The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  It happened, perhaps fortunately, that Monsieur de Villardin's newstation in the army had prevented my being with him so continually asduring our former campaigns. Thus the great change that had takenplace in my habits and my feelings had not been so constantly broughtbefore him as it otherwise would have been. It had not, however,passed without remark; and the consequences were totally differentfrom those which would most probably have followed, had he known thecauses of the melancholy that oppressed me. The desire of keeping menear him, which he had expressed on my last return to Brittany, wasnow increased to a positive determination of not suffering me to beabsent from him; and, when I faintly proposed to remain behind him inParis, and to see somewhat of the Court, in which were now justbursting forth the dawnings of that full blaze of magnificence whichit ultimately displayed, he laid his hand affectionately upon my arm,replying--"No, no, my dear Juvigny; you must come with me into thecalm quiet of the country. You have over-exerted both your mind andyour body; and I see that you are always better and happier when youare with me in Brittany."

  I had not strength of mind to say no; and, besides, I had persuadedmyself that neither danger nor harm could accrue from my following thecourse he pointed out. We returned, therefore, to Brittany, after avery short stay in Paris. The journey seemed an eternity; and, whenonce I was embarked in it, more than one misgiving as to my ownresolution and firmness certainly did cross my heart. It was now,however, too late to retreat; and at length the carnage stopped beforethe grey towers of the Pr?s Vall?e. Our coming had been notifiedbeforehand; and Laura instantly ran out to welcome her father. Itseemed to me that every hour since I had left her had added some newcharm to features that before had seemed perfection; had given someadditional grace to a form which had before appeared in my eyessymmetry itself. From her father she turned to me; but I felt herhand tremble in mine, and her cheek burned as my lips touched it. Hereyes, too, sought the ground of the terrace; and her words of welcomewere warm, indeed, but faltering and low. Everything told me that thediscovery which had taken place in my own heart had been made also byhers, and that, whether she could return my affection or not, she wasno longer unconscious of my love. It is scarcely possible to explainwhat were my feelings at that moment. I was agitated--I was evenpained; and yet the joy of seeing her again, and, perhaps, a fancy,too, that my affection was not without return, were sufficient tooutweigh, for the moment, all the apprehensions, and sorrows, andanxieties which were cast into the other scale. Her firstembarrassment wore away in an instant; and it was easy to see that,whatever she had discovered, none of the pains and sorrows which hadbecome so familiar to my mind, had, as yet, presented themselves toher eyes.

  While little Clement de la Marke was claiming his share of welcome,Monsieur de Villardin and I turned to meet Father Ferdinand, who wasnow coming out to receive us. I had not seen him for nearly threeyears; and that space of time seemed to have effected a greater changein him than in any of the rest of the party, with the exception,indeed, of Laura, who, from a sweet, graceful girl, had grown into abeautiful woman. He was now, certainly, an old man; and a considerableinclination of his head, marked, but not undignified, had taken neartwo inches from his height since last I saw him. He embraced me as afather would do a son, and asked me anxiously what was the cause ofthe sad change he remarked in my once robust and muscular frame? As hespoke, I saw Laura's eyes seek mine with an expression of anxiety andapprehension which was painfully sweet to my heart. She spoke not,however; and I replied to Father Ferdinand, attempting to smile gailyas I did so.

  "You must remember, my good Father," I answered, "I am no longer aboy, and may well be expected to lose the plump, smooth-facedroundness of my youth: besides, I have seen some hard service; andmore than eighteen years which I have now spent--ever more or less inthe tented field--may well be supposed to take away a great deal fromone's youthful freshness."

