well received just then ; and only said
with a good-humored laugh,
"Well, we need not settle every thing to-night,
172 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
since I have arranged to stay here another day and
night ; and in the course of to-morrow we shall see
how it is best to manage our departure. Meantime
let us sleep a little. Will you remain here for the rest
of the night?"
" Thanks, no : I have a charming little priest's
chamber above there, and will leave you undisturbed
in this."
" Good-night, then ; and do not forget to thank God
who has so favored us thus far," said the priest.
"I do not forget, man pere" replied his former
pupil a little coldly, and went his way.
The reverend Vincent de Paul Despard rolled him-
self comfortably in the bed-clothes, and, addressing
himself to sleep, murmured cynically, " I have loved
him fifteen years or more, and saved his life half a
dozen times ; and she has known him one week, and
already puts me to the wall. Well, mon petit baron, I
have seen you in love several times before this."
The next day passed in the quiet farmhouse much
after the usual manner, that is, to outward seeming ;
but for three persons beneath that roof this calm exte-
rior covered a whole world of emotion, peril, and
uncertainty. When Dr. Schwarz appeared at break-
fast it was with a more inscrutable face than ever ;
nor did he attempt any private conversation with
Molly, who could not yet know with certainty wheth-
er he was the friend for whose advent Francois had so
eagerly hoped. The somewhat brief and silent meaj
finished, and the doctor's first visit paid to his patient,
he accompanied Mr. Wilder to the barn ; and Molly
AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. 173
sped up stairs with the breakfast-tray so difficult to
prepare without observation.
Francois received her gently, but somewhat sadly,
and, without waiting for questioning, said,
" It was he, the friend for whom I hoped."
"And is his name really Dr. Schwarz?"
"Names are of little consequence, dear child.
Neither he nor I have any in particular, to-day one,
to-morrow another. Fortune de guerre, my girl ; and
he hay come to carry me away."
" And you are glad to go, I suppose ? "
"Who would not suppose so, Marie? "
The reply was no answer ; and Molly felt it so, and
busied herself silently in her arrangement of the little
breakfast-table. Francois watched her for some mo-
ments, then suddenly seized her by the hand ; but, as
he opened his mouth to speak, a shrill sudden noise
resounded through the house, and Molly, starting,
cried,
" Tis mother's call. I left all the doors open, and
gave her a stick and a brass kettle to beat upon if she
needed me. I will be back anon. r>
" Send Dr. Schwarz up, meantime, if it please you,
sweetest," called Francois after her; and for once
Molly was not displeased to find the burly figure of
the doctor standing sentinel before the kitchen -fire.
"Will you go up-stairs for a few moments, sir?"
asked she in a demure whisper as she passed him.
" Does Monsieur le Baron send for me ? " inquired
Schwarz in the same tone, and with a smile of good-
humored malice at thus winning from the prudent
C/4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
girl a confession of the secret she had so jealously
guarded up to this moment.
'"Those who seek, find,'" replied Molly passing
into her mother's room, and meeting as best she could
the invalid's querulous questioning and complaints.
Dr. Schwarz meanwhile had strolled out of the room
and up-stairs. Francois was on the watch for him ;
and, first of all, insisted upon taking him up to his
own rnuggery, there to admire the various devices and
thoughtful attention to his every need, managed by
Molly out of such slender resources and scanty space
AS she could command.
Then the two descended to the door at the foot of
the garret-stairs, and there held their conference in
such wise that in case of interruption, each could
escape in the direction of his own room without delay
or noise.
" First of all, let me see this arm of thine, mon
baron" said the abbe. " Yes, yes, it needs the lancet,
and some fresh bandaging; and fortunate is it that
those same pockets of mine held our case of surgical
instruments and a few drugs. Steady, now, my friend ;
there ! I would I could call upon the fair Molly for
some warm water, and a little help ; but we will make
it do with a drop of can de vie to take off the chill.
Now, there, all is comfortable, is it not? and you
can sit very well in the corner of this stair, and get
a little color back to your lips before we talk."
"Thanks, good friend. I did not use to be so
squeamish over there hi the Pays Bas"
"You have been pretty well knocked about of late,
AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. 175
mon baron ; and ten days or so of close imprisonment,
in that coop above there, are not strengthening, al-
though possibly delightful.
" And now for our plans. I think that in the earliest
dawn it will be well for you to leave the house, and
secrete yourself in a little lonely cattle-shed, or it may
be barn, which I will presently show you from the win-
dow of my bed-chamber. Then, directly after break-
fast, I shall leave this place, and, arriving opposite the
cattle-shed, pause to attend to my harness. You will
jump into the bottom of the sleigh, cover yourself
with the fur robe, and an instant later when the
sleigh emerges from behind the building, I sit erect
and alone upon the bench as before."
" The barn will hide all this from the windows of
the house, you are sure ? " asked Francois medita-
tively.
" Quite. I just took a little exploratory tour in that
direction."
" And where do we go after this? "
" To Canada, my friend, as straight and as speedily
as the necessity of concealing ourselves from the offi-
cial eye will permit. We have plenty of louis d'or,
and some English broad pieces. When one horse
gives out we can buy another ; and so with the help
of a good deal of pardonable lying, which I take upon
my own conscience, we will get through admirably."
Francois sighed. "To-night!" murmured he in a
melancholy voice. The abb6 made a movement of
impatience, and suddenly said,
" By the way, Monsieur le Baron, let me congratu
176 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
late you on your birthday, although a week or so gone
by. Is it possible that it is seven years since we mer-
rily kept the twentieth in the dear old Chateau de
Montarnaud ? Do you remember how the tenants and
vassals all nocked to the chateau to drink the young
baron's health, and to hope that he would marry some
noble lady, and come to live among them? And per-
haps you may yet, man baron"
" Never, man abbe" interjected Francois.
"And Mademoiselle de Rochenbois," pursued the
priest musingly, " how lovely she looked that day, as
she placed the olive-wreath upon your head, and bent
to whisper I know not what in your ear."
" Enough, Per Despard, enough ! " interrupted the
baron. " You are very subtle, and you have only my
own interests at heart ; but you cannot influence me
thus. As you have reminded me, I am to-day a man
twenty-seven years old, and for the last seven of those
years a soldier of fortune. The story of those years
has altogether effaced the pride of birth, the appetite
for adulation, the hope of adorning the proud name
bequeathed to me, yes, even the memory of Valerie
de Rochenbois, whose name I speak to-day for the
first and the last time since we turned our backs upon
the land that holds her, and speak it simply to show
you that I can do so. No, abb, you are very clever ;
but it is not thus that you will move me."
"Then are we to pack three persons into yonder
little vehicle, and so make sure of discovery, imprison-
ment, and perhaps death, at the hands of a Puritan
mob?" asked Despard sullenly.
AND THE PAIN OF PARTING. IJJ
" Wrong again, my abb. I will not take my wife
away from her father's house until I have a home of
my own to offer her."
" Your wife, monsieur ! "
" Not yet, but so to be, mon pretre"
" Eh bien ! When the war is well over, no doubt
we shall travel back from Canada to find our rustic
bonne-et-belle, and no doubt she will have waited for
us ; and the golden age will come back to adorn our
nuptials. Pray celebrate them in the summer-time,
that all the sheep and pigs, not forgetting Amariah,
may wear wreaths of roses."
" Cher abbe, you are very angry, and it seems to me
are forgetting yourself a little. Suppose we separate
for an hour or so ; and, when we both have our tempers
more under control, I have a further proposition to
make to you."
" Pray excuse any want of deference I may have
shown, Monsieur le Baron, either to you or to the fair
Dulcinea del Toboso, who "
The violent closing of the door in Francois' hand
cut short the priest's apology and comparison ; and
with a wrathful smile upon his lips he went down-
stairs, and posted himself doggedly at the bedside of
lus patient.
" The sooner they get together, and settle the man-
ner of our triple suicide, the better," muttered he in
French ; and Mistress Wilder turned feverishly on her
pillow to ask,
"What are you saying, doctor? "
"That you are surprisingly better, madame. Now
1/8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
please to tell me how many times in your life before
this, you have been ill."
Five minutes later, Dr. Schwarz smiled at seeing
Molly steal quietly out of the kitchen.
THE BETROTHAL. 1/9
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BETROTHAL.
CREEPING softly up the stairs in a reluctant
fashion, most unlike her usual decisive step,
Molly paused outside the screen covering the entrance
to the " priest's chamber," and timidly peeped through
before entering.
Francois sat beside his little table, his chin in hia
palm, his eyes set in such earnest meditation that he
had not heard her light approach. Evidently some
thought deep and painful, leading to some momentous
resolve, was stirring at his heart, some thought that
drove the color from his cheek, drew his brows to-
gether in a heavy frown, and set his lips so sternly that
the tawny moustache writhed sardonically. Suddenly
he straightened himself; and with an airy gesture of
contempt, as of flinging some bauble from him, he
exclaimed aloud,
" Adieu, la belle France ! La belle Valerie ! Toutes
les bagatelles de man enfance / Voila une belle pay-
sanne "
Part she understood, part she guessed, and with a
gesture as haughty as his own she turned to go away ;
but the light rustle of her garments caught his ear, and
springing forward he pulled aside the curtain, and,
180 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
seizing her hand, drew her toward him so confidently,
almost rudely, that she released herself, saying cold-
iy,-
"What is the matter, Francois? I came only to
ask what provision I shall make for your journey.
You will need food, for you must avoid the publics in
this part of the country ; and you must have plenty of
warm clothing, and "
" I need and must have something far more valu-
able than food or clothes, belle et chere Marie," inter-
rupted Francois, attempting to put an arm about her
waist ; but, drawing back, she said yet more coldly,
" Your pleasure in quitting this poor place, sir, puts
you beside yourself. What is this that you wish for,
then?"
" O Marie, be not so coy, so chill ! Do not trifle in
these few last precious moments. You know very well,
sweet one, what it is I want : it is you, my darling,
your own dear, stern, yet most tender, self. Marie,
you love me, do you not? "
" You take too much for granted, sir ; and I like not
this style* of talk, hidden away here in my father's
garret. The man who woos me must do it openly."
" But, Marie, you know how that is impossible. If
I come down these stairs, and declare myself to thy
father, what choice do I leave the good man but either
to deliver me with my friend up to government, or
brand himself forever as a traitor, forfeiting land and
liberty, nay, it may be life, it he lets us go? Will you
destroy your father as well as your lover and his best
friend, Marie?"
THE BETROTHAL. l8l
" No, I will not do that," said Molly tardily ; and a
look of perplexity softened the rigor of her brow.
The man saw his advantage, and pushed it :
"You would rather sacrifice yourself, dear saint:
but that you cannot do without sacrificing at least one
life with yours ; for I swear to you, Marie, I swear it
on this crucifix," and, drawing from his breast the
golden and jewelled crucifix his dying mother had
hung there, and which had never left his neck, the
young man pressed it to his lips, and held it in his
hand as he continued, "yes, I swear upon this sacred
emblem that I will never leave this place again until
you have not only given me heart for heart, Marie,
but have promised to become my wife when I shall
claim you."
" O Francois ! Wicked, foolish, unkind ! How
dare you so take the name of God in vain? Think
what you say ! Suppose I do not give these crazy
promises and assurances which you have no right to
demand, what will you do? Spend the rest of your
life here, pr'ythee ? "
" Spare your scorn, ma belle : I speak no more than
I mean, and can carry out. What will I do, say you ?
Not stay here, in truth ! I am tired of playing a rat's
rdle, and hiding in a garret. Why, truth of me, Marie,
I am growing afraid of your Tabby already. No, if I
once am convinced that Marie refuses my love, and
scorns my offer of marriage, I will not indeed leave
this garret, since I have sworn not, but I will come
out and dance a gavotte upon those loose boards
yonder, and company myself with so blithe a song,
1 82 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
that not only your venerated father, but Amariah,
whom I really long to see, and Tabitha, and perhaps
ma dame your mamma herself, will come rushing up
to see what demon has taken possession of their
house. Then I shall say that I have hidden myself
here quite altogether with nobody's knowledge, but
Hat I find voluntary imprisonment as bad as involun-
tary, and, besides, desire most ardently to visit the
village of Boston, and so give myself over what !
O Marie, Marie, forgive me, sweet, forgive me ! " For
Molly, hurt, frightened, perplexed, above all beset by
a new and nameless sorrow gnawing at her heart by
day and night ever since the baron's flight had seemed
imminent, suddenly broke down, and, sinking into a
chair, laid her pretty arms upon the table, and her
face upon them, and began sobbing, not noisily, but
in the deep grieved fashion of a loving yet reticent
heart, wrung beyond endurance.
Before that sight and sound, the bitter mockery of
the young man's mood fled away like fog before the
west wind, and left the clear depths of his better
nature open to God's dear light.
Kneeling beside the weeping girl, yet not daring to
touch her, save a timid finger upon her arm, he
pleaded his cause : I know not how, she knew not
how, yet so successfully that after a little the noble
head rose slowly, and the brimming eyes met his with
a smile so shy and proud, and withal so sweet, that
the lover's arms fairly quivered in their longing to
grasp and claim that loveliness, yet dared not stir,
lest the dear smile should vanish.
THE BETROTHAL. 183
" Marie ! I love you, I love you dearly ! Will you
be mine honored wife ? " whispered he ; and Molly,
still smiling yet unbending, replied,
" Why, that is better, Francois ! At first you would
have had me confess to loving you, and now it is you
who say you love me."
" Yes. I was wrong at first. O child ! you are cruel,
you torture me, it is not worthy of you : you are not
of the women who play with men's hearts, and fling
them away ; you are strong, you are brave, you are
noble. Be worthy of yourself in this moment, Marie.
Answer my true, deep love, truly and honestly."
He said no more, but rose to his feet, pale and
eager, yet with a sudden dignity upon him which
Molly had never felt before. The blood of genera-
tions of nobles, of men who loved honor better than
life, and women who armed their husbands and sons
for battle, and held their castles against the foe in
their absence, was stirring in his veins ; and not even
for his life's love would he longer sue, or brook trifling
or hesitancy. Molly looked at him ; and the percep-
tion, subtler than thought, told her all this, told her,
too, that on that moment's truth and courage hung her
own and another's happiness for a whole life. She,
too, rose ; and standing bravely before him, though her
face burned rosy-red, and her voice choked almost
into a sob, she said,
" I will not trifle, I will not hide the truth : yes, I
do love you, Francois."
"Now God's blessing on you, my brave, sweet
love ! " exclaimed the baron, putting his arm about
184 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
her, and pressing the kiss of betrothal upon her lips,
yet immediately releasing her, and saying, with a ten-
der authority in his tone,
" Now, then, bonne-et-bellc, sit you there ; and since
we have but one chair in our menage, I will sit upon
the stool beside you, and let us arrange for our
wedding. And first of all, dear love, I have no name
but Francois."
" Nay, Francois, I must confess to having surprised
one of your secrets. I know your name already."
" You know my name ! How then, mistress ? "
"Do not be vexed, but your friend all uncon-
sciously betrayed it. He asked, 'Does Monsieur le
Baron wish to see me ? ' Now I know that monsieur
in French is answerable to master in English, so le
baron remains for your name. Master LeBaron they
would call you here."
The cloud of annoyance passed from the baron's
brow ; and with a quizzical smile he replied,
" Your wit is too shrewd for me to gainsay it, pretty
one ; and I confess myself vanquished. Then, since
my name is Master LeBaron, will you be called Mis-
tress LeBaron, and that at the time I am about to
propose?"
" O Francois ! no need of settling that yet. It will
be many a long day before the war is over, and you
can come back," said Molly with a sigh.
"So many, sweetheart ('tis the prettiest word in all
your language, Marie, and I have so often longed to
say it to you), so many days until the war is over, that
we will wait for none of them, not one. We will be
wed this very night, before I leave the house."
THE BETROTHAL. 185
"Nay, now, Francois, I shall be displeased again
an you take that tone. It is but folly to speak of it,
besides."
" Wait now, my fiancee, and listen, and be not so
ready to decide matters on which I have thought for
days."
" But, think as hard as you may, Francois, you can-
not make me think of playing traitor to my father so."
" Nay, child, what traitor ? If I come back here
with means of supporting you, with a position as a
physician, and with a constant though weary heart,
and we told your father we had been affianced since
so many years, and you assured him that you loved
me well, and would wed none but me, think you he
would consent? "
" I know he would, for he too loves me well."
" With father-love, yes. It is I who will show you
what is a man's love for his wife, my Marie. But
hold, I will not be tempted from my point. He
would consent, you say. Well, then, what harm in
giving our betrothal the sanctity and safety of a priest's
blessing? It is but the ceremony that I ask, not one
kiss of your dear lips unless you give it willingly.
Only let me feel, in going out to face danger, hard-
ship, and death, that the sweet saint who prays for
me, as I know Marie will pray, has a wife's right to
be heard above ; and that, come what will of change
or chance to her or me or others, she is still ray
own true wife whenever I can claim her. Only God
and our two selves and the priest will know ; but 1
shall go out, and you will stay here, both of us armed
1 86 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
fur our separate fight as no uncertain contract could
ever arm us."
He was silent, keenly watching the face of the
young girl drooped in anxious thought. He saw that
her own heart fought on his side, and, like a wise
general, did not interfere with the action of his allies.
At last she said dreamily,
"And I tried so hard to be a truthful girl, at least."
" And do not you owe truth to your husband, prom-
ised or actual, more than to any other man ? And will
not this be the strongest possible safeguard to your
truth? " asked the lover almost harshly. " You know
how your mother wishes you to marry this sccterat,
who would sell my head for twenty dollars ; and you
know how she will urge you, and how you may be all
but forced into it, especially should she in dying make
it her last petition, or should your father die, and
leave you alone in her hands. And, if you cannot
marry him, is it not stronger than if you simply will
not? At any rate, it lifts a load from my heart in
leaving you, Marie, if that is something."
"That is, indeed, almost every thing. But my
father ! I cannot, cannot deceive him, Francois. I
will not ! "
" Four and twenty hours after I am gone you shall
tell him, if you will. Sooner than that, he might feel
bound to give the alarm. You shall tell him, or in-
deed anybody else, after that time, that you are a
wedded maiden, waiting in her father's house until
her husband can claim her."
Another pause, and then Molly said again,
THE BETROTHAL. l8/
"But the minister, Mr. Watkins, couldn't come
without every one knowing."
" And he need not come," replied Frangois more
gayly ; for well he knew the proverb of the fortress
and the woman who parleys. " We want no Vatkins
here, for we have a consecrated priest beneath the
roof already."
"What, Dr. Schwarz?"
" You call him so, sweetheart, but he is a priest. I
will not say his name ; but his title is Monsieur 1'Abb^,
and he can marry us so that none but the Pope him-
self can undo the knot."
" Then he is a Papist ; and you, Frangois?"
" I too, Marie. Did you not know it? "
" I guessed it the first day, when when I saw that
thing about your neck."
" My mother's crucifix, Marie : she hung it there,
praying with her dying lips that it would shield her
boy from harm to sou) and body; and of a truth,
soldier of fortune though I am, and rough life though
I may have led, I believe that prayer has done its
work ; and no sin beyond repentance has stained the
soul, and no great harm, though many a danger, has
befallen the body. Marie, as I lay there on your cruel
shore, my arm mangled between those rocks, and
death already clutching at my heart, I found strength
to put that crucifix to my lips, and call upon the Son
of God for aid in my extremity. The next wave,
instead of beating the breath from my body, lifted
me, and carried me high upon the beach. I was
saved."
1 88 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Oh, thank God, thank God, Fra^ois ! "
"Yes; but I think my appeal, and the blessed cru-
cifix, and my mother's prayers moved the good God
then," said Francois simply ; and Molly, looking into
liis brave, earnest eyes, felt a moment's vague regret
that she had not been reared in this positive, comfort-
ing faith. So it was answering herself, rather than
him, that she said,
" But I can never become a Papist."
" Poor child ! How little you know the joy that
you scorn ! frightened from it by the bugaboos men
have set up. But I will never constrain you, sweet
wife, nor even argue with you : religion shall be one
of the things we will put away, and never speak about.
I am not afraid for you, my saint."
" One of the things ? What else, Francois ? " asked
Molly in a troubled voice; but Francois answered
firmly,
"All my life, sweetheart, until the night I tapped
upon your casement, including him whom you call
Schwarz, and one whose name you have twice pro-
nounced, but will never speak again if you would
spare me pain. Canst curb thy woman's curiosity,
thy wifely rights, so far? "
"It is not curiosity, Francois; but you ask very
much. I give you my whole heart, lay open my whole
Kfe. Your kiss is the first, man save my father, evei
laid upon my lips."
"And I can give you no such sweet assurance,
Marie. I am seven years your senior in years, seven
times seven in experience of the world, and a rough,
THE BETROTHAL. l8>
bad world too. I give you no freshness ; I can make
you no confidences of the past ; but, from this day
out, I give you my life, all and entire. I give you my
love, my faith, my honor, my all. Perhaps one wo-
man in a thousand is strong enough in herself to give
such perfect confidence to her husband ; and I believe
you to be that woman, Marie. Am I right? Will
you trust me so entirely? Will you be my wife?"
And Molly, laying her hands in his, and raising her
calm eyes fearlessly to meet his scrutiny, simply said,
"I will"
I QO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXIV.
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS.
THE great eight-day clock in the kitchen struck
twelve with all the resonance and deliberation
so clearly distinguishing the midnight from the noon-
day voice of any responsible clock ; and as the sound
died away in the supernatural stillness, also sure to
follow the stroke of midnight, the door leading from
the parlor to the kitchen opened very gently, and
Molly's pale face peeped out and listened anxiously
to the quiet breathing of the invalid, accompanied by
the more positive demonstrations of the husband
sleeping on a cot beside her bed.
Truth to tell, Dr. Schwarz had assured his patient
a good night's rest by a judicious soporific; and
Humphrey, like most hard-working healthy men, need-
ed no coaxing to his ten-hours' slumber.
" God bless them both, and forgive me ! " said Mol-
ly under her breath, as she re-closed the door, and
turned the button upon the inside. Then raking open
the fire, with which, rather to her father's surprise, she
had indulged herself on retiring, she lighted a couple
of candles by aid of one of the coals, put some wood
upon the embers, and looked shyly about her ; for this
was Molly Wilder's wedding-day, coming up so still
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS, igi
and cold from the wintiy sea ; and all alone in the
dim chill chamber she was to make her bridal toilet.
But how? She had no pretty clothes, no ornaments
or coquetries of the toilet, for her mother's asceti-
cism and the lonely life alike discouraged such frivol-
ities : but Francois had jestingly bade her make her-
self beautiful for his eyes, since there would be no
others to admire her ; and she fain would do so.
But again, how ? Ever since nine o'clock, when she
retired to her extempore couch upon the parlor- floor,
Molly's mind had been actively exercised in recalling
all the traditions of brides, their costumes, and their
manners, that ever had come within her knowledge.
The only one she had seen with her own eyes was at
a meeting of Friends she had attended with her par-
ents : and that one was about forty years old, and
wore a skimpy dress, cape, and bonnet, all made from
the same piece of drab-colored silk, and, by way of
ornament, had decked herself with such an air of stern
resignation and determination, that Molly, on the way
home, innocently inquired of her mother if Friend
Hannah Trimble were married against her will, that
she looked so sour over it; and Deborah, yielding
with a grim smile to the fascination of bridal gossip,
replied that it were shrewder to ask that question of
Phineas Coffin, since every one knew Hannah had wed
him whether he would or no.
"But do all brides look like that, mother? " persisted
the child ; and her mother, plunging still deeper into
worldly talk, proceeded to describe a bride and a
wedding she had seen in the parish-church at home,
192 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
where the lovely Lady Anne was arrayed in flowing
white satin robes, with garniture and veil of ancestral
lace, and a crown of orange-blossoms upon her head,
a bevy of noble maidens at her side, and troops of
village children to scatter flowers in her path.
As old memories came back, Deborah's cheek
flushed, and her eyes sparkled; but Molly still ap-
peared dissatisfied. " But that was a lord's daughter
marrying a lord," objected she. " How do people like
us dress? How were you dressed yourself, mother? "
Deborah smiled a little, and looked slyly at her
husband, who grinned sympathetically back at her ; and
then she said with an odd softness in her voice,
"Why, there was a time about it, child. Thee
knows I was a Friend already, and should by rights
have dressed like Hannah Trimble to-day: but thy
father, there, set his hard head against it, and would
have his bride come to him in white, as a pure maid
has a right to do ; and at last my people gave in, and
my father himself bought the white cambric for my
dress ; and when I was to leave the house he stuck a
white rose in my hah-, and said it matched my neck ;
and we walked to your father's parish-church, and
were married just as well as Lady Anne herself. I
have the dress saved by for thee, child, when thee is
grown. The body will be a deal too little, but thft
skirt will make thee a fine petticoat for best. But
there, enough of this worldly talk. Humphrey, did not
thee think the Spirit moved me mightily in meeting
yesterday? Did thee like what I said ? "
Molly remained obediently silent, but rested not by
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 193
day nor night until the white cambric dress was given
over to her own keeping; and the skirt, lengthened
down by several inches and freshly laundered, now
hung over a chair ready to serve at its second bridal.
" All in white, as a pure maid has a right," repeated
Molly to herself, as she looked at it, and touched it
reverently. " Yes, I will be in white, sure enough ; bu
what white?"
She opened the closet-door where all her wardrobe
hung since yesterday, and stood, a finger upon her lip,
contemplating the well-remembered garments in silent
perplexity.
That new stuff dress of Quaker brown, so ugly in
its fit, and clumsy in fashion? No, indeed. The
Striped blue and white linsey-woolsey, or the yet shab-
bier gray and black ? Oh, no ! The homespun linen
for summer wear, and the striped short-gown and
petticoat, and the " cooler " for hot weather of India
chintz, brought from England in the emigration?
Not one of all these was of the slightest value now ;
and Molly shut the closet-door with a sigh, and looked
ah out her. But refusing is not choosing ; and when
the closet-door was closed, Molly had shut away her
entire wardrobe, and stood looking about her with such
an air of dejection and perplexity, that, much as we
condsmn her stolen marriage, v r e fain must pity her a
little, all alone here in the silence of midnight, so for-
lornly struggling to provide some little beauty and
fitness for that nuptial hour, around which fond
mothers ordinarily heap their tenderest cares, and smil-
ing friends their most assiduous attentions.
I9/ A NAMELESS NOBLE MA A".
Even the resolute determination for a white dress
had something of pathos in it ; for it sprung from the
unconscious protest the maiden soul was making
against what might seem unmaidenly even in his eyes
for whom the sacrifice was made. " As a pure maid
has the right," she whispered to herself again, as, tak-
ing a little wooden box from a drawer, she sat down to
turn over its but too familiar contents. Such poor
little bits of finery ! So useless, so ugly ! One longs
to re-create that fair form and bright maiden head
from the dust of two centuries, and pity and caress
and comfort it at least. Two centuries and more ago,
and yet how close akin to yon young girl's heart was
this whose story her descendant so lovingly tells to-day 1
The world is born new every day, yet always the same
dear old world.
Ah ! One item for the toilet at last. Here are
some yards of white ribbon bought for a bonnet-
trimming of that peddler last summer, and not yet
used. That will do for well, something; but the
recollection of the peddler has suggested another
idea, an idea at the same time so audacious and so
delightful that Molly stood for a moment with clasped
hands and blazing cheeks contemplating it in the air
before venturing to approach more closely. Then,
laying the box back in the secretary-drawer, she drew
from the very remotest corner of that receptacle a
parcel wrapped in silver-paper, and carefully pinned;
and, seating herself, slowly unfolded and unrolled a
web of delicate bobbinet lace, bought in much fear
and trembling at the expense, by Mistress Wilder, of
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 195
Jhis same peddler, who professed to have himself im-
ported it from Holland for the especial use of feminine
Friends, who used it for those formally folded yet not
ungraceful neckerchiefs forming part of their regu-
lation costume. The purchase made, and the peddler
gone, Deborah's heart, at once thrifty and ascetic,
sorely misgave her for her self-indulgence ; and, care-
fully laying aside her lace, she confined herself for
some months to the coarsest and poorest of the muslin
kerchiefs with which she was already supplied. Molly,
who had watched and smiled at this little comedy, had
from time to time tried to persuade her mother to
wear the lace, or else allow her to do so : but piety
forbade one of these courses, and prudence the other ;
and the coveted snare lay fresh and crisp in its rustling
paper, all ready to entangle the footsteps of the incau-
tious maiden who approached it.
" A bridal veil, and of the choicest, if only I dare
use it ! " murmured Molly, unwrapping the lace, and
letting it float over her two hands as she held it above
her head, and glanced shyly into the black depths of
the mirror, whence she half expected to see her
mother's angry face confront her.
" But I will be so very, very careful of it, mother
dear, if only you will lend it," whispered she, turning
toward the partition behind which lay her mother's
bedroom.
Reverently laying the lace upon the backs of two
chairs, Molly once more gazed around the room, seek-
ing inspiration from the familiar surroundings. The
secretary? Nay, she knew the contents of every one
IU6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
of its drawers, and no bridal dresses were among
them. The closet? It had been ransacked. The
cupboard above the fire? Nothing there. The tri-
angular buffet, or, as Molly had always heard it
called, the bo-fat, in the corner? It contained some
precious bits of china and glass, and the silver teapot
that had been her father's father's, but nothing to
meet the present need. The chest? Molly's eye*
dwel'. upon it long and meditatively, as if by clairvoy-
ance reviewing through the closed lid the manifold
objects she had so often seen displayed. The chest
itself was a curiosity, and nowadays would be a treas-
ure ; for it was of dark English oak, quaintly carved,
and adorned with old brasses, such as we vainly imi-
tate to-day in lacquer-work. It had belonged in the
Wilder family long before Humphrey himself joined
it, and had "come over" with him, if not in "The
Mayflower," at least in one of those later vessels
which actually brought so many of the chattels at-
tributed to the freight of that remarkable little brig.
