"They are coming here," said Madame Varrillat, half articulately.
"Well, of course," murmured another; and the four rose up, smiling courteously, the doctor and attorney advancing and shaking hands with the priest.
No--Pere Jerome thanked them--he could not sit down.
"This, I believe you know, Jean, is Madame Delphine"--
The quadroone courtesied.
"A friend of mine," he added, smiling kindly upon her, and turning, with something imperative in his eye, to the group. "She says she has an important private matter to communicate."
"To me?" asked Jean Thompson.
"To all of you; so I will--Good-evening." He responded nothing to the expressions of regret, but turned to Madame Delphine. She murmured something.
"Ah! yes, certainly." He addressed the company "She wishes me to speak for her veracity; it is unimpeachable. Well, good-evening." He shook hands and departed.
The four resumed their seats, and turned their eyes upon the standing figure.
"Have you something to say to us?" asked Jean Thompson, frowning at her law-defying bonnet.
"Oui," replied the woman, shrinking to one side, and laying hold of one of the benches, "_mo oule di" tou" c"ose_"--I want to tell every thing.
"_Miche Vignevielle la plis bon homme di moune_"--the best man in the world; "_mo pas capabe li fe tracas_"--I cannot give him trouble. "_Mo pas capable, non; m"ole di" tous c"ose_." She attempted to fan herself, her face turned away from the attorney, and her eyes rested on the ground.
"Take a seat," said Doctor Varrillat, with some suddenness, starting from his place and gently guiding her sinking form into the corner of the bench. The ladies rose up; somebody had to stand; the two races could not both sit down at once--at least not in that public manner.
"Your salts," said the physician to his wife. She handed the vial.
Madame Delphine stood up again.
"We will all go inside," said Madame Thompson, and they pa.s.sed through the gate and up the walk, mounted the steps, and entered the deep, cool drawing-room.
Madame Thompson herself bade the quadroone be seated.
"Well?" said Jean Thompson, as the rest took chairs.
"_C"est drole_"--it"s funny--said Madame Delphine, with a piteous effort to smile, "that n.o.body thought of it. It is so plain. You have only to look and see. I mean about Olive." She loosed a b.u.t.ton in the front of her dress and pa.s.sed her hand into her bosom. "And yet, Olive herself never thought of it. She does not know a word."
The hand came out holding a miniature. Madame Varrillat pa.s.sed it to Jean Thompson.
"_Ouala so popa_," said Madame Delphine. "That is her father."
It went from one to another, exciting admiration and murmured praise.
"She is the image of him," said Madame Thompson, in an austere undertone, returning it to her husband.
Doctor Varrillat was watching Madame Delphine. She was very pale. She had pa.s.sed a trembling hand into a pocket of her skirt, and now drew out another picture, in a case the counterpart of the first. He reached out for it, and she handed it to him. He looked at it a moment, when his eyes suddenly lighted up and he pa.s.sed it to the attorney.
"_Et la_"--Madame Delphine"s utterance failed--"_et la ouala sa moman_.
That is her mother."
The three others instantly gathered around Jean Thompson"s chair. They were much impressed.
"It is true beyond a doubt!" muttered Madame Thompson.
Madame Varrillat looked at her with astonishment.
"The proof is right there in the faces," said Madame Thompson.
"Yes! yes!" said Madame Delphine, excitedly; "the proof is there! You do not want any better! I am willing to swear to it! But you want no better proof! That is all anybody could want! My G.o.d! you cannot help but see it!"
Her manner was wild.
Jean Thompson looked at her sternly.
"Nevertheless you say you are willing to take your solemn oath to this."
"Certainly"--
"You will have to do it."
"Certainly, Miche Thompson, _of course_ I shall; you will make out the paper and I will swear before G.o.d that it is true! Only"--turning to the ladies--"do not tell Olive; she will never believe it. It will break her heart! It"--
A servant came and spoke privately to Madame Thompson, who rose quickly and went to the hall Madame Delphine continued, rising unconsciously:
"You see, I have had her with me from a baby. She knows no better. He brought her to me only two months old. Her mother had died in the ship, coming out here. He did not come straight from home here. His people never knew he was married!"
The speaker looked around suddenly with a startled glance. There was a noise of excited speaking in the hall.
"It is not true, Madame Thompson!" cried a girl"s voice.
Madame Delphine"s look became one of wildest distress and alarm, and she opened her lips in a vain attempt to utter some request, when Olive appeared a moment in the door, and then flew into her arms.
"My mother! my mother! my mother!"
Madame Thompson, with tears in her eyes, tenderly drew them apart and let Madame Delphine down into her chair, while Olive threw herself upon her knees, continuing to cry:
"Oh, my mother! Say you are my mother!"
Madame Delphine looked an instant into the upturned face, and then turned her own away, with a long, low cry of pain, looked again, and laying both hands upon the suppliant"s head, said:
"_Oh, chere piti a moin, to pa" ma fie_!"--Oh, my darling little one, you are not my daughter!--Her eyes closed, and her head sank back; the two gentlemen sprang to her a.s.sistance, and laid her upon a sofa unconscious.
When they brought her to herself, Olive was kneeling at her head silently weeping.
"_Maman, chere maman_!" said the girl softly, kissing her lips.
"_Ma courri c"ez moin_"--I will go home--said the mother, drearily.