The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “Never again to leave it,” she replied.

  Tears sprang to the Squire’s eyes, and unable to control his emotion, he hastily quitted the room.

  CHAPTER XXX.

  MILDRED QUITS NICE.

  THE Squire lost no time in acquainting Lady Starkey with Mildred’s anxious desire to return, as well as the plan he had proposed to her, of which her ladyship entirely approved.

  “As you yourself, as well as Sister Aline, will accompany the invalid, I do not think it will be necessary for Stanley to make one of the party, and in my opinion he had better stay and take charge of us.”

  “I had already arranged it so in my own mind, and am glad you entertain a similar opinion,” rejoined the Squire. “Stanley will be very useful to you, and those with you, while we do not require him.”

  “Either he or you must remain with us, that’s certain,” said her ladyship.

  “Then the matter is settled, for I have promised Mildred to attend her,” replied the Squire.

  When the plan was proposed to Stanley, he required very little persuasion to accede to it.

  “If her father accompanies her, there can be no occasion for me — especially as she will have Sister Aline and Georgette with her. We can follow in a week or two. But the decision seems very sudden.”

  “Extremely sudden,” replied Lady Starkey. “I cannot understand it; and except in a case of absolute necessity, I should be sorry to break up so pleasant a party.”

  “It may seem unkind in me not to accompany my wife,” said Stanley, “and if I could be of any real service, I should not hesitate for a moment; but I am sure Mr. Warburton would not be pleased if I insisted on taking his place. Besides, to speak the truth, I don’t think Mildred wants to have me with her.”

  “Possibly,” replied her ladyship.

  The announcement of Mr. Warburton’s intended departure with his daughter and her friend caused some sensation, but much satisfaction was manifested when it was explained that all the other ladies, who contributed so much to the gaiety of the place, would remain. The Comte de Clairvaux vowed that if Lady Talmash took flight he would not be left behind; and Sir Randal made a similar declaration in regard to Lady Starkey. Now everybody was satisfied.

  But the greatest interest attached to Mildred, and as soon as it became known that she was about to leave Nice a general expression of regret was heard, and when her slight figure was last visible on the parade, a hundred eyes followed it, and many persons stood still to gaze at her. She was walking with Stanley, who evidently suffered much himself.

  The steamer for Marseilles took its departure from the port of Nice at noon on the third day after the decision had been taken by Mr. Warburton and his daughter to proceed by that course.

  Nothing could be more favourable than the weather. The sea was as smooth as glass, and tempted all those who gazed upon its blue expanse to a voyage.

  Earlier in the morning Mildred bade an affectionate farewell to all those friends who had come to take leave of her — very few of whom ever expected to behold her again.

  But when they expressed an earnest desire to accompany her to the steamer, and remain on board with her till the vessel started she declined.

  “I should not have strength for the parting, under such circumstances,” she said. “I must bid you farewell here.”

  All the luggage had been taken on board, and Mr. Warburton followed with Sister Aline and Georgette. Only Mildred and Stanley were left.

  When it came to the last, Stanley deeply regretted that he had not insisted on accompanying his wife, but it was too late now to alter his determination.

  Though Mildred had already taken leave of all her assembled friends — of Ladies Starkey and Talmash, of Rose — of Sir Randal, of the Comte de Clairvaux — of Charles Kynaston and Marston Malpas — she had another painful leave-taking to endure before her departure, and it was almost too much for her.

  Almost in a fainting state she was placed in a close carriage by Stanley and driven down to the port, where the splendid steamer was waiting to receive her passengers.

  Mildred had just strength enough left to get on board, but fainted before she could reach the cabin, and had to be placed on a seat where she could be seen by the crowd who had come to witness her departure.

  When she opened her eyes they rested on the basin of Nice surrounded by lofty habitations, intermingled with towers, and backed by gentle hills covered with olives and crowned by villas.

  Above all, on the left, towered the grand pyramid of Mont Cau, the whole forming a superb picture, on which Mildred’s eyes were fixed as it remained in sight.

  But many other magnificent spectacles were presented to her, as the vessel shaped its course over the blue and glassy Mediterranean.

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  DOCTOR PERCIVAL.

  WHOSO has tracked the lovely coast bordering the Maritime Alps, need not be told of its incomparable beauty. Nothing more picturesque — nothing more enchanting, can be imagined.

  Such was Mildred’s voyage from Nice to Marseilles. The weather was perfect A gentle breeze, just sufficient to fill the lateen sails of some of the lesser craft that entered the harbour, but scarcely disturbed the placid surface of the Mediterranean, served to mitigate the heat The steamer, which seemed only to consult the wishes of those on board, kept as close as she could with safety to the lovely coast, and touched at several interesting places — Antibes, Frejus, Saint Tropez, Hyéres — where some of the passengers landed.

  Screened from the rays of the sun by a thick awning, those on deck — and almost every one was on deck — enjoyed a multitude of magnificent views.

  The vessel stopped for the night at Toulon, and started betimes next morning with several fresh passengers for Marseilles, being favoured with the same exquisite weather.

  Mildred, who fancied she felt better, and was in very good spirits, was greatly pleased by the appearance of the bustling and crowded seaport, filled with vessels of all nations, but was not sorry to be transferred to an excellent hotel in the Rue Canebiére, where delightful apartments were given them.

  The Squire immediately telegraphed their safe arrival to Stanley, telling him they meant to rest for a couple of days at Marseilles, before starting for Paris.

  A prompt response was received from Stanley stating that he would join them at Marseilles as soon as the railway could bring him there; and next morning they were not surprised, though greatly pleased, to see him at breakfast.

  “This is exceedingly kind of you, Stanley,” said the Squire; “but I really did not mean to suggest it.”

  “Ever since Mildred’s departure I have been wretched,” cried Stanley; “and as an opportunity offered of spending a few hours with her, I determined to embrace it, and started at once for Marseilles.”

  “I am very glad you came, dear Stanley,” said Mildred. “I had begun to fancy I should never see you again, and you may therefore imagine what a satisfaction it is to have you here.”

  Her looks spoke more than her words, and touched him so much that he exclaimed —

  “Only say the word, and I will go on with you to Beaucliffe.”

  “Oh! no, no! I won’t be so exacting,” she rejoined. “You have already done enough to prove your love for me. I don’t require more. On your return to Nice you will be able to tell my dear friends that I am looking tolerably well — certainly better than when I left them. We had really a most splendid voyage — I never shall forget it — and I am sure it has done me infinite good.”

  “You look better,” said Stanley. “Now tell me, dearest Mildred. You forbid me to go to Beaucliffe with you, but shall I accompany you to Paris? Would you like me with you.”

  “Very much indeed,” she replied.

  “Then I’ll go,” he cried.

  “But not further than Paris,” said the Squire. “You must return to Nice; they won’t know what to do without you.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid of that,” replied Stanley. “But
never fear — I’ll go back from Paris.”

  After breakfast they engaged an open carriage, and did as much sight-seeing as Mildred could stand with safety; visiting the Palais des Arts de Longchamps, the new Cathedral near the quay of the Joliette, and several other public edifices. Though much pleased with Marseilles, Mildred declared she preferred Nice.

  Sleeping accommodation being secured for Mildred and Sister Aline as well as Georgette, in the night mail to Paris, the journey contemplated by the party was accomplished very satisfactorily.

  Mildred slept as well as usual while flying thus swiftly over the country, and could scarcely believe she was within a few hours of Paris when she shook off her slumbers.

  Sister Aline, who could not sleep, passed the greater part of the night in prayer. Georgette never opened her eyes till she got to Fontainebleau.

  Having telegraphed for rooms at the Hôtel du Louvre, they drove thither at once, on their arrival at Paris.

  After her long and rapid journey, Mildred found the gayest city in the world much too exciting for her.

  Convinced of this by a single drive to the Bois de Boulogne and the Champs Elysées, from which she returned greatly fatigued, she resolved to remain quiet till her departure, fearing that otherwise she should not be able to accomplish the remainder of the journey.

  Both Stanley and her father were of the same opinion, and counselled a couple of days complete quietude before proceeding to London.

  During a private conversation which they had together at this time, in the course of which Mildred expressed her firm conviction that she should not live long, she said to her husband with a look he never afterwards forgot, “When I am gone — as I soon shall be — I strongly advise you to marry Rose.”

  He was about to interrupt her, but she went on.

  “She will make you an excellent wife. On that you may depend. Will you do as I tell you?”

  “I can’t promise,” he replied. “Nor can I even entertain the suggestion, though I am certain you are influenced by the best and kindest feelings in making it.”

  “I am anxious you should not lose her — that is why I urge the matter.”

  “I fully recognise the kindness of your motive, and thank you,” he replied. “And now no more.”

  Next morning, at an early hour, Mr. Warburton and those with him, left Paris by an early express train.

  Stanley accompanied them to the station, and there bade adieu to Mildred — almost fearing he should never behold her again.

  The weather being very favourable they had a quick passage from Calais to Dover, and proceeded immediately to London, where they put up at the Squire’s favourite hotel, the Grosvenor.

  Having made up his mind to consult Dr. Percival, an eminent physician, with whom he was acquainted, about his daughter, Mr. Warburton went in good time next morning to Hanover Square to call upon him.

  Between fifty and sixty, tall, bald, with a fresh complexion, Doctor Percival had a very prepossessing expression of countenance, which was generally brightened by a smile.

  “Your daughter was one of the most charming creatures I ever beheld, Mr. Warburton,” he said. “I am sorry to hear she is unwell.”

  “She is dangerously ill, Doctor,” replied the Squire. And he proceeded to explain the case.

  Doctor Percival listened attentively to what was told him, and the smile that had hitherto lighted up his pleasant countenance disappeared, and was succeeded by a very grave expression.

  But he gave no opinion at the time, and promised to call at the Grosvenor, in the course of the afternoon, in order to see the young lady, and judge for himself.

  Accordingly, he came, and was taken by her father to Mildred, who was in an adjoining room with Sister Aline.

  Nothing material was said while Mr. Warburton was present, but as soon as he was gone Doctor Percival drew his chair closer to the invalid, and commenced his examination.

  Evidently he thought her in a most critical state, though he endeavoured not to alarm her, but there were some questions put that showed he suspected what had been the origin of her illness.

  Mildred, therefore, thought it right to tell him all, and confessed that in a moment of despair she had endeavoured to destroy herself by poison.

  “But she has deeply — very deeply — repented of the rash act,” interposed Sister Aline.

  “No doubt,” said Doctor Percival, “and I can quite understand how much she must have suffered ere she made the attempt. Is your father aware of this?” he added, addressing Mildred.

  “He is,” she replied.

  “This explains much, though it does not lessen the gravity of the case,” said the Doctor. “You must stay with me a few days, and I shall know better how to treat you. When the prescription I am about to write is made up, it shall be sent you. To-morrow, at the same hour, I will pay you another visit. Pray keep up your spirits; and do you, good Sister, try to convince her that her case is not desperate.”

  “I trust I may do so conscientiously,” replied Sister Aline.

  “I shall hope to see you to-morrow, Doctor,” said Mildred.

  At the same time Sister Aline rang the bell, and the door was immediately opened by Georgette, who inquired of the Doctor most anxiously as she let him out how he found Madame.

  “As well as I supposed,” he rejoined.

  He then went to the Squire, who was in an adjoining room, and said to him at once —

  “I deem it indispensable, Mr. Warburton, that your daughter should remain a few days in town.”

  “Well, since you say so, my dear Doctor, she must,” replied the Squire. “But I did not calculate on the delay.”

  “You must give me a chance of curing her,” said the Doctor. “I have only just learnt what has caused this dangerous illness, and we must get rid of it.”

  “I hoped it was got rid of,” replied the Squire.

  “Not entirely.”

  “What is your real opinion of the case, Doctor? Pray don’t disguise it from me. Is there any likelihood of her recovery?”

  “Don’t question me,” replied Dr. Percival. “Hope must be given her, or she will infallibly sink. She tells me she has no wish to live, and I entirely believe her. You must raise her spirits if you can.”

  “I don’t know how,” replied the Squire, heaving a deep sigh. “Sister Aline, whom you have seen, and who is her constant companion, does not take a very cheerful view of things.”

  “Apparently not,” replied the doctor. “To-morrow I will see your daughter again, and trust to find some little improvement in her.”

  And he took his departure.

  The Squire could not disobey Dr. Percival’s injunctions, and since they were positive as to the necessity of remaining in town for a few days, he had no alternative but compliance.

  He therefore telegraphed at once to Stanley and Lady Starkey that he was staying at the Grosvenor, where Mildred was under the care of Dr. Percival, and would probably remain there for a few days. But he begged them not to disquiet themselves, as they should receive the earliest intelligence if any unfavourable change took place.

  Immediate replies from both were sent expressing great concern that Mildred should be detained, and Stanley declared that he held himself in readiness to start at once for London should his presence be needed.

  On her part Lady Starkey recommended Mr. Warburton to take possession of the house in Berkeley Square. But being very well off at the Grosvenor, he did not think he should change his quarters.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  LETTERS FROM NICE.

  DOCTOR PERCIVAL continued in daily attendance on Mildred, evidently taking the greatest interest in her, and was exceedingly disappointed that a more decided improvement was not manifest.

  She certainly looked somewhat better, but the doctor could not pronounce her out of danger.

  “I can’t think what it is that baffles me,” he said to the Squire, in one of their private colloquies, “but I must and will find it out
.”

  Telegraphic messages had been daily exchanged between the little party at the Grosvenor and the others at Nice, but, one day, a letter arrived for Mildred. It was from Stanley, and the sight of his well-known handwriting quite cheered her.

  “I am glad to find you improving, dearest Mildred,” he wrote. “You are in excellent hands. If any one can cure you it is Doctor Percival. Lady Talmash has the highest opinion of him. Apropos of her ladyship, I must tell you that we have been threatened with a duel between two of her admirers — Charles Kynaston and the Comte de Clairvaux. The incident occurred on the Promenade des Anglais. I was walking in front with Rose. Behind us were the Comte and her ladyship; and behind them Sir Randulph and Lady Starkey. Well, up comes Charles, looking very angry, and says to Lady Talmash, ‘When you have quite done with the Comte, I shall be glad if you can spare a few minutes for me.’ The answer was given by De Clairvaux himself, who said, with the utmost politeness, ‘I am afraid you will have to wait some time, sir. Her ladyship is engaged to me for the whole day.’ ‘Impossible,’ cried Charles. ‘No, it is true,’ said Lady Talmash, ‘and I intend to remain with him.’ ‘Is this meant as an affront, M. le Comte?’ asked Charles. ‘Exactly as you like to take it, sir,’ replied the Comte, with provoking calmness. ‘Then I shall take it as an affront sanglant,’ replied Charles, walking away. ‘There will be a duel, unless it is prevented,’ observed Rose to me. ‘I will try to prevent it.’ I replied. Then addressing De Clairvaux, I expressed a hope that the quarrel might be arranged. ‘The matter does not rest with me, but with Mr. Charles Kynaston,’ he replied. ‘I shall offer him no apology for what I have said, and if he Challenges me I shall meet him.’

  ‘And I will act as your témoin,’ I said. ‘I don’t think a duel ought to take place,’ remarked Lady Talmash. ‘It is by my express desire that the Comte remained with me. Charles Kynaston has broken his solemn promise not to play, and has visited the gaming tables at Monaco. Fortune, it is true, has favoured him, and he has won. But no matter, I have done with him for ever!’ I had heard nothing of this, nor had anyone else, not even the Comte de Clairvaux himself, who now declared that he would not meet Mr. Kynaston, as he had not acted like a gentleman.