But, although the chest was old, the country was as
yet too new to value it for its age ; and even Molly
considered it more as a convenient receptacle for
household stuff not in frequent use, than as an heir-
loom ; and she mentally went through its treasures
with mournful negation of each one, until she mur-
mured to herself, " and grandmother Ames's cur-
tains." Then she stopped, flushed a little with some
sudden thought, swiftly crossed the room, and, kneel-
ing before the chest, lifted the heavy lid, and burrowed
in its contents. Finally she dragged up from the
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. Ity
depths a great parcel, carefully pinned up in linen,
with a paper pasted upon the outside, inscribed,
" Grandmother Ames's Curtains."
Carrying the package nearer to the light, Molly
unfastened it, and rapidly took out and unfolded the
contents. They were such as are to be found in
many an old family chest to-day, perhaps carefully
preserved as monuments of the industry and task of
the women who have gone before ; perhaps tossed
aside and forgotten, and merely retaining their places
in the land of the living because no one takes interest
enough in them to destroy them. For grandmother
Ames's curtains were a full suit for three windows and
a bedstead, of fine India muslin, and all wrought by
her own fair hands with festoons and wreaths and scat-
tered bouquets of such flowers as may have bloomed
in Eden, but never upon the vulgar earth ; with won-
drous scrolls and arabesques, and such wanton freaks
of needlework as the inspired composer of music may
indulge in upon his piano, or the accomplished " skat-
ist " perform upon the ice before an admiring crowd.
Grandmother Ames was a swift and diligent needle-
woman, and these curtains had been the great achieve-
ment, the magnum opus, of her life ; and at her death
they were solemnly bequeathed to her daughter Debo-
rah, constituting with one feather-bed, and one scarlet
broadcloth cloak and hood, a fair and equitable fourth
of the Ames inheritance. Molly Wilder had often
seen these curtains, and admired them with that sort
of vague awe inspired by the Bayeux tapestry, or a
patchwork carpet said to contain ten thousand bits of
198 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
cloth, or any other enormous and utterly useless waste
of human life and industry : but to-day they aroused
a ne\v and vital interest in her mind, and one certainly
never contemplated by their artificer ; for in all those
yards of wrought muslin, a little tarnished by years,
but still of a very delicate creamy white, the maiden
saw the vision of a wedding-dress, a vision not clearly
defined as yet, hardly more indeed than a bright pos-
sibility, but still something to set her cheeks to glow-
ing, and her eyes to flashing, and her fair bosom to
panting with delight and impatience. The curtains
must not be cut, of course ; and how else could they
be shaped? Again and again Molly took up the
separate pieces, and examined them, busily murmuring
the while,
"These six long window-curtains will make the
skirt, sweeping the floor like that Lady Anne wore
when mother saw her married : nay, I will use two for
a round petticoat, and the other four shall make the
train. Ay, that goes swimmingly ; and for the body,
why not this headpiece of the bed-curtains?" She
held it out at arm's-length, and surveyed it with thai
intuitive appreciation and speculation in her eye, an-
swering in the feminine genius to the fine frenzy of a
Galileo or a Mitchell searching for the possible planet
or comet science has taught him to expect in defiance
of all the usual beliefs of man. It was a long, scarf-
shaped, or rather cape-shaped, piece of muslin, some
ihree feet broad in the middle, and perhaps six or
seven long, designed to hang inside the two head-
posts of the old-fashioned bedstead, and to delight the
GRANDMOTHER AMES'S CURTAINS. 1 99
eyes of its occupant or occupants, since no one out-
side could catch a glimpse of it.
" Let me see, let me see," murmured Molly busily ;
and, hastily arranging the more substantial part of hei
toilet, she adjusted the skirt and train, and then, taking
the head-piece, laid it over her shoulders like a shawl,
crossed it upon her bosom, and tied the ends behind
in a great knot, the soft and fine fabric lending itself
readily to an arrangement impossible with any thing
more substantial, and Molly's stately and statuesque
figure bearing oif grandly that style of classic drapery
which on most modern figures is so overwhelming and
unbecoming. The edge of the fichu thus arranged
covered the upper part of the arms ; and the days had
not yet arrived when the sleeve became an indispensa-
ble part of the dress, being at that time ranked more
with gloves and masks as part of the out-door costume,
to be tied on when about to leave the house, and laid
aside on entering it. So Molly, gazing into the dim
mirror, felt no dismay in observing that the round,
white arm was uncovered from the elbow down, or
that a soft and creamy bit of neck was to be seen
between the folds of the fichu, blending admirably
with the stately throat above, and suggesting sweet
possibilities below.
Then Molly loosened her chestnut hair, coiled it
afresh, and laid over it the web of lace, suffering one
end to cover her face, and binding it around with the
fillet of white ribbon in unconscious classic accord
with the style of her robe, and in perfect harmony
with her own Juno-like beauty.
200 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Finally clasping her hands, and dropping them in
front of her, she stood for a moment looking at her-
self in shy approval and astonishment ; for never had
mirror given back to her an image like this, and yet
it was herself. Her own gray eyes, but when so soft
and dewy in their brightness? her own mouth, but
when so tremulous and tender in its dreamy smile ?
her own cheeks, but when so charmingly colored?
even the wide white chin looked soft and loving to-
night; even the little ear blushed pink with sweet
emotion ; even the bright hair lay more softly upon
the brow, and coiled more crown-like upon the queen-
ly head.
Yes, she saw that she was lovely, for she had quick
appreciation of all loveliness : and she used the knowl-
edge as her noble nature and pure heart prompted ;
for, still gazing in the mirror, she said, " It is because
Francois loves me, that I look like this ; and how can
I thank God enough for sending him to love me, and
for making me comely in his eyes ! "
So she fell upon her knees, and had not yet arisen,
when the clock struck three.
It was her bridal hour.
TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 2O
CHAPTER XXV.
THE WHOLE TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH.
THE clock struck three ; and, quietly opening the
door into the front hall, Molly stole through the
passage and up the stairs ; her white robes shimmer-
ing ghostily, her light foot noiseless as Tabitha's, who,
having with round grave eyes watched the progress
of the toilet, now accompanied the bride, somewhat
as the "milk-white doe" escorted Lady Clare, seek-
ing Lord Ronald's tower.
The door of Molly's own room stood open, and her
lover, advancing to meet her, took both hands, and,
raising them deferentially to his lips, murmured,
" My brave, true love ! " and so led her into the
room where stood a tall swarthy stranger, at sight of
whom Molly stopped in astonishment ; but her lover
re-assured her:
" It is your old friend Schwarz, Marie : he was in
disguise, that he might the better help me. Now you
see him au naturel, that is all. I would present him
to you if I dared, but it is better you never hear the
names in which our enemies still may search for us ;
so call him, if you will, Monsieur l'Abb, or perhaps
monpere Are you content? Can you trust me in
all?"
202 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" I hare trusted you, and I will always trust you,
Francois," said Molly with such sweet gravity of
meaning that the lover's cheek was tinged with deliglit
as he ardently replied,
" And you shall never repent your noble confidence,
my Marie : I promise it to you foi de foi d'un
gentilhomme. Now, mon pere."
The abbe, who remained so grave and silent that
one might say he had but little relish for his duty,
opened the wave-worn little book in his hand, and
began to read the service in a voice hardly above a
whisper, yet so sonorous and full in its intonations that
the Latin words, falling for the first time upon Molly's
unlearned ear, seemed the language of some strange,
beautiful land of romance, wherein she walked as in a
gorgeous dream; and surely romance could hardly
have hoped, in this wintry wilderness, to find material
so fitting as this dim chamber, with the sombre priest
hurriedly muttering his full-mouthed Latin phrases, the
beautiful bride in her quaint costume, the stately bride-
groom gazing at her so ardently, and Tabitha, who,
seated in the midst, fixed her gleaming eyes on each
in succession with true Satanic intelligence.
"La bague, mon fils" muttered the priest; and
Fran?ois, slipping from his finger the great amethyst
Molly had 3d mired when her future lover lay wounded
and half dead at her feet, placed it upon her finger,
and held it there while he repeated after the priest
some words whose meaning Molly could only guess.
" Kneel, my children," said the priest in English,
and. as they obeyed, he laid his hands upon their
TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 203
heads, and, in a firmer and heartier tone than he yet
had used, bestowed upon them the apostolic blessing,
which, in the belief of both men, conveyed a positive
gift of good far beyond a charitable wish ; while Molly
felt the tears start to her eyes in gratitude for she knew
not what.
"Monsieur and Madame LeBaron, allow me to
offer my warmest felicitations, and hopes for your
happiness," said the abbe*, as the new-married pair
rose to their feet ; and in pronouncing the new name,
adopted since morning by his friend and pupil, the
priest allowed a twinkle of humor to kindle his dark
eyes, and a tone more jocose than solemn to penetrate
his deep-toned voice.
But Molly could not appreciate the joke ; and Fran-
ois had no mind for it, being occupied in admiring
his bride.
"And whence this charming costume, so richly
wrought, and yet so virginal in its simplicity?" asked
he, touching the embroidered edge of the fichu as it
lay upon Molly's arm. " Is it not the Indian muslin
that our fine ladies abroad are so pleased to wear?"
" I believe <o. Do you like it? " replied she with a
flush of pleasure, and a dimpling smile at the jest she
in turn had all to herself.
" But whence did it come all of a sudden, as if the
fairies had decked thee for thy bridal ? " persisted
Francois a little curiously. Molly hesitated for half an
instant, and decided not to disillusionize her bridal
robe by bestowing upon it the homely name of
window- curtains ; and, in thus deciding the first ques-
2O4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
tion arising in her married life, she gave no urimpor
tant clew to her whole future course ; for truth-telling
wives may be divided into two broad classes, those j
,' who tell all the truth, and those who tell nothing buti
\ the truth : to our mind, and to Molly's, these latter are
the wisest, and even the truest to the spirit of their
marriage-vow. It was the first time the question had
been presented to her, and there was no time for
reasoning ; but intuition, deeper than reason, decided
it at once, and it was not half a minute after the
baron's question before his all-unconscious baroness
replied,
"And how do you know but the fairies did deck
me for my bridal ? You told me yourself it was the
mermaids who brought you here in the first place for
my"
" Nay, say it out, sweetheart, thy husband. Say
it for me once, dear wife. Lay thy coy arms about
my neck, and give me the kiss I will not take without
thy leave, and say, 'This for my husband Francois,
from Marie his wife.' "
Smiling and ashamed, she did exactly as he bid her ;
and he, holding her close to his heart for one sweet
moment, and then gazing reverently into the deep,
true eyes lifted to his so bravely yet so shyly, felt a
sudden burden of responsibility, almost of remorse,
fasten upon his heart, at knowledge of the change he
had wrought in this fair and pure life, and how its
whole future lay in his hand.
" God so deal with me, as I with you, my wife ! "
whispered he; and she for answer kissed him yet
again, then released herself from his embrace.
TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 20$
" I am sorry, my friends, but I must remind you of
the time," said the abbe dryly. "It is all but foul
o'clock ; and our friend Amariah is very matutinal, not
to mention our worthy host, who sometimes, as he
tells me, rises before the dawn."
"Yes, yes. Francois, you must go at once," ex-
claimed Molly, her firm mind springing back to its
balance upon the instant. " I drew the bolt of the
front door before I went to bed, and the hinges are
well oiled, so that it will open noiselessly. The basket
of provisions is in .he parlor, and the extra wrap-
pings are here."
" Most thoughtful of wives, and so young in that
sweet character ! " exclaimed Francois uxoriously.
" Yes, all is ready but my will ; and that I think will
never say, ' It is time to part.' "
" I pray you, do not forget the moccasins I gave you
to put over your boots, or the extra stockings. One's
feet are so cold after some hours in a sleigh."
" I will not forget, Griselda."
"And thy poor arm," pursued Molly, not caring to
inquire who Griselda might be, or have been ; and her
earnestness and persevering adherence to the matter
in hand roused Frangois from his dreams of delight,
as no personal responsibility would in the least have
done.
The abb6 also showed himself, in this emergency,
to be no less a man of affairs than a priest and a
physician : he thought of every thing, generally find-
ing, to be sure, that Molly had thought of it before-
hand, and laid down the whole plan of the escape
2O6 A^ NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
both for Francois and himself so clearly that theie
could hardly occur at any point one of those dreadful
breaks in the chain of connection, by which many a
captive has, just in the moment of deliverance, found
the road cut from under his feet, and been helplessly
remanded to a bitterer captivity than ever. He had
even taken occasion, in the course of the day, to go
in and out of the front door several times, so that
whatever footprints might appear upon the hard
frozen snow should be attributed to his feet. Softly
opening the door, he pointed out this fact to the
baron, bidding him be careful to tread exactly in the
same track; but the caution was unheeded, for, as
the last barrier between the captive and liberty was
removed, he turned back to his captivity and his
jailer with a clinging love, such as he had not yet
known, and, clasping Molly in his arms, whispered,
" Sweet wife ! I cannot leave thee thus. Shall I
stay, and risk all, or will you come with me ? "
"Neither, Francois. We knew that we did but
join to part. Be strong, dear husband, and let me be
strong ; for you are a man, and should show me the
sxample."
" And so I will. Good-by, darling : God be with
you, and keep you ! Do not doubt me, even though
years should pass. So sure as I live, I will come to
claim you."
" I should never dream of doubting it," said Molly
in some surprise : and then they clung together in one
of those embraces whose passion is all pain, for the
sorrow of parting strikes its bitterness through the
TRUTH, AND NOTHING BUT TRUTH. 2QJ
sweet of love, and the sweet makes the bitter all
the more pungent.
It was Molly who, at the last, unclasped her hus-
band's arms from around her neck, and gently push-
ing him toward the door whispered,
" Go. dear, in the name of pity, go ! "
"Yes, mon baron, it is madness to delay," mur-
mured the abb impatiently ; and Francois, without a
word, with but one more lingering kiss, allowed him-
self to be led to the door, which presently closed
behind him, but not until the last cautious echo of
his footsteps had died upon the frosty air. Then the
abbe" turned, and looked shrewdly at Molly. She was
white as her dress, and leaned heavily against the
door-casing with closed eyes, from beneath whose
lids great tears were slowly forcing their course.
Light as a cat the priest mounted the stairs to his own
room, and presently returned with a little flat silver
cup, part apparently of a pocket-flask.
" Drink this, madame ! " whispered he peremptorily.
" Drink, if but one sip, to your husband's safe jour-
ney."
" Oh, if I could insure it thus ! " replied Molly ; but
she took the cup, and smiled, and whispered some-
thing, and quaffed the contents, never knowing whether
it was sea-water or good French brandy : to her it was
a pledge to Francois, and that was all.
" And now, madame," pursued the abb, receiving
back the cup with a smile, " I recommend that you
take off and put away this beautiful dress, and, after
hiding all signs of unusual confusion, get a little sleep
208 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
before the day breaks. I shall do so, for it will be
many a night before we shall sleep so securely again."
"The advice is good, sir. Good-night."
And Mary went into her own room, where the
dying fire still shed a warm and dusky glow, fastened
the door, and drew aside the window-curtain. The
intense, brooding darkness of the hour before dawn
was over all the earth ; but beneath it the snow shot
up a sullen and sepulchral gleam, as in the darkened
chamber of death the shrouded form in its cold white
vestments cannot be hid.
Mary shuddered, and dropped the curtain, then fell
upon her knees whispering,
" Eye of man can see him not ; but thou, O God,
thou to whom the night is as the noonday, oh, watch
him and keep him and save him, and bring him back
tome!"
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 2OQ
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIRCE."
"TV TEWS, news, cher docteur!" exclaimed a gay
j. \| young officer of artillery, looking in at the open
door of a little barrack-chamber wherein the regiment-
al surgeon sat reading and smoking.
" And what news, mon capitan ? " asked he a
little languidly. " Have the Hurons captured a part}
of Iroquois? or is it the Iroquois who have annoyed
the Hurons this time ? or "
" Nothing of the sort ; but news that may take us
all back to la belle France, leaving the savages to fight
out their own squabbles, and murder these Jesuit
fathers, who hunger so furiously after martyrdom, at
their leisure. A brigantine from home, just anchor-
ing below the citadel ; and here comes the chaplain to
confirm my report."
"What ! You have already heard the blessed ne\*s
of peace, Capt. Reynier?" asked a mellow voice a
the chaplain entered the room.
"What, peace! Is it true, then? Has the mail
come ashore?" And, without waiting for reply, the
young man dashed out of the room and down the
stairs.
"News of eace, eh?" asked Dr. LeBaron stiD
2IO A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf.
languidly, still indifferently, as Pere Vincent closed the
door, and came to seat himself beside his friend.
" Yes, doctor, and other news also," replied the priest
in a voice of suppressed emotion. " I have a letter."
"A letter! But how did any one know of your
whereabouts or your identity?" asked the doctoi
sternly. "That is, any one but your religious supe-
riors," added he more gently. " Is the letter from one
of your fathers?"
" No, but still from a priest. You remember Pere
Noailles, who went home invalided a few months after
our arrival in this place ? "
"Yes. Surely, Father Vincent, you did not betray
our identity to him? " demanded the surgeon angrily.
" Not at all, my son ; the worthy priest and myself
never exchanged six words about you in our lives, or,
indeed, many about myself individually. I found him
a man of rare discretion and reserve ; and, although
we spent many hours in close communion, I do not
know at this moment what was his name before enter-
ing the church, or his birthplace, or family condition,
in fact, no more than he does mine."
" Well, and he has written to you ? "
"Yes, a most interesting account of the Oratorian
College, and the Lazarist Fathers, who are doing great
work in the provincial towns."
"Ay? Well, that is all good," replied the surgeon
politely indifferent.
"But the good father encloses another letter in
which you may take more interest," pursued the priest,
taking a folded paper from his pocket. " It is from
my sister Clotilde, whom you may remember."
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 211
"But, abb, how could you write to your sister,
as I suppose you did, without betraying your where-
abouts and mine also?"
"Very easily, as you shall see : I wrote to my sister,
mentioning neither date nor residence. For any thing
to be gathered from the letter, the writer may have
been resident in Japan or Nova Zembla. This letter
1 enclosed in one to my spiritual superior, to whom,
you know, as a member of the Society of Jesus, I am
obliged to report myself at stated periods, knowledge
as impossible to spread beyond its authorized limits as
that obtained in the confessional. I asked him to
transmit this letter to my sister through a certain
priest, her confessor, and to desire him to write at her
dictation a reply. This, given by the confessor to
his and my superior, would be transmitted to Pere
Noailles, and by him enclosed to me. My somewhat
complex plan worked as smoothly as most complex
matters do when committed to Holy Church for
guidance ; and here is Clotilde's letter. Will you
look at it?"
" Thanks ; but you shall tell me any thing in it that
especially interests yourself," replied the doctor in a
voice full of meaning and warning.
The priest laid the letter upon the table at his
friend's elbow, and rose, saying,
"You had better read it for yourself, and in soli-
tude. We shall meet at supper if not sooner." Then
he went out, and the doctor resumed his book and his
pipe, reading steadily down one page, turning the leaf
and beginning another, with no consciousness of A
212 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
single word or line, while the eyes so steadily fixed
upon the printed page were far more conscious of the
sidelong reflection upon the retina of that unfolded
sheet upon the table than of the object immediately
in front of them. Suddenly, with an impatient ges-
ture, the surgeon tossed the book upon a bed at the
other side of the room, flung the pipe upon the table,
and, striding to the window, stood staring down upon
the wonderful landscape at his feet, where the blue
waters of the St. Charles dance down to lose them-
selves in the more turbid flood of the St. Lawrence,
and both together flow majestically onward to the sea,
laving the broken and picturesque shore, circling
around the storied islands, and opening one of the
great highways by which first France and then England
found their way to the heart of the New World.
Magnificent as was the view, even more so then than
to-day, and competent as were the educated eyes of
the surgeon to read and comprehend its charm, they
roved over it now as blankly as they had over the
printed page of one of his most-valued medical
treatises ; even the sea-worn and battered brigantine,
anchored almost at his feet as it looked, her decks
and rigging swarming with men, while a whole fleet of
Indian canoes plied back and forth between her side
and the pebbly shore, lay unseen before the eyes whose
blank gaze rested only upon a simulacre of the table
behind him, with that open letter lying in the middle.
But, as the stern gaze never faltered, this homely
vision slowly faded away, and clear in the summer air
rose another, wavering and hovering between the gazei
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " VIRCE." 2 13
and the undulating tops of the evergreen forest across
the river, whither now his eyes were directed, the
fair vision of a stately chateau, gray with ancestral
honor and glory, with a garden at its feet where color
and perfume and warmth and delight mingled in one
sensuous dream of beauty and enjoyment, and, in the
midst of a drooping tree, a form
The doctor turned, muttering a savage malediction
upon his own folly, and snatching up the letter de-
voured its contents with hungry eyes : nothing there
written could be so dangerous as the imaginations it
suggested unread.
The first part was simple and quieting as need be ;
mere homely details of Clotilde's own experiences,
how she had married, and been a mother, and now the
child and the husband both were dead ; and she, liv-
ing with her married brother for a while, but meaning
to go to service again so soon as madame should come
back from Paris and take her ; and then with all the
rambling inconsequence of an illiterate writer followed
these passages :
" But you did not know that before I was married
I was at the Chateau de Montarnaud for a while aftei
the old count was dead, and Count Gaston de Mont-
arnaud came to the property, and took possession;
and when he went away he would not take madame to
Paris ; they said, because she flirted so with the great
lords there, but at all events he left her. And the
housekeeper recommended me to mend the countess's
laces, for you know the nuns taught me to do it beau-
tifully, and so I went ; and when she knew I was youi
214 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
sister, she made me sit always in her bedchamber, and
talked with me hours at a time. She tried so hard to
make me tell where you were, that, if I had known,
she would surely have got it from me ; but I only
could say how you wished so much to go to see our
Saviour's tomb at Jerusalem, and I thought you
might be in some monastery there. But she said, in
an angry sort of way, she did not believe it ; and then
she asked, did any one go with you? but how could I
tell when I did not know? So day after day we
talked : and, brother, I can tell you what I fancy you
want to know, though you did not exactly ask ; but it
is quite true that Madame la Comtesse would rather
be Madame la Baronne even to-day. I would not
say it if the count were still alive ; but, now that he is
nicely killed by the gentleman whose wife he carried
away, it is no harm. And if you know where our dear
maste* the baron is, I wish you would tell him he has
only to come home and marry her, and be Comte de
Montarnaud, unless the little Mademoiselle The>6se
is her father's heiress (I do not know, and Father
Jacques says he does not, how that would be) ; but at
any rate, when I saw the countess, not two months
ago, oniy a few weeks after the count's death, she
asked me, with her handsome face all flushed and
bright as a young girl's, if I had not yet heard one
word from my brother; and I know what I know.
Yes, yes, brother ! I know full well that she has never
ceased to love him ; and now she is free, and hand-
somer than ever, and rich, and a morsel for the dain-
tiest master. And she promised that when she came
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE." 215
back from Paris, whither she must go to settle the
count's affairs, I should come and live with her again,
and be gouvernante to Mademoiselle Theiese, who is
four months old, poor little darling."
And then Madame Clotilde's letter wandered off
again into personal details ; and, having read it to the
end, the doctor slowly folded it, laid it upon the table,
and stood looking gloomily down upon it.
" Say, Victor, what is the name of the brigantine ? "
asked a merry soldier voice below the window. And
another replied with a laugh,
" ' CirceV She comes to tempt us all to desert this
barbarous solitude, and get a passage back to France ;
don't you see ? "
" The ' Circe 1 ,' " echoed Dr. LeBaron, with a cynical
smile. "Yes; but only fools believed in Circe twice."
At the mess supper-table the doctor and the chap-
kin met again ; and, when the meal was finished, the
priest followed his friend from the room and up to his
own quarters. As he opened the door, the latter
turned, and quietly said,
"Will you come in, and take your letter, abb? "
The abb silently complied, took the letter, and
without glancing at it, or asking if it had been read,
put it in the pocket of his soutane, and said,
" I have not quite emptied my budget of news yet,
my friend."
"No? What remains?"
" I am going home. I am recalled by my superior
Will you go with me? "
"What, to France?"
2l6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Yes : why not? Your father and your brother are
dead : if Gaston's child dies, you are the heir of your
father's estates, as well as your mother's, for such were
the terms of her marriage settlements. You have worn
out by time and travel all bitterness or pain of asso-
ciation, and may settle peacefully down, either beneath
your vine and fig-tree at Montarnaud, or the apple and
pear trees of Normandy, to live out your life in your
own country, and among your own people ; for you are,
after all, a Frenchman, and nothing can deprive you
of that proud inheritance."
Wily abbe" ! He never alluded to the widowed and
regretful Valerie ; for he was sure that the letter had
done its work, without need of further help.
The doctor, striding up and down the narrow cham-
ber, listened attentively to the end, and, as the abbe's
voice died away, stood with his back toward the room,
staring blankly out of the open window at the starless
sky and unseen shore. Suddenly he turned, and,
without approaching the other, said slowly and dis-
tinctly,
" I do not think my wife wishes to live in France "
" Your wife ? Mademoiselle Marie Wilder ? "
" No, Madame LeBaron, as she herself named hei
future husband."
"My dear baron, I have got one more piece of
news for you, news which has waited two good years,
and to-night is to be produced."
"It seems a day of revelation, man abbe; but I do
not think your last news will stir me more than the
first. What is it?"
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE "CIRCE? 2 1/
Father Vincent rose from the chair where he had
thrown himself, and, approaching his friend, laid a hand
upon his arm, and looked earnestly into his face. It
was grave, attentive, and expectant, bat not so agi-
tated as the priest would have had it He was a
skilful musician, but the instrument did not respond as
he had hoped.
" My son, you were but a child when your father
placed you in my charge ; and since that day your
welfare and improvement have been, after my voca-
tion, my dearest care."
" I believe it, num pert, and have been always, as
now, grateful and reliant."
" I am now to tell you of a step I took for your
sake against your own pleasure, and perhaps against
my duty. At any rate, I am led to expect that my
recall is due to the confession of this step, which I
made by letter to my superior ; and I may have severe
penance to undergo on my arrival with him. Mean-
time you win perhaps be angry ; and yet you win see
upon reflection that I sacrificed myself for you, since I
knew at the time that I was liable, both to your anger,
and to ecclesiastical censure for my act, and yet "
* For Heaven's sake, abb, have it out, and let die
explanation come after the matter to be explained!
What have you done?"
"Rather, what did I leave undone, my son! I wffl
tell you in one word. I did not actually many you to
the girl whom I bat now styled with intention Made-
moiselle Mary Wilder. The words you repeated after
me were no more than those of solemn troth-plight,
2l8 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
and those which I muttered afterward were but one cf
the penitential psalms. I knew that you were to leave
her immediately ; I knew how unlikely it was that you
would ever return ; I had seen you in love, more or
less, three or four times already ; I knew that, if you
ever should return, it would be so easy to complete
the ceremony I had begun, or to procure dispensation
for you from the vows of betrothal you had assumed ;
and I deceived you for your own good, mon baron,
for your own good. You have done no wrong to any
one ; and you stand there at this moment a free man,
free to return to your estates, to your home, and
to any wife you may choose to wed. No law of
God or man forbids."
"No law except one you do not comprehend, as
it seems, my poor little abb6 ; and no wonder, since
probably it was not taught in your father's shop. I
mean the law of honor."
And, with a look of withering scorn, the doctor was
striding from the room, when the priest seized him by
the arm, and said in a broken voice, " No, no, mon
baron : you shall not go until you forgive me. It was
for love of you, in your interests, I did it. What other
motive could I have? It seemed so unlikely you
should be desirous, even if you were able, to consum-
mate so unsuitable an alliance, after years of absence
had destroyed the romantic illusions under which you
then acted. It seemed so possible that just what has
now happened should happen : that you should be-
come heir to the estates, and return to possess them ;
and what could you do with a low-born rustic for your
wife?"
THE MAIL-BAG OF THE " CIKC." 2l<)
" Enough, enough, abbe 1 ! Let go my arm. Nay,
then, here's my hand, old friend. I do believe thou
didst it for my good ; but it was a terrible mistake,
and one that cannot be too soon rectified. Still, I
was wrong to throw thine honest father's shop in thy
teeth, and I crave forgiveness for the ungentle taunt.
But for the rest, first move the rocks on which this
fortress stands, and then try again, if you will, on my
determination : it is the firmer of the two. Shame
on me to confess it, there was a moment when the
Devil tugged hard at my soul, and filled it with sights
and sounds and memories of long ago, memories so
alluring, that, man-like, I half regretted that I was fast
bound to another life. But I never once dreamed of
the dastard course you would have had me pursue
but there, then, I will not be angry. Our ideas differ
in such matters, man pert, differ from the cradle.
You are a priest; and it is one of your mottoes, I
believe, you Jesuits, that the end justifies the means :
but we others, you know, we, too, have our watchword
of ' Noblesse oblige ; ' and my mother taught me those
words, and somewhat of their meaning, as soon as I
could speak. We both must live after our traditions,
mon pere ; but I forgive you heartily, and crave your
forgiveness, and only trust your superior may not be
too hard upon the irregularity, as we must call it."
" I don't know," muttered the abb ruefully, as the
doctor in his white heat of excitement walked to the
window, and leaned out for a moment into the cool
darkness of the night. "To be sure, there was no
mass : it cannot be called a sacrilege ; but the supe-
rior is very severe, and it was irregular."
22O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAW.
"And now," resumed the baron, returning, "my
next step is to get my discharge ; since peace is de-
clared, that can be no difficult matter : and then
southward, so fast as horseflesh will carry me, to claim
my wife ; for wife she is in the eye of God already,
and shall be so in the eye of man so soon as she may
be made so."
" You will find no priest there ; and a marriage by
one of those snuffling Huguenot ministers is no mar-
riage," said the abbe' half triumphantly.
" Then it will be a civil ceremony before a magis-
trate," replied Francois coldly ; " and perhaps that is
better, for I hold that the religious service has been
already performed sufficiently to satisfy all require-
ments. God is true, although His priests may palter
with his truth. And I doubt not the honest intention
of the two who thought themselves wed that night is
stronger in His eyes, than the deceitful informality of
the ceremony."
" You are very severe, mon baron."
" I am afraid it is my nature, mon pere. Yet here
is my hand again, and we part firm friends."
" But I must return to France all alone ; and, when
I left it, I swore never to part from you if I could help
it," said the priest mournfully.
" Yes ; but now you cannot help it, nor can I," re-
plied the baron steadfastly, and left the room.
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 221
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.
TT was toward sunset of a lovely day in June that a
J. stranger rode slowly into the town of Plymouth,
old Plymouth, Plymouth of the Pilgrims.
Do you know the Plymouth of to-day, the quiet,
sleepy little town, with its few drowsy lions, and its
little store of relics? and have you, you who have
either risen above the pride of ancestry, or claim some
other lineage than that of Mayflower Pilgrims, have
you made the little round of these, and gone away
wondering why you ever came hither, and what any-
body finds in Plymouth to draw them there year after
year ; and why her children, wheresoever they may
wander, turn so eagerly back, in body may be, at any
rate in heart, to the old Rock, as year by year the
22d of December comes round, and they say to each
other with shining eyes,
" It is Forefathers' Day in dear old Plymouth."
Have you wondered why it should be thus ? and do
you still wonder? Well, I cannot tell you; but the
gray old sphinx of a town knows the answer to that
riddle, and several others, and tells them, too, to him
who has ears and heart to listen, and eyes wherewith
to see the sights she will show in the dim twilight on
222 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Burying Hill ; or when the moon throws strange shad-
ows upon the midnight streets ; or when at high tide,
the gray fog shutting off all else, one hears the lap-
ping of the waves upon the beach, and remembers
with a thrill of awe that sea and sky and fog and
sandy beach are unchanged and unchangeable for
all the changes of two hundred and fifty years.
Oh ! to a child of the Pilgrims, with their blood
warm at his heart, their names his proudest boast,
their calm strength and unconscious grandeur of life
his greatest ensample among mortal men, to such an
one the genius of the old town is neither silent nor
chary of her gifts ; for him in those still hours she
recalls the noble forms of Bradford, and Carver, and
Standish, consulting with the venerable Brewster, as
they stroll along the shore, how food shall be pro-
cured for the well-nigh starving community, how the
savage foe shall best be conquered into a friend, and
the faithless friends in England be made to fulfil their
compact ; or again she shows the same men, leaders,
gentlemen, and scholars though they were, toiling up
the steep ascent of Leyden Street, bearing their bur-
dens with the rest from the seashore to the common-
house whose site is still lovingly remembered ; or, going
a little farther back, she shows the desecrated Rock
restored to its lonely dignity, and beside it the clumsy
boat of " The Mayflower " whence the Pilgrims step
with solemn thanksgiving upon this the threshold of
their new home, whose magnificence they do not yet
suspect. And not the men alone : for beside the stately
and elegant Carver, already governor of the colony,
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22$
stands Katharine his fair dame; and Standish leads
his Rose, and Priscilla Mullins makes way for the
young matron, little guessing how soon that place
might be her own ; and John Alden gazes at Priscilla,
and thinks how fair she is ; and Warren and Winslow
and Rowland are there, and Elder Brewster's fail
daughters, Love and Ruth, and many another maid
soon to be a wife. And then, as the scene changes,
one sees the stern, rough soldier Standish, and Bradford
the statesman and scholar, and Carver the aristocrat,
attending the sick smitten down by the pestilence of
that first winter, nursing them with the patient tender-
ness of women and the strength of men, until they
had buried more than half of their company upon the
hill beside the shore ; planting their graves with wheat,
that the Indians might not see how many there were.
I wonder, when they eat bread of that grain, if they did
not remember, " Except a corn of wheat fall into the
ground, and perish, it bringeth forth no fruit."
Well, one must linger no longer, but, passing on
some threescore years, come to the Bunch of Grapes.
It was the tavern of Plymouth then, and for a century
later, a long, low-browed building, the upper story
overhanging the lower by a foot or so, with a great
carved and gilded bunch of grapes hanging from each
corner of the projecting story. A quaint old house,
and with plenty of stories of its own which we may
some day rehearse together ; but just now we must be
steadfast to the summer evening when LeBaron rode
up to the door, and sat waiting for some one to take
his horse, and bid him welcome. But a moment'8
224 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
observation showed that all was not well with the
Bunch of Grapes and its inmates. The latticed win-
dows all swung wide to the sweet summer, and the
doors stood hospitably open : but neither rosy land-
lord, nor buxom landlady, nor smiling waiter appeared
to welcome the guest ; and the two or three old topers
seated upon the bench beside the door seemed too
much absorbed in some wonder-fraught gossip to do
more than casually stare at him, and then back to
their whispered dialogue. Glancing impatiently at
them, the doctor threw himself from his horse, and
rapped sharply with his whip-handle upon a panel of
the stout oaken-door ; but, as if this had been the sig-
nal for some dire catastrophe, a dismal shriek re-
sounded through the upper chambers, followed by
such a rapid succession of shrill screams, cries articu-
late and inarticulate, sobs, and peals of maniacal laugh-
ter, that the listeners gasped for breath, and turned
pale even to their gorgeous noses.
"Why, what is this? What is doing here?" de-
manded Dr. LeBaron, seizing by the arm a trembling
lad in a white apron who now appeared at the door of
one of the lower apartments.
"I I don't know, sir; but I guess it's missus,"
replied the lad, bursting into blubbering sobs, and
rapidly withdrawing to the seclusion of the bar.
"What is the matter up there?" repeated the
doctor in his most peremptory tones, as he strode to
the outer door, and collared a* man who stood peeping
fearfully in.
"Why, you see, sir," returned this individual, gently
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22$
from the inconvenient grasp, and settling his
b?ck-gear as he spoke, " Dame Tilley has got to have
her leg cut off; and, poor soul, she takes it to heart a
bit."
" Oho, that's it ! " exclaimed the surgeon, his curi-
osity rapidly changing to professional interest. " Aud
why must the good woman lose her leg? "
"All along of a bad knee that the doctors can't
cure, sir; and they be afraid it will spread, I believe."
" What, the knee spread ? Surely, that were a novel
mischance ! " exclaimed the doctor, smiling. "And so
the amputation is now in progress? "
" Anan."
"They are cutting off the leg just now? "
" Why, the doctors be up there ; but I guess they
haven't buckled to't yet. There's not been time."
"Who are the doctors?"
" There's Pilsbury from New Bedford, he's the main
one; but old Dr. Coffin from Sandwich, and Hallo-
well, our own doctor such as he is, they're up there
helping. Lord ! how she do screech ! I'll lay they're
a-cutting into her now."
" She's in an hysteric fit. They won't handle her
that way," muttered the doctor uneasily; and then,
opening the door of the bar-room, he peremptorily
beckoned forth the tapster, who was solacing his grief
by a tankard of small beer.
" Here, Jacques, come here and get this shilling for
yourself," ordered he ; and Jacques, whose name was
Zebedee, came at once, a subdued grin struggling
oddly with fright, terror, and beer, upon his counte-
nance.
226 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Now go up-stairs as fast as you can, and tell your
master that a surgeon of the army is here, who would
like to help at the operation if he will permit, and ask
him to beg permission of the worthy surgeons already
on the field."
"Yes, sir." And Zebedee, spurred to intelligence
as well as haste by the shilling already in hand and
the hope of more to come, did his errand so well that
in about two minutes he returned with the landlord a:
his heels, his honest face pale and troubled, and his
voice broken with emotion through the professional
cordiality it mechanically assumed in greeting a guest
of evident social consequence.
"Zeb told mo you were an army-doctor, sir, and
had kindly offered to "
" Yes, yes, my good friend : it is hard for you, but
these things can be made less painful sometimes by
dexterity and practice. Perhaps I may be of some
use ; as I have, I suppose, amputated hundreds of limbs
where a country practitioner has one. Bring me up,
if these gentleman consent."
" Lord ! yes, sir ; and, if they didn't, I'd rather put
my poor woman into your hands alone, than theirs ;
for Dr. Pilsbury he's old and fumbling, and so's
Coffin ; and Hallowell knows more of cows and horses
than of humans. This way, sir."
He opened the door of the large front room, where,
upon a bed drawn into the middle of the floor, lay the
unfortunate woman, her face flushed and swollen, her
long bkck hair floating wildly, her hands clenched,
and her eytj roving from face to face of those crowd-
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22?
ing around her bed, more with the hunted and fero-
cious look of a wild animal at bay than of a suffering
patient in the hands of physicians whom she trusts tc
relieve and save her, even through the agency of
sharpest pain.
Consulting together in whispers around the table,
where some surgical instruments were boldly displayed,
stood the three doctors, two of them the red-faced,
gray-iiaired, hard, and well-grooved country practi-
tioner, who, after a youth of bewildered experiment
and doubt, has in middle or later life settled upon a
narrow round of treatment and drugs, and adapts all
cures to them. The third, a younger man, who, with-
out making pretence to a diploma or an education,
did what he could, and as he could, to relieve the
ailments of his townsmen and their cattle, stood
listening deferentially to the opinions of his superiors,
offering an occasional hesitating remark, to which the
magnates scarcely paid any attention. A mob of
women servants and neighbors, the mother of the
sick woman, and her sister with a baby in her arms
filled the room, and surrounded the bed, almost to the
exclusion of the air for which the poor fevered crea-
ture was panting.
"If it was a dumb creetur, now," Hallowell was
saying as the landlord re-entered the room, " I should
say there wa'n't no need of cutting on't off at all.
Squire Watson's cow had a bad leg last winter, and I
doctored it, and cured it, and she's a well cow to-day ;
but then "
" But then, you must remember, Master Hallowell,
228 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
that it's not a cow we are talking of, but a human,"
interposed Dr. Pilsbury with some acrimony; "and
one kind of treatment won't answer for both. What
I say is, that woman's leg is to come off: and, if she
won't consent, we'll just strap her down, and take it
off without her consent; and that quickly, for the
Bight's going, and my eyes are not what they used to
be."
" Good-evening, gentlemen. Will you allow me to
look at your patient, and add my poor experience to
yours in conducting the operation ? "
At sound! of this calm, harmonious, and cultivated
voice, the somewhat heated and excited practitioners
turned, and surveyed the new-comer with surprise and
a little professional jealousy.
"Good-evening, sir," said Dr. Pilsbury at length.
" You are an army surgeon, landlord Tilley says."
" Yes, of the royal army, and naturally of some
little experience," replied the new-comer ; and then,
without waiting until his rival should gather self-pos-
session to inquire, "Under which king, Bezonian?"
he approached the bed, and courteously waving aside
the throng of women, and murmuring to the patient,
" Permit me, madam ! " he deftly turned aside the
clothes, and examined the suffering member, whose
wrappings had already been removed in preparation
for amputation.
The three practitioners drew near, and looked on
with jealous attention; and the sick woman, calmed
and comforted, she knew not how, by the look of that
powerful and assured face, and the touch of hands
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 22Q
fine as a woman's, and strong as a ploughman's, said,
with a long, quivering sigh,
" O doctor, if you could only save it to me ! I'm
but a young woman, and a stirring one ; and if so be
I've got to die, I'll die : but I won't live a cripple, to
hobble round on crutches like an old granny ; I won't,
I won't, I won't ! "
Her voice rose to an hysterical shriek, and her
clenched hands beat furiously upon the counterpane.
" She's going off again ! " cried one woman, and,
" Now, Betty, Betty, don't 'ee, don't 'ee, that's a good
lass ! " added another ; and the mother, asserting her
privilege, elbowed her way to the front, sharply ex-
claiming,
"Now, Betty Tilley, be done with that, if thou
knows what's good for thyself! Come, then, ar'n't
you ashamed to be such a baby, and these good folk
all here to see thee have thy leg off like a brave
woman, and "
" Nay, then, mother-in-law," broke in the landlord :
" sure it is no time to be flouting at the poor thing,
and scolding never comforted a sick woman yet."
The mother-in-law replied, the other women cho-
rused, the baby began to scream, and the patient to
cry hysterically, and toss herself about in the bed sob-
bing, " I won't, then, I won't, I won't : I tell ye all
there'll be no show, for I won't have it off."
LeBaron looked at Dr. Pilsbury, and saw that he
had lost his head, and knew not what course to pur-
sue ; at Dr. Coffin, who feebly followed the example
of his superior ; and at Mr. Hallowell, who, abashed by
230 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Pilsbury's reproof, no longer ventured to hold any
opinion at all. In this emergency he seized the
landlord by the arm, and drew him out of the en-
counter, where he was rapidly getting worsted by the
nimble tongues of his opponents, and sternly de-
manded of him,
"Do you know that all this is killing your wife?"
"Ay, but what's to be done, sir? You see "
"Turn every human creature out of the room
except those three doctors, and keep the house
quiet."
"That I'll do, if you'll stand by, and see that they
don't hack and hew at my poor lass while I'm away,
and she screeching that they sha'n't."
"No one shall touch her to-night, at least, I'll
promise you that. Come, now, out with every one of
them, in the twinkle of an eye ! "
Then, leaving this somewhat difficult task in the
willing hands of the landlord, the surgeon returned to
the side of the raving woman, and, taking both her
hands in his, sat down on the edge of the bed, and
said, in a calmly assured voice,
"Now you are to be quiet, dame, do you hear?"
Gradually, beneath that firm grasp and firmer eye,
the contortions of body and frenzy of mind subsided
into languid moaning and tears ; and then the doctor,
gently smoothing the hair from the poor corrugated
brow and hot cheeks, said gently,
" Nothing is to be done to-night but to rest and
refresh yourself, dame. Will you be good, and try to
sleep?"
THE BUNCH OF GRAPES. 2$\
" And know my leg is to be cut off in the morn-
lug?" whimpered the woman. "If you would say
that it could be cured, I'd sleep gay and well."
" Come, then, now that you are quiet, and the room
is still, I shall look at it once more, and we shall see
what we shall see, madam."
Once more he examined the limb minutely, re-
peatedly, thoroughly yet gently, and then, laying the
clcthes over it, turned, and beckoned his colleagues
to follow him from the room. Outside the door they
found the landlord standing sentry, with a stout staff
in his hand.
" I said I'd crack the head of the first one that
came up those stairs without leave, doctor ; and I'll do
it too," exclaimed he valiantly, and addressing the
latest comer as the acknowledged head of the consul-
tation.
"And you did well, my friend," replied LeBaron
gravely. " Now go in there, and speak calmly and
gently to your wife, but talk as little as may be. I
will see that no one comes up stairs."
Then leading his companions a little farther from
the door, he turned ; and, laying a finger lightly and
impressively upon Dr. Pilsbury's breast, he said,
"That leg can be saved. It must not be am-
putated."
" Nonsense, man ! " blustered the old doctor. " The
woman will die if the leg don't come off. It shall
come off ! "
"It shall not come off, if the landlord takes my
advice, and I think he will," replied LeBaron firmly.
232 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Very well," exclaimed Pilsbury : "I throw up the
case."
" And I take it," calmly returned LeBaron.
DAME TfLLEY'S LEG. 233
CHAPTER XXVIII.
DAME TELLEV'S LEG.
THEY want you out there, Tilley," whispered
Mr. Hallowell in the landlord's ear ; and leav-
ing the subdued and silent vet. beside his wife's bed,
the landlord went into the passage, and, was con-
fronted by the red and furious face of Dr. Pilsbury,
who exclaimed in a voice thick with anger,
" Look at here, Tilley ! are you going to let this
man, a stranger, and nobody knows who, take charge
of your wife ? or am I to do so ? We can't both ; and
if he stays, I go, that's all."
" The fact is here, my good friend," interposed the
cool voice of the other, before poor John Tilley could
stammer out any reply at all : " this gentleman is sure
that it is necessary to cut off your wife's leg to save
her life ; I am equally sure that it is not, and that I
can, if not interfered with,, save both leg and life.
Shall I try?"
" I'm sure, gentlemen, I'm sure you're very good,
both of you ; and I am loath indeed to offend Dr. Pils-
bury, that every one calls such a fine doctor ; but poor
Betty, she's so set against losing the leg, and if this
gentleman is dead-sure he can cure it, and is an army
surgeon, and used to these things "
234 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Oh, I see, I see, goodman ! " interrupted Pilsbury,
pushing rudely past LeBaron, who retreated with a
courteous bow : " you'd rather have this fellow, whose
name even you don't know, and so save my fee ; for I
suppose he'll take his pay in beer "
"One moment, if you please, my dear doctor,"
interposed LeBaron quietly : " professional brothers
should never forget the courtesies of their cliqne. Al-
low me to offer my card. If you care to glance at it,
I should be glad to show you my diploma, ani com-
mission as surgeon in the French army."
" Oh, a Frenchman ! " exclaimed both the doctor
and the publican in a breath. The surgeon gravely
bowed.
" Yes, gentleman, a Frenchman."
" Well, Tilley, if you're going to give ovi r your
wife to be murdered by a French quack, you re not
the man I take you for," said Pilsbury, puttrng his
nose in the air so as to bring his spectacles tn bear
upon the card in his hand.
Goodman Tilley looked bewildered; and glanced
first at the irate yet triumphant face of the long-known
and venerated Pilsbury, then at the calm, handsome,
and slightly sneering one of the stranger and the
Frenchman. At last he said in a hesitating and reluc-
tant voice,
" Well, Dr. Pilsbury, I suppose I'll have to ask you
to no, dang it all, I won't neither! I like this
man's looks, and I believe he knows what he says,
and can do what he promises : and as for Frenchmen,
why, it's peace now 'twixt us and them; and if it
DAME TILLEY'S LEG. 2$$
wa'n't, and if he was the very Old Fellow himself,
horns and hoofs and all, and could save Betty's leg
I'd let him, so be he didn't meddle with ner soul."
" Well, I can promise so much," replied LeBaron,
heartily grasping the hand of the honest landlord laid
in his ; " and I will undertake the case in the interests
of humanity, if you will agree on your side, that I shall
pay my reckoning at this inn like any other guest,
and shall receive no fee, but that this gentleman and
the others shall be paid whatever has been promised
for their services."
" Why, that's handsome, and more than they could
ask," replied Tilley in a tone of evident relief. "And
if you'll go in and speak to Betty, sir, I'll follow the
doctor, and give him a good glass of strong waters
before he starts, and talk him round a bit. As for old
Coffin, it don't matter ; and our own man, Hallowell,
isn't of much account anyway."
The landlord hurried away; and Dr. LeBaron re-
turned to the bed-chamber, where he found the veteri-
nary examining the limb, and the patient regarding
him with suspicious and uneasy glances.
" If you please, doctor," said the new-comer very
courteousl/, taking the bed-covering from the other's
hand, and drawing it over the limb, " the case has, I
believe, been confided to my charge, and I will attend
to it."
" Oh ! certain, certain, doctor," replied the vet. obse-
quiously ; " and if, as I gether, you think it can be cured
instead of cut off, why, I'm of your opinion too, and
wanted to say so ; only they wouldn't hearken to me,
236 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
being an onlarned man, but with a good nateral gift
for physic and such matters."
" I shall be glad to speak with you to-morrow morn-
ing, at eight o'clock, if you will do me the honor to
call," replied the Frenchman with exquisite urbanity.
" But just now my only object is to quiet my patient,
and give her a good night's rest." And, hardly know-
ing how or why, the worthy vet. found himself going
down stairs with two vague impressions struggling in
his mind, one, that the new doctor was a very skilful
and also agreeable man ; the other, that he should have
liked to stay longer in his society, and wondered why
he did not.
Presenting himself next morning at the appointed
hour, Master Hallowell found himself courteously re-
ceived by the new doctor, and called not so much to a
consultation, as a clinical lecture at Dame Tilley'a
bedside, where he received in a scant half-hour more
instruction on the subject of the knee-joint and its
peculiar temptations to disease, than he ever had
gathered in his life before.
" And there will be no need of amputation ? " asked
he timidly, as the two retired from the sick-room.
" Amputation ! " exclaimed Dr. LeBaron contemptu-
ously. " It should never have been mentioned in the
case. The clown cuts dr-^. the cankered tree: die
gardener cures it, and eajoys the fruit"
THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN.
DEBORAH WILDER never quite recovered from
the rheumatic fever in whose grasp we left her,
but rose from her bed a decrepit and feeble imitation
of the tireless and restless woman who had lain down
upon it. All the rest of the winter and spring she led
a mummy-like existence, swathed in red flannels,
night-caps, and felt slippers, and hovering over the
fire, while everybody else was panting for a breath of
fresh air; and although in the heats of summer the
foe released his hold for a little while, and the poor
victim tried to stir about the house and resume her
manifold duties, it was soon evident that both strength
and ability were gone for a while, if not forever, while
the power of fault-finding and dictation flourished
more vigorously than ever upon the ruins. Strong
and brave and sweet as was her daughter's nature,
the year succeeding her mother's illness tried it to the
utmost, and might have broken it down at last but for
the occasional half-hour by day or night when the
girl stole away to sit in her little hidden priest's
chamber, and dream over every word that had been
spoken there, every look and caress that faithful
memon reproduced, and to dwell upon the sweet
238 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
vague hopes of the future, when Francois was to come
to claim her, and she should persuade him to remain
at the farm and make all her duties light by advice
and sympathy, while he himself should achieve a
wonderful reputation by his medical skill, and in time
become as famous as Dr. Pilsbury himself. Then she
settled how his room should be arranged, and, shyly
glancing at the possibility that it might be her room as
well, deeply considered the subject of furniture and
ornament, and resolved that for the first few months,
at any rate, Grandmother Ames's curtains should be
applied to their original use ; and, having dressed the
bride, should afterward decorate her bridal chamber.
Then the poor child would take from her bosom
the amethyst ring, symbol of her mock-marriage, and
kiss it, and admire it, and remember how she first had
seen it on the cold wet hand of the half-dead man she
had brought across her father's threshold, and nursed
back to life and love.
There had been a crest cut upon the ring ; but by
some strange accident, as she imagined, a piece had
been chipped from the face of the gem in such a
manner as to quite obliterate the device. Nor would
Molly have been the wiser had it remained : for her
education in the gentle art of heraldry had never been
so much as begun ; and sable, argent, gules, and azure,
passant, sejant, rampant, and couchant, were words
conveying no meaning to her ear.
But the ring had belonged to Francois ; he had him-
self placed it upon her finger, and called l.er wife in
doing so; and the Kohinoor itself would not have
tempted her to an exchange.
THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DA WN. 239
So life went on in the farmhouse by the sea, with
much hard work, very few enjoyments, no society, a
deal of pain and suffering to the mother, and through
her to the daughter, until all minor discomforts and
annoyances were put to flight by one terrible blow, as
the smoking of the kitchen-chimney is forgotten when
a thunderbolt tears through the house.
Soon after noon on a fearfully hot day in July, Hum-
phrey Wilder was brought in from the hay-field by four
men, speechless, senseless, dying. The sight of him
thus, quite upset the poor wife's little remaining strength
of mind and body ; and Molly was glad to accept Mrs.
Hetherford's offers of counsel and help. The stricken
man lingered through that day and night, and in the
next night died. Molly never left his side, taking
mechanically such food as Mrs. Hetherford brought to
her, but neither sleeping nor resting for a moment.
In the last few hours he recovered consciousness ;
and then his daughter, kneeling beside him, said,
"Father dear, I have somewhat to tell you. Can
you listen ? Will it tire you too much ? "
"Nay, child, speak. Unburden thy conscience
while there is yet a little time," whispered the dying
man ; and then Molly, in briefest phrases and with no
excuses, told the story she should have told upon her
wedding-day, but had not, partly from maiden sr.yness,
partly from shame at her own duplicity, partly that
she thought it would be another burden upon her
father's inind. Yet, now that the strange illumination
of death shone upon all around her, keen remorse at
having even by silence deceived this beloved father
240 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf.
seemed more impossible to bear than even the grief of
his departure.
Wilder listened, his dim eyes fixed upon her own,
until the faltering voice ceased in one wild sob, and
the petition laid with tears and kisses upon his
hand :
" Oh, forgive me, father 1 Forgive me before you
die ! "
" Nay, child, did you doubt my forgiveness, that you
tarried so long to claim it ? " gently chided the father.
" I guessed a good deal of this, and many a time I
*vould have spoken, for I saw how it fretted thee to
deceive thy mother and me; but, shall I tell thee,
Molly, although I would never have chidden thee, I
thought perhaps 'twas no more than thou didst de-
serve to so chide thyself, and I let thee go on for a
while. And then, if I knew, I must have told thy
mother, for, Molly, I kept no secrets from her; and
she might not have been so tender with thee.
"Yes, child, I partly knew. I saw thee carrying
food to the garret, and I heard of the hue and cry
after the Frenchman ; and I knew if one were here I
ought to give him up, and I shut my eyes. And when
that doctor came, -I knew such tow-hair never grew on
such a black-a -vised face as his; and I heard two
men's voices ir the night ; and that last night, when
on stroke of n \dnight you opened your door, and
looked out info i>e kitchen, it wakened me, and after
a little I got up softly, and peeped through the door,
fearing I knew not what, only I never doubted you,
Molly, never. And peeping so, like that Tom thej
THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 24!
Jell of, I saw my maid making herself brave in a white
gown, and I knew it meant a wedding, and I knew
not what to do ; but still, my child, I trusted thee so
wholly that I kept still, and sat there by the kitchen
hearth, my face in my two hands, till I heard the
front door open and shut, and I said,
" ' It is not my girl that has so left my house. No : I
will trust her, I will trust her yet ; for if she is false,
then u is time for me to die.' And I waited on, and
waited on, until my own sweet maid opened the door,
and said,
" ' There, Tabby, go if you will, and see you tell no
one.' "
" Oh ! I remember that too, father, but I never saw
you."
" No : your eyes were too blind with tears ; but I
saw you, my maid, and I saw the heart-break in your
face for days after that as you looked at me, and looked
at me ; and I punished you, poor lass, by never giving
you the chance to speak, until you left wanting to.
" But there, all is past now, and I am past. And,
child, I forgive you freely, and I bless you and wish
you well ; and for your sake I can forgive him too,
although that is harder, for it was through him that
my girl committed the only fault worth mentioning in
all her life. But I forgive him now, Molly : tell him I
forgave him, and you too, poor child, you too. Let
us speak no more of this. Tell me how thy mother
bears this blow."
So they talked the night away; and in the gray
dawn the grand, brave heart ceased to beat, the soul
242 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
departed as calmly and trustfully as it had lived, and
Molly Wilder wept her bitter tears of self-reproach and
loneliness beside her father's corpse.
Self-reproach ! Ay, there is the bitterness of the
grave, there is the sting of death, not for ourselves,
but as we kneel beside the quiet face that will turn no
more toward us, even upon its death-pillow ; the still,
still lips that answer not, though our plea for forgive-
ness burst our own heart in its intensity; the eyes,
whose glance was our light of life, and now so sol-
emnly closed for us and all the world. Oh ! be
warned, be warned in time : let not the sun go down
upon your wrath ; speak out your penitence while yet
it may avail.
After this night came a time in Molly Wilder's life
which she never spoke of when it could be avoided,
and never thought of without a shudder ; for, though
the gold come forth from the furnace seven times
refined and purified, the passage is none the less terri-
ble, and the dross is not burned away without fierce
and consuming pain to the pure metal that remains.
Deborah Wilder had, after her own wintry fashion,
loved her husband very dearly ; and his loss, added to
her own physical condition, completed the work dis-
ease had begun. She took to her bed, and to weary
alternations of a little worse and a little better, but
never well enough to be less than a constant care and
fatigue to her patient nurse, at whom she fretted and
scolded and complained incessantly. Besides this,
came the work of the house and such farm matters as
pertained to the house ; and finally, when harvest-time
THE DARK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 243
was at its height, Amariah came one night to his young
mistress to confess that he was no longer what he once
was, and felt that the work of the farm, especially at
this season, was quite beyond either his ability or his
strength, and was already ruinously behindhand ; con-
cluding by advising her to accept an offer, transmitted
through him from Reuben Hetherford, to get hi the
harvest, and finish the autumn work of the farm, for
half the crops.
" Half the crops, merely for gathering them in !
Does the man take me for a fool ? " blazed out Molly
in most unwonted wrath. " Tell Master Hetherford,
with my compliments, that I shall be in far sorer need
than this, before I make such a bargain as that, or any
bargain indeed, with him."
"But how shall we get in the rye, Molly?" per-
sisted Amariah : " the wheat is ruined already by yes-
terday's rain, and the oats are dropping every day."
" Get help from Falmouth. Hire a man, or two
men, and get in the crops just as father used to show
you how."
" But how will we board the men, and you worked
to death already ? " whined the poor old man.
" Not to death ; for I can do yet more, and not
4uite die," replied his mistress bravely. "Go down
to-night, and see if your sister Susan will come and
stay with me until Thanksgiving time, to care for
mother and to help in the housework."
So two men and a woman were hired ; and when
the crops were gathered, and her hirelings dismissed,
Molly easily reckoned that it would have been many
244 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
dollars cheaper to have allowed the whole harvest to
decay as it stood, and oh, so great a saving of labor
and vexation to herself !
" And when spring comes, who is to do the plant-
ing?" whispered she to herself in dismay.
Spring came, and found Amariah so disheartened in
spirit, and so feeble in body, that Molly willingly
accepted the resignation he timidly offered ; and, hav-
ing steadfastly looked her position in the face, con-
cluded, that, acting as her mother's agent, she had no
right to decline the offer renewed by the Hetherfords,
this time in the mother's name, to carry on the farm
for the ensuing year for half the gross profits. Mrs.
Wilder, being consulted, gave a peevish consent, and
from that day out worried and fretted incessantly at
the waste and ruin she foresaw ; and for once saw truly,
since Hetherford was only restrained in his skinning
system, by the hope of ultimately possessing the farm
and its heiress, whom he had never ceased to desire
and to persecute.