  Laura sighed deeply, and Father Ferdinand gravely shook his head; andI could see distinctly that neither the one nor the other gave creditto the reasons I assigned for my altered appearance. No morequestions, however, were asked; and all the bustle and the littletittle-tattle of a first arrival in the country carried us well andlightly over the evening. I dreaded, it is true, the coming of thenext morning; for now that I was in the midst of the peril, I hadbecome apprehensive of myself; I felt that each night I should have tothank God if I had done nothing wrong; I felt that every day wouldbring a renewed struggle against myself; I felt that I should look toevery sunrise with dread, lest I should fail in resolution during thecoming day. Even the sweetest and dearest feelings of my heart werecauses of apprehension. Every look, every word, of Laura de Villardinwas to me a subject of delight, so bright, so deep, that, conscious ofall which was going on within my bosom, I feared the joy I felt in hersociety would each instant betray itself to others. But that fear wasnot all that embittered the enjoyment. I felt now but too keenly thatI was nurturing a passion which must end in misery; and that thesweet, sweet draught, which I was draining to the dregs, was mingledwith poison which must speedily take effect. Yet now that I graspedthe cup, with the full knowledge of all that it contained, I would nothave resigned it for a world till the last drop had been drained. Ilistened to the tones of her voice, I hung upon her every smile; andwhen, during the evening, with her fair arms thrown round littleClement de la Marke, she listened while the boy repeatedenthusiastically how very very kind I had been to him during hisillness, I gazed upon her beaming countenance till she turned her eyestowards me with a look of sweet applause; and the feelings of my heartbecoming too overpowering to be mastered, I quitted the room hastily,lest the mingled emotions should make a woman of me, and overflow atmy eyes.

  How the night passed, it were useless to relate. Agitation such as Ifelt, sleeps but little; and with the grey dawn, I plunged into thewoods and wandered on wildly, seeking to gain command over myself ereI encountered any of the family. For nearly two hours I pursued avarying and irregular path, avoiding the hamlets and scatteredcottages that here and there sheltered themselves in the edges of thewood surrounding the Pr?s Vall?e, and walking on, now quick, now slow,amongst the gloom of the old trees, and by the dim banks of the silentstream. Bitter, bitter was my commune with my own heart, and littleway did I make in the attempt to vanquish emotions that seemed tobecome more turbulent under reflection. Following solely as my guidethe desire of avoiding a meeting with any human being, I scarcely knewwhich way I turned, till at length I found myself within a few yardsof the grave of the unhappy Count de Mesnil. Some impulse, I do notwell know what,--whether there was a latent sympathy in my bosom withthe love, however mad and vicious, which had been expiated by hisdeath, or whether there was alone that thirst of calm repose which wasto be found nowhere but in the grave, I cannot tell,--but some impulsecaused me to cast myself down upon the turf that covered his remains,and, giving way to all the bitterest feelings of my heart, I weptaloud, fervently wishing that I might soon find a quiet resting-placelike that.

  Ere I had been there a moment, I heard a flutter of female garmentsbending over me; and raising my eyes, I beheld Laura de Villardin withher eyes full of tears at the suffering which she saw me endurewithout being able to account for. I started up, and, in the agitationof the moment, gazed upon her without salutation, while sheexclaimed,--"Oh, tell me--do tell me, dear De Juvigny, what is itmakes you so unhappy?"

  My firmness was gone before--my good resolution vanished, and pressingthe hand that she held out to me to my lips and to my heart, I toldher all--how deeply, how passionately I loved her. With the warm bloodcrimson over her cheek and forehead, she sank down in my arms and hidher face upon my bosom, while a tear or two sprang up in her eyes, andshone like living diamonds amongst her long dark eyelashes. It was butfor a moment that, yielding to woman's first impulse, she hid herface; but then, raising her look to mine, as, sitting on the verygrave of De Mesnil, I held her circled in my arms, she asked,--"Andis that al
l? Do I not love you too?"

  The hardest and bitterest part of the task was still to come. I had totell her how hopeless was our love, which her ignorance of the worldhad not suffered her to perceive; and although I thought I had noright to inform her that her father destined her for another, which Ifound he himself had not yet communicated, yet I had to explain to herthat our union was quite impossible.

  "But are we not very happy as we are?" she asked. "Why make yourselfwretched by thinking of what you acknowledge cannot be? Why not let uslive on as we now are, loving each other more dearly than anythingelse in life--seeing each other every day--spending our whole daystogether? Why not let us live thus, and be as happy as we havehitherto been?"

  I had to crush the bright bubble for ever. "But," I said, "when youare required to marry some other, Laura, what will then become of me?"

  "Oh, but I will never marry any one else!" she replied, eagerly: "no,no, I love you; and if I cannot marry you, of course no one else shallever have my hand!"

  "But listen to me, dear Laura," I replied. "Suppose your father makesit a command; can you disobey? Suppose he comes to you and tells youthat he has plighted his word and engaged his honour that you shall bethe bride of some man equal in fortune and station to yourself--willyou refuse to redeem his pledge? will you offend him for ever, andbring upon him the imputation of breaking his word? Can you do it,Laura?"

  She wept bitterly, and I felt that those tears were a sufficientreply; I was gaining more firmness myself, also, from the veryarguments I used; and I went on.--"No, no, dear Laura, we must bothtry to do our duty: I love you beyond everything on earth; and itwould nearly destroy me to see you the wife of another: but yet let usmake up our minds to that which cannot be avoided. We can neverforget, we can never wholly cease to love each other; but we must makean effort to conquer our love, at least so far as to render it nolonger dangerous or wrong: we must try to rule it by reason and byresolution, and to reduce it, if possible, to that affection whichbrother and sister may feel towards each other."

  "Then you must help me--then you must guide me, De Juvigny," shereplied; "you must teach me that which is right to do; for I feel,indeed I feel that I am incapable of guiding myself."

  "It is a terrible task, Laura--it is a terrible task," Ireplied--"for a heart that loves like mine, to teach you how our loveis to be conquered; and yet the very responsibility will, I trust,enable me to execute it well: but, hark! I hear a step," and Istarted up.

  "It is only Lise," she replied: "I sent her back for a book; but sheknows all about it. She first told me I loved you months ago."

  I wished no _confidantes_ to a passion so hopeless as ours; but ere Icould think, Lise was too near us to avoid her, and Laura's eyes toldtoo distinctly a part of our story, to leave her ignorant of theremainder. She was a good and affectionate, but somewhat romanticcreature; and though the suivante would have been the last to counselher mistress to anything that she believed to be wrong, yet she hadtoo much knowledge of the human heart to believe that a deep-rootedpassion could ever be eradicated by the means that we proposed toemploy; and her notions of what would be proper under such cases werelikewise very different from ours. As soon as, by one means oranother, she had made herself mistress of all that had passed, and hadheard our difficulties and our resolutions, she shook her head,exclaiming,--"That will never do! No, no, Monsieur de Juvigny, thereis only one way for it. Such love as yours and Mademoiselle's is notto be conquered as you think, and it must have its way, or worse willcome of it. I have been thinking ever since you were here last, ofwhat would be best to do, for I very well saw the whole business then,and quite understood that Monsieur the Duc would never consent.However, I have a scheme for you; you must marry privately: I know agood priest at Rennes who will undertake to perform the ceremony; andthen, when it is found out, which it certainly will be in time,Monsieur de Villardin will be very angry at first, of course; but thenhe will soon forgive you, and it will be all settled."

  Laura was silent; and as her hand rested on my arm, I could feel ittremble violently. For my part, I own that--though poor Lise meant noharm--yet, had she been the very fiend himself, she could not havetempted me more dreadfully. Honour, however, overcame; and after along, painful pause, I answered,--"No, no, Lise! Monsieur deVillardin is my friend, my benefactor, my more than father, and Icannot betray his trust."

  "But is not Mademoiselle, here, your friend, your love, and your morethan sister?" answered Lise, laughing; "and will you make her unhappyfor ever? But never mind; I knew that you would talk a great deal ofthat kind of nonsense whenever I came to propose it; but you'll seeyou will both be of my opinion before a fortnight be over, and then itwill be,--'Pray, good Lise, seek the priest;' and as I am the bestcreature in the world, I _will_ seek the priest. So when you have madeup your minds to do the only thing that can save you both from a greatdeal of unhappiness, let me know, and I will arrange all the rest."

  Thus saying, she turned away and walked a short distance towards thech?teau, in order to leave Laura and myself time to speak togetheralone. As soon as she was gone, the dear girl raised her eyes to mine,and said,--"We must not do it, De Juvigny--we must not do it! Itwould be very happy, doubtless, to know that nothing could everseparate us, but it would be at the expense of your honour and myduty, and we must not do it. But, hark! there is the breakfast hourstriking: we must go back separate; but you must, indeed you must tellme how I am to act, and what I am to do, to conquer all thesefeelings, and guard myself against wrong. We will walk out togetherto-morrow morning, as we used to do, and you shall give me my lesson."

  But consciousness had, as usual, taken from me my bold firmness. I wasnot certain that any step that I was taking was right, and therefore Idreaded that any one should discover all that was passing betweenmyself and Laura. "It will be better, dear Laura," I replied, "for usto meet in some part of the woods--at all events till we have fullydetermined the line of conduct we are to pursue. Let us have time tothink and judge for ourselves before any one else perceives ourfeelings towards each other, and assumes the right of judging for us.Where shall I meet you to-morrow?"

  "Since you have been away," she answered, "I have been much in thehabit of coming out in the summer mornings to read under this tree. Itis one of the finest round about, and if you remark, there is a littlekind of rise in the soft turf at its foot, which serves me for aseat."

  It was the grave of Monsieur de Mesnil to which she pointed; andcertainly the memories connected with that spot did not render thefeelings of my heart less sad. I replied, however, "Well, let us meethere: we are less likely to be disturbed here, perhaps, thanelsewhere."

  "That was one of the reasons why I used to love the place," repliedLaura: "I never found any one here yet but Father Ferdinand, whom Ione day saw kneeling at his beads beneath this tree; but it is almostalways lonely, and I used to come here with a book, and sometimes reada little; but more often think of you and my father, and pray God toshield you both from all the dangers of the war. Let us part, however,now; for it is growing late, and I must wash my eyes before any onesees me."

  I pressed her to my heart, and I pressed my lips to hers--I acted verywrong in so doing, I know; but, as I have said, this book is aconfession, and therefore I tell all--I pressed her to my heart, and Ipressed my lips to hers, and then we parted, to meet again the nextmorning at the same spot.

  My next private interview was one with Father Ferdinand. I saw, duringbreakfast, that he was anxious to speak with me; but the feeling ofconsciousness to which I have before referred, made me as desirous ofavoiding any particular conversation with him now as I had formerlybeen willing and pleased to enjoy his society alone. As soon as themeal was over, then, I turned, as if to seek my own apartments, but inreality intending to take my hat and once more go out into the park.So well acquainted, however, was Father Ferdinand with the turns ofthe human heart, and the actions that all those various turns arelikely to produce, that he met me at the gate at the very moment I wasset
ting out; and, laying his hand upon my arm, he said, "I am about totake my walk with you, my son."

  I had now no excuse for avoiding his society, and we walked ontogether, proceeding for the first few minutes in silence. He thenbegan the conversation by telling me that he felt deeply andpersonally all the care and kindness that I had bestowed upon Clementde la Marke. "I have spoken with the little fellow long this morning,"he said, "and from all that he has told me, I must say that, had youbeen his own father, or his brother, you could not have shown him morejudicious kindness."

  I knew the good priest too well, and the exact proportion of kindlysubtlety which tempered a disposition that was naturally candid, tobelieve that his sole object in thus forcing me, as it were, into aprivate interview with him, was to commend my behaviour to the littlepage. Nevertheless, though I understood all this very well, yet hewent on so long and so skilfully, speaking upon that subject, and theevents of the campaign alone, that I was thrown off my guard, andfound myself detailing many of the occurrences that had taken place,more at large than I had intended, or perhaps desired. Observing mepause, as I found this to be the case, he replied, quietly, "It seemsto me, my son, that in this last campaign you have exposed yourself agreat deal more than was at all necessary; and, indeed, Clement hastold me that you did so to such a degree, that it became a commonobservation, amongst both officers and soldiers, that you were _seekingdeath_. Tell me, my son," he added, in a more emphatic tone--"tell me,if you love me, what is the cause of that deep despondency, which youcannot conceal from one who, like myself, has watched you, with theaffection of a father, for many years."

  I felt that to deny the despondency was vain, and I did not choose toprevaricate concerning its cause. I replied, therefore, at once, "Youmust not ask me, my good father. At some time--and that ere long--Iwill tell you the whole. But rest satisfied at present with knowingthat though, perhaps, as it seems was too apparent, I did seek Deathwherever he was to be found, yet I have now learned to think better;and, whatever I may suffer, will make such frantic attempts no more."

  "I trust that it will be so," replied Father Ferdinand--"I trust thatit will be so. As you tell me not the cause of your suffering--and Iwill not pretend to know it--I can of course offer you no spiritualconsolation; nevertheless, I can perhaps yield you some of a worldlykind. Therefore, let me beg you to remember, before you make yourselfmiserable about anything that this earth contains, that those thingswhich seem the most hopeless are often, by a slight change ofcircumstances, brought within our reach. Let my own history be awarning to you. Born to a high rank, and to a princely fortune, froman early disappointment I abjured station, wealth, and the world,concealed myself in the cells of a foreign monastery, and when, at theend of twenty years, I came forth again in the humble state in whichyou now see me, I discovered that had I but paused three months ere Irendered my fate irrevocable, every obstacle which lay in my way wouldhave been removed, and that all I sought might have been mine. Let itbe a lesson to you, young man, and learn never to despair. Now,farewell; and when you are inclined to make me your confidant, youwill always find that you have a sincere friend."

  Thus saying, he turned away, and left me to pursue my walk alone. Whathe told me was, indeed, intended to produce a good effect; but,nevertheless, the consequences might have been very evil. He raised upagain hopes that were better crushed. He conjured up dreams that wereonly calculated to mislead; and for the first half hour, believingthat he had seen the real cause of all I suffered, and thought itright, from some other knowledge that I did not possess, to encouragemy hopes, I gave myself up to visions of joy. Then, however, came theremembrance that Monsieur de Villardin had promised the hand of hisdaughter to the Count de Laval; and recollecting that he had notinformed Laura herself of the fact, I saw clearly that he had notinformed Father Ferdinand either. The good Priest, then, I concluded,had seen our love; and not knowing the engagement which bound the Duketo another, had believed that he might be moved by our mutualaffection. Thus fled, once more, all my brilliant dreams; for I wastoo thoroughly acquainted with Monsieur de Villardin's stern adherenceto his word, to believe that any circumstance would make him eventhink of withdrawing it.

  That day passed without any farther incident of note. The next morningI again met Laura de Villardin; and each day, during the whole weekthat followed, we failed not to spend at least two or three hourstogether--I may call it alone; for Lise, who accompanied her,generally left us till it was time to part. It must not be thought,however, that these clandestine meetings were devoted to thoughts orfeelings that all the world might not have witnessed. They werefoolish, I grant, and only served to nourish the passion that webelieved we were taking means and laying schemes to overcome. Theproposal that Lise had made of a private marriage was never againmentioned between us. We never encouraged each other with false hopes,but admitted to our own hearts, in the fullest degree, that no chanceexisted of our union. The delight of being together we certainly didpossess; and it was doubtless the secret desire of retaining at leastthat blessing which blinded our eyes to the imprudence of ourcontinual meetings.

  Our whole conversations were devoted to forming determinations offuture firmness and resolution, mingled, indeed, with many a tear andmany a caress; but certainly--however weak was our conduct--howevermuch we suffered ourselves to be deceived by our own wishes--ourintentions at least were good throughout the whole.

  Thus passed the time, as painfully as it could well be conceived,till, one morning, as we were returning towards the ch?teau, whileLaura--as we were still at some distance from the house--was hangingupon my arm, the form of Father Ferdinand appeared at a littledistance in the alley before us. He saw us, beyond doubt, for hepaused, turned out of the way he was pursuing, and left us to proceedto the house without speaking to us. What might be the event I knewnot, but I saw him no more till supper, at which everything passedtranquilly, and we separated for the night.