After a time she cried out,--for it was a veritable cry,--"And _this house_,--_this bed_ where I am lying,--O G.o.d! it is too much!"
Maurice was at a loss to know what to do. He waited to see if she would not question him, would not speak again; but, as she lay silent and motionless, he retired and sought his cousins.
"Do not be so much distressed," prayed Madeleine, when she heard what he had to relate. "This was unavoidable,--your grandmother"s intellect was not disturbed,--her memory only seemed quiescent; the most casual circ.u.mstance might, at any moment, have awakened her recollection of the past; it is as well that it should be recalled to-day as to-morrow.
Come, Bertha, we will go to her."
Madeleine and Bertha entered the room together, but the ever cowardly Bertha drew back, and Madeleine approached the bed alone. The countess opened her eyes, looked at her a moment, as though to be quite certain of her ident.i.ty, then turned her face to the pillow and murmured, "Where is Bertha?"
"Bertha is here," said Madeleine, motioning Bertha to take her place, as she drew back.
Madeleine felt that the countess had turned from her because her presence was painful; with a light step, but a heart once more grown heavy, she withdrew.
Bertha stood by her aunt"s side without daring to disturb her by a word.
After a time the countess unclosed her eyes again and looked around the room; then, gazing at Bertha, said slowly,--
"It all comes back,--it was like a frightful dream at first,--but the reality is more terrible! Bertha,--Bertha,--I have so little left! _You_ love me? _You_ will not forsake me?"
Bertha had never before heard her imperious aunt make an appeal to any human being; what wonder that she was melted?
The countess resumed, with increasing agitation, "You were to have gone back with me to Brittany,--you, and Maurice, and his"--
There came a break,--she could not name her dead son. Death to her was the harsh blow dealt by a merciless hand, s.n.a.t.c.hing its victim away in retributive wrath,--not the wise and mild summons that bids suffering mortality exchange a circ.u.mscribed, lower life for a larger, higher, happier existence.
It was some time before Madame de Gramont could continue; then she said, "I must go back, Bertha! I cannot die out of those old walls! It was you, you who lured me from them. We will return to them. You will go with us, Bertha?"
"I will," replied Bertha, though her heart sank as she uttered the words. She had thought that the project of returning to France was wholly abandoned.
"And we will go soon,--as soon as I am able to travel, that time will come quickly. I am growing stronger every minute. Let me depart speedily; it is all I can look forward to that can sustain me, that can lift me up after the abas.e.m.e.nt to which I have been subjected."
Though they conversed no more, Bertha did not leave her aunt until she had seen her sink to repose.
When Bertha repeated to Maurice, Madeleine, and Gaston the conversation which had just taken place, a heavy gloom fell upon all. Maurice"s return to Brittany, at this crisis, would be a great disadvantage to him, and when the countess was removed to a distance from Madeleine, it was more unlikely than ever that she would yield consent to Madeleine"s union with Maurice; the chances were that she would not allow Madeleine"s name to be uttered in her presence.
Gaston had given up all idea of altering Bertha"s repeatedly expressed determination to be married upon the same day as her cousin, and not to marry at all if that day never came; but since Count Tristan had joined the hands of Maurice and Madeleine, he cherished the hope that the countess would no longer refuse to sanction their union, and that this voyage to France would be wholly relinquished.
Maurice listened to Bertha in silence, but that night his step could be heard pacing up and down his chamber through the still hours, and he scarcely attempted to rest. During this period of painful reflection, he formed a resolution which he proposed to carry into execution as soon as his grandmother was ready to receive him.
As he took a seat by her side he motioned Mrs. Lawkins to leave them together.
"Are you well enough to listen to me, my dear grandmother? I must speak to you on a subject of great importance to me; I ought to add, of some importance to yourself."
The countess signified that she listened by a slight affirmative movement of the head.
"Bertha has told me that you still desire to return to Brittany. Though at this moment my accompanying you will force me to make some heavy sacrifices, still, there is one condition,--_and only one_,"--Maurice emphasized these last words,--"upon which I can consent."
The countess made no observation. He was forced to proceed,--
"You were present when my dying father placed Madeleine"s hand in mine,--do not interrupt me, I entreat! Madeleine and I have loved each other from our infancy; she has rejected me solely that she might not cause grief to you and my father; he has given her to me,--he bade you love her; will _you_ not give her to me also?"
"Never!" answered the countess; and though the tone was low it was steady and resolute.
Maurice went on, disregarding her reply. "I will return with you to Brittany on the condition that she accompanies us, as my affianced bride, or as my wife. You have lived beneath Madeleine"s roof; my father died there; grat.i.tude, if nothing else, should bind us to her. Can you urge any reasonable objection to her going with us to Brittany, and as my wife?"
The countess was roused. "Would you have me show my runaway niece to the world? Would you have me publicly patronize, a.s.sociate with, caress the _mantua-maker_, in my own land, before my own kin? Never!"
"Then," returned Maurice, resolutely, "I do not return with you to Brittany. Bertha may do so, and you will, doubtless, have the escort of M. de Bois; but if you renounce Madeleine, you renounce me! Madeleine will not become my wife without your consent,--I do not conceal _that_ from you; but I remain in this land, where she will continue to dwell.
If _you_ so wholly disregard my father"s last wishes, you cannot hope that _I_ can forget them, or that I can feel as bound to you as though they had been respected. If your decision is final, I will not urge you further."
"It is final!" was the laconic answer.
"And so is mine!" replied Maurice, rising. Without longer parley he left the room.
At this crisis, the conduct of M. de Bois threatened to give a new turn to events. We have had abundant proof of his grat.i.tude and unwavering devotion to Madeleine. His aversion to the countess had increased with her persecution of her defenceless niece, and when the inexorable lady remained unmoved by the dying prayer of her son, and refused to sanction Madeleine"s union with Maurice, M. de Bois"s detestation culminated. He was inspired with an earnest desire to stretch out his arm to shield and aid Madeleine, and humble her oppressor; but an effectual method of accomplishing this act of justice did not present itself to him until Maurice communicated the result of his last interview; then Gaston conceived the project of following up that masterly move with another which would give it force. If he could only have counted upon Bertha as an ally he would have been confident of the success of his plan; but he knew that Bertha"s timidity--say, rather, her _cowardice_--was insuperable, and she held her aunt in too much awe to dare to take any decided stand. M. de Bois called all his energies into play to influence the weak medium he was compelled to employ.
Madeleine was occupied in a different part of the house when Maurice, finding Gaston and Bertha in the boudoir, told them the result of his interview with Madame de Gramont. By and by Gaston lured Bertha into the garden. They made one or two turns in silence; Bertha looked up wistfully into her lover"s face, and said, in a tone of reproach,--
"How silent you seem to-day!"
"Yes, I feel grave,--I have something to accomplish, and I greatly need, but fear to claim, your aid."
"Mine? What lion is there in a net that needs such a poor, wee mouse as I to gnaw the meshes?"
"No lion already in the snare, but a lioness to be lured into our net.
Bertha, do you truly love Mademoiselle Madeleine?"
"What a question!"
"Do you love her so well that your love for her could surmount your dread of your aunt?"
"Yes, that is, I think it could. What would you have me do?"
"Follow the n.o.ble example of Maurice; tell Madame de Gramont that you will not return to Brittany with her unless Maurice and Mademoiselle Madeleine return also. She detests this country, and the fear of being compelled to remain here will conquer her."
"But how could I do this?" questioned Bertha, feeling that she had not firmness for the task. "I have promised to go with her. What excuse could I offer?"
"The excuse," answered her lover, "that you could not travel with her alone."
"Alone?"
"Yes, for I do not count the light-headed Adolphine any one."
"But you,--you are going with us?"
"I shall not go unless Maurice and Mademoiselle Madeleine go," replied M. de Bois.
"And you can let me go without you? You can let me take such a journey with my aunt in her broken state of health?"
"I will not let you go at all if I can prevent your going."