At last poor Deborah Wilder 's weak and unsavory
taper went out altogether ; and she not so much died,
as ceased to complain or fret. Molly could not sor-
row as she had for her father ; and yet, standing be-
side her mother's shrouded form, a new and strange
desolation settled down upon her heart with an ex-
ceeding weight and bitterness, as she remembered that
she was an orphan, without one relative, so far as
she knew, this side the Atlantic, and none upon the
other whom she had ever seen or cared for. Home-
less, too ; since Mrs. Hetherford had already explained
THE D.tRK HOUR BEFORE DAWN. 245
to her the impossibility of her remaining alone in the
farmhouse, and invited her to come and stay with
them ; giving the other half the crops as an equivalent
for her maintenance, during that year at least.
And it was two years and three months since Fran-
cois had bid her good-by ; and in all that time she had
not heard one word from him. " And perhaps will
never hear !" whispered this spirit of creeping gloom,
so new, so dreadful, a visitant in the girl's bright heart ;
but the heart was yet strong enough to rebel at such
domination, and cried out bravely, " Then it will be
because he is dead. If he lives, he will come."
"And why should he not be dead? " persisted De-
spair. " Your father, so strong and stalwart, is dead ;
your mother is dead; you have yourself felt as if
Death stood very near, and beckoned you to follow
him. Why should not Francois be dead? "
" Because God is good, and loves me, and I trust in
him," moaned the child aloud ; and, falling on her
knees at the side of the quiet figure of the dead, she
tried to pray, and could only moan,
" Help me, O my Father ! help me, or I perish."
Then came the funeral ; and when it was over they
led her to that new home, which to her never could be
home ; and in the gloaming she stole away, and went
back to the old house, and up to the priest's chamber
in the roof; and there, beside the pallet she never had
removed, she at last was able to weep the tears that
could not have fallen in that strange and dismal new
abode, and so wept away the load that all day long
had crushed her brain and heart.
^6 A WAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Coming down stairs after a while, she stood in the
room where her father had died, and where she her-
self had made that stolen bridal toilet; and as that
night came back in every detail, the heavy eye bright-
ened, and a tinge of color crept to the cheek and lips,
and a long breath lifted the load upon her lungs.
Then, still following in her memory the progress of
that night, she went and unbolted the front door, and
opened it. No snowy pathway stretched before it now,
but a carpet of clover-turf; and the great white-rose
bush beside the step nodded its stately head toward
her own, and a cloud of incense floated from each
pure chalice upward to the sky.
A horseman rode slowly past the little corn-barn, in
whose shelter Francois had found his last refuge ; but
she did not heed him, for she was burying her tearful
face in the white roses that she held in both hands,
and finding strange comfort in their wordless whisper-
ings. The traveller looked at her, however ; and then
he leaped from his horse, and came across the bit
of greensward, and, as she looked toward him with
startled and affrighted eyes, held out both his arms,
and said,
"My wife! My darling!"
"O Francois \ You have come, you have come ! "
A BRID4L PROCESSION.
CHAPTER XXX.
A BRIDAL PROCESSION.
TV TRS. HETHERFORD and her son sat in the star-
JLV JL light upon the back stoop of their house ; he
with his hat dragged down over his eyes, his elbows
upon his knees, chewing a bit of stick in a manner so
vicious as to suggest he would willingly have so de-
stroyed some enemy. She, slowly rocking back and
forth in a wooden chair, which creaked at each vibra-
tion with a peevish and weary sound, was knitting in
the dark, and eagerly narrating the events of the even-
ing. A few rods away the great gray sea thundered
upon the sands, scorning in its changeless might the
restlessness and helplessness of the men who call
themselves its master.
" So just as I got to the door, with the horn in my
hand to blow for supper," pursued Mrs. Hetherford,
" what should I see but my lady Molly marching up the
path, as grand as you please, with this fine gentleman
beside her, good-looking enough, I'll give in, but phew !
prouder than Lucifer himself, and walking as straight
and smart as if the ground wasn't quite good enough
tor him to walk on. Up they come, while I stood
kind o* dumbfounded with the horn in my hand ; and
Molly says, says she "
248 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" ' Mrs. Hetherford, this is Dr. LeBaron, a gentleman
to whom I have been troth-plight for some time. My
father's last words were to wish that he soon might
come to claim me, and here he is. We shall be mar-
ried in the morning at Squire Drew's, and go directly
to Boston.' Then he took off his hat, and made a
bow like as he was making fun of me, and I courtesied,
like a fool, just as I would to a lord in the old coun-
try ; and then I recollected where we are, and who
Molly is, and all, and I said, kind of patronizing,
"'Well, well, you've stole a march on us, Molly.
What do you expect Reuben will say? But come in,
both of you, and have some supper.' But upon that
my lord drew himself up as if I'd taken a liberty, and
bowed again, and said something to Molly, and walked
off; and she explained how he was going to sleep
over at her house, and she'd found enough left for his
supper out of the things set out for the mourners to-
day. So that's all ; and I must say, of all the disgrace-
ful"
-Shut up, mother," dutifully interposed her son at
chis word : " there's nothing disgraceful that I see. If
Molly's promised to the man with her father's consent,
and now is going to marry him, who's got any thing
to say? As for the rest, if he's too proud or too fine
to come inside my house, all the better, says I : let
him sleep or lie awake where he will, so long as
Molly's safe up-stairs here. Let 'em marry as soon as
*hey like; but this is what I've got to say," and,
breaking out of his enforced calm, Reuben sprang to
his feet, and, lifting hand and face to the starry sky,
A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 249
he swore a black and bitter oath that before she died
Molly Wilder should be his wife.
"I,et her marry this man," repeated he, "let her
marry six men if she will, but I will be the seventh,
so help me God or the Devil, I care not which "
" Hush, hush, Reuben ! " exclaimed his mother,
rising also in horror ; but, dashing aside the hand she
would have laid upon his arm, he strode away into the
night, flinging back the warning,
"And mind you don't say disgraceful of her again,
mother : for in flinging dirt at her you fling it at me ;
for, so sure as she lives, she yet shall be my wife."
" Then, God help her ! " muttered the mother, out
of the bitterness of a wounded mother's heart ; and,
indeed, she had much to bear with this son, whom
during his infancy she had ruined by indulgence, and
who now repaid her in the customary fashion, espe-
cially during the last two or three years, when Molly's
open aversion and avoidance had doubly imbittered
his temper. Mercy, too, had married, and removed
to some distance, leaving the widowed mother sole
recipient of the abuse formerly shared between the
two ; so that, altogether, we must pity Dame Hether-
ibrd not a little, as she sees her hope of a sweet-
tempered and helpful companion for her lonely days
snatched away as soon as granted.
Molly, meantime, sitting at her window above,
vaguely heard the murmur .of voices, but cared not
for them. She was listening rather to that solemn
voice of the sea, voice familiar to all her life and all
its needs, and telling now of the sad, grave life of the
250 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
last years finished and put away, and the bright, sweet
day dawning with to-morrow's sun. She loved him
so, and she trusted him so ! Without a question,
hardly an answer, she had heard his plans, including a
marriage before a magistrate to obviate the necessity
of relating the first marriage ; and her words, as they
left the old house forever, were the keynote of her
life,-
" I trust you, Francois, as my father trusted me."
Early the next morning Dr. LeBaron rode up to
the door of the Hetherford mansion ; and Molly, who
had risen with the dawn, came down to meet him,
already dressed for her journey. At her invitation to
enter, he simply smiled and shook his head ; and Molly
went to seek her hostess, whom she surprised peeping
at the stranger from behind her bedroom-curtains.
" I am going now. Won't you say good-by, aunty?"
asked the girl, clinging to the one poor apology that
was left her for the home-love and home-life that sud-
denly loomed so largely before her eyes. Quite to
her surprise, Mrs. Hetherford turned, and, putting her
arms about her neck, said with a hearty kiss,
" No : I won't say good-by ; but if you're bound to
be married this morning, I'll go along too, as far as
Squire Drew's, and show that if your own mother is
dead, there's one that feels like a mother to you, and
always means to, wherever you go."
"Will you really? Oh, thank you, thank you, dear
aunty ! and I am very sorry if I was short or cross
with you last night ; but I thought you would never
take to it kindly, and "
A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 2$l
"And you were bound to have your own way
whether or no, just as you always did," interposed the
dame, who was acting partly under instructions, partly
trom a real, although very gnarled and twisted, affec-
tion for Molly.
" But one thing is sure," pursued she, when the two
had kissed again, and each had wiped her eyes : " you
are not going away without your breakfast, you nor
your young man neither. Reuben was away at day-
light to the ma'shes after salt hay ; and we three will
have a cosey little meal, and then I'll have old Dolly
saddled, and we all go to the squire's together."
So Molly, clinging still to this phantasm of a home
and a mother, went out and tenderly besought her
lover to yield his pride, as she had done hers, to this
old woman's pleasure and hospitable wish, and come
inside the house, and partake of the morning meal.
Francois listened, patted her cheek, smiled, and
yielded ? Oh, no ! but calmly said,
"My darling, I told you that I never should set
foot beneath that man's roof, nor will I ; and as for
eating his bread pah, it would choke me ! "
" But his mother it is she whom I wish to please ;
and I have no mother, Francois, and it is so strange
and sad for a girl to go to her husband with never a
woman's face to kiss good-by upon ! "
" Well, child, let her come with us if she will. I do
not say nay to that ; and go you in, and eat and drink
at her table, and play at mother and daughter with her
if you can. I will wait."
" No, no, Francois. I will come now."
252 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
"Nay, I have a project. When I went to saddle
my horse this morning, I found a silly old man patting
and feeding him, who presently let me know that he
was Amariah, of whom in the old times I heard so
much ; and he, it seems, had already scented out my
presence, and tottered over here from his home,
wherever it may be, to look after us; and, among
other confidences, he intrusted me with his .intention
of making a fire in the dear old kitchen where I first
saw you, and preparing himself some breakfast. He
spoke of plenty of fresh eggs in the barn with a
chuckle of satisfaction, arising, probably, from the
memory of many a stolen feast upon them; and I
remembered your innocent surprise one day when no
eggs were forthcoming for your invalid's breakfast.
Well, with plenty of fresh eggs and some other matters
which Amariah will forage for, I shall construct an
omelet which will make the few remaining hairs upon
that old man's head stand erect with wonder and awe.
You remember my telling you how to make an ome-
let?"
" Yes, and my notable failure. But I will try again
if you will teach me."
"And, that I may be a worthy teacher to so fair a
pupil, I will go immediately, and perfect myself in the
operation." And, doffing his hat, Francois leaped
upon his horse, and rode away, leaving Molly half
vexed, half gratified, and saying to herself as she re-
entered the house,
"Always so gentle and so courteous, but always
having just his own way, and never mine 1 "
A BRIDAL PROCESSION. 2$$
An hour or two later a little cavalcade set forth
from Dame Hetherford's door, consisting of that worthy
woman herself, decked in an antiquated robe of green
silk, with a structure upon her head called a caleche
from its resemblance to the hood of the vehicle of that
name ; after her the lovers, he riding firm and square
upon the big black horse which had brought him from
Boston, and she upon a pillion, bashfully supporting
herself by an arm around his waist. Finally came
Amariah, bestriding a blind and halt old steed which
he had borrowed for the expedition, and urged along
by incessant thumps and whacks.
" My love," said Francois, lifting her from the pil-
lion at the squire's gate, " I trust that you rest content.
You have not gone to your nuptials without a bridal
procession."
"We only needed Tabitha to make it perfect,"
replied Molly with a little laugh half a sob. " Dear
old Tabby ! she saw the real marriage, and ought to
have lived for this; but I am going to have hex
daughter sent after me as soon as we have a home."
254 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR.
AND how is my good friend and patient, Mistress
Tilley?" asked Dr. LeBaron, as he drew rein
before the Bunch of Grapes, and saw the landlord
joyfully come forward to meet him.
" Marvellously better, doctor, marvellously ! " replied
the publican, beaming all over with delight, " and
wearying for a sight of you. Why, sir, I have a wil]
to be jealous in hearing nought but your name upon
her lips from morn till night, and when will he be
back, and how many days are gone so far, and praises
of your looks, your voice, your ways " r-
" Spare me, good friend, spare my blushes," laughed
the doctor, springing to the ground, and helping his
companion to alight. " And if you will give my wife
and me room in your pleasant house we will abide to-
night with you, and I shall see good Mistress Tilley
two or three times at least."
"Your wife, sir! Aha! The gossips will be at
rest now, for they could not make it out why you
were travelling down the Cape only to come back
again in a week or ten days, as you said ; but it is all
the better, all the better."
"All the better for me, no doubjt but for whom
THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 255
else?" asked the doctor in some surprise, as he led
his wife on through the low-browed hall into the
parlor, so cool and shady in the summer noon, with
its sanded floor, and dark old furniture, the asparagus-
boughs hanging from the great beam running through
the middle of the ceiling, the nosegay of roses in a
bow-pot upon the hearth, and the floating muslin
curtains across the windows.
" Who beside myself is all the better for my mar-
riage, good mine host? " asked the doctor again, as the
landlord, smiling and bowing, would have here left his
guests.
" Why, sir but I may not tell : it is yet a secret,
but soon to be known to your worship, that is, when "
and stammering and bowing and tumbling over
his own toes, John Tilley contrived to get himself out
of the room, and closed the door behind him.
" It is some present, or perhaps a feast, planned foi
my return, and wherein my wife now shall share," said
the doctor, as he helped Molly to undo and lay aside
her riding spencer and hat, and then deftly and gravely
arranged her bright brown hair, a little dishevelled by
the wind.
" I wonder how my darling's face would look under
the towering head-dresses worn by the fashionable
dames abroad just now," said he, taking the round
chin in his hand, and seriously regarding his wife's
fair face. But she somewhat sharply withdrew a step,
and coloring vividly said,
" Content yourself in the beginning, Francois, with
the simple country girl whom you have wed. She
urill never be a fashionable dame, or look like one."
256 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"So jealous lest I should regret mine own act,
little one, and so sharp in reproving the fault that was
not, except in your own fancy ! " said her husband
gently. " My Mary is not one of the women of
fashion whom I detest; but she surely is the sweet
and gentle and docile wife whom I have loved so
longingly, and sought so carefully, is she not?"
" You are gentler born than I, Francois, and must
teach me to amend my rude ways and blunt speech,"
replied Molly with proud humility, and her eyes
filling with tears.
"I can teach thee nought half so important as
nature has taught thee already," whispered her hus-
band, kissing away the tears, much to the delight of
Margery Sampson, the landlady's sister, who, standing
with the door in her hand, announced smilingly,
" Mistress LeBaron's bedroom is ready, if she cares
to go to it."
" Ha, pretty Margery ! " exclaimed the doctor, turn-
ing around without the least embarrassment, while Mol-
ly's tears were dried by fiery blushes, " and how goes
the world with thee, child? And is the dame ready
to see me yet?"
" Oh, yes, sir ! and more than ready ; and she bid
me ask if you could look in upon her now for a
moment."
" Indeed I will, Margery, if you will take my wife to
her own room. Your sister is where I left her, I
suppose."
"Yes, sir : you know the way. Come, madam."
The delight of a woman in the society of her favor-
THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 2$/
ite physician is one of those amiable weaknesses of
the sex at which men may marvel and sneer, but
which they never need hope to eradicate, since it
springs from two very feminine traits, the love of
talking about one's self, and the delight of relying
upon masculine strength and skill in directions where
the domestic authorities are obliged to confess incom-
petency or feign superiority. The father, husband, or
'brother sets down that peculiar feeling at the nape of
the neck, that odd buzzing in the ears, or that tend-
ency to tears and pettishness in the early morning,
to imagination, nerves, or some other " glittering gen-
erality " of contempt ; but Dr. So-and-so listens gravely
to all the symptoms, asks questions, recalls former
interviews, pays a little compliment, assures the inva-
lid that she is too delicately constituted to bear any
rough or careless treatment ; and finally shakes twelve
little powders into twelve little papers, numbers them
carefully, for mind of man refuses to contemplate
the mischief ensuing from the irregular consumption
of those powders, and retires leaving his patient
soothed, cheered, and already far upon the road to
recovery. She has her three dollars' worth, and the
unsympathetic monster who has to pay it is justly
mulcted for his unfeeling conduct.
So Dame Betty Tilley passed a charming half-hour
with her doctor, as she already styled LeBaron ; and
then he was called to tea, and still lingered over that
pleasant meal when Goodman Tilley, appearing at the
door, solemnly announced,
"Master Bradford, Master Rowland, and Master
258 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Southworth, selectmen of the town of Plymouth, re-
quest the pleasure of Dr. LeBaron's presence in the
parlor of this inn."
" Request the pleasure of my company ! " exclaimed
LeBaron, starting to his feet, and carrying his hand to
his belt, as if seeking a weapon. " And for what ? The
war is over, peace is declared ! "
"And it is an errand of peace that brings them
here, as you shall see," replied Tilley, still in the sol-
emn and impressive manner of a herald negotiating
between high and mighty powers. The doctor glanced
at him, then at Molly, who had turned very white ; and
then, tossing his head in the careless and haughty
fashion habitual with him, he strode out of the room,
and across the passage to the twilight-parlor where his
guests awaited him.
They rose to meet him, and stood steadfastly re-
garding him for a moment without speaking, three
grave, responsible, thoughtful-looking men, worthy
successors of the fathers whose names they bore, and
the mantle of whose dignity still covered their de-
scendants. Bradford was the first to speak ; and after
mentioning his own name, and those of his associate?
he said,
"You are called Dr. Francis LeBaron, sir?"
"Yes, Master Bradford."
"And are a surgeon of the French army?"
" Again, yes, gentlemen ; although at a loss to un-
derstand the reason "
"1 crave your pardon, sir; but before speaking will
you listen to the message we, the selectmen of the
THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 259
town of Plymouth, have been charged to convey to
you, and in that message you will find the motive of
what seems to you impertinent meddling."
"By no means, Master Bradford, and gentlemen.
I am but astonished that so humble and individual as
myself should have excited any attention at all in this
respectable town, or that its selectmen should trouble
themselves to inquire aught concerning me."
" They probably would not, sir, except ."or a need in
the town which you possibly may supply," returned
Bradford with a cool composure, equalling, at least,
the slightly arrogant tone of the baron, whose steely
eyes flashed suddenly upon the speaker, as he moved
a chair towards him, and courteously said,
"Will you seat yourselves, gentlemen? I am most
happy if in any manner I can oblige you, or the town,
more than by removing myself from it."
"That remains to be proven, Dr. LeBaron. We
have all known, and in a manner witnessed, through
the eyes of Phineas Hallowell, your skill and good
judgment in the matter of Dame Elizabeth Tilley's
leg ; and he says that you showed him sundry papers
proving your claim to the rank of physician and sur-
geon accredited by the European schools, and ranked
as such in the French army."
" Excuse my interruption, messieurs the selectmen ;
but I would be distinctly understood as not having
shown ray diploma, certificates, and commission to the
good cow-doctor in proof of my claims, as you phrase
it ; for I make no claims, or give any man the right to
question my statements. I come here a traveller, and
26O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
a stranger ; I find a woman about to be mutilated by
well, by unwise practitioners; I interfere in the in-
terests of humanity and science, and cure her. After-
ward, in discussing foreign colleges, and modes of
education, with Master Hallowell, I show him certain
documents as matters of interest to a man having
some slight acquaintance with physic. That is all;
and, if there is some one else sick in the town, I shall
be happy to render my services again in the same fash-
ion, but must decline to submit to a previous cross-
examination at any hands."
John Bradford allowed a decorous moment of si-
lence to intervene, and then replied, his cool and
measured tones following the rapid and somewhat
heated utterance of the Frenchman, as the chill north
wind sweeps in to fill the vacuum left by the burning
air exhaled from the face of the desert,
" It is ever unwise, young man, to resent an injury
not offered, or to reply to a question not yet asked.
If you will hear me out, my errand is briefly this :
" We have here in Plymouth no educated and com-
petent physician, and we wish for one. Your skill has
already been proven; and your education and rank
may be proven by the exhibition of the papers shown
by you, from whatever motive, to Phineas Hallowell.
This being settled, we are empowered by the town to
invite you to remain among us as our surgeon, physi-
cian, and apothecary. The town offers you a tract of
twenty-five acres of land wherever outside the village
you may select it, and a house-lot on the main street,
with assistance, if you need it, in building a house
THE VALUE OF A DOCTOR. 26 1
thereon : you will have such fees as are usual among
us, some of them paid in money, but more in produce ;
and you will receive a cash salary of ten pounds, by
the year, for attention and physic for the town's
poor."
" And that is quite as much as, if not more than, we
do for our minister," said Constant Southworth, break-
ing silence for the first time ; while John Rowland
stirred uneasily in his chair, and cleared his throat as
if to audibly indorse his companions' statements, but,
thinking better of such waste of words, relapsed into
his usual golden silence.
Dr. LeBaron looked from one to the other of those
gray and impassible faces, and felt a certain respect
and deference arising in his mind, such as the pres-
ence of kings and emperors had not always evoked in
it. He bowed courteously to all three in succession,
and answered in the same tone,
" First and always, messieurs, I have to thank you
for the confidence in my poor skill, and also in my
moral and social standing, implied in this invitation,
which is so unexpected that I must beg a little time
to consider of it, and to consult my wife, who accom-
panies me, and must have her voice in the choice of
a residence for life. I had intended to settle in Bos-
ton, but have made no binding arrangements there,
and shall I see you again in the morning, gentle-
men?"
The selectmen looked at each other, silently rose
and stood, their rock-like faces turned upon LeBaron
262 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf.
as he first had seen them, while John Bradford quietly
replied,
" We shall be here at eight o'clock of the morning,
and trust to find you ready to accede to our offer."
A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 263
CHAPTER XXXII.
A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE.
PUNCTUALLY as the clock struck eight the next
JT morning, the three selectmen entered the parlor
of the Bunch of Grapes ; and before the sound of
their footsteps in the passage died away, Dr. LeBaron
followed them, looking very handsome, and a little
supercilious, in the bright June morning, for he carried
a roll of papers in his hand, and felt that he presented
himself on approval. The selectmen gravely saluted
him, and waited in silence for a reply to the questions
already sufficiently stated. The baron unrolled his
papers upon the table, and said,
" Will you take the trouble to glance at these, gen-
tlemen ? Here is my diploma from the University at
Bologna, this from the Medical School at Vienna, this
Certificate of ability from the Physicians' College, Lon-
don, and this is my commission as surgeon in the
French navy."
In perfect silence the worthy selectmen placed their
cectacles upon their noses, carefully read each docu-
ment from end to end, with the exception of the
commission, which, being expressed in French, was
only intelligible to Bradford, while the crabbed Latin
of the others was familiar enough to all.
264 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
The inspection finished, Bradford took off and
folded his spectacles, and having looked earnestly at
his colleagues, who gravely replied by answering looks,
he said,
"These papers are perfectly satisfactory, Dr. Le-
Baron, in all points save one. They are made out
simply in the name of Franciscus, except the com-
mission, where the title is le docteur Francois. Youi
name, I understand, is LeBaron."
" Worthy Master Bradford and gentlemen," replied
the doctor, "we have arrived at a point foreseen by
me since I first understood your errand, and one past
which we may possibly never go, however much I may
regret losing your friendship and countenance. I am,
as you perceive, a man of no nationality, educated in
Italy, in Germany, in England, in the school of the
world, in one word a cosmopolitan. I have no name
except that of Francis, Latinized by one set of my
acquaintance, Gallicized by another, Anglicized by the
third. To this name I add for convenience' sake that
of LeBaron, which may or may not belong more than
another to me. Here you have all of my history that
you will ever possess ; and from this day forth I shall
answer no man's questions, even as patiently as I have
yours. If, under these conditions, you care to have
me settle among you, and act as the physician of your
bodies, I am ready to accept the offer made me last
night."
" One question more, Dr. LeBaron, before we close
the contract," replied Bradford, after a brief consulta-
tion with his associates : " what is your religious be-
lief?"
A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 26$
" That from which your fathers fled. I am a Roman
Catholic," replied LeBaron briefly and sternly.
A slight movement of undisguised horror told the
feeling with which this announcement was received,
and again the three consulted in whispers ; while the
baron, with an angry flush upon his high Norman
cheek-bones, rolled up his papers and put them in his
pocket. Presently Bradford turned toward him, and
in his grave yet benevolent voice said,
"You have rightly said that our fathers fled to this
bleak and arid soil to escape the corruptions and tyr-
anny of the Roman Church ; and we, their descend-
ants, hate and dread it as we should. Nevertheless,
even as in your own art it is sometimes permitted to
employ deadly and loathsome poisons for the healing
of disease, and the skilful physician can turn even the
tongue of the adder and the venom of the toad to
more advantage than an unlearned man can the pure
and pleasant remedies of nature ; so it is permitted
to us to use your skill, regardless of your religion,
that is, if you will accede to certain conditions."
"As what, gentlemen?"
" That the silence you propose, with unnecessary
asperity, to maintain in regard to all your worldly
affairs, shall extend to those spiritual as well. That
you shall never mention to any person beyond us
three, your religious beliefs or opinions, or in any
manner inculcate or teach them, even in your own
household. The matter will be a secret confined to
ourselves, and hence no scandal shall arise. We must
also stipulate that you shall, as often as convenient,
266 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
attend divine service in the meeting-house on Sunday,
and instruct your family so to do. And in concluding,
I pray you, sir, not to resent this plain speaking, or
this somewhat rigid stipulating upon our part, since we
act, as it were, in the place of fathers of the family
among whom we invite you to dwell. And while we
are amply willing to intrust the bodies of our children
to your skill and judgment, we would anxiously insure
against peril to the souls which are so much more to
be valued; even as men, while lighting a fire in
times of pestilence to purify the air, hedge it about
with jealous care lest it consume their homes."
" In truth, Master Bradford, you are a plain speaker,
and I know not whether of two courses to pursue : to
wish you all a very good morning, call for my horse,
and ride away, relieving this good town of its present
dangerous association with a noisome and loathsome
poison, tongue of adder, venom of toad, and destroy-
ing fire, all which similes you have used in describing
me, or to give you my hand, call you the only hon-
est man I ever saw, and accept your offer on your
own conditions."
" The latter is the wiser and more Christian course,
doctor," said Bradford smiling grimly.
"Say you so? Then I adopt it," exclaimed Le-
Baron frankly, and courteously suiting the action to
the word. "But allow me to tell you, friend, that
your medical education is far behind the light of mod-
ern science. We no longer use powdered adders or
steeped toads for medicine ; and, indeed, it is much
doubted whether the toad possesses either the venom
or the jewel attributed to him by the ancients."
A TREATY OFFENSIVE AND DEFENSIVE. 267
u Indeed? Well, doctor, we shall be ready to learn
of you in all matters physical ; and by God's grace
you may learn of us some of those great and awful
spiritual truths which startled our fathers from their
sleep beneath the claws of the great and terrible
dragon of Popery."
" Hold, good Master Bradford ! I have in turn one
condition to impose before the bargain is sealed.'*
"And what is that?" asked Bradford anxiously.
" That no one shall seek to corrupt me to Protest-
antism. Let the silence on the subject of religion be
mutual."
"Friend, I stand reproved," replied Bradford hum-
bly ; and so went his way, followed by his colleagues.
268 NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE.
AGAIN at Montarnaud, again in the summer gar-
den where the flowers bloom as freshly and as
gayly as they did twelve years ago; where still the
fountains tinkle, and the birds sing, and the sweet
winds come and go with kisses on their breath. The
chateau is even more imposing than of old ; for the
revenues of Rochenbois have come to fill the empty
coffers of Montarnaud, and the old house has been re-
stored, amplified, and embellished, until it hardly knows
itself. Time the Destroyer has given way to Timef
the Perfecter everywhere ; and not a change is to bej
seen that is not an improvement. But stay : what shall
we say of the lady reclining in this garden-chair be-
neath the shade of the fragrant oleanders, one of whose
petals has fallen so charmingly upon her dusky hair ?
What have twelve years done for her whom we left a
girl of sixteen in all the glory of her morning loveli-
ness? The cheek could hardly be more colorless than
it was then ; but one seems to feel that the blood no
longer pulses so rapidly beneath its creamy surface,
and the merry mouth has learned to fold itself more
immovably, perhaps more scornfully; the wealth of
lustrous hair is coiffed more artificially than in the old
THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 269
time ; and the large dark eyes move more languidly,
and hardly care to raise their slumberous lids at every
call. The toilet is no longer that of a careless girl,
but perfect in its taste, art, and befitting richness. In
fact, we have here the handsome and elegant dame du
grande monde ; and the Valerie who perched in the
branches of the oak, and teased her nurse and gover-
ness, is gone forever. And yet one must change his
half-breathed sigh of regret at this loss into one of
astonishment and delight, as he catches sight of a little
fairy form chasing butterflies among the roses ; a little
atom of life and light and motion, looking, with her
floating gold-bronze curls, her glowing cheeks, and
parted lips, her dancing eyes, and swift aerial motions,
more like the creation of some wonderful magician, a
fairy caught and clothed with some elemental and
unsubstantial body, than a child of ordinary earth.
And this is the little Therese, heiress of Montarnaud
and Rochenbois, only child surviving of Valerie's love-
less and disastrous marriage. Up and down the gar-
den paths skims the child, swift as a swallow, uncer-
tain as the butterflies she chases : and after her toils a
young woman, her comely face warm with wrath and
sunshine, for she wishes of all things to seat herself in
some cool and shaded nook to spell out a note just
handed her by one of the servants, in the handwriting
of her dearly-loved brother, whom as yet she has
seen but once since his return from foreign travel,
and who is to visit her, with the consent of Madame
la Comtesse, this very day ; but, in chasing this restless
little sprite up and down, she cannot even find time to
read what may be the announcement of his arrival.
2/0 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
A figure in clerical costume appears at the head of
the steps leading from the terrace down to the garden ,'
and Madame Clotilde^ as she is called, utters a joyous
exclamation,
" It is he, my dear brother, mademoiselle ! "
"Can he catch butterflies? " asks the little lady, and
then adds in a tone of disgust, " Why, he's a priest
too ! I wish somebody but priests would come here.
I like soldiers better : I wish mamma did."
Madame Clotilde approaches her mistress, and
joyously announces,
" My brother, madame. May I leave mademoiselle
with her nurse, and take him into the house ? "
"No: fetch him here, and take The"rese to the
other end of the garden," languidly replies the count-
ess. "The heat and her voice have given me a
headache, and perhaps Pere Vincent's conversation
may amuse me for a while."
So Clotilde, with a decided pout and frown upon
her pretty face, goes to meet her brother, and delivers
the lady's mandate, adding a few words of muttered
complaint on her own part, at which he gently smiles,
murmuring,
" By and by, my child, by and by."
Then he approaches madame, who does not disturb
herself except to smile graciously, and wave her hand
toward a chair close beside her couch. The abbe"
bows profoundly, seats himself, and studies his com-
panion with sidelong imperceptible glances.
"It is a long time since we met, monsieur Tabbe","
says Valerie in a tone of courteous indifference.
THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 2/1
" And yet nothing is changed except for the bettel
here at Montamaud, madame."
* "That is as one thinks. Twelve years leave theit^
mark wherever they pass." And a gloomy shadow
crosses the countess's beautiful face, as if those twelve
years suddenly stood between her and the sun. But,
rallying immediately, she inquires absently,
"And where have you been all these years, mon-
sieur?"
" In many places, madame. I have visited nearly
all the countries of the world."
" Indeed ! You must have seen many curious
things. And where did you remain longest? "
" I can hardly tell, madame ; for it has seldom been
an unbroken year in any one place."
"And were you never homesick, abb?"
" Sometimes, I confess, madame ; for there is no spot
of earth so charming or so dear to me as France."
"Then, why did you not return sooner? "
" I had work to do abroad, madame."
" Oh ! you were sent upon some mission by the
Church?"
"We priests do nothing except under direction,
madame."
" And you are never allowed to travel alone, I am
informed," said the lady carelessly.
" Madame forgets perhaps that I am not a Regular,"
said the abbe with an air of explaining every thing.
"Well, then, you did travel alone?" demanded the
countess petulantly.
" Sometimes, madame."
2/2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
" And other times who was your companion? "
"One is always meeting friends and associates,
madame. From Rome to Vienna I travelled with
Pere Clement, a pupil of Pere Condren, and a very
holy man. Then in Ghent I met with the venerable
Pere Bourdaloue, and we travelled to Geneva ; and " >
"Yes, yes, I understand; but I meant rather to
inquire how long you held companionship with my
husband's brother, le baron Francois. You went
abroad in his company at first, if I remember."
" He is not in France now then, madame ? "
" That is what I am asking you, monsieur."
" Excuse me, madame ; but it is I who must ask
news of you in such matters. I am so new an arrival
on French soil that I have hardly yet seen any one."
Madame la Comtesse clenched the costly fan in her
right hand until the pearl sticks broke with a light
crush audible to the priest's ears. Then she sat a
little more upright, and said,
" Monsieur I'abb6, I need a chaplain here at Mont-
arnaud. The duties are very light, not interfering
with any other appointments he may hold, and the
salary is something very considerable to a priest merit-
ing my approval. Would the post suit you, do you
think?"
" Admirably, madame, if I receive permission from
my superior to accept it."
"And who is your superior?"
" I have so many, madame ! The general of our
Order first, no doubt : but, as I am attached to the
Cathedral at Marseilles, I am under the authority of
THE ROSE-GARDEN OF PROVENCE. 2/3
the bishop of that diocese as to the disposal of my
time ; and, if madame pleases, I will lay her very
flattering proposal before him to-night, and, having
permission, will accept "
"One moment, monsieur. Before we settle the
chaplaincy we will finish our conversation upon other
matters. Where did you tell me you parted from the
baron Francois, who left this house in your company?"
" It is quite true, madame, that the baron left here
in my company upon the night of the unfortunate
quarrel between him and the Vicomte de Montarnaud,
and remained for some days with me in Marseilles ; but
since that I have no news to tell of him."
"Nothing? En passant, I have news for you of
Mademoiselle Salerne. She is a rich widow now, and
probably in need of a confessor. I must get her to
keep house for me while I am in Paris this winter ;
and, if you are chaplain, you will look after her, I hope.
Meantime, what were you saying of my brother-in-
law?"
" Madame, the last time I had the honor of men-
tioning my pupil's name to you was in conveying a
billet-doux from him to you after his flight from thu>
house ; and on that occasion you very properly repri-
manded me for meddling in matters unbecoming my
profession, and threatened to report me to the Comte
de Montarnaud, then alive. That reproof has had so
salutary an effect upon me, that I believe I have abso-
lutely lost my memory in all matters except those per-
taining to the Church. I cannot, for instance, recall
at this moment any thing whatever in connection with
2/4 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
the baron Francois beyond your refusal to reply to
that billet-doux"
"Is it possible, my dear abbe? This is a misfor-
tune in which I am compelled not only to sympathize
but share, since with so fatal an infirmity as loss of
memory, you could not perform the duties of chaplain,
and we must relinquish the idea."
" So I supposed, madame."
" You are quite sure that you cannot conquer this
treacherous memory, at least in one direction ? "
" Unfortunately, I am quite sure, madame."
" Such a pity ! Adieu, then, monsieur. I will not
detain you from your sister longer. She has so few
opportunities of seeing her friends, poor thing, since I
do not approve much visiting or receiving among the
persons in my employ."
The abb6 bowed profoundly, and withdrew ; mutter-
tering between his teeth as he once more brushed the
roses of Montarnaud from their stems with the skirt
of his soutane,
" These aristocrats are terribly monotonous 1 They
have only one little set of insolences, and all use them
the moment they cannot have their way in every
thing."
It was one of the unheeded mutterings heralding
the wildest storm of anarchy the world has ever seen :
it was called the Reign of Terror.
THF RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL 2?$
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL.
AMONG other advantages of Madame la Com-
tesse de Montarnaud's frequent residences in
the capital, she had become acquainted with her
country neighbors, and chiefly with the sprightly and
fashionable Marquise d'Odinard nee d'Aubigney, who
had married a fair estate about as far from Marseilles
on the one side as Montarnaud on the other. In Paris
the two young women were inseparable, and in the
country visited each other when nothing more amus-
ing presented itself. In one point, however, they had
hitherto found but little sympathy; for Olive d'Odi-
nard, young, rich, pretty, and spoiled, found a certain
piquancy in varying her worldly pleasures with some of
those ascetic observances already coming into vogue at
court, where the rule of Madame de Maintenon was
replacing the gay sovereignty of de Montespan ; and
the most frivolous votaries of fashion made a point of
weeping during the sermons of the elegant preachers,
on whose lips still rested the fires kindled by Francis
de Sales, Bourdaloue, de Condren, Vincent de Paul,
and the rest who illuminated this cycle, and so power-
fully revived the dying faith in France.
But Valerie, although she would fain follow every
2/6 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
fashion of the court, could not endure the weariness
besetting an untrue religious life ; and, when urged
thereto by her friend at certain periods, would some-
times declare that there was no king ready to marry
her as there was for Madame de Maintenon ; some-
times that cards, stupid as they were, were less weari-
some than prayers ; and sometimes that priests always
sent her to sleep before she had time to profit by their
eloquence.
But in the night succeeding her futile attempt to
corrupt the Abb Despard's loyalty to his friend, Va-
lerie suddenly remembered that Olive had invited her
to dine on the following day at her house in company
with Pere Roussillon, coadjutor of the cathedral in
Marseilles ; and the marquise had urged the invitation
by the remark that P6re Roussillon was precisely the
man to work her friend's conversion. Valerie had jest-
ingly declined this invitation, but now resolved to
accept it, nodding confidentially to herself in the dark-
ness as she did so, and then falling asleep with the
smile of an approving conscience on her lips.
The next morning found her silent and thoughtful ;
and about noon, having made a careful toilet, she
entered her coach, and arrived at the Chateau d'Odi-
nard about three ; the marquise being so ultra fashion-
able as to dine at that hour when on her own estate,
although in Paris obliged to conform to the court hour
of one.
" You see that I have come, ma chere" said the
guest, embracing her hostess with effusion ; " for I
found myself so triste without you after yesterday
Besides, I want to consult your Pere Roussillon "
THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 2JJ
" O Valerie ! about your conscience ? " exclaimed
Olive, clasping her hands in rapture.
" No, dear," replied Valerie dryly. "About a much
more interesting matter, the restoration of the chapel
at Montarnaud. It is quite in ruins ; and I want it
made just as lovely as yours here at Odinard, and then
I will have a chaplain and daily mass. Now, I hear
tnat the coadjutor understands ecclesiastical archi-
tecture a merveille, and I thought I would consult
him. Am I right?"
"Admirably right, ma mie. Yes, indeed, Pere
Roussillon understands all this sort of thing as no-
body else does. The restorations at the cathedral
were all his work. The bishop put the whole thing
in his hands ; and, truth to tell, the dear bishop is not
half so learned a man as his coadjutor, although of
course more holy."
" Why more holy? " asked Valerie in surprise.
"Just because he is a bishop, I mean. Is not his
holiness the Pope more holy than well, this Pere
Despard, for instance, who has just been made assistant
at the cathedral ? I was so vexed on Saturday to find
him in the confessional ! He said Pere Roussillon was
ill, and had sent him in his place."
" Pere Despard is assistant to the coadjutor, is he? "
asked Valerie carelessly.
" Yes. But he is nobody. Come up-stairs, and let
Pauline arrange your head-dress a little. How lovely
you have made yourself to-day ! "
When the ladies returned to the salon y Pere Rous-
sillon had already arrived with some guests, and was
278 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
presently seated beside Valerie at the table, much to
his satisfaction as well as hers ; for Madame d'Odinard
had spoken so often and so earnestly to her confessor
of this altogether worldly yet altogether charming
friend of hers, and expressed such an ardent wish for
her conversion, that the worthy coadjutor, not a little
bitten with the zeal for proselytism so current just then
in France, felt a considerable desire to try his powers
on this rebellious daughter of the Church.
But the good and simple priest was no match for
the practised woman of the world whom he aspired to
lead, and very soon was himself led, all unconsciously
no doubt, but very docilely, into precisely the paths
where she had intended he should tread. The res-
torations of the chapel were thoroughly discussed ; and
it was Pere Roussillon himself who proposed to visit
Montarnaud the next day, and make further suggestions
on the spot; and Madame Montarnaud promised to
present herself very, very soon at the cathedral, not
only to admire the restorations on which the good
coadjutor justly prided himself, but to perform the reli-
gious duties which she owned, with the innocent self-
accusation of a child, had been sadly neglected ; and
then dinner was over, and the company adjourned to
the garden to make Watteau pictures of themselves in
the twilight ; and presently the priest again found him-
self beside the fair convert, who evidently only needed
proper guidance to do such great things, and by and
by was insensibly led into talking of the missions in
Canada, a subject in which, as all the world knew, he
was deeply learned and warmly interested. Espe-
THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 279
cially he waxed eloquent in praise of Madame de la
Peltrie, that young, wealthy, and attractive widow, who
had found it joy to devote herself and all that she
possessed to the actual toil and privation of this
mission, who had built churches and convents in the
wilderness, taught the Indians, nursed the sick, en-
couraged her fellow-laborers, and now recently died
upon the scene of her glorious career, leaving a
terrible gap in the heroic band still lingering on the
shores of the St. Lawrence, although well-nigh dis-
couraged.
" I wish I were a woman like that," said Valerie in
bitter admiration, as she listened to the priest's glowing
periods, and for a moment she really did ; then return-
ing to her own life with a little shrug and sigh, she
said, " What vivid pictures you draw of all these things,
man pere! You have been in Quebec, or at least
spoken with some of these heroes? "
" I have never been allowed to go, although always
desiring it," said the priest. " But I have spoken with
many of our returned missioners, and lately have
talked much with my new assistant, Pere Despard, but
just returned from Canada."
"Ah,\yes, Pere Despard," said Valerie carelessly.
" I used to know him very well in the old days at
Montarnaud. And did monsieur my brother-in-law
interest himself in all these good and pious works ? "
" Indeed, I fear not," replied the priest absently ;
and then suddenly recognizing his indiscretion, ne
glanced somewhat severely at the Eve beside him, and
coldly said,
280 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" I crave pardon of madame. I answered at ran'
dom and without listening to her question. May I ask
madame to repeat it? "
Madame could not immediately reply ; for her lace
flounce had caught on the twig of a holly-bush, and
such costly lace must be dealt tenderly withal. By the
time it was released and she stood upright again,
miladi's rdle was taken, the admirable but most
delicate rdle of audacious frankness. Looking straight
into the somewhat threatening eyes of her com-
panion, she laughed lightly, and said,
" I have surprised your secret, mon pere ! and you
are angry at me, and no wonder ! It was very bold,
very irreverent, and you shall put me to penance the
very first time I go to the cathedral; but I did so
want to know if that poor boy were alive, and where,
and how. My companion of childhood, my husband's
only brother, the heir after Therese to all our estates !
Was it not reasonable that I should desire to know? "
" Most reasonable, madame ; but why not ask
honestly for the information, supposing I had it?"
demanded the priest reprovingly, yet softening.
" Ah, mon pere ! do not set me bad examples, then,
by trifling with the truth. ' Supposing you had it ! ' but
I already knew you to have it : I saw the Abb6 Despard
but yesterday ; and, although he would not give me the
intelligence I asked, himself, he let me understand
But there, my heedless tongue will bring me into new
mischief. At any rate, I know that you know all about
my poor brother, and that you feel bound to keep the
secret, although as it was not told you in confession it
THE RESTORATIONS OF THE CHAPEL. 28 1
can be no sin to reveal it ; and so, neither wishing to
give you the pain of refusing me, nor the temptation
to betray a confidence, I just surprised you into a
confession which does away with all need of further
reticence. Say you forgive me, mon perc"
The coadjutor shook his head and frowned, yet
smiled in such evident amusement that Valerie saw
that the day was hers, and went on,
" And it is in your interests, mon pere, as a pillar of
the Church, as well as in mine as a relative, that I
wish to find and influence this misguided boy. My
poor little The"rese is but a puny child ; and should she
die unmarried Francois inherits all the property of
Montarnaud and Rochenbois ; and after him again
conies Berthier de Montarnaud, his cousin, and a bit-
ter Huguenot."
"A Huguenot ! " echoed Pere Roussillon, in a voice
as if he said, " A boa-constrictor ! " Valerie nodded
significantly.
" Yes, indeed, a Huguenot of the Huguenots, who
would sell every thing that could be sold of these
fair estates, and pour all the proceeds into the hands
of these heretical and blasphemous Genevan ministers.
Is it not worth while to do something to prevent
this?"
" Is it not, indeed ! " echoed the priest : " madame,
you alarm me incredibly, and I fully forgive the little
ruse by which you surprised my knowledge of your
brother's whereabouts. Still, I do not feel at liberty to
give you one word further of information without the
knowledge of Pere Despard, and his permission to,
282 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
repeat Stay, if he would himself speak to you, it
might be better, would it not? "
Valerie smiled maliciously. Really it would not be
bad to have this insolent priest, who had so coolly
refused to give her the information she sought, forced
to come and give her yet more ; and she somewhat
eagerly replied,
" Oh, yes, mon pere ! Give him your orders to tell
me all that I desire to know, and bring him with you
to-morrow to Montarnaud."
" I can hardly give Monsieur Despard orders in a
matter of this sort," replied the coadjutor coldly, for
something in the malicious tone repelled and warned
him. " For I am neither the Bishop of Marseilles,
that is to say, his ecclesiastical superior, nor am I his
confessor and spiritual director : but I will represent to
him the great benefit possibly to be gained to the
Church by openly imparting any information concern-
ing his late pupil to the relatives of that gentleman
and in short, madame, you may expect the abbe 1 lo
accompany me to Montarnaud to-morrow."
" Thank you, thank you, mon plre" replied the
countess, feeling that she had better push the matter
no farther. "And now tell me something more of
Madame de la Peltrie, whom I absolutely feel tempted
to imitate."
THE DOCTORS DRESSING-ROOM. 283
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM.
THE piece of land for the doctor's house was
allotted by the town, and the tract of woodland
apportioned ; but when the question of building the
house arose, it was found that the new citizen had
not only ideas of his own, but the means of carrying
them out. So far from accepting assistance from the
town, he proved himself a more liberal and indulgent
paymaster than the mechanics employed had ever
met, and so courteous moreover, that these men, all
of them worthy and responsible townsmen, found no
derogation from their dignity in obeying his orders.
Some little gossip arose, however, as the new house
approached completion, and still more when it was
furnished and ready for occupancy ; for, although the
principal rooms were arranged much after the usual
fashion of the time, and filled with the best part of
the movables from Molly's own house beyond Fal-
fliouth, there were two rooms forming a wing or L,
devoted to her husband's sole occupancy, and fur-
nished after his own taste, partly from Molly's stores
and partly from articles purchased in Boston where the
doctor made occasional visits, although none of the
gossips could ascertain whither he went. The Iowa
284 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
of these rooms, connected with the main body of
the house by one door, and with the street by another,
was Dr. LeBaron's office, library, and smoking-room :
and from it a narrow, enclosed, winding stair led to a
room above, called his dressing-room, opening into
his wife's bedroom; the latter a large and well-
furnished chamber, adorned with the famous curtains
wrought by Grandmother Ames and serving as Molly
Wilder's bridal dress. The doctor's dressing-room,
although containing various matters not considered
essential by his stern and ascetic townsmen, might,
however, have passed without comment, but for one
article appearing there on the very day when the house
was pronounced ready for occupancy, and whose pres-
ence, discovered by Desire Billings, the young woman
who had undertaken to help Mistress LeBaron in her
household duties, was before bedtime known at nearly
every fireside in Plymouth. This was a hammock, a
new and substantial hammock, probably bought in
Boston on the doctor's last visit thither, and swung by
his own hands to iron staples, inserted during the
building of the room, in the solid oaken beams at the
corners, proving, as Desire shrewdly pointed out, that
this arrangement was no sudden caprice or fancy of
the doctor's, but a deliberate plan of life.
"And is it furnished with bedclothes?" asked the
gossip to whom Desire first confided her discovery.
That discreet young woman screwed up her mouth
and slowly nodded.
"There's a hard pillow; what it's made of, I don't
know, but not of good live-geese feathers like those in
THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 285
the rest of the house ; and there's a couple of black
things that maybe pass for blankets, and there's a sort
of a rug to lie on. If you call that 'furnished with
bedclothes,' why, I don't."
" And he'U leave that poor young woman's bed for
inch a pig's nest as that ! " exclaimed the gossip ; and
then she and Desire Billings flew in opposite direc-
tions to spread the news and the conjectures.
The next day Dame Priest called upon the doctor'*
wife ; and after various professions of friendly interest,
and matronly readiness to aid the young wife by
counsel or sympathy, she asked to be shown over the
house. Molly, a little proud of her new dignity and
possessions, complied with friendly alacrity, and dis-
played the pretty parlor, not half so dismal as that
which had originally contained most of the furniture ;
for Dr. LeBaron had insisted upon a wide, sunny
window filled with boxes of flowering plants, and had
provided two or three good pictures to ornament the
walls, and advised in the less formal arrangement of
the furniture. On the other side of the front door
was the more usual sitting-room, with Molly's work-
table, an open fireplace ready piled with light wood
for the first chilly evening, and some comfortable
chairs, as comfort was then understood.
"And this door? " demanded the visitor, laying hei
hand upon the latch of the one her topographical
instincts told her was that of the study containing the
secret stair, as it was already called.
"Oh! that is my husband's office," said Molly
calmly ; " and I think he is ttere now, so we will not
286 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
disturb him. Here is our little dining-room ; and here
the kitchen, which you see Desire keeps so nicely it
is the best room in the house. Then, will you come
up stairs?"
'' I don't care if I do," replied Dame Priest, whose
whole visit had tended to this point. So up stairs
they went, looked into the guest-room, with its chill
and formal appointments ; into the sunny little bed-
room devoted to Desire Billings : the great unfinished
kitchen-chamber, where already a modest little pile of
undesirable furniture represented its future use as a
lumber-room ; and finally Mistress LeBaron, with an
effort to hide her own delight under an assumption of
carelessness, threw open the door of the room over
the sitting-room, and said,
" This is my own room."
" Yours and the doctor's, you mean, my dear," cor-
rected the elder matron; and Molly pleasantly re-
plied,
" Why, of course. It would not be mine at all if it
were not his ; for I should not be his wife."
Margery Priest stared a little \ for the sweet secu-
rity of love thrilling in Molly's voice was inharmonious
with the unhappiness she had come prepared to
probe.
"Well," said she reluctantly at last, "I'm glad
you're so comfortable, dear ; and this is really a beauti-
ful setting-out. What nice furniture, and what lovely
curtains ! Did you do them yourself? "
As she asked the innocent-seeming question, Dame
Priest approached the bed closely as if to examine the
THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 287
needlework, and glanced shrewdly between the cur-
tains ; but the smooth and unwrinkled exterior told no
tales. Evidently the fortress was not to be surprised,
or taken by siege ; a coup dc main must be attempt-
ed ; and without saying a word Dame Priest turned,
and raised the latch of the door answering to that of
the study in the room below. It was fastened inside,
and her vigorous tug resulted merely in the shaip
tingle of her own fingers as they slipped from the
latch. Molly smiled and said nothing; but having
gone so far, the inquisitor threw discretion to the
winds, and boldly inquired,
"Where does that door lead, Mistress LeBaron?"
"To my husband's dressing-room," replied Molly
briefly.
"And does he keep it locked against you, poor
child ? " demanded the dame compassionately.
" No ; for I never tried to open it," said Molly, turn-
ing to leave the room ; but her visitor detained her by
a grasp upon her arm, while she said,
" Child, you need not try to hide it from me, that
am a woman old enough to be your mother, and have
manieJ girls of my own. You've married a foreigner,
French or German or Italian, some say one, and
some another ; and now he's treating you as those men
always do treat their wives, having his separate bed-
chamber, and separate doors to let in nobody knows
who all, and you his lawful wife locked out. It's a
shame, I say ; and if there's no one else to take your
part, you poor motherless child, I will ; and I'll speak
to that man myself, and tell him he's town-talk already,
288 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN
with his hammocks, and his dressing-rooms, and his
secret staircases, and private doors ; and you just as
sweet and pretty a wife as any man need ask ! "
She paused, more from failure of breath than of
words, and, putting her arms round Molly's neck,
planted a vigorous kiss upon her cheek, finding it
im]>ossible to reach her averted lips. The young wife
received the caress, and released herself from the
embrace gently but decidedly.
" You are really very kind, madame," said she in
the calm, sonorous tone from which her voice seldom
varied ; " and if you would like to speak to my hus-
band at once, I will bring you to him."
"Well, I'm ready. I never gave way before
prince or potentate yet ; and I'm not in terror of any
mortal man," asseverated the dame, considerably star-
tled at this prompt acceptance of her offer, and not a
little aghast at the idea of direct collision with the
doctor to whom she had never spoken. But without
further parley, the doctor's wife rapidly led the way
down stairs and through the sitting-room to the door
of the office, which she opened without hesitation.
Dr. LeBaron sat in a leathern arm-chair beside the
open window, looking into his newly-planted garden,
reading a foreign newspaper, and spoiling the sweet
summer air with the fumes of a pipe.
As his wife and her guest appeared, he rose, laid
aside the pipe, and bowed with somewhat ceremo-
nious politeness. Molly at once explained her errand.
" Dr. LeBaron, this lady is Mistress Priest, whom I
believe you do not know. She has somewhat to s?.y
THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 2&)
to you ; and, as it also concerns me, I will, if it please
you, stay and listen."
" May I offer you a chair, madame?" said the doc-
tor, placing one for each lady, and then seating him-
self with grave professional attention. Margery Priest
felt herself daunted far more than when she had en-
countered a drunken Indian in the woods, and only
preserved her scalp by personal prowess. She glanced
from the doctor's handsome, haughty, and expectant
face, to the severe and threatening features of his wife,
colored scarlet, cleared her throat, and desperately
began,
" Well, you see, doctor, your having that hammock
has made a good deal of talk ; and I thought, Mistress
LeBaron being so young a woman, and an orphan as I
understand, I might speak to her as I would to a
daughter of my own. I'm sure I feel like a mother to
her already ; and so I thought I'd speak to her, and
and"
Her voice died out in a little nervous gasp ; and Dr.
LeBaron waited gravely, politely, but in vain, for the
end of the- chaotic sentence. At last he said,
" I fear, madame, I hardly understand you as yet.
\ )u feel like a mother to Mistress LeBaron, for which
she and I are deeply grateful ; but why that amiable
feeling on your part involves the displeasure of the
town at my owning a hammock, is not plain to my dull
mind."
"Why, you have a separate room, and a private
door, and a secret staircase ! " exclaimed Dame
Priest, clutching her departing courage with both
nands, and speaking very loud.
290 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"True, madame, and then?" asked the doctor in
a tone of silken courtesy.
"Why why well, but you're a married man,
aren't you ? "
" Happily I am, madame."
"Well then, doctor, to speak out plain, we think
here in Plymouth that married men have no need of
any room except their wife's."
" And you have been selected by the town officers
to convey their mind to us? "
" Oh, no ! I don't claim any thing of the kind. I
only came in a friendly way, to tell Mistress LeBaron
that that"
" That you felt like a mother to her. Ah, yes ! 1
understand," said the doctor gayly. "But it is the
fashion in most countries, madame, for the mother,
when her daughter is married, to make over her
guardianship to the husband, at least until he proves
himself unworthy of the trust. When my wife feels
me to be thus unworthy, I doubt not she will apply to
you without delay for comfort and protection. Might
I ask you to wait for that day before again putting
yourself to this trouble?"
" Yes, sir," replied the dame, bewildered at a speech
sounding so deferential, and yet, as she dimly sus-
pected, so baffling in its meaning.
" And now," pursued the doctor, " since you have
mentioned my poor little domestic arrangements,
allow me to show them to you. This door, opening
upon the alley at the side of my garden, is what you
mention as the private door, I presume. It is intended
THE DOCTOR'S DRESSING-ROOM. 2QI
for the use of my patients; and I think it is bettei
than for them to pass through my wife's sitting-room
to arrive at the office, do not you ? "
" Why, yes, doctor, I suppose it is."
"Very well. Then here is the secret staircase,
opening by this door without other fastening than a
latch, and obvious to every one entering the office.
Will you go up?"
Without reply, Mistress Priest climbed the steep
and narrow stair, and through a door at the top passed
into a small room, containing many objects she had
never before seen and at which she stared open-
mouthed. Dr. LeBaron gravely pointed them out :
" This, madame, is a dressing-case of foreign work-
manship, and more usually found in older countries
than here perhaps ; still, not dangerous to the public
peace or to household morality. These are shaving-
brushes and razors; these are called tweezers, and
this is a flesh-brush to be used in a dry bath ; those
are English boot-hooks, and this is a powdering appara-
tus. Here is the closet for my clothes, and this for my
boots "
" Well, there's the hammock anyway ! " exclaimed
Dame Priest triumphantly, as she pointed at the
obnoxious article slung across one end of the little
room, and neatly furnished with the bedding described
by Desire Billings.
"Yes, madame, there is the hammock anyway, as
you justly observe. Pray, madame, did you ever
swing in a hammock? "
"I? No, indeed, doctor."
2Q2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"In that case, madame, you have no idea of the
salubrious and recuperative effects of its motion ; seda-
tive yet exhilarating, monotonous yet not stultify-
ing"
"I don't know what any of those long words
mean," interposed Mrs. Priest sullenly.
" Then, madame, you can never understand why I
keep a hammock in my dressing-room," replied the
doctor gravely. "Mistress LeBaron has studied the
subject, however, and may explain it to you."
"Does she ever get into the thing?" demanded
Mistress Priest eagerly.
"Whenever she chooses," replied the doctor with
gravity.
DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP.
A YEAR passed by, a year of sweet content to
Mary LeBaron, of revolution to her husband;
for in every day of it he laid aside some jot or tittle
of the old life, and by just so much adapted himself
to the new. Molly silently watched this process, and
with rare self-control made no comment, either upon
what was laid aside, or what assumed. In the very
dawn of her married history she had comprehended
and accepted her part in her husband's life, and there
remained content. He had told her that from his
past she was forever excluded; and, remembering
Lot's wife, she never looked back. She soon under-
stood also that all comment upon his looks, spirits, or
especially his silences, were unwelcome, and after a
little she never made them : she found that all as-
sumptions as to his nationality came under the for-
bidden head; and she soon said that she "did not
know," when asked if her husband were a Frenchman ;
she perceived that he abhorred giving account of his
movements during absence, or even of mentioning
what persons he might have met, and she never set
up that domestic tribunal before which so many good
wives nightly arraign their husbands. Quick in all his
294 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
perceptions, LeBaron was not slow to notice this
silent submission to his wishes, and as silently re-
warded it by a large admixture of respect and admira-
tion in the love he never had ceased to entertain for his
wife. He was none the less reticent certainly, and the
spaces of his life wherein he chose to be alone re-
mained closed as rigorously against her as all the rest
of the world : but there were pleasant paths of daily
life wherein he delighted to walk beside her; there
were hours of happiest intercourse wherein he fed her
mind with knowledge gathered in many a foreign
clime, or from books of which she had never heard.
He thrust aside for her the narrowing walls of seclu-
sion and inexperience, and gave her, through love of
him, that liberal education credited to the lovers of
fair Lady Mary Montague.
In fact, the LeBarons were an exceptionally happy
couple ; and yet a weaker woman would have been
miserable in Molly's place, and a less self-contained
man would have shown upon the surface the pains and
struggles with which the citizen of the world cramped
himself into the narrow sphere of the village doctor.
True, this sphere was always and rapidly enlarging,
as the fame of the thorough-bred, daring, and intelli-
gent surgeon spread through the country-side ; so that
after two or three years his practice extended, so to
speak, over a radius of at least a hundred miles, since
his advice was sought from that distance in cases of
difficult surgery or mysterious disease. Among his
townsmen, and those who saw him most constantly,
but one opinion was ever heard as to his skill, his
DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 295
industry, or his benevolence \ but at least two very
varying opinions were held and proclaimed as re-
garded his social character and behavior, one class
of persons finding him brief, sharp, self-asserting, even
insolent of demeanor ; others complaining that he ridi-
culed their alarms, and laughed at their symptoms;
while the poor, the humble, the timid, and the unfor-
tunate declared themselves healed more by the doctor's
patient and tireless sympathy, courteous attention, and
charitable remembrance of all their needs, than by his
physic ; and the fourth and smallest class of persons,
those who showed themselves reasonable and con-
siderate, courteous and delicate, said that if there was
but one gentleman in the American Colonies, that
gentleman was Dr. LeBaron.
It was in the third year of his marriage, and the
second of his son's iife, that the doctor was sum-
moned late one evening to attend a sick man at the
Bunch of Grapes. He went at once, and first en-
countered his stanch friend and partisan the buxom
landlady, who greeting him heartily, said,
"Yes, doctor, there is a gentleman up-stairs who
wants you. He came in ' The Nautilus,' just down
from Boston with a cargo of groceries and English
wares. We have some first-rate Hollands and some
white sugar aboard, if you are, wanting any at home :
and when Cap'n Storms came up, this passenger came
along too ; and the cap'n he said he was a Boston
gentleman, that being but poorly had tried the sea-trip
for his health, but could not abide the living on board,
and so was e'en worse than when he started, and
296 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
thought he would land and go home that way ; but
when he got to my house, he asked had we never a
doctor in town ; and I, well, though he is indeed
a gentleman, and a man of substance, too, I could not
but laugh in his face, and say after him, ' Never a doc-
tor, quotha ! Why, sir, didst never hear of the great
Dr. LeBaron, who ' "
" Now dame, dame, have I not forbid thee, time
and again, to cackle over me after that fashion? I'll
take thy leg off yet, if thou art so disobedient."
'"The great Dr. LeBaron,' says I, 'who is sent for
to New Bedford, yes, and to Boston itself, when
there is a matter passing the skill of their own doctors
and you ask, have we never a doctor ! ' So says my
gentleman, ' Then send for him in Heaven's name, and
let him cure this horrible feeling at my stomach if he
can.' And so I says to Zeb, 'There, man, finish your
supper, and run round for the doctor ; ' and so "
"Yes, yes; and he's up in the best bedroom, I'll
be bound?"
" That he is, doctor ; and "
But the doctor was already out of hearing, and tap-
ping peremptorily at the door of the best bedroom,
the same where we were first introduced to the medi-
cal faculty of Plymouth Colony during their famous
consultation over Dame Tilley's leg.
" Come in," said a muffled voice ; and entering at
once, Dr. LeBaron approached the bed, whereon lay a
man, covered with blankets, but fully dressed, whc
rose at his approach, and looked him in the face with-
out speaking. The doctor returned the look, at first
DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 2<)J
with curiosity, then with some other and more power-
ful emotion, so powerful, in fact, that it suddenly
blanched his handsome face to a dull ashen hue, as he
quietly said in French,
" It is you, then, mon abbe ! "
" Yes, mon cher baron, it is one of the oldest, and I
t;ally think the very warmest, of your friends. What
joy to find you alive and well ! " And with real emo-
tion the abbe' embraced his former pupil after the effu-
sive style of his nation and his epoch. The doctor
rather submitted to, than returned, the embrace, and
suddenly sat down. The abbe" looked at him keenly
for some moments, then said,
" You are not glad to see me, mon baron"
" Truth to tell, abbe" , you enter my presenV sphere
of life in so comet-like or meteoric a fashion that I
am a little afraid of you."
" Has three or four years sufficed to do avay with
all the old system, and establish a new one, in which I
have no place?" asked Despard in a tone of real
grief. LeBaron sadly shook his head.
" I had hoped so. At this moment I am not sure.
I have tried hard enough to forget."
He lapsed into gloomy reverie ; and the priest
looked at him with curiosity and impatience, trying to
gauge as rapidly as possible the changes that time had
wrought, and the most accessible present point of
approach. At last he said,
" My friend, I have one distinct errand to you. In
fact, I am sent as part of my penance for a very
serious fault, to make a certain acknowledgment to
298 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
you ; and this would have brought me, even without
my earnest desire to see you once more."
"And this acknowledgment is "
"Briefly this. I told you in Quebec that I had
not married you to Mary Wilder."
" Yes : but we have been married since."
" Not by a priest, not in a church, I hope ! "
" No, by a magistrate."
" I am relieved, for the sacrament must not be pro-
faned by repetition ; and you were really married by
that hasty midnight service, garbled and shortened
though it was."
"And did you know it when you tried to persuade
me to turn my back upon my wife, and return to
France to marry another woman? " asked the doctor
sternly.
" No : at least I was uncertain ; and I am confident
now, as I was then, that such a ceremony, the mar-
riage not being consummated, could have been set
aside without trouble. But still it was a marriage,
consented to by the parties, and witnessed, if not
regularly conducted, by a priest; and I have been
severely censured, both for trifling with the sacrament,
and for leading you into doubt as to the validity of
your marriage. You will pardon me, man baron ? "
"The more readily, friend, that your temptation
never took hold upon my will for an instant. The
only effect of the doubt you suggested was to make
me submit very gladly to the civil ceremony, which
was desirable at any rate for the public satisfaction."
" And you are happily married? "
DEAD THINGS THAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 299
" Most happily. I am sorry that I cannot invite
you to my home to witness my felicity ; but my wife
would recognize you, and not for the world would
I let her suppose the dead past could find its resur-
rection in her home."
"Does no ghost from out those early years ever
confront you, then ? " asked the priest meaningly. The
doctor laughed somewhat cynically, and replied,
" Well, yes. My boy is the image of my father ; and
I could not refrain from a ban mot in that connection,
whose humor has hitherto been confined to my own
breast. I have named the boy Lazarus, as one called
from what I fancied a sealed tomb."
"A ghastly jest, and not too reverent, my son,"
replied the priest severely. " And what have you to
say upon the matter of religion?"
" Nothing, man fere, except that I am no rene-
" That is at least something, and I have news for
you in that direction. What do you think of a tiny
yet vigorous shoot of the venerable faith planted even
in the town of Boston, that stronghold of the Puri-
tans, those schismatics of the schismatical Church of
England, to whom the altar is an abomination, and
even the blessed crucifix a mere idolatrous emblem ? "
" And you are the gardener of this daring bit of
transplantation?" asked LeBaron sceptically.
" Under God, and my superiors in the Church, yes ;
and already there is a fair and promising beginning.
We own a house, and in that house is a chapel, and
to that chapel resort a few of the faithful, whose num
3OO A NAMELESS WOBLEMAtf.
bers shall yet increase ; and we have the germ of a
school and of a hospital supported by the willing
work and ample means of certain Christian ladies,
not regular sisters of any order, but devoted for a
time to these good works."
"But is this allowed in Boston?"
" If the least suspicion of our tire character arose.
I suppose neither sex nor age would prevent our all
being hanged beside the Quakers who were execuied
the other day for their religious opinions."
" Then you live in secrecy and constant danger."
"Yes. Has the Church ever avoided danger, or
counted the lives of her servants more highly than
the harvest of souls they may gather into her fold ? "
" It is true, father ; and yet these people among
whom I live, and those of Boston whom I know, are
a God-fearing, moral, and charitable people. Is it so
needful that all men find heaven by one road? Is
there not a gate for the Gentiles as well as for the
Jews?"
The priest started from his chair in horror, and,
grasping his pupil by the shoulder, cried in a voice of
unfeigned emotion,
" My son, my son, it had been less grief to me to
see you in your coffin than to have heard such a ques-
tion from your lips ! The taint of heresy has cor-
rupted a soul made glorious by the Lord for his own
service. The unbelieving wife hath stolen away the
faith of the believing husband unequally yoked with
her"
" Hold there, father ! " interposed the doctor warn-
DEAD THINGS rHAT WILL NOT SLEEP. 301
ingly. " Bring no third person into this matter if you
would hold to the truth. I have never exchanged a
word upon the question of religion with my wife,
since she was my wife ; nor do I deserve the censures
you are so ready to heap upon my head. It is true
that I have learned toleration, even from this intol^r-
aot people, who could far less easily forgive my faith
than I their heresy ; but so far as my own belief goes,
it has never swerved one line, one hair's breadth, from
that which you yourself taught me in the first dawning
of my reasoning powers."
" Mon baron, will you give me proof of that decla-
ration?"
" My word needs no proof to establish it ; but for
old affection's sake I will give any proof within reason,
of my loyalty to the Church."
" Then, come to Boston during this next month, and
spend a day and night at our mission-house."
" Gladly, if that is all ; and what is more, you shall
confess me, and I will hear a mass and receive the
sacrament once again."
" That was in my plan, you may be sure ; and now
let us have a little chat upon worldly matters, for I
leave here early to-morrow morning."
3O2 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
A CRUCIAL TEST.
IF for some days after his evening visit to the
Bunch of Grapes, Dr. LeBaron was a little more
moody and silent than his wont, a little more given to
late sitting over his books and papers in the office, or
long rides over the sandy and desolate country roads,
Molly did not question him as to the cause, and only
contrived to make the house and her own society the
more attractive when he showed a desire to seek them.
The baby-boy, so quaintly named, occupied a good
deal of his mother's time also ; and Molly had learned
to live her life without too much effort at understand-
ing or controlling it, so that her husband found almost
every day fresh cause for admiration and appreciation
of the love that could let the beloved object alone,
and the patience that was neither dullness nor sullen-
ness. One day he came to her as she sat Booing and
laughing to the child, who, fresh from his bath, was
struggling manfully in her lap against the primal curse
of clothing, hung over her for a moment, then, with
one kiss upon her lips and another upon the cheek ot
little Lazarus, he said,
" Sweetheart, I am going to Boston, and shall not
be home for thr.ee dqpg. I have arranged with Hallo-
A CRUCIAL TEST. 303
well about my patients, and sent forward one of the
horses to the Halfway House, so I shall make the
journey in one day each way, and be home on Mon-
day evening. You are content? "
" Of course, Francois, as content as I can be when
you are not beside me. You might have let me pack
some clothes, though."
"I have all I wish in my saddle-portmanteau; so
good-by, love, and have a care of young master."
"I shall have nothing else to care for until his
father comes home," said Molly, hastily wrapping the
child in a blanket, and following her husband to the
door, where his great black horse, called Centaur,
stood pawing and neighing in his impatience to be off.
The doctor mounted, and, turning in the saddle for a
last good-by, sat for a moment looking in loving admi-
ration at the mother and child standing in the dark
doorway, the morning sunshine touching the red lights
of her bronze hair into a golden aureole, and shining
pleasantly upon her calm and matronly beauty, the
pure and steady radiance of the eyes uplifted to hei
husband's face, and the unconscious grace of her
stately figure ; in her arms lay the noble boy, his baby
face turned with grave attention upon horse and rider,
and one hand masterfully clutching a stray lock of his
mother's hair. A fair picture, and a winsome one,
thought Dr. Francois LeBaron, loosening the rein, and
allowing the great black horse to launch powerfully for-
ward ; and as he .ode through sun and shade, the pic-
ture journeyed with him over sandy plain, and fragrant
pine-forest, and long stretches of half-settled country,
304 A AAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
until at noon he broke his fast and changed his horse
at the little inn known for more than a century later
as the Halfway House between Plymouth and Boston.
At night he arrived in the latter town ; and, having
placed his horse in the stable of the old Exchange
Coffee House, he set out on foot to find the place to
which Father Despard had directed him. But this was
not so easy a matter as it sounds to us of to-day : for
the streets were neither numbered nor lighted, and
many of them not even named , so that it was not
until more than an hour of rambling through the
crowded and irregular district now known as the
North End of Boston, that the visitor knocked at
the door of a large house standing in its own garden a
little way from the street, and so dark and forlorn in
appearance as to suggest the death or absence of every
living creature within its walls.
After a long delay, the door was cautiously opened
so far as an inside chain would allow, by a man, who
gruffly asked, in an Irish accent,
"What's your will, sir?"
"Is Master Desmond within?" replied the visitor,
using the alias assumed by his friend while dwelling in
the camp of his enemies.
"I'll see, sir." And, leaving the door unlatched
but chained, the servant retreated, and soon returned,
followed by another dimly-seen figure, who civilly
asked,
"Do you wish to see me, sir? I am Master Des-
mond."
"And I, Dr. LeBaron," replied the guest.
A CRUCIAL TEST. 305
" My dear friend, is it really you ! " exclaimed the
master of the house, letting fall the chain, and throw-
ing wide the door. " You will excuse our precautions,
but"
"Not a word, not a word, my friend," interposed
the guest heartily. "I understand that the Church
Militant naturally intrenches herself, and "
" Hush, my dear fellow, not a word, I beg of you,
until we are safe in my sanctum ! To be sure, Patrick
O'Donoghue, who opened the door to you, is stanch
and loyal, an importation of my own from his native
Ireland ; but one never knows walls have ears : but
here we are, as safe as in the Quirinal." He opened
the door of a small room, only to be approached
through two others, and displayed a cosey retreat,
warmed and lighted in this chill October evening by a
small wood fire, and well supplied with books, com-
fortable furniture, and a round table covered with the
preparations for supper.
" I am just in time, it seems," said LeBaron, smiling,
and rubbing his hands. " I remember that as no one
knew how to fast more rigidly than yourself, abbe', so
no one better understood how to feast, or could
manage to do so on more slender materials."
" You flatter me, my son ; and yet why should not
Religious study how best to utilize the abundant gift
of Providence ? Do you remember the ragout I once
made from an amiable and unfortunate cat when we
were upon our retreat into Canada? "
" Do I not ? And the soup from the bones the
farmer's wife had thrown out her back door."
306 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Yes. But here comes Patrick with our supper ;
and here is Father Pinot, my coadjutor and assistant,
who will be glad to see you after having heard so
much of you."
The younger priest, a vivacious and agreeable com-
panion, bowed courteously : a short Latin grace was
said, and the three men sat down. It was years since
LeBaron had found himself so nearly in his native ele-
ment as to-night; and he abandoned himself to an
hour of convivial enjoyment very different from the
staid feasts at which he was often called to assist in
the town of his adoption, or even from the pleasant but
simple and brief meals at which he and Molly sat
habitually in their own house. Here the cookery was
delicate and refined, purely French in its character,
and accompanied by French wines ; the service was
admirable ; and the two priests, laying aside for the
moment all that is severe or ascetic in their profession,
showed themselves in the light of cultivated and expe-
rienced citizens of the world, quick, witty, apt at quo-
tation or allusion, and with a range of conversation
not to be found among more quiet and homely folk.
It was even a luxury for LeBaron to speak freely in his
native language : for his English, although scholarly
and sufficiently fluent, was always a little formal, and
often spoken with consciousness of the effort at men^
tal translation; for it is a rare and ultimate stage
in Ihe acquirement of a foreign tongue when one's
thoughts shape themselves to its idioms, and Dr.
LeBaron never fully reached it.
A clock upon the mantle struck the half-hour aftef
A CRUCIAL TEST. 307
eight ; and Father Pinot, glancing at his superior, grew
suddenly grave and silent. Despard nodded slightly,
and pushed back his chair.
"You will join us in the chapel for compline, at
nine o'clock ; will you not, doctor? " asked he of hi3
guest, who had begged him to use no title but this.
" With pleasure, if you will show me the way thith-
er," replied he, rising from the table.
" Oh, it is not time yet ! Father Pinot and I have
some preparation to make ; and it is our rule not to
allow any festivity to exceed an hour's time. If you
will remain here, and amuse yourself with a book, Pat-
rick shall summon you at nine, or a few moments
earlier."
The priests left the room ; and LeBaron, not caring
to read just then, threw himself back in his chair, and
sat staring into the fire, his mind filled with chaotic
thoughts, memories, and associations, until a touch
upon his shoulder and Patrick's rich Milesian accents
recalled him to the moment and the occasion. Fol-
lowing the man through a passage, opening behind
one ol the bookcases, he presently found himself in a
small and richly ornamented chapel, cunningly devised,
as he afterward found, to appear from the outside like
a rough addition to the house, without windows or
exterior doors. Quite half this room, divided from the
rest by a light bronze screen or railing, was occupied
by the altar and chancel, within which stood the two
priests, attended by a boy-acolyte who was busily
lighting a censer in a little sacristy opening into the
chancel. Outside the screen, with LeBaron, knelt
308 A NAtoKtESS NOBLEMAN.
Patrick and several women dressed in semi-religious
robes, their heads covered by veils.
The service began ; and as the words and intona-
tions familiar to his childhood and youth fell upon the
ears of the guest, as the odor of incense reached his
nostrils accompanied by the silvery clank of the chains
of the censer, he covered his face with his hands, and,
bowing his head, wondered if this were indeed a vivid
dream, or if it were not rather true that the past
bleak, bitter years of exile had been the dream, and
this was reality.
From this reverie he was roused by the softly-
chanted strains of the vesper hymn in which he had
joined so many times at Montarnaud ; and, listening
eagerly without raising his head, he seemed to hear
again the pure and penetrating tones of the voice with
which his had so loved to chime in those not-yet-for-
gotten years, that voice so peculiar in its timbre, so
deadly sweet in its fearless heights, so caressing in its
depths, that when Molly Wilder first sang to him in
the lonely sea-side farmhouse, his greatest pleasure in
hearing her had been that no tone of her voice resem-
bled that voice. And now it seemed close beside him :
its subtle charm piercing his very brain, and sending
the blood tingling from heart to finger-tips and back
again with sickening force and tumult
" Ave Maria, Maria sanctissima I
Ora pro nobis, ora pro me I "
sang the voice \ and surely it was no vision, no mem-
ory, that could sigh out the familiar words in that
A CRUCIAL TEST. 309
tender, loving tone, so vividly recalled, so never to be
forgotten. Slowly and unwillingly LeBaron lifted his
head, and looked toward the little group of women
kneeling at the other extremity of the screen; but
the veils hid all the faces, and even the outline of the
head and shoulders : and, as the last words of the hymn
died upon the fragrant air, all bowed low their heads,
awaiting the benediction.
When LeBaron raised his, he was alone, except
for the servant who stood patiently awaiting him. Fol-
lowing, without noticing that it was through another
passage than that by which he had entered the chapel,
LeBaron presently found himself in a small and dimly-
lighted room, where beside a marble figure of the Ma-
donna stood a veiled woman ; her black robes con-
trasting vividly with the cold whiteness of the statue
upon which she leaned as if for protection and confi-
dence As the disturbed and already suspicious visit-
or stood looking at her, while the door silently closed
behind him, the woman swiftly advanced a step, and
knelt at his feet, throwing back her veil as she did so,
and lifting her beautiful, passionate face to his in
mute and anguished appeal for pity and forgiveness.
LeBaron started, and quivered all through his form,
as quivers the lion when the hunter's spear reaches his
heart ; but he did not speak, and it was she who pres-
ently murmured,
" Francois ! Have not you one word for me, after
all these years?"
" What word, Valerie ? What is to be said between
as two?"
310 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
"Forgiveness. I betrayed and denied you when
you had the right to expect my loyalty."
" It is forgiven long ago."
" Forgiven coldly and formally, but not forgiven as
you used to forgive my faults, Francois ! Not for-
gotten."
" Yes, forgotten."
" Your voice does not sound so, Francois ; and I
know every tone of the voice for whose sound I have
so longed, so pined."
"Yes, forgotten, Valerie, but not easily. You and
your falseness became indissolubly one in my memory,
and to forget one I was obliged to banish both."
" And I am forgotten ! "
The words wailed out upon the quiet air like the
cry of the spirit denied the entrance to Paradise, and
LeBaron felt a great and terrible pity stealing over his
heart. Involuntarily his hand extended itself toward
that bowed head, and words of gentlest soothing rose
to his lips ; but with a mighty effort he folded his arms
across his breast, and, moving a step away, said gently
and coldly,
"Pray rise and seat yourself, Valerie. I have al-
ready assured you of my forgiveness if you care to
have it ; and, as my brother's wife and widow, I may
think of you with interest and well-wishing. All else
was ended for us when I left France."
" Say, rather, when you fell in love with another
woman ! " exclaimed Valerie, springing to her feet, and
confronting him passionately. " For, after all, it is only
you who have been false to our early love : I never
A CRUCIAL TEST. $11
pretended to love Gaston, I never pretended to have
forgotten you."
"Do not make a boast of it, madame," replied
LeBaron sternly. " If you married a man consciously
loving another, and then cherished the love your own
act had made guilty, let shame keep you silent upon
both scores."
" Francois ! Francois ! Have you no pity? And I
have wearied so for one look, one word ; and now you
are so cruel ! "
"It is you, Valerie, who are cruel to both of us.
Child ! Do you suppose my heart is ice or stone ? By
this day's work you have destroyed for me the quiet
of months, years perhaps. Cruel ! What cruelty
could you have devised, had you been my bitterest
foe, more subtle than thus to come, and with every
accessory of our purest and best association, force
back upon my memory and my heart the images, the
feelings, the bereavements, that I have spent years in
uprooting and throwing aside, though in doing so I
have shaken my nature to its depths ? It is you who
have shown yourself cruel, insensate, selfish."
"You still love me, then, since I can make you
suffer ! O Francois I "
And, gliding to his side, she laid her hand upon his
folded arms, and looked up in his face, her eyes
humid, her lips parted, the subtle fragrance of her
hair and dress floating around her in an atmosphere
of intoxicating languor. He did not move hand nor
foot ; nor, though his face grew deadly pale, did his
eyes flinch from the full regard of hers- At last he
312 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Love you, Valerie de Montarnaud ! Love you !
There is not a woman on earth whom it would be so
impossible for me to love."
"Ohl"
"Yes, it hurts you; and I am sorry to pain you.
There are not even in my heart those poor dregs of
love that make us enjoy the pang we can inflict upon
her who has deceived and betrayed us. I do not
even hate you, Valerie : after this, I do not even care
to avoid you. I thank you for the work of this last
five minutes; for you have put forth all your art to
re-kindle the fire whose ashes I had feared to disturb,
and you have shown me that they are wholly cold and
dead. Are you content?"
" Content ! " repeated Madame de Montarnaud in
a tone of withering scorn, " yes, for I see that your
peasant wife has dragged you utterly down to her own
level. I cannot love a man who is no longer a gentle-
man."
" If it soothes your mortification to speak dispara-
gingly of me, you are very welcome to do so, madame.
As to my wife, it is better that you should not speak of
her at all ; since she is a woman far above your com-
prehension, very far above my deserts. Pure as the
angels, true as light, unselfish and devoted and loving,
and with a strong, brave heart that only needs to know
the right to follow it, she is not of those among
whom you chose your life, madame, nor have you the
ability to gauge her. But with her, and with her
child, lie all my hopes in the future, all my joy in the
present; for I love and trust her as I never could
A CRUCIAL TEST. 313
have loved and trusted you, Valerie, even had you
been true to me."
He left the room, nor did she seek to detain him.
In the study he found Father Despard, who waited for
him with ill- concealed anxiety. LeBaron looked at
him sternly and reproachfully.
" What was the motive of your plot ? " asked he,
leaning upon the mantel, and looking down upon the
priest, who sat designedly in the shade.
" Simply this, my son," replied he fluently : " I am
in this place as a propagandist : my only motive is the
nurture and spread of our holy faith in this new
country. Madame de Montarnaud is also absorbed,
body and soul, in this good work ; and it is her money
which largely supports the mission. Now, you are the
heir, after her child, of most of her property ; and it is
certainly desirable that you should be consulted as to
its disposition. Again, you are a Catholic, detached
from the influences and rites of the Church; and
it is most desirable that you should be led to join
with us who represent her, however feebly, and should
be brought into charity and sympathy with your fellow-
laborers. Now, Madame de Montarnaud felt that you
were not in charity with her, and fancied that by a
personal interview your differences might be adjusted.
I knew, that, if I warned you of her presence, you
would not visit me ; and I consented to this little ruse,
by wlu'ch I brought together two of my children, tern
porarily estranged, and joined them once more as r.o-
laborers in the holy cause which must tct all of us be
so much dearer than any personal prejudices or wishes.
Was I wrong, my dear pupil? "
314 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" If your explanation is perfectly sincere, father, 1
should say that you were not so much wrong as -
pardon me stupid ; and that, I had never supposed
to be one of your failings. You probably knew be-
forehand, as well as I know now, the nature of the
explanation likely to ensue between Madame de Mont-
arnaud and myself; and had not my heart been
guarded by a very vivid and very honest love for my
wife, I can hardly tell the extent of the mischief
likely to have sprung from your amiable and innocent
.ittle device. As it is, no harm is done, unless, and
it would be an odd bit of retributive justice on your
head, mon pere, unless Madame de Montarnaud
finds her zeal for mission-work suddenly cooled, and
goes back to France, carrying her money with
ner."
" H'm ! " ejaculated the priest starting a little, but
after a moment re-settling himself placidly as he re-
plied, -
" Fore-warned is fore-armed, my son. I will terrify
madame by letting her see that I dimly suspect a
motive in her zeal which she has never dared to
confess to -Tie."
" And now, father, I will to bed : we will have a
long talk to-morrow after mass; and I shall set out
upon my journey home as soon as sunset allows me
to travel, as soon as Sunday is over, that is."
"What, you yield to these Puritan edicts 1" ex-
claimed the priest contemptuously.
" If I did not, I should taste Puritan discipline,"
replied the doctor tranquilly: "besides, father, you
A CRUCIAL TEST. 315
must remember, as I have just been telling Madame
de Montarnaud, that this land is now my land, and
this people my people."
" But never their God your God, I hope, my son,"
replied the priest solemnly.
"Is there, then, more than one God, my father?"
sked LeBaron significantly.
316 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE BELLE ISLE.
AND so the years went softly on in the quaint
town beside the sea, until Lazarus LeBaron was
a fine, stout lad of thirteen years, with his father's
stalwart Norman figure, and his mother's calm and
steadfast eyes. And still it was Time the Perfecter,'
and not Time the Destroyer, that left his mark upon'
Molly LeBaron's face and form, changing her girlish
comeliness to the stately beauty of her matronhood,
giving through the expansion of the mind, and greater
intelligence of the feelings, depth to the eyes, mobility
to the mouth, and a greater range of inflection to the
voice; while the peaceful an"i regular life, the calm
temper, and constant sunshine of her home, con-
served the delicacy of her complexion, the youthful
roundness of her outlines, and the smoothness of her
brow.
So thought her husband, idly watching her as she
moved around the room arranging little matters,
flecking away specks of dust, painting the lily of spot-
less cleanliness with yet an added lustre.
"Yes, doctor," she was saying, "I really think a
voyage would do you great good. You have been so
overworked through this sickly September ; and, at any
THE BELLE ISLE. 317
rate, our cruel winters always tell upon you. Remem-
ber the cough you had last year "
" Yes ; I took cold when I was six years old, and
that was the result," interposed LeBaron, in the grave,
quizzical tone in which he met so many of his wife's
solicitudes, and to which she now dryly replied,
" I dare say. It was unfortunate ; but still, now that
you have so good a chance to make a trip to the
Havana and back, and cost you nothing, for Capt.
Pinot said before that he would take you at any time
for the pleasure of your company "
" Ay, but, my dear, Capt. Pinot never had my com-
pany long enough to find out that there is no pleasure
in it. Would you have me cheat the worthy mari-
ner?"
" Ah, Francis ! don't torment me, when I'm trying
to persuade thee to do thyself a service, and not to
think of how I'll miss thee, dear." And throwing
down the duster, Molly came, and, crouching at her
husband's side, laid her folded hands upon his breast,
and raised her fair face to his with an irresistible ges-
ture of entreaty and devotion. LeBaron stooped, and
kissed her tenderly, then smoothing away the hair
from her brow, looked long and earnestly into the
clear, good eyes steadfastly upraised to his. It was a
minute or two before either spoke ; and then he said
very gently,
" Molly, thou'rt a fair woman, and better than that
thou'rt a good woman, and strong and brave as thou
art sweet. I would I were a better man for thy sake,
dear wife."
318 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
A lovely morning glow stole over the noonday
beauty of the upturned face ; and then it hid itself upon
his breast, and the arms crept up around his neck, and
never A word came from the fond tremulous lips, and
nevei a word was needed.
Tht door was suddenly thrown open ; and a bright,
handsome boy stood on the threshold, opened his eyes
a little at the unwonted sight, yet with the tact of all the
Montirnauds went straight on with his message as if
he saw nothing :
" Father, Capt. Pinot has come ashore, and bid me
ask if you would come off to the ' Belle Isle ' to see a
passenger of his, a gentleman, too ill to come ashore,
A nobleman, and very rich."
"Yet not noble enough nor rich enough to keep
himself in health, nor cure himself when ill," remarked
the doctor, always on the lookout to cut down any
aristocratic weeds springing in his son's character.
" No ; but the captain spoke as if he were a rery
great man, and he's not over civil generally."
" Hah ! Very great that might mean dropsy ; and
not over civil that may be spleen," said the doctor
musingly, as he stepped into the office, and changed
his coat and shoes. Lazarus colored a little, but
glanced at his mother, whose calm eyes were fixed on
his, and remained silent.
"Come to the wharf with me, my boy," said the
doctor presently emerging. " Perhaps you can in-
dulge in the dear delight of going off to the brig."
"That's what I like ! " exclaimed the lad gayly ; and
down the steep of Leyden Street they went, and along
THE BELLE ISLE. 319
the wharf past Pilgrim Rock, distinctly recognized but
not specially honored in those early days, to where the
captain's gig, manned by two sturdy Jack Tars, lay
tossing up and down on the gay October waves.
The captain himself, a bluff yet civil Breton, stood
impatiently watching the doctor's approach, and, after
a hearty grasp of the hand, and greeting in the foreign
yet fluent English necessary to his traffic, gestured
toward the boat, saying,
" Let us go then, let us go ! This monsigneur of
a passenger of mine is in such a thousand devils of a
hurry always. Will young master go aboard? It is
most admirable. Quick, then. Oars ! "
"So your passenger is ill. Is it of the sea? " asked
the doctor tranquilly, as the boat shot away from the
wharf, and pursued a course, very like that of a rocking
horse, toward the brig.
" Not altogether," replied the captain, lowering his
voice to a confidential tone. "He is old and very
rich, and he once was young and very rich ; and one
naturally pays in one's latter years for the gayeties of
ones earlier years if one has been immoderate."
" You are a philosopher, captain."
" Well, one sees the world as one travels around it ;
and one finds time for thinking between Bordeaux or
Marseilles and Boston or Plymouth."
" It is true, my friend. And our invalid's jame ? :
" The Marquis de Vieux."
" I don't like marquises, they're unlucky to me,"
muttered the doctor rapidly ; but Lazarus heard him,
and remembered the words later.
320 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" And he's going to Hayti, is he ? "
" Yes : he has great estates there, and has made up
his mind that the climate of the tropics is just what he
needs to make him a boy again. Expects to find the
fountain of youth, you know, doctor."
And the worthy Pinot laughed uproariously at his
own jest, but sobered sufficiently to whisper just as the
boat grazed the brig's quarter,
" Better be a little careful with your patient, doctor :
he has the devil's own temper, but he's enormously
rich, and can afford it. Why, there's enough gold and
silver in one shape and another aboard here to buy up
yon little town of Plymouth altogether."
" My good Pinot, you mistake," replied LeBaron
quietly. " There is not enough to buy even the poor
doctor of Plymouth."
An hour later Dr. LeBaron, pale, silent, and ab-
stracted, descended the side of the " Belle Isle," and
was rowed ashore without speaking a word. As he
and his son climbed the steep street toward home,
however, he stopped, and, with a hand upon the boy's
shoulder, turned to gaze thoughtfully down at the
French brig gently tossing upon the incoming tide,
and from that upon the bright face of the lad turned
wistfully up toward him. But, educated in the strict
discipline of the age, Lazarus asked no question until
his father, smiling in his grave way, said,
"Well, boy, what is it?"
" I don't know, father ; only I wish the 'Belle Isle '
had not put in at our harbor this trip."
" Say you so, Lazarus, say you so 1 " exclaimed his
THE BELLE ISLE. 321
father in a tone more thoughtful than the boy's words
seemed to warrant. They walked on in silence ; but
just at the angle of the hill, before reaching home, the
doctor again laid hand upon the boy's arm, and
asked,
" Lazarus, art man enough to care for thy mother
and the home affairs some three months or maybe
four?"
" I'd try, father."
"Why, that's thy mother's own boy. 'I'll try'
means more with her, and maybe with her son, than
the strongest ' I will ' of most others. Go now, we'll
look for thee at dinner-time."
In the pleasant sitting-room, with the door open to
the office so that she could see the doctor's leathern
arm-chair beside the garden window, sat Molly sewing
busily, and softly singing one of the psalms with which
St. Paul bade men make merry. Her husband, coming
in, stood for a moment to watch her, then seating him-
self, and trifling with her work-basket, said,
" And so you think, Mistress Molly, that I had bet-
ter go to Hayti in the ' Belle Isle ' ? "
Molly grew pale, and the psalm died off her lips ;
but raising a brave face, she replied in a voice as
brave,
"Yes, Francis: it will be for your health, I am
sure."
" But what then if I stay four months, until Febru-
ary we will say?"
" Four months, Francis ! Is it best for you to do
80?"
322 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" That is for Molly to say. There is a sick old man
on board the 'Belle Isle,' sick and whimsical, and
very rich. He is all alone but for two servants, and
he has quarrelled with all his kith and kin. He is
going to his estates in Hayti, and he will die there
before spring : that is a confidence, my wife."
" You needed not to tell me so," said Molly proud-
ly ; but her husband only tapped her lightly on the
cheek, a favorite caress, and went on.
"Well, this droll old gentleman, who calls himself, I
know not what, marquis I believe, has taken, at first
sight, so violent a fancy to the poorhouse doctor of
Plymouth Colony, that he must have him to go on the
voyage, and establish him on the estates. That would
take two' months or so ; and, as I foresee that he will
find himself altogether worse so soon as he leaves the
sea, he will cling to me as the last hope ; and, if there
is no other physician at hand, I can hardly leave him
just at once. So we must put the absence at three
to four months ; and my marquis of Carrabas will give
me in advance, here in my hand, Molly, three hun-
dred louis d'or, equal to three hundred pounds ster-
ling, as much money as I can earn in this dear
Plymouth of ours in three years, even reckoning the
ten pounds by the year for the care of the poorhouse."
" I have seen for a long time, Francis, that you were
rhafing at your narrow bounds ; yet do not mock at
the home where we have been so happy." And just a
little tinge of resentment colored the wife's cheek, and
rang through her gentle voice. LeBaron looked keenly
it her, and laughed in an unmirthful fashion.
THE BELLE ISLE. 323
"You answer your own mind, and not my words,
wife," said he. "Well, what think you of my lord
marquis of Carrabas and his three hundred pounds?"
" I think you will go with him."
" Nay, then, by all the saints in the calendar, my
Grizel, I will not go with such a sending."
" How, what, what do you mean, Francis ? "
" Why, such a patient face, and such a mournful
voice, and such an air of resignation." And LeBaron,
half vexed, stood looking down at Molly half wounded ;
and neither spoke, until Desire, showing a flushed face
at the door, inquired,
"Is the doctor at home? Well, then, shall I put
dinner on, and be done with it early? "
" Yes, if it is ready, and you are ready, doctor,"
said the mistress in a tone of relief; and so they sat
down, and before the meal was over Molly cheerfully
said, " I must be busy now in looking over your sum-
mer clothes, my dear, and seeing what else you need.
It will be all summer in Hayti, I suppose."
" It is the best of summers where you are, sweet,"
replied her husband ; and so the question was decided.
Four days later the " Belle Isle " sailed out past
the Gurnet ; and Lazarus, standing beside his mother
on Burying Hill to watch the old brig out of sight,
suddenly inquired,
"Why did father say marquises were unlucky to
him, mother? What is a marquis? "
" I think they are more unlucky to us than to him,
Lazarus," replied Molly, turning with a sigh to go
down to the village where already the shadows lay
cold and dark.
324 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME.
THE packet is in from Boston, mother ; and now
sure there will be a letter from father, won't
there ? " and Lazarus, standing close at his mother's
side, kissed the glossy head so often drooping as now
over the work in her lap. She looked up eagerly
enough at his words, and answered with a smile,
" God send it may be so, my boy ! Almost three
months, and the ' Belle Isle ' never heard fom."
" But then you know Capt. Pi not did not mean to
make this port on his return voyage, mother."
"No; but I thought we should hear. Well, it
nay be now. Go down to the wharf, Lazarus, and
ee if tho mail-bag has come ashore."
" Kiss une, mother, before I go."
" Why, there, dear child. But all is as God wills
Lazarus."
Half an hour later, when the boy returned, his
mother came out of the doctor's dressing-room ; and
ler face was very pale, but very radiant.
"There is no letter for us, mother; but Master
Bradford bid me say he had news that he would give
you for himself presently. He was talking with a
stranger man who came down in the schooner, a
sailor, I think."
MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME. $2$
"Now God help us, my boy! If he had good
news, kind Master Bradford would have said it out.
Stay here, Lazarus, I may want you, my son, to help
me bear what is coming."
And turning back into the little room, so altogether
her husband's, Mary LeBaron shut her doors about
her, and sought for strength where she had so often
found it, and should yet so often seek it.
Lazarus gently tapped upon the door. "Master
Bradford is down stairs, mother."
" I will come." But when she entered the room,
and gave her cold hand to the venerable man, and
fixed her great asking eyes upon his, it was down his
cheek, not hers, that the tears flowed fast ; and it was
his voice that scarce was audible for emotion, as he
said, forgetting all his careful preparation,
" ' The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,' my
daughter."
" Blessed be the name of the Lord," replied the
white lips of the bereaved woman ; and, sitting down
in the nearest chair, she covered her face for a mo-
ment, then said in a strangely hushed voice,
" Tell me as quickly as may be, good friend. I can
bear it better to hear it all out at once."
So subduing his own emotion, Master Bradford told
how the " Belle Isle " had encountered in the Bahama
waters ther craft of a famous buccaneer of that time
and locality, named Black Beard, who, from his lair
in one of the inlets of the island since called New
Providence, sallied forth, now to attack some vessel
whose freight he had reason to suppose valuable, and
326 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
now to make raids upon the mainland, his ravages
extending as far north as the Carolinas. 1 Either from
information or by a shrewd guess, none could now
say which, Black Beard had decided that the " Belle
Isle " was worth his capture on this occasion, and had
lain in wait for her, taken her by surprise, slaughtered
most of the crew, and having thoroughly stripped her,
not only of the treasures of the poor marquis, but of
every other valuable, had secured her crew and pas-
sengers, living and dead, below hatches, set fire to the
brig, and sailed away, leaving her to consume and
sink.
One of the sailors, sick in his berth below at the
time of the attack, had crawled out of one of the port-
holes, secured a floating spar, and in the confusion
and smoke of the onslaught contrived to float out of
the immediate vicinity of the pirate before any one had
leisure to discover or pursue him ; and after a night
and day in the water was picked up by some natives
from one of the other islands, who would have sold
him to Black Beard as a slave, had not he fortunately
effected his escape, and worked his way to Massachu-
setts Bay, where he hoped to find some French vessel
returning home. Telling his story to the governor,
who two hundred years ago occupied more the posi-
tion of father and guardian of the colony than the
governors of to-day do or could, he was sent on to
Plymouth Plantation, there to give by word of mouth
the heavy news so important, not only to Dr. Le-
Baron's family, but to those of two other townsmen
who had taken passage on the " Belle Isle."
MARQUISES ARE UNLUCKY TO ME. 327
Such in brief was the news that the kind Bradford,
then ruling Plymouth, had come to give as best he
might to LeBaron's widow ; and, having given it, to
kneel and pray beside her that God would give strength
to endure the loving chastisement His own hand in-
flicted.
Molly listened to heavy news, eloquent prayer, and
well-spoken consolation, with the same set white face
and fixed, unseeing eyes for all. When the somewhat
puzzled magistrate rose to go, she rose too, and, hold-
ing out her hand, said gently,
" I thank you very much, Master Bradford, and will
you kindly excuse me to any of the neighbors who
may speak of coming to see me before to-morrow? I
had rather be alone."
"Will you not see the elder? "
" No, if it please you, sir. I had rather be alone."
" Then you shall, poor child ; and none shall take
offence if Desire denies you at the door."
And we, too, will leave her alone.
328 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XL.
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT.
NO doubt our Puritan and Pilgrim ancestors pos-
sessed affections and sentiment like ourselves ;
but these graces of life were, in the stern first century
of their experience on the sterile shores of New Eng-
land, made so subservient to the iron principles upon
which their commonwealth was founded, the tastes
of the individual were so constantly sacrificed to the
well-being of the community, that small evidence of
even ordinary feeling appears upon the surface of
their records. Notably is this the case in the matter
of second marriages ; for from the first landing of the
Pilgrims, or rather from the first winter when so many
marriages were dissolved by death, it seemed to be
received as a grave political if not moral duty, that
grief for the dead should be postponed to care for the
living; and the widowed mourner should, after the
briefest possible widowhood, take another partner, and
raise up children for the Lord and His people.
Rose Standish had not lain many months in her
grave when her husband applied for the hand of Pris-
cilla Mullins; Dorothy Bradford had hardly settled
herself to her wave-rocked slumber before the gover-
nor sent over seas for fair Alice Southworth, his first
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 329
love, to come and be his second wife. And all through
the records of those early days we find the marriages
following the burials so rapidly that the funeral meats
might have been at least lukewarm for the marriage
feast.
In view of this state of things Mary LeBaron was
not scandalized, although much grieved, when her dear
old friend Bradford called upon her one autumnal
day, about a year after her husband's loss, and premis-
ing his errand with some kindly commonplaces, to
which she replied in her gentle, absent fashion, came
to the pith of his errand in this direct style :
" I have come to-day, my dear child, to give you
some counsel which I do earnestly desire you to fol-
low. I would see you married again, as St. Paul ad-
vises the younger widows ever to do ; and I have a good
and suitable husband to propose. One, too, who has
some sort of a claim upon you, in that you once were
troth-plight to him, and broke the bond for no other
reason than a maid's idle fancy. I mean Reuben
Hetherford, Mary."
"Reuben Hetherford has spoken with me, good
father Bradford, and I have given him his answer,"
replied Molly quietly, but with a little color rising to
her cheek, a little light to her eye. The patriarch
smiled, and lifted a gently deprecating hand.
" I know it, Mary : I heard it all from Hetherford
himself; and it seemed to me you had shown him less
than your usual gentleness. I hardly knew our dove-
like Mistress LeBaron hi the scornful dame whose
words he reported."
33O A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" It is like him to try to set you against me, sir, you
who have been my best friend since but I will not
contradict him. Believe me a shrew an you will, father ;
but let me, in all reverence to you, say again, as I said
to him, I am the wife of one man, and that man Fran-
cis LeBaron. And though God has in His righteousness
removed him from my sight, from this world even, he
is none the less my husband ; and I can no more take
another than can Dame Sampson because her husband
has gone voyaging around the world."
" But, mistress, you will not make yourself more
faithful or more righteous than the fathers of our col-
ony here " began the governor rather severely ; but
Mary, putting her hands together, raised them in such
meek deprecation of his anger that he paused irreso-
lutely, and she took advantage of his doubt to put in
her own plea.
" Nay, father, be not displeased : say that I am but
a poor, silly woman, and let me go my way, looking
only to your honorable guardianship for protection
and counsel; for in very truth Reuben Hetherford
could never fill your place in those respects. I shall
be no charge to any one ; for when the money my
dear husband left in your hands is gone, I can sell
my farm near Falmouth, and I think already of open-
ing a little dame-school here in my own sitting-room ;
there are many who would trust their children to me ;
and I may dismiss Desire, and there are other econo-
mies in truth, father, I need no man to care for my
affairs except yourself."
"But the lad, Mary 1 Lazarus surely needs a
father."
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 331
" He has one, sir ; and one of his daily lessons is to
learn to be what that father would have him. I may
be all unfit to train him, but Reuben Hetherford shall
never be master over Dr. LeBaron's son."
"Pride, Mar>', and bitterness and prejudice and
perversity. Those are the good gifts you would give
your son, are they?" asked Bradford severely,
" Better those than cruelty and treachery and false-
hood, the goodly blossoms of Hetherford's nature," re-
plied Molly, in so undaunted a tone that the governor
rose in much displeasure, and would have left the
room but for the fair, soft woman suddenly replacing
the self-asserting matron who opposed him but now,
and who clasping his hand in her own long, smooth
fingers raised it to her lips saying,
"Nay then, nay father, but I will not have you
leave me so. Did not you promise to be a father to
the fatherless and to the widow? and have not I given
you the love and reverence of a daughter? Forgive
my obstinacy, and do not altogether break my heart
by going away in anger."
"Well there, then, child, there. Kneel down and
take my blessing. I was vexed, no doubt ; but, after
all, God himself guides such as you, and I need not
to meddle. Hetherford shall not persecute you, nor
shall any one."
So that danger went by, and the winter passed.
Mary opened her dame-school, and dismissed Deshe,
but, besides her household duties and the care of her
little ones, found time to carry on the lessons her hus-
band had begun with his son, and which were already
332 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
far beyond the most advanced branches of the village
school system. The governor occasionally examined
the lad, and looked at his books, generally making the
mother's heart flutter before he left her by prophesying,
that, in a few months more, master must be sent to
Boston, or perhaps to the new college at Cambridge,
t: finish his education, already outgrowing a woman's
grasp.
After one of these examinations and prophecies,
the widow's candle burned very late o' nights for a
long time ; and her sweet, steadfast eyes grew red, not
with weeping only, but with poring over Latin and
even Greek grammar and lexicon, and puzzling al-
gebraic signs, interpreted finally more by intuition
spurred by love, than any colder mental process.
It was the next morning after one of these visits,
and one of these vigils, that Molly received a visitor
admitted by Lazarus, who came to call his mother, and
take her place in the little school while she received
him. A tall, dark, handsome man, the top of his
head bald or shaved, and the black hair beneath a
little gray, although the firmness of the muscles and
clearness of the eyes suggested that mental toil and
hardship, rather than age, had added the silver threads.
He stood in the middle of the parlor as the widow
entered, and gravely bowed, remaining silent until she
spoke.
"I remember you very well, sir, although I have
lot seen you since the night of my marriage, and do
iot know your name. But as his friend " And
hen, a sudden thought striking her, all the gentle
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 333
calm of her manner broke up in a most unwonted
whirl of agitation, the soft color fled her cheek, the
eyes filled, the lips quivered, and, hardly able to com-
mand her voice, she gasped,
" Oh ! You are his friend ! You know all you
were with him before I knew him he would do
you know O sir ! is he is he alive ? "
" Ah, madame ! If he were, you would not have
seen me stand here, here in his home so silent and so
sad ! " replied the abbd in real emotion. " I loved
him, madame, not as you, I do not claim it, but I
loved him more than ever I loved mortal before or
since, and the news of his fearful death has changed
the face of all the world to me."
But Molly hardly heard the loving tribute, so touch-
ing when offered by a man to the memory of a man.
The sudden hope, the deadly revulsion, were too much
for strength already sorely taxed ; and, sinking sud-
denly into a chair, she grew so white that Despard
would have called for assistance, had not she found
strength to whisper, " Wait ! " and then, summoning
her indomitable will to fortify her exhausted energies,
she sat upright and said,
" Excuse me, sir. It was a foolish idea. Nobody
would have known it sooner than I if my husband
had been alive. When did you see him last? "
" About two years ago, madame. A little before he
sailed for Hayti."
" Where ? You were not here, surely ? ' ' asked Mclly
a little sharply, a little jealously. The abbe recog-
nized the tone ; and his own became confidential as he
replied,
334 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" No, madame : I have had some business in Bos
ton during the last few years, very delicate and pecu-
liar business ; and it was, above all, desirable that no-
body should discover my identity. My dear doctoi
sometimes visited me : but you know his sense of
honor, and his loyalty ; he promised to tell no one,
no one at all, of my affairs, and so no doubt felt him-
self debarred from mentioning me to one who doubt-
less shared all the secrets of his life, not so defended."
He looked inquiringly and a little watchfully at
Molly, who raised her head, and met his eyes fully and
almost defiantly ; and when she spoke her voice was
clear and cold as the north wind whistling past the
windows.
"You are mistaken, sir: I was agreed with my hus-
band that all his life before we met should be to me as
it had never been. You belonged to that life, and
you were never mentioned between us after the first
evening of our re-union. I do not even know your
name, and I do not desire to know it : the secrets
my husband living kept from me are doubly sacred to
me now that he is gone. I am not even sure, pardon
the discourtesy of the words, but I am not at all sure
thai it was well for you to visit me to-day ; for I do
not think he would have bidden you hither had he
been alive."
Despard remembered his visit of fourteen years
before to the Bunch of Grapes, when Dr. LeBaron
had declined to admit his guest to a sight of the
domestic felicity he boasted, and was silent. Molly
continued,
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 335
" And yet I cannot be sorry to see one who kne\
and loved him whom I hold so dear. You are kindly
welcome, sir." And as she gave him her hand, the
conflict of feeling, the glow of tenderness, the doubt,
the eyes brimming with tears yet not overflowing, the
tender, tremulous mouth, despite the true, firm voice, all
combined to make so fair a picture of her face, all
told so clearly of the great loving heart, and the pow-
erful will, and the inflexible honor, and the truth before
God and man, that made up this woman's character,
that the priest, no mean judge of human nature, no
tyro in the nature of women especially, forgot, in read-
ing that noble page outspread before him, to release
the hand he held, or to make reply to the words he
hardly heard, so that it was the widow herself who,
with a little added dignity, presently said,
" Sit down, I pray you, sir, and tell me if you will
what brought you to our little town."
" Pardon my stupidity, madame. I was but think-
ing that my friend had indeed shown his usual rare
discernment in the selection of his wife. My errand ?
It is one that since I have seen you I am almost afraid
to unfold ; and yet, the strong mind, the noble self-
command I see, should give me confidence that their
possessor will not allow any excess of maternal fond-
ness to resent"
"What!" demanded Molly almost sharply. "You
speak of my son, of Lazarus ? What do you know of
him?"
" Only that he so wonderfully resembles his father
to face, form, and voice, that I am sure he must in
336 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
mind also ; while his mother's calm and truthful eyes
give steadiness and purpose to the whole."
" Yes, he is very like his father. And then? "
The abb6 smiled a little. The idiom caught from
I^Baron's French- English mode of speech pleased
him.
" And then, madame," replied he gayly, " it would
seem well fitting with the rest, that the son so like his
father should be trained as was his father, and by the
same hand. It cannot infringe upon the privacy you
so nobly respect, for me to say that I educated Fran-
cois from his early boyhood, and you know how I
succeeded."
" Master Bradford, our governor, and all the men
fit to pronounce on such matters here, will have it that
my husband possessed more learning than all of them
together," said Molly in proud simplicity.
"The worthy gentlemen show themselves fit for
their honorable office," replied the abb6 with a bow.
" Well, then, madame, all at a blow, I petition for the
privilege of educating the son as I did the father.
You believe me competent?"
" Oh yes, sir ! fully competent, and the advantage
to my poor boy would be untold; and indeed it
would be a most fitting thing that the father and son
should learn of the same lips ; and I thank you most
kindly for the thought, but" and Molly's fluent
words suddenly checked, and the color left her cheek
as she slowly added, "but are you coming to this
place to live, sir?"
" G< d forbid ! '' and the abbe imperceptibly crossed
himself 'r\ horror.
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 337
"Then how could it be?" demanded Molly re-
proachfully.
" Surely, madame, Boston is not so very far from
here," replied the priest, not daring yet to announce
the whole intention of his visit ; but Molly's rapid
instinct forestalled him.
" You do not mean e 'en Boston," cried she : " you
would take him away ! You have come here to rob
rne of my son ! "
A swarthy red showed for an instant upon Despard':>
sallow cheek ; and suddenly adopting a new tone he
replied,
" Well, yes, madame : my plan, or rather the plan
of those who have a certain authority to arrange your
son's destiny, is more extended than I at first an-
nounced ; and, had you been a weaker woman, I
might have waited some months before revealing the
whole"
" Spare all pretences, now at least, good sir,"
interrupted Molly more bitterly than she often spoke,
" and tell me, as briefly as you may, who pretends to
have any authority over my son, except myself; and
what is the worshipful plan they have conceived?"
"Briefly, then," replied the abbe 1 , stung by her
scorn almost beyond his usual self-command, " th
relatives of your late husband are of a very differen.
rank fn>m that the boy at present moves in ; and as
he will be heir to certain estates, or rather is now the
actual possessor of"
" Hold there, sir, if you please, and remember my
caution against betraying the confidence my husband,
338 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
t
somewhat riskily as it seems, reposed in you. Besides,
it matters not what claims my boy might have any-
where but here ; for here is the only home his father
desired to claim, here the only relatives his son will
ever own. It seems needless to speak further of wha
brought you here, does it not?"
"Perhaps, madame," replied the abb, now thor
oughly out of temper, " perhaps even your marvellous
wisdom will allow me to judge for myself of my own
affairs; and I insist, before accepting my dismissal,
upon clearly stating that I come with offers of a thor-
ough education, of a handsome fortune, a distinguished
name, and a most suitable alliance for the young gen-
tleman of whom we speak, upon the one condition of
your resigning him into my hands ; and it seems to
me, courtesy apart, that a woman strong and sensible
as yourself, a mother tender and self-sacrificing as
yourself, would think twice before refusing such ad-
vantages for her son. What but sheer selfishness and
self-will should induce you to prefer for him the life
of poverty, obscurity, and immolation, which is all
these sands and pine forests have to offer?"
"Nay, sir," replied the widow, with a smile cold
and fine as the edge of a razor, " they have for him
what they had for the men whose graves you find on
yonder hill, what they had for the man whose name 1
bear, and whose wishes are my law : they have free-
dom, freedom from tyranny, freedom from corrup-
tion, freedom from other men's control. My son will
live in the home his father preferred to all the riches,
honors, and alliances of which you speak, and which
MOLLY HOLDS THE FORT. 339
I shall forget just as soon as I possibly can, sith it was
not his pleasure to tell me of them. You have my
last answer, sir."
"Then nothing remains but to bid you a fair good-
day, and a long adieu, since we are not likely to meet
again," said the abb angrily.
" Most unlikely, I should judge. Good-by, and go
in peace, my husband's friend," replied Molly, in her
usual tone of gentle gravity.
340 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XLI.
UTTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD TO MADAME DE
MONTARNAUD.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER, In reply to your last some-
what impatient letter, I will simply say that I have
done my best, and all that is possible, to carry out your
wishes, and that I have failed, and the plan must be abandoned.
As for your idea of kidnapping the boy, for it amounts to that,
it is absolutely out of the question ; and I rather wonder at
your suggesting it to one you profess to reverence as your
spiritual father. I told you of my interviews with Hetherford,
and the dowry I promised in your name if he married the
widow and relinquished the boy, although, in point of fact, he
needed no inducement to either course. I also suggested his
interesting the governor of the colony, who is madame's great
friend and adviser, and taught him varioup arguments he
should offer to that gentleman. This negotiation failing in toto,
I saw the lady herself, and have given you the result of the
interview in a letter you had apparently not received at date of
your last. Probably you have done so before this time. That
woman should have sat upon a throne, or led an army. She was
so completely mistress of the situation in our encounter, that I
retreated from her presence in a state of humiliation more
wholesome than agreeable, and my meekness ever since has
been most edifying. In all seriousness, my daughter, your
schemes for this lad are absolutely impossible of execution
and we must marry Mademoiselle Therese to some noble sieur
of Languedoc, who will add her name and title to his own.
and at least keep the estates out of the clutches of the
LETTER FROM THE ABBE DESPARD. 341
Huguenot. En passant, our good and pious king, advised nc
doubt by Madame de Maintenon, seems dealing somewhat stren-
uously with ces messieurs since the revocation of Nantes. Well,
we must not allow human sympathies and weakness to blind us
to the true interests of the Church; and I sometimes wish that
these people among whom I labor to so little effect, and who in
their own country are styled Malignants, could be transported
to France, and there dealt with after the fashion of Vendee.
And yet I know one fair, soft creature who would see the flesh
cut piecemeal from her bones, and the bones wrenched asunder
by wild horses, before she would give up her faith or her will
or her son.
With this, goes a letter to my superior, asking a leave of
absence, if not an abandonment of the mission. It does not
prosper, and would not, as I believe, even in worthier hands
than mine. If the people were without a faith like savages, or
in the way of comparing their own sterile belief with the full
and satisfying creed of the true Church, as in the Italian
countries, or in fear of death and poverty as now in France,
there would be hope ; but to ask these smooth-faced, prosperous
rogues to give up their worldly standing and sanctimonious
public prayers, to risk life and goods, and the respect of men,
for a faith which they have always known and deliberately
abandoned, is, as you saw while here, an almost hopeless under-
taking. I could hardly wonder at your abandoning the task,
and cutting short your emulation of Madame de la Peltrie
before reaching her glorious end. Remember, however, that it
is only by the way of the cross that we reach the crown.
And now, my dear daughter, I will say adieu, hoping that
it may also be an au revoir ; for if my permission to depart
arrives by return mail, you will see me as soon thereafter as
wind and wave will carry me. I struggle in vain against the
very human desire to see my own dear home and friends once
more, and the spiritual longing to join again in the stately and
venerable service of my beloved cathedral.
With my blessing and constant prayers, I am as always, dear
daughter,
Faithfully your father,
VINCENT DE P. DESPAKIJ.
342 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
When Madame de Montarnaud read tiih letter
some four or five weeks later, she quietly refolded it,
nodded her head twice or thrice, and murmured,
" I suppose & bon Dieu made these men to develop
the superior intelligence of the women. We never
quite know our own powers until we find it necessary
to remedy their blunders."
ON BURYING-HILL. 343
CHAPTER XLII.
ON BURYING-HILL.
TT was the chill gloaming of a November day ; a
J. leaden sky hung low above the flat and lifeless sea,
crushed by its weight, and reflecting its color; the
skeleton trees shivered in the wind moaning fitfully
out of the east, and slowly bringing in a great fog-
bank to lie like a shroud over the face of dead Na-
ture, a chill, defying duffle mantle, or robe of fur,
and sending a shiver through even the stoutest frame ;
while the old wives, comforting their frosty noses and
withered fingers at the blaze snapping upon every
hearth, cried,
" Hark to the fire treading snow ! It will be a
shrewd night on the coast. God keep the sailors ! "
"They signalled another brig off the Gurnet just
before dark," reported goodman Priest, as he stood
beside the chimney, and stirred the logs with his
heavy boot.
"Another? Oh, yes ! 'The Messenger' from Bos-
ton came in this morning," replied his wife. " Well,
if the brig's skipper is a prudent man, he'll stay off
the Gurnet till morning light, and not risk Brown's
Island and Dick's Flat in a night fog."
" Pity but he had thee there to guide him, dame,"
344 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
replied her husband with a chastened smile ; and the
dame retorted, "And if he has no better headpiece
on's shoulders than thee, Diggory, he needs me."
Creeping in, and creeping up, the fog has reached
Burying-Hill, and goes stealing along between the
rows of stones marking the streets and alleys of this
city of the dead, already more populous than the
town below, hanging dankly upon the funereal ever-
greens set here and there about the graves, and seem-
ing to wither away the last freshness of the grass
crouching beneath its tread. And here, at the highest
point of the hill, the fog finds a fit subject for its
clinging, crawling possession. Beside a gravestone
newly set, yet with no mound at its foot, crouches a
woman clad in deepest mourning weeds, her head en-
veloped in a muffling veil between whose folds showed
a wild and woeful face, a face where pride and pas-
sion had fought with grief until all its beauty was lost in
scars of conflict, and the great gloomy eyes, once its
charm, burned like the fires whereby upon a stricken
field men seek the bodies of the slain.
Quiet and impassive as the dead around her she
crouched there ; but it was not in the gentle resigna-
tion of hallowed grief; the volcanic throes were for
the moment exhausted, yet only gathered strength for
a new outburst. On that face, as on that of Milton's
Satan, one read that so long as the deathless spirit en-
dured, so long it was that of a rebel against God;
never should it arrive at His peace.
At a little distance, his back turned to the silent
mourner, stood a man, his hat pulled over his eyes,
ON BURYING-HILL. 345
his arms folded, his face, gray as the sky and the sea
and the fog, bent downward, his mind so lost in
gloomy thought that the present scene and companion-
ship were forgotten, and he did not hear the light tread
of a woman, who, climbing the little footpath among
the graves, passed close behind him, and approached
the stone with the sable figure crouched beside it.
This woman also was in mourning, but of a less
exaggerated sort than the other; and the close little
hood, concealing nearly all her hair, left exposed a
face white, and thin, and grief-worn indeed, but still
and holy as the effigies of a saint. Tears and vigil,
and prayer without ceasing, had indeed wasted away
the roundness and much of the comeliness of youth,
but had left in its place a radiant loveliness, a solemn
and thrilling beauty never seen save on the faces of
"they who, with their Leader, have conquered in the
fight ; " faces from which men " take knowledge that
they have been with Jesus."
Approaching the stone with her quiet tread, she
presently stood unperceived beside the other, who,
with her face buried in her hands, was now sobbing
heavily. Mary Wilder looked at her a moment in
grave surprise, then, laying a hand upon her shoulder,
softly said,
" Friend, why dost thou weep beside this stone ? "
The crouching figure sprang to her feet, drew the veil
across her face, and haughtily demanded,
" What is that to you, madame ? "
" Much," replied Molly patiently. " For this stone
is placed here in memory of my husband, as you may
346 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAtf.
read ; and one who mourns beside it must have known
and loved him, and so is dear to me."
" Oh ! You are the peasant whom he chose to
style his wife ! " exclaimed Valerie in a tone of biting
contempt, as she swept the veil aside, and looked her
rival in the face. A little color crept into Molly's
cheek ; but her voice remained patient and sweet as
she replied,
"I was indeed his wife, madame, both was and
am, for death has not broken the bond ; and that I
was his wife in sight of God and man, this gentleman
can testify, sith he it was who married us."
" This lady is indeed the widow of our friend, my
daughter, and should be so treated," replied the abb,
who had approached at the sound of voices, and now
stood beside his charge. For reply Valerie pointed
contemptuously at the stone, and said,
" Why, see ! she does not even know his name.
Francis LeBaron she styles him. Pr'ythee, madame,
what do you call yourself? "
" By my husband's name, as wife and widow should.
I am Mary LeBaron."
" But, good woman, that is no name, as even you
must know. What other name had he? What was
he called before, as I have heard, you yourself invented
his absurd title, name, whatever you choose to call
it?"
A puzzled look disturbed the calm of Mary's face :
the color deepened, and her eyes turned wistfully from
that angry and contemptuous face to the stone, where-
on was rudely inscribed,
ON BURYING-HILL. 347
44 To the Memory of
DOCTOR FRANCIS LEBARON
Phthycian & Chirugeon
of Plymouth Plantation.
He was lost at sea off the Bermudas
Nov y in. 1690
And this stone is raised to his memory by his
Wife and Son."
The sight of the beloved name seemed to re- assure
her ; for if without anger, it was with much dignity that
she turned her eyes again upon the face of her oppo-
nent, and said,
" I do not understand you, madame ; and I do not
care to inquire your meaning. If my husband chose
to forget his earlier history, and begin his life from his
arrival in this country, he had a right to do so. If
he chose to conceal that history even from me,
the wife whom he loved and trusted far beyond her
deserts, I will not have another hand withdraw the
veil he chose to draw. This gentleman knows my
resolve in this matter : he may explain it further ; and
as methinks it is ill proving our love and honor to him
who is gone, to wrangle over his headstone, I will bid
you a fair good-night, and go my way."
" Good-sight, madame," replied the priest, removing
his hat, and bowing courteously; but the high-bred
lady of the politest court in Christendom contemptu-
ously turned her back, and made no reply.
Poor human nature ! No gilding and no lacquer
are permanent enough to hide its deformity at some
moments of a passionate life. The only safeguard
348 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
against ugly exposure, sooner or later, is to change the
whole groundwork of the fabric, to replace the original
material with one not perhaps so highly polished on
the surface, but sound and fair throughout
A PROVENCE ROSE. 349
CHAPTER XLIII.
A PROVENCE ROSE.
MOTHER must not stay up on the hill in this
fog and chill," said Lazarus LeBaron, throw-
ing down his book, snatching his hat, and putting a
fresh log upon the fire where already the kettle softly
sang of evening cheer and domestic comfort. Hurry-
ing along through the village, whose twinkling lights and
ruddier streams of fire-blaze showed that the folk were
generally gathered about their hearthstones, the lad
began to mount the hill already dusky with night as
well as fog, when he heard a blithe young voice just
out of sight singing a little French nursery rhyme,
" Tous les vaches de Picardie
Sont nominee Marie, Marie ;
Donnez-moi du lait, cherie I "
And then exclaiming in the same language,
" Well, Marie, is there anybody up here but mes-
sieurs the dead men, do you suppose ? "
" But no, mademoiselle," replied a coarser voice.
" And who knows but they may attack us for dis-
turbing their repose? Let us return to the inn, and
await madame there as she bade us."
Lazarus, taught by his father and the French sailors
who pervaded the port in those days, understood the
350 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
language easily, but was a great deal too shy to use it
on his own account ; so hastening his steps a little, he
overtook the speakers, and said in English,
" Are you looking for somebody on the hill? "
" Ah, del! " exclaimed the merry voice ; and Laz-
arus could now see through the gloaming how fair and
bright a face went with it, before, lapsing into a cere-
monious tone and very careful English, the young
lady continued,
" You are but too good, sir ; and if you will gra-
ciously tell us if a lady is up here among the graves.
A boy said so below there, but it is so gloomy here."
" A lady, do you say ? " asked Lazarus, his eyes
fixed upon the flower-face so different from any thing
he ever yet had seen. " My mother is here ; but you
do not seek her, I fear."
"Your mother 1 No ; but it is my own that I want,"
exclaimed the girl, flashing out a smile. " Two lambs,
each crying for its sheep mamma."
Lazarus laughed too, and said something, he knew
not what ; for he was thinking that the dark velvety
pansies in his mother's garden-plot were almost as rich
as the eyes laughing into his, and that new broken
cocoanuts were not so white and fine as those litde
teeth laughing with the lips.
"Come, mademoiselle," interposed the nurse, her
sharp black eyes peering into the fog on every side,
and her French mind divided between delight in
"assisting" at even so mild an impropriety as this in-
terview, and terror lest it should be discovered. But
her young mistress was French also, and, fresh from
A PROVENCE ROSE. 351
her convent and a tedious sea- voyage, found it very
pleasant to chatter there in the twilight with a tall lad
whose fearless blue eyes so plainly told his admiration,
and upon whose downy cheek glowed a color fair to see
and unknown to southern France. So they prattled
on, these two, speaking of Heaven knows what, and
never guessing at the tragedy going on among the
graves above them, or of the tangled life threads they
might so easily smooth or still further complicate, until
upon their gossip broke a clear cold voice, saying,
" Son ! Are you looking for me ? "
" O mother ! yes, that is, this young lady
is looking for her mother. Did you see her? "
With a strange look of anger upon the face ordi-
narily so sweet and still, Mary LeBaron turned, and
fixed her eyes upon the girl, who, smiling timidly, re-
plied to the look in her pretty accented English,
" Yes, madame. My mother and her chaplain, they
went out from the inn, and asked the path to the
cemetery to see some memorial of which the landlord
told them ; and I go to seek them because it is so
lonely at the inn. You will perhaps have met them
above there."
"She married, then, and you are her daughter?"
asked Mary, her thought taking words almost uncon-
sciously.
" Married ! But yes, madame, since it is my mcth-
er of whom we speak," replied the Montarnaud so
haughtily that Lazarus colored afresh, and, drawing
closer to his mother's side, took her hand in his. Re-
called to herself, Mistress LeBaron glanced at her son,
352 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
then again at the girl, bowed her head in grave courte-
sy, and simply saying,
"There is a lady on the hill, and a priest with
her ; " she moved decidedly away, Lazarus perforce
accompanying her, although with a backward look so
wistful that a faint smile crossed his mother's face in
seeing it ; but neither spoke until close to the garden
gate, when she said,
"Lazarus, do you remember your father's saying
that marquises were unlucky to him ? "
" Yes, truly, mother."
" And did not his words prove sooth ? "
" Only too fairly true, mother."
" And did he not bid you heed me when he should
be gone ? "
"Ay; and do I not, sweet mother?"
"You have been better than the best so far, my
boy; but there comes a time, and I was called a
good daughter, too, but I was found wanting when
that day came to me, all I would say now, my boy,
is this, marquises are unlucky to all of us, as well as to
our head ; and his words were not only a prophecy,
but a warning. Yon maid is fair? "
" Passing fair and winsome, mother."
" Well, she and her mother and her priest and all
belonging to her are of the marquises ; and your father
bids you, through me your mother, beware of her and
all of them. Avoid speech or look or any association
if you would obey him, and avoid the curse of rebel-
lious children. Do you understand ? Will you heed ? "
The light of the fire within struck through the case-
A PROVENCE HOSE. 353
ment, and fell upon the speaker's face ; and 'Lazarus
almost forgot to answer for wonder at the terror, the
pleading, the agitation, pictured there : never in all
his life had he seen it so stirred ; and it was not until
his mother's cold hand closed sharply upon his, and
her voice demanded, " Well ! Have you no word for
me? " that he replied,
" I cannot tell your meaning, mother, nor why my
few words with that fair young lady should so move
you ; but to obey my father, and please you, are more
to me than all the maids with dark eyes and white
teeth who ever walked : so be content, mother, I will
not go near her or any of them, or speak to them,
an I can help it, while they stay in Plymouth. Does
that please you?"
" ' If you can help it,' " repeated the mother dubi-
ously ; and Lazarus laughed out as he replied,
" Why, yes. You would not have me turn and run,
like the tailors from the kyloe cow, if I chance to
meet these folk, and they ask me the way hither or
yon? I need not do so, though they be marquises
twice over, need I, mother?"
" Why, no, I suppose not ; and yet you know the
word of Holy Writ, touch not, taste not, handle not.
But I trust you, my boy, now that you know my will
and his will. I trust you never to deceive me," and
then, as Lazarus pushed open the gate, and hastened
to undo the door for her to enter, the widow whis-
pered bitterly to herself, "as I did my father and
mother."
354 * NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XLIV.
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED.
THE fog, brooding heavily all night over sea and
shore, lifted with the sunrise and the turn of the
tide, allowing the cautious skipper of the brig, reported
by Dame Priest as lying off the Gurnet, to make out
his landmarks, and assure himself of sufficient depth
of water to steer clear of the dangers of the harbor,
whose intricate channels were not yet buoyed out.
The pale autumn sunshine lay broad on Burying Hill,
touching the doctor's headstone with melancholy
light, and throwing its long shadow westward across
the vacant grave that should have been his. In the
village below, a note of decent merrymaking already
resounded; a sort of glee befitting men who daily
prayed to be delivered from the damnation they and
all men deserved, and who, even in praying, grasped
a loaded musket in one hand, haply to discharge it
before the orison ended at prowling beast or more
dangerous savage.
But to-day, instead of Fast and penitential exercises,
the governor had ordained a feasit of thanksgiving for
the bountiful crop (as Plymouth crops go), the peace
and safety of the colony, and God's continued favor
to these His peculiar people. It was holiday at the
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 355
dame- school ; and although the widow and her son
could not join in even the sober mirth of their neigh-
bors, nor would accept any invitation to their houses,
Mary thought good to notice the day, not only by
hearty thanksgiving for the protection and comfort
assured her by the Guardian of the widow and the
fatherless, but by a little feast, principally adapted to
her son's tastes and fancies. The doctor, partly
because he was a Frenchman, partly because he
had travelled much in lonely places, partly from
natural propensity, had his own ideas and a fair
stock of knowledge in matters of the cuisine, and had
amused himself by imparting them to his wife, and
encouraging her to experiment and sublimate in the
art least aesthetic, but most essential to domestic com-
fort, of all the band. So it was just in the act of put-
ting a chicken-pasty in the brick oven, while the fine
fat pullet already revolved before the fire at the end
of a string fastened to the ceiling, that Mistress Le-
Baron was interrupted by a sharp rap upon her front
door, and, as Lazarus was out of the way, must go to
open it herself, her fair face flushed, her round arms
bare, and some tips of bright brown locks peeping
from beneath her widow's cap, and curling with the
warmth of the neck and temples they caressed. Cer-
tainly the widow never looked so well in her attire of
ceremony ; and yet a certain womanly vexation clyed
her cheeks yet brighter, as opening the door she
found the lady of the hill, and the priest, upon the
doorstep. Gravely saluting them, she hesitated for a
moment; but seeing that they plainly intended to
356 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAM
enter, she bade them do so, and pushed open the
door of the sitting-room, where a Thanksgiving fire
blazed upon the hearth.
"I do but hope Lazarus will not come home,"
thought Mary, following them in, yet was half-ashamed
of the ungracious thought when Valerie, throwing
back her veil and holding out both hands, said,
"Will you forgive my rudeness of last night? I
was so distressed and boulevcrsee, what you say upset.
I did not sleep all night for need of your pardon, and,
besides, man pere here scolded me so much, he is so
great a friend and admirer of yours. Say that I have
your pardon, dear Madame LeBaron ! "
"Surely, if you need it, madame," replied Mary,
allowing herself to be kissed on either cheek, but not
returning the caress. " I may have been wrong myself:
at any rate, I bear no ill-will. Will you sit down ? "
"Yes, indeed : who would not sit in this so charm-
ing room? especially, madame, as we have much to
say to you, much to implore."
Mary bowed yet more coldly, and seated herself
in her own chair, that chair beside the work-table,
and commanding a view through the office-door of the
leathern arm-chair where the doctor had been wont to
sit looking out at the pretty garden behind his house,
and smoking a meditative pipe. But in these sad
days the office-door was always closed, and Mary had
made Lazarus put a button upon it to prevent the
children opening it in her absence. It was her only
luxury, poor soul, to steal away sometimes, and, closing
the doors about her, sit and weep in that old chair the
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 357
tears she never suffered to interfere with her own
duties or her boy's cheerfulness. And you may be
sure every thing in that room remained the same that
it had been on the day when LeBaron saw it last, and
no speck of dust was allowed to gather there.
"And now, dear Madame LeBaron," began Valerie
with the smile of Versailles upon her lips, but a hag-
gard anxiety in her eyes too natural to be controlled,
" we have a very, very great favor to ask of you, and a
proposition to make ; and O madame ! for love of him
we both mourn, in memory of him, in reverence to
him, do not refuse me. It is my life I ask of you ; but
that is not much, it is my child's Happiness, the wel-
fare of a great estate, the benefit of the Church of
Christ "
"Be careful, be careful, my daughter," muttered the
abb, fixing his keen eyes upon the face of his peni-
tent, who calmed herself by a great effort, and contin-
ued more quietly,
"You saw my daughter last night, madame? "
"The young gentlewoman I met upon the hill?"
" Yes. Is she not pretty, well-mannered, modest ? "
" As well as I could determine in a moment's see-
ing, she was all these." But the assenting voice was
cold and hard as the stone above the doctor's empty
grave.
"Well, madame," pursued the eager voice of the
other, while the priest's keen eyes watched every word,
" I, too, have seen your child, your son, the son of
Francois "
" You have seen him ! Where ? " demanded the
widow in a tone of mingled terror and displeasure.
358 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
" Content you, madame," replied the visitor with a
gesture of haughty derision, breaking through the con-
ciliating courtesy of her manner, " he has not dis-
obeyed your command to avoid us. The abb met
him, and would have brought him to me, but he would
not come; so, finding that he was bound to the
church, the the "
" The meeting-house we call it, madame."
" Pardon ! The meeting-house, well, we went
there ; and I sat as near the boy as I might, and stud-
ied him. O madame, it is his father's noble head and
stately form again ! It is a marvellous likeness."
"Yes, he is very like, but not so comely as his
father," said Mary softly.
" Well, then, madame," pursued Valerie, joining her
hands in passionate entreaty, " oh, then, madame ! by
that dear father's name and memory I implore you, let
your boy stand in his father's place. Suffer him to
resume the name and rank of his noble ancestors, to
inherit their estates, and to wed with his with my
daughter, the demoiselle you saw last night, and
whom, if you will, you shall see again, and question as
you will, satisfying your maternal heart that she is all
any mother could demand as her son's wife. I do not
tell you her name or mine, because you have said
more than once you would know nothing save what
your husband told you ; but I can assure you, mon-
sieur 1'abbe, whom you trust, he will assure you, that
the rank, the wealth, the position, I offer your boy are
those that any noble of France might accept with joy ;
and so far as we can, and preserve your husband's
secret, we will give proofs "
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 359
" It is useless, it is but waste of, words and hopes
and feeling, for us to talk more of this," interrupted
Mary, her lips white, her brow drawn with anguish.
" I cannot, for one moment, think of this plan of yours
with aught but horror and shame. To sell my boy !
To send him back to all from which his father fled '
To set at nought the years of struggle and endurance
with which my husband bought release from the life to
which he was born, and which he trained his son to
scorn and dread ! I will not tell you, I will not betray
the secrets of that dead heart by showing even for this,
the story that I read there ; but I know, I know as if
he were here to tell it, that I speak my husband's will
when I say that his son had better die and be buried
on that lonely hill above there, than to go back to the
luxury and vice and soul's death of the life from which
his father escaped even as by fire.
" I speak for my husband, I speak for myself, when
I say, No, never, to your proposition, and do most
earnestly beseech that it may never in any form be
repeated. It has been too much urged already."
" Obstinate" began Valerie, her haughty anger
flaming out at last ; but the priest grasped her arm,
commanding her to silence by a look, while he
smoothly said,
" One more word, dear daughter, before you turn
us out. Your son is now nearly fifteen years old, is
he not?"
" Quite so."
" And so manly of his age that his own judgment
should count for something in a matter so closely
360 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
affecting himself. Will you not consent that we
should lay the matter before him ; in your presence
if you will? "
Mary hesitated for a moment, and in a sudden
mental picture saw the boy's flushed and eager face
as he spoke last night with that fair maid upon th?
hill, and turned so reluctantly homeward ; but the
next moment the serene light of truthful love crept
back into her eyes, and she quietly said,
" You may ask him in my presence. But I know
not where he is."
"He passed the window a little while ago, and
looked in," replied the abb eagerly. " And since then
I heard the window of that room," pointing to the
study, " open very softly. I fancy our young friend
will be found there."
And the abbe" did not quite restrain a smile of
appreciation of his triumph. Mary caught and read
the smile with one glance of her eye, and proudly
saying,
" My boy would not be worth the struggle we make
if he were an eavesdropper. Look and see ! " she
unbuttoned and threw open the office-door, glanced
in, then with a stifled cry staggered back and fell into
her accustomed chair, covering her face with her
hands.
" Poor woman ! She caught him in the act," mur-
mured the abbe" ; and Valerie, with a smile of con-
temptuous triumph, swept past him into the little room,
uttered a loud shriek, and fell senseless to the floor.
" Great heavens ! " exclaimed the priest, following
her, and halting petrified upon the threshold.
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 361
There, in the leathern chair, beside the open win-
dow looking to the garden, sat Francois LeBaron, his
arms folded, his head bowed, his eyes fixed upon the
figure of his wife where she crouched rather than sat,
her ghastly face and wide eyes directed toward him
with a look of love and horror and suspense.
And yet she was first to recover self-command, and
rising painfully, to approach him step by step, her
white lips forming some noiseless phrase, her hands
outstretched toward him, who, dead or living, must
ever be dearest of all God's creatures to her heart.
As she reached the door he rose, and came toward
her, unheeding Valerie's prostrate figure in his path.
" Mary ! Wife ! " was all he said, and she was in
his arms; and Despard went to raise Valerie, and
support her to a couch ; and then arose the confusion
of broken phrases, and interrupting voices, and half
replies to half-heard questions, which take the place
of conversation at such a moment. But presently the
doctor's voice rose distinct from the confusion; and
the tones were cold and clear, and perhaps a little
mocking, a tone more familiar to the guests than to
the wife, or son, who had softly entered the room.
" Pardon for the annoyance I have caused you, my
friends. Nothing was farther from my intention than
the coup de thedtre I have effected, and I confess to
not a little annoyance when the door so suddenly
opened; but now"
"Yes, but how come you within? You who are
dead ! You whose stone we have wept over ! You
whose widow wears mourning weeds!" demanded
362 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
Despard, his cynical humor already struggling with the
honest emotion of his heart.
" It is a history, my friend, and I do not just now
feel in an historical mood," replied the doctor impa-
tiently ; for the presence of these ghosts from out the
past irritated him, and he longed to be alone with the
wife to whom he would have spoken so differently.
" Quite in brief, then, I arrived in a brig from New
Orleans an hour since, I met my son upon the wharf,
I sent him before me to prepare my wife for my
appearance, wishing, of all things, to prevent startling
or annoying her, and to avoid a scene. The boy saw
guests through the window, and ran back to tell me ;
I bade him go softly through the garden window into
my office, and unbolt the door to me ; he did so, and
I seated myself, partly to calm some inconvenient
emotions of my own, partly to wait until my wife
should be alone. So sitting, I heard enough to make
out the proposition with which you, madame, have
honored us, and to coincide perfectly with my wife's
decision. As she justly said, she spoke for me and
for herself, yes, and for the boy too, although, that you
may never resume the idea, you shall ask him for
yourself, and now. There he is."
But Valerie, revived by the care Mary had forgotten
her own emotions to render, shook her head, her
mournful eyes fixed upon Francois, who met them
steadily and without emotion.
"Speak you then, abbS," resumed the doctor.
" There is my boy : what would you of him ? "
" If I might talk quietly and more at length witt
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 363
Monsieur Lazarus " began the abbe" ; but the doctor
impatiently interrupted, "You may: you shall leave
no loophole for the future, only you shall promise
solemnly to reveal nothing at present hidden, or stay
pardon me, man pere, but I had rather, on the whole,
make the proposition myself, and here and now.
Listen, Lazarus ! you told me of the young girl you
met last night, and of this lady and gentleman speak-
ing to you this morning : that young lady is daughter
of this lady. She is, as you say, beautiful, she is very
rich, very highly born and educated ; and her mother,
for reasons I do not choose you to know, unless you
accept the offer, wishes you to marry this demoiselle,
her fortune, and her title, which would become your
own. She and this gentleman will take you with then>
to their home, and give you every advantage ana
luxury possible to procure, and I make no doubt will
treat you with all courtesy and kindness; possibly
affection, but of that I am not so clear. This is a
fair picture of what you offer, abbe", is it not? "
" Yes, my doctor, fair, but very inadequate."
"You hear, Lazarus. The abb means that I have
only given a bald outline, which you may fill in with
all the glowing additions you fancy, especially in the
direction of the young lady. The reverse of the
picture is, that from the moment you leave this place
for this object, you become an utter stranger to your
mother, to me, and to our home. You become for
me, merely a part of the association I have struggled
for twenty years to clear myself from, and to forget.
Your name, your country, your life, will all be hateful
364 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
to me, and my only effort in your direction will be to
forget your existence. My wife, do I speak your
mind, as you but now did mine ? "
"Yes, Francis, in all things."
"Then, my boy, you have the whole thing before
you, and you are to give your reply without fear 01
favor."
" Pardon," interposed the abbe, " but if the young
gentleman were to have a little time to consider. We
do not leave this until to-morrow : will you permit
that he have the night to think of it, perhaps to visit
us this evening?"
The doctor hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at
the boy, whose fair face and honest eyes were turned
intently toward his mother. It was she who spoke,
and it was with a smile of proud confidence into her
son's face,
" If you will have my opinion of it, my husband, I
would say yes. I will trust Lazarus to go there."
" Very well," replied the doctor, looking from one
to the other. " You will not forget what I have said,
my boy?"
" Not a word, father."
" And you are quite sure that I say no more than I
mean, and will carry out? "
" I am quite sure, sir. You always do as you prom-
ise, and so does my mother, and so will I."
" Ay, say you so ? " and the father well pleased held
out his hand, which Lazarus grasped manfully, and
looked across at his mother, leaning upon her hus-
band's shoulder in rare disregard of the presence of
spectators.
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 365
"And I, for my part, promise," continued the doc-
tor, " that neither my wife nor I will say another word
upon this subject in presence of the boy, until aftei
he has given you his answer at nine o'clock to-morrow
morning ; and he shall be with you this evening, on
condition, always, that my secret is religiously kept
Do you promise for yourself and the ladies, abb6 ? "
" I swear it, doctor."
"That is finished, then." And Dr. LeBaron so
plainly wished the interview also to be finished, that
Valerie indignantly rose to go ; but Despard, prevent-
ing her, said in his genial fashion,
" But after all, man docteur, how came you alive ? "
" Ah, yes ! I forgot. This devil of a pirate excuse
me, ladies, but he really was just that had, as it seems,
assured himself of the list of passengers on board the
poor ' Belle Isle ; ' and as he had especial need of a
physician and surgeon at his charming country-seat,
he gave command, before boarding, to look out for
me, and secure me alive. It was done by means of a
blow from the handle of a cutlass upon my head,
which floored me like an ox "
"Francis ! "
"Nay, Molly, 'tis all well long ago, silly child.
When I opened my eyes it was on board the pirogue
and the same night I was landed upon the island of
Monsieur Black Beard, where two or three of his wives
nursed me until I was well enough to nurse them, and
to set the leg of a young ruffian, son of Black Beard,
and already a greater villain. They watched me well
and kept me safe for a year and over, when I man
366 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
aged my escape by a boat to a neighboring island,
then to another where fishing-craft sometimes put in
for water, from there to New Orleans and home. Will
that do for a very weary man? "
" Perfectly ; and as madame is an invalid, and needs
rest, we will, if you please, say au rcvoir, and return
to our lodgings. We shall see you this evening? "
The doctor bowed profoundly in reply to Valerie's
profound courtesy ; but neither spoke, neither offered
a hand, neither sought the other's eyes. It was such
courtesy as only flourishes upon the grave of dead,
dead love.
Another moment and the visitors were gone ; and as
the door closed, the doctor turned to his wife, his face
aglow, his arms wide open, his voice broken with love
and longing, as he cried,
" My wife, my darling, my own 1 "
It was Lazarus who interrupted that moment of
paradise ; and he opened the door to say in his grave
and sonorous tones,
" Mother, the pullet is roasted to a turn, and I have
taken the pasty out of the oven."
" Yes, yes, I will come ! " exclaimed Mary, her face
all aglow as she extricated herself from her husband's
arms, and followed Lazarus to the kitchen.
The next morning about ten o'clock, Master Laza-
rus again entered the sitting-room. His mother sat
in her own chair, looking over a little pile of clothes,
remnant of the doctor's ample outfit. He sat in his
leathern chair beside the garden window of the study,
smoking his pipe, and narrating his adventures in a
WHEN THE FOG LIFTED. 367
tone of whimsical gravity all his own. As the boy
entered he became silent, and looked at his wife : she,
less self-conscious, looked at her son, her soul in her
eyes. Lazarus came close to her side, laid his arms
about her neck and kissed her tenderly, then, going to
his father, slipped a shy hand into his saying,
" They've sailed, father ; and the gentleman bade me
say good-by to you for all of them; and the lady
added, ' And tell him we shall trouble him no more :
he is safe.' "
" And the demoiselle ? What said she ? " asked the
father grimly. Lazarus blushed scarlet, and slid be-
hind his father's shoulder as he muttered,
" She said nought, but she gave me this ! "
And the boy just showed a knot of carnation ribbons,
then hid it in his breast. LeBaron smiled a little
sadly, and, patting the child's, shoulder said,
"Well, well, it's all over, then, is it?"
" Yes, father, quite all over."
"There, then, go to thy mother, and she'll comfort
thee as mothers can. You have done well, my boy,
and escaped right easil^'
" Sit down and listen to father's story of the pirate,
Lazarus/' said Mary quietly ; and the lad obeyed.
368 A NAMELESS NOBLEMAN.
CHAPTER XLV.
GOOD-BY.
T)ROBABLY Francois, le baron de Rien-de-Tout
JT as he once styled himself, in all his chequered
life enjoyed few things more than superintending the
uprooting of his own monumental stone, and erecting
it afresh in his own garden, precisely opposite the
office window and leathern chair ; and many was the
quiet hour he spent, pipe in mouth, gazing dreamily
out upon it, a placid smile upon his lips, a humorous
twinkle in his eye.
And, final proof of his wife's devotion and woman-
liness : few things annoyed her more than this habit,
and yet she never spoke of it.
Valerie's last promise was kept. Never more came
tidings over sea to disturb tbe quiet of that simple
home, the hard-fought peace of that strange, nameless
life; never flew butterfly or humming-bird from the
rose-gardens of Provence to the bleak shores of
Plymouth Bay, but the pure breath of the Mayflower
perfumed those barren shores, and heart's-ease bloomed
in Mary's garden-plot, nor failed as the years went on.
Lazarus married, nor once alone ; and his second
wife was daughter of the Bradfords : many children
sat around his board, and went out into the world
GOOD-B y. 369
carrying the new name of LeBaron ; but the fairest
the best-beloved, the nearest to her father's heart, of
all the girls, was his daughter Therese ; and it was his
whim, or one of them, for this Dr. LeBaron, like the
first, was whimsical and reticent, to like to see her
dark hair decked with carnation ribbons.
On the crest of Burying-Hill stands to-day, just
where Dr. Francois uprooted his mistaken memorial,
another stone, of black marble, and stately even in its
decrepitude : it bears the inscription, true this time,
although not all of the truth :
Here lyes y Body
of
DOCTOR FRANCIS LEBARON
A natyve of France and Physiciam
of Plymouth.
AD 1704