"I was born a slave. My father was a white gentleman of good family: my mother was a quadroon; and therefore I am a slave;--a negress, a runaway slave, my lord, who, if I returned to America, should be seized, and chained, and scourged, and sold.--Do you understand me?"
"What an infernal shame!" cried Scoutbush, to whom the whole thing appeared simply as a wrong done to Marie.
"Well, my lord?"
"Well, madam?"
"Does not this fact put the question at rest for ever?"
"No, madam! What do I know about slaves? No one is a slave in England.
No madam; all that it does is to make me long to cut half-a-dozen fellows" throats--" and Scoutbush stamped with rage. "No, madam, you are you: and if you become my viscountess, you take my rank, I trust, and my name is yours, and my family yours; and let me see who dare interfere!"
"But public opinion, my lord?" said Marie, half-pleased, half-terrified to find the shaft which she had fancied fatal fall harmless at her feet.
"Public opinion? You don"t know England, madam! What"s the use of my being a peer, if I can"t do what I like, and make public opinion go my way, and not I its? Though I am no great prince, madam, but only a poor Irish viscount, it"s hard if I can"t marry whom I like--in reason, that is--and expect all the world to call on her, and treat her as she deserves. Why, madam, you will have all London at your feet after a season or two, and all the more if they know your story: or if you don"t like that, or if fools did talk at first, why we"d go and live quietly at Kilanbaggan, or at Penalva, and you"d have all the tenants looking up to you as a G.o.ddess, as I do, madam.--Oh, madam, I would go anywhere, live anywhere, only to be with you!"
Marie was deeply affected. Making all allowances for the wilfulness of youth, she could not but see that her origin formed no bar whatever to her marrying a n.o.bleman; and that he honestly believed that it would form none in the opinion of his compeers, if she proved herself worthy of his choice; and, full of new emotions, she burst into tears.
"There, now, you are melting: I knew you would! Madam! Signora?" and Scoutbush advanced to take her hand.
"Never less," cried she, drawing back. "Do not;--you only make me miserable! I tell you it is impossible. I cannot tell you all.--You must not do yourself and yours such an injustice! Go, I tell you!"
Scoutbush still tried to take her hand.
"Go, I entreat you," cried she, at her wits" end, "or I will really ring the bell for Mrs. Mellot!"
"You need not do that, madam," said he, drawing himself up; "I am not in the habit of being troublesome to ladies, or being turned out of drawing-rooms. I see how it is--" and his tone softened; "you despise me, and think me a vain, frivolous puppy.--Well; I"ll do something yet that you shall not despise!" And he turned to go.
"I do not despise you; I think you a generous, high-hearted gentleman--n.o.bleman in all senses."
Scoutbush turned again.
"But, again, impossible! I shall always respect you; but we must never meet again."
She held out her hand. Little Freddy caught and kissed it till he was breathless, and then rushed out, and blundered over Sabina in the next room.
"No hope?"
"None." And though he tried to squeeze his eyes together very tight, the great tears would come dropping down.
Sabina took him to a sofa, and sat him down while he made his little moan.
"I told you that she was in love with the American."
"Then why don"t he come back and marry her! Hang him, I"ll go after him and make him!" cried Scoutbush, glad of any object on which to vent his wrath.
"You can"t, for n.o.body knows where he is. Now do be good and patient; you will forget all this."
"I shan"t!"
"You will; not at first, but gradually; and marry some one really more fit for you."
"Ah, but if I marry her I shan"t love her; and then, you know, Mrs.
Mellot, I shall go to the bad again, just as much as ever. Oh, I was trying to be steady for her sake!"
"You can be that still."
"Yes, but it"s so hard, with nothing to hope for. I"m not fit to take care of myself. I"m fit for nothing, I believe, but to go out and be shot by those Russians; and I"ll do it!"
"You must not; you are not strong enough. The doctors would not let you go as you are."
"Then I"ll get strong; I"ll--"
"You"ll go home, and be good."
"Ain"t I good now?"
"Yes, you are a good, sensible fellow, and have behaved n.o.bly, and I honour you for it, and Claude shall come and see you every day."
That evening a note came from Scoutbush.
"DEAR MRS. MELLOT--Whom should I find when I went home, but Campbell?
I told him all; and he says that you and everybody have done quite right, so I suppose you have; and that I am quite right in trying to get out to the East, so I shall do it. But the doctor says I must rest for six weeks at least. So Campbell has persuaded me to take the yacht, which is at Southampton, and go down to Aberalva, and then round to Snowdon, where I have a little slate-quarry, and get some fishing. Campbell is coming with me, and I wish Claude would come too.
He knows that brother-in-law of mine, Vavasour, I think, and I shall go and make friends with him. I"ve got very merciful to foolish lovers lately, and Claude can help me to face him; for I am a little afraid of genuises, you know. So there we"ll pick up my sister (she goes down by land this week), and then go on to Snowdon; and Claude can visit his old quarters at the Royal Oak at Bettws, where he and I had that jolly week among the painters. Do let him come, and beg La Signora not to be angry with me. That"s all I"ll ever ask of her again."
"Poor fellow! But I can"t part with you, Claude."
"Let him," said La Cordifiamma. "He will comfort his lordship; and do you come with me."
"Come with you! Where!"
"I will tell you when Claude is gone."
"Claude, go and smoke in the garden. Now?"
"Come with me to Germany, Sabina."
"To Germany? Why on earth to Germany?"
"I--I only said Germany because it came first into my mind. Anywhere for rest; anywhere to be out of that poor man"s way."
"He will not trouble you any more; and you will not surely throw up your engagement?"
"Of course not!" said she, half peevishly. "It will be over in a fortnight; and then I must have rest. Don"t you see how I want rest?"
Sabina had seen it for some time past. That white cheek had been fading more and more to a wax-like paleness; those black eyes glittered with fierce unhealthy light; and dark rings round them told, not merely of late hours and excitement, but of wild pa.s.sion and midnight tears. Sabina had seen all, and could not but give way, as Marie went on.
"I must have rest, I tell you! I am beginning--I can confess all to you--to want stimulants. I am beginning to long for brandy and water--pah!--to nerve me up to the excitement of acting, and then for morphine to make me sleep after it. The very eau de Cologne flask tempts me! They say that the fine ladies use it, before a ball, for other purposes than scent. You would not like to see me commence that practice, would you?"