CHAPTER IV.

THE DENOUEMENT.

I am quite unable to remember what I said, or did, in the first shock of meeting him again. His presence in St. Pucelle was so utterly sudden and unexpected to me, that I should not have felt greater surprise if my dead mother had stood before me; and I do not think that, for the first few minutes, I at all believed or realised that I was face to face with the man who had embittered so large a portion of my life.

I suppose I said something, and held out my hand to him, because he seized it eagerly, and appeared delighted at the recognition.

‘_Hilda!_ Miss Marsh! Is it possible! Who on earth would ever have dreamed of meeting you here?’

The astonishment of my friends at his evident knowledge of me, luckily prevented my having any occasion to answer his remark.

‘My dear Mr. Charteris,’ said Mr. Lovett, ‘you have taken us all aback. Do you mean to tell me that you have met Hilda before?’

‘Have I _not_ met Hilda before?’ he echoed, in the old joyous tone that sent a shiver through my heart. ‘Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me! Why, we were the very best of friends some few years ago, when I was an idle young fellow, loafing half my time away down at their pretty little place in Norwood. By the way, Miss Marsh, I hope that your mother is perfectly well.’

At this careless question, which told me so cruelly how little interest I and my affairs had held for him since our parting, I raised my eyes and looked in Cave Charteris’s face. Something in their expression, I suppose, added to my black dress, revealed the truth to him, for though Tessie interposed with a quick ‘_Hush!_’ it was almost drowned in his apology.

‘I beg your pardon _so_ much! I am afraid I have made a great mistake, but it is so long since we met, you see; and I have been out of the world lately, and the reach of news.’

‘It is no matter,’ I uttered faintly, as I turned to Mr. Lovett. The old man folded me in his arms as though I had really been his daughter.

‘Hilda and I have had a mutual misfortune lately, Mr. Charteris,’ he explained. ‘She has lost the best of mothers, and I one whom, though I had never had the pleasure of meeting, I reckoned amongst the most valued of my friends. Hilda’s father and myself were sworn chums in the old college days, and, after his lamented death, there was nothing to which I looked forward in the future with so much pleasure as the hope that I might meet and be of service to his widow and child. However, there is a Power above that disposes such things for us, and that is the reason that you find Hilda here, living in my house, and second only to my own daughters in my affection and esteem. Go, my dear!’ he added kindly to me, ‘and tell Madame that we are ready for our dinner! I will take Mr. Charteris meanwhile to his room, and when we meet again, I trust we shall all feel more at ease than we do at present.’

I was so grateful to my guardian for dismissing me at that moment, that I fled to the presence of Madame Marmoret as if she had been an angel of light instead of very much the reverse. Her sharp eyes detected my agitation in a moment.

‘_Eh bien!_’ she exclaimed, as she fixed those piercing black orbs upon my countenance. ‘And if they _do_ want their dinner, is that any reason you should be as white as a peeled turnip? Mamselle Ange has been the colour of a carrot all day, and now you have thought fit to do the other thing! What does it all mean? Young men were not so scarce with me, when _I_ was a girl, that they caused such a commotion as all that comes to; and if this stranger is to set the whole house topsy-turvy, why, the sooner he goes back to wherever he came from, the better; that’s what _I_ say!’

‘Oh, hush, Madame! He may hear you.’

‘And what if he should?’ she exclaimed, raising her voice from sheer obstinacy, until it reached every corner of the house. ‘I say nothing I am ashamed of; but I don’t judge people before I see them, as you foolish young creatures do! I take no one on trust. I want to see my money before I give over my goods; and so I say, let him that pays quickest be soonest served.’

Mr. Lovett had conducted Mr. Charteris upstairs by a more imposing route than that which led through the kitchen, although we seldom used it because it entailed going through the garden. But I was very glad he had adopted it this evening, since it permitted me to reach my own room without encountering them again. As I entered it I drew myself up firmly, and knew that I must be brave, at least for the next few hours. I dared not stay to think: the opportunity had not yet arrived for the indulgence of such a luxury.

All I had to do was to brace my nerves to meet Cave Charteris in the careless forgetful spirit in which he had evidently met me, and to ignore for the time being that we had ever dreamt of becoming more to one another than we were that night. I admired the coolness with which he had stood the shock of meeting me; at that moment I could not believe that his affected nonchalance was _real_—and I would imitate it to the best of my ability. So, in a few minutes, I descended to the _salle_ again, looking as much as possible like my usual self! I found the girls alone there, the gentlemen not having yet returned.

‘What do you think of him?’ asked Tessie eagerly, as I entered. ‘Do you not find him very handsome and distinguished-looking? He appears a true Englishman to me, with his fair yellowish hair and those very blue eyes!’

‘_Bah!_’ exclaimed Madame Marmoret, who had just brought in a dish of trout and laid it on the table. ‘What is the good of an Englishman over another man, except that he has more money and is a greater fool, so that he parts with it easier.’

‘You are not very complimentary, Madame,’ said Ange. ‘You seem to forget that we are English.’

‘I wish I could, _petite_ Ange! ’tis the worst part about you—except the want of money.’

‘You are always talking about money, Madame. Monsieur l’Abbé would tell you, you should not think so much about it. I am sure we have as much as we require.’

‘That is as it may be!’ grumbled Madame, ‘but other people have not as much as _they_ require, perhaps—_voyez_? Mère Fromard could tell you a different story if you were to ask her.’

‘Madame!’ interposed Tessie, in a tone of remonstrance, which sent the servant muttering out of the _salle_.

‘You are a greedy old pig!’ called out Ange playfully after her, but Tessie seemed to be afraid of what the pleasantry might lead to, for she drew the little maid to one side and bade her be silent.

When first we sat down to dinner, Cave Charteris appeared to be so much overcome by the news he had heard, as to be rendered almost silent. Every moment or so, I detected him glancing furtively at my mourning dress and pallid features, and he answered the questions addressed to him by Mr. Lovett in monosyllables. I suppose he felt sorry that he had wounded my feelings, and the occasion of his doing so had revived some remembrance of the many little kindnesses he had received at the hands of my dear mother when she had imagined she was showing an interest in the affairs of the man who was to become her son-in-law. However, under the influence of the good dinner that Madame had prepared for us, and the good wine which had suddenly made its appearance on the table—heaven alone knows from where, for these unusual luxuries had a habit of springing into existence with us as unexpectedly as if they had been shot up through a trap-door at a stage banquet—Mr. Charteris soon shook off his temporary embarrassment, and became the most talkative of the company. Of course he was informed of the importance of the day, and insisted upon our drinking the little maid’s health with three times three. Strange to say, I joined in these birthday congratulations almost as readily as if nothing had occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the morning. If I were a little paler and more silent than usual, the Lovetts attributed it to the suddenness with which I had encountered my mother’s friend, and Mr. Charteris had no notion that I had been otherwise since I had lost her.

When conversation had been restored amongst us, he addressed the greater part of his to myself, taking care, however, not to make the slightest allusion to the old days at Norwood.

‘I should think that seeing me walk in here, Miss Marsh’ (I perceived, with gratitude, that he had quite dropped his old familiar habit of calling me ‘Hilda’), ‘must have been almost as great a surprise to you as meeting you was to me. And it all came about by the most remarkable coincidence possible. Have you told Miss Marsh where you met me?’ he added, turning to Mr. Lovett.

‘I have not. I wish now that I had, but my girls there wanted to astonish her with the appearance of a young man (young men being a rarity in St. Pucelle), and kept your identity a dead secret until you stood upon the very threshold.’

‘Ah! just so. Well, Miss Marsh, I had been staying in Paris for the last three months, and had promised my uncle, Sir John Stephenson, to visit his son at Rille before I returned home again.’

‘Sir John Stephenson’s son! What, Fred Stephenson?’ I exclaimed, roused into interest.

‘Yes; do you know them? By Jove! now you mention it, I remember Fred telling me he had crossed to Antwerp after the summer holidays with a Miss Marsh, who was going to Artois. And it never struck me for a moment that it could be you. How strangely things do turn out! Fancy! the very name itself not arousing my curiosity.’

‘I see nothing strange in it. It is so many years since we met.’

‘It is indeed. Let me see how many—four, five, six?’

‘Five.’

‘Five years ago. By Jove! so it is. I was a nice article at that time, I dare say; I hope you will find me improved now, Miss Marsh. However, to return to my story: it was not the first visit I had paid to Rille, for I was over there last autumn, when I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Mr. Lovett and his daughters.’

‘On the occasion of the Bishop of Otaheite holding a confirmation there,’ interposed Mr. Lovett, ‘Tessie and Ange were both confirmed. They had not had an opportunity of being so before, as, when the last Protestant bishop visited Rille, Ange was too young and Tessie had the measles. Young Stephenson was confirmed too, if I remember rightly. A nice-looking lad with fair hair.’

‘Yes, that is he! I am going to ask you by-and-by, Mr. Lovett, if I may have him over here for a day’s shooting. I promised him a holiday, and my coming to St. Pucelle sooner than I intended cut him out of it.’

‘Certainly! We shall be delighted to see your cousin, or any friends of yours, Mr. Charteris.’

‘Thanks, so much! Well, Miss Marsh, where was I?’

‘I am not quite sure,’ I answered slowly.

‘You were going to tell us how it came to pass that you met papa again,’ said Ange, blushing violently at the sound of her own voice.

I saw Cave Charteris’s eyes rest on her admiringly, and the thought of what Mrs. Carolus had told me just flashed across my mind and made me turn a little more sick than I was before. Only for a moment, though; the next I knew that nothing could make any difference to the relations in which he and I now stood to one another. I am not a woman hard of belief, but where I have been once deceived, I never trust again. Cave Charteris’s pleasant voice roused me from my reverie.

‘Ah! just so. Thank you, Miss Lovett, for the reminder. Whatever else I may forget, you may rest assured I shall never forget the occasion of my first visit to Rille! Well, there I was stranded last week in one of my very worst humours—and when you have seen me in one of my very worst humours, I do not think you will ever wish for the pleasure again. I have a shocking bad temper, Miss Lovett!’

He said ‘Miss Lovett,’ but he meant Ange; and the little maid laughed softly to herself in answer. I am quite sure she did not believe him.

‘I had given up my rooms in Paris, and gone to Rille for a few days _en route_ to my own “diggings.” And there I received a letter to say that scarlet fever had broken out at home, and I must not think of crossing till the doctor said it would be safe for me to do so.’

‘Oh dear! how sad!’ exclaimed Tessie, sympathetically.

She was our only spokeswoman.

‘Very sad! isn’t it? But it would be foolish of me to go, especially as they don’t want me. Well, just as I was swearing at this—I beg your pardon, ladies, I mean just as I was reviling my ill-luck—in walks your good father there, to whom I confide my difficulty, telling him, at the same time, that if I can secure comfortable quarters at St. Pucelle, I think of taking up my abode there for a short time, in order to have some forest shooting. Now you can guess all the rest. Mr. Lovett, with his usual benