"Fate, which I cannot escape; ties which I dare not break."
"I know of none such," cried the young girl. "I am promised a family, riches, station, and a name; and yet, Gaston, say but one word and I leave them all for you. Why, then, will you not do as much for me?"
Gaston answered not; and at this moment Sister Therese rejoined them, and they again got into the carriage. When they neared the town, the nun called Gaston, told him that, perhaps, some one might come to meet Helene, and that a stranger should not be seen with them. Gaston bowed silently and sadly, and turned to leave them.
Helene was no ordinary woman; she saw Gaston"s distress. "Is it adieu, or au revoir?" cried she, boldly.
"Au revoir," said Gaston, and he rode off quickly.
CHAPTER VI.
A ROOM IN THE HOTEL AT RAMBOUILLET.
Gaston went away without saying how they were to meet again; but Helene thought that he would certainty manage that, and she contented herself with watching him as long as she could. Ten minutes later the carriage stopped at the Tigre-Royal. A woman, who was waiting, came out hastily, and respectfully a.s.sisted the ladies to alight, and then guided them through the pa.s.sages of the hotel, preceded by a valet carrying lights.
A door opened, Madame Desroches drew back to allow Helene and Sister Therese to pa.s.s, and they soon found themselves on a soft and easy sofa, in front of a bright fire.
The room was large and well furnished, but the taste was severe, for the style called Rococo was not yet introduced. There were four doors; the first was that by which they had entered--the second led to the dining-room, which was already lighted and warmed--the third led into a richly-appointed bedroom--the fourth did not open.
Helene admired the magnificence of all around her--the quiet and respectful manner of the servants; while Sister Therese rejoiced, when she saw the smoking supper, that it was not a fast day.
Presently Madame Desroches returned, and approaching the sister, handed her a letter. She opened it, and read as follows:
"Sister Therese may pa.s.s the night at Rambouillet, or leave again at once, according to her own wish. She will receive two hundred louis offered to the convent by Helene, and will give up her charge to the care of Madame Desroches, who is honored by the confidence of Helene"s parents."
At the bottom of the letter, instead of a signature, was a cipher, which the sister compared with that on a letter which she had brought from Clisson. The ident.i.ty being proved--
"My child," said she, "I leave you after supper."
"So soon!" said Helene, to whom Therese was now the only link to her past life.
"Yes, my child. It is at my option to sleep here, but I prefer to return at once; for I wish to be again at home, where the only thing wanting to my happiness will be your presence."
Helene threw herself on Therese"s neck, weeping. She recalled her youth, pa.s.sed so happily among affectionate companions, and she again saw the towers and steeples of her former residence.
They sat down to table, and Sister Therese hastily partook of some refreshment, then embraced Helene, who wished to accompany her to the carriage; but Madame Desroches begged her not to do so, as the hotel was full of strangers.
Helene then asked permission to see the poor gardener, who had been their escort, once more. This man had become a friend to her, and she quitted him and Therese sadly.
Madame Desroches, seeing that Helene felt vainly in her pocket, said, "Does mademoiselle want anything?"
"Yes," said Helene; "I should wish to give a souvenir to this good man."
Madame Desroches gave Helene twenty-five louis, and she, without counting them, slipped them into the gardener"s hand, who overwhelmed her with tears and thanks.
At length they were forced to part, and Helene, hearing the sound of their carriage driving away, threw herself on a sofa, weeping.
Madame Desroches reminded her that she had eaten nothing. Helene insisted that she should sup with her. After her meal she showed Helene her bedroom, saying, "Will mademoiselle ring when she requires her femme-de-chambre; for this evening mademoiselle will receive a visit."
"A visit!" cried Helene.
"Yes, mademoiselle; from a relation."
"And is it the one who watches over me?"
"From your birth, mademoiselle."
"Oh, mon Dieu!" cried Helene; "and he is coming?"
"He is most anxious to know you."
"Oh," murmured Helene; "I feel as if I should faint."
Madame Desroches ran to her, and supported her.
"Do you feel so much terror," asked she, "at seeing one who loves you?"
"It is not terror, it is agitation," said Helene. "I did not know that it would be to-night; and this important news quite overcomes me."
"But I have not told you all: this person is necessarily surrounded by mystery."
"Why so?"
"I am forbidden to reply to that question, mademoiselle."
"What necessity can there be for such precautions with a poor orphan like me?"
"They are necessary, believe me."
"But in what do they consist?"
"Firstly, you may not see the face of this person; so that you may not recognize him if you meet him in the world."
"Then he will come masked?"
"No, mademoiselle: but the lights will be extinguished."
"Then we shall be in darkness?"
"Yes."
"But you will remain with me, Madame Desroches."
"No, mademoiselle; that is expressly forbidden."