"I cannot but be touched by the confidence you repose in me.
I do not thank you less because you have done me the common justice which is due from one man to another. When I received the loan from Mr. Emerson, I as firmly believed that the security I gave him was unquestionable, as he did.
I had been led to think that the power of attorney in my father"s hands had not been used. I was mistaken. I pa.s.s over Mr. Emerson"s proceedings, which, however severe, were authorized by the light in which he viewed my conduct. The ten thousand dollars he loaned me were, at once, repaid him by the generosity of one of my relatives, Mademoiselle Madeleine de Gramont, whose debtor I remain. My father"s dangerous illness has detained me in Washington. The instant he is sufficiently convalescent I purpose returning to Charleston to resume my professional duties.
"I am, my dear sir, "Yours, very truly, "MAURICE DE GRAMONT."
Mr. Lorrillard was highly gratified by the simple, ingenuous, yet manly tone of this letter, and well pleased to find his impressions correct.
He immediately despatched an epistle to Mr. Emerson which convinced the latter that he could only conciliate a valued friend by making every possible reparation.
A few days later Maurice was surprised by Mr. Emerson"s card. He could not converse with him in the presence of Count Tristan and Madame de Gramont, and was obliged to receive him in the general drawing-room of the hotel.
When Maurice entered, Mr. Emerson extended his hand and said, with an air of frankness,--
"I am a just man, M. de Gramont, and I came to make you an apology. My friend, Mr. Lorrillard, has convinced me that I ought to have paused before I yielded to the conviction that one whom he esteemed so highly had wilfully taken advantage of my credulity. I am now convinced that you were not aware that your property was mortgaged, and I come to tell you so."
"You have again made me your debtor," replied Maurice, not a little gratified. "I give you my word, as a gentleman, that I had not the remotest suspicion the property in question was enc.u.mbered. I have no right to complain of the severity of your treatment; it was justifiable under the circ.u.mstances."
"Hardly," replied the other. "But I shall esteem it a privilege to make all the reparation in my power. Of course you are aware that the railroad mentioned pa.s.ses through your property, and that the estate has already doubled its former value? I came here to say that I am ready not only to loan you the ten thousand dollars you originally requested me to advance, but a larger sum, if you so desire."
What a sensation of thankfulness and relief those words caused Maurice!
He would not only be enabled to repay Madeleine the amount she had so generously loaned, but he would be in a situation to meet the heavy expenses which his father and grandmother were daily incurring! Count de Gramont had never given his son entire confidence, and the latter was not aware of the _exact_ state of the count"s affairs; but Maurice had too much cause to believe that they were in a ruinous condition. He had only recently become acquainted with the mortifying fact that, from the time his father left the Chateau de Gramont, Bertha had been the banker of the whole party.
"I will meet your offer as frankly as it is made," answered Maurice, after a moment"s reflection. "If you feel justified in loaning me fifteen thousand dollars, instead of ten, upon the former security, I will esteem it a great favor."
"Willingly; come to my office to-day, at any hour you please, and we will settle the matter. Make haste, for I must write to Lorrillard by this evening"s mail, and I desire to inform him, in answer to his somewhat caustic letter, that I have made the _amende honorable_."
CHAPTER XLVI.
A MISHAP.
Madeleine was accustomed to see Maurice at a certain hour every day, and looked forward to that period with such joyous expectation that a sense of disquiet, amounting to positive pain, took possession of her mind when the time pa.s.sed without his making his appearance. She could not help reflecting how sad and long the days would grow when she could no more listen for his welcome step, and feel her heart bounding at the sight of his handsome countenance; and yet such days must come, and must be borne with the rest of life"s burdens.
That was his ring at the bell,--those were his firm, rapid steps! His face glowed so brightly when he entered the little boudoir that Madeleine exclaimed,--
"Your father must be much better! You carry the news written in shining characters in your eyes."
Maurice related what had pa.s.sed between himself and Mr. Emerson, to whom he had just paid the promised visit, and concluded by saying,--
"Now, dearest Madeleine, I am enabled to repay your most opportune loan, but not able to tell you from what misery and disgrace you saved me."
He laid a check upon the table as he spoke.
Madeleine was silent, and looked uncomfortable. Maurice went on,--
"You cannot _conceive_ my happiness at being so unexpectedly able to pay this debt, though that of grat.i.tude must ever remain uncancelled."
"At least, Maurice, I will not _deprive_ you of the happiness, since it is one; and perhaps you will be more pleased when you know that this money will enable me to make the last payment upon this house, which will now become wholly mine. It has grown more dear to me than I imagined it could ever become,--more dear through the guests whom it has sheltered, and the a.s.sociations with which it is filled. I never thought of making it mine with so much joy."
"You will remain here then? You will continue your occupation?" asked Maurice.
"Yes, undoubtedly."
"But," persisted Maurice, "do you not look forward to a time when you will have another home?"
"I see no such time in the dim future," she returned. "Perhaps I may become so rich that the temptation to retire will be very great; but as I cannot live unemployed I shall first be obliged to discover some other, wider, and n.o.bler sphere of usefulness."
"But the home I mean," continued Maurice, with an air of desperation, "is the home of another,--the home of one whom you love. Do you not look forward to dwelling in such a home?"
Madeleine"s "No" was uttered in a low tone, but one of unmistakable sincerity.
"How can that be?" exclaimed Maurice, at once troubled and relieved.
"Do not try to read the riddle, Maurice. You will be happier in setting it aside as one of life"s mysteries which will be revealed in the great day. Will you listen to a new song which I have been learning?"
"Will I listen? Will a hungry beggar gather the crumbs falling from a rich man"s table?"
Madeleine laughed and seated herself at the piano. The new song only made Maurice desire to hear some of the old ones, and then other new ones, and she sang on until an unexpected and startling interruption destroyed all the harmony of the hour. But that occurrence we will relate in due season. We must first return to the hotel which Maurice had left before his usual hour, that he might pay a visit to Mr. Emerson previous to calling upon Madeleine.
The palatable delicacies which Madeleine daily sent to the invalids always reached the hotel at an hour when Maurice had promised to be at home. Robert had strict orders to deliver the salver to one of the hotel servants, and never to appear before the countess. This morning, however, the arrival of a large number of travellers had occupied all the domestics; not a waiter was to be found. Robert was anxious to inquire about a silver milk-jug which had not been returned. He carried his salver to the door of Madame de Gramont"s drawing-room, though without intending to enter. The door happened to be open; he could see that the room was only occupied by Count Tristan, who was asleep in his arm-chair, and Mrs. Lawkins. She was the person whom he wished to see.
The temptation was too great to be resisted. He entered with soundless feet, and placed upon the table a salver bearing a bowl of beef tea, two gla.s.ses of calves"-feet jelly, a plate of those Normandy cakes which the countess had so much relished, and a dish of superb white and red raspberries.
Approaching his mouth to Mrs. Lawkins" ear, Robert said, in a whisper,--
"Mrs. Lawkins, I had to come in, for you were just the person I wanted to see. You never sent back the silver milk-pitcher."
"The milk-pitcher?" replied Mrs. Lawkins. "Bless my heart! You don"t say so? It"s not here! I hope it"s not been stolen. It must have got mixed up with the hotel silver and gone downstairs."
"You"ll be sure to hunt it up, Mrs. Lawkins. I have said nothing to Mademoiselle Melanie,--Mademoiselle Madeleine, I mean; but I am responsible, as you know, for all her silver, and I can"t have what I bring here mislaid; as you were here I thought it was quite safe. How is the poor gentleman?"
"Ah, not so well as he was under Mademoiselle Madeleine"s care. I"ll see after the silver jug, and keep a sharp look-out for the silver in future."
Robert and Mrs. Lawkins stood with their backs to the door of Madame de Gramont"s apartment, which opened into the drawing-room. What was their consternation on finding the countess herself standing in the door-way!
Her countenance was perfectly appalling in its white, distorted wrath.
She strode toward the two abashed domestics, and cried out, in a voice which broke the count"s slumbers, and caused him to sit up in his chair with terror-dilated eyes,--
"Woman! What is the meaning of this? Of whom are you talking? Whose silver is that?" (pointing savagely to the salver.) "And who are you?"
Mrs. Lawkins was dumb.
"Am I to be answered?" demanded the countess, imperiously.
Then she turned to Robert. "Whose silver is that? Whose silver did you say was missing?"
"Mademoiselle de Gramont"s," Robert faltered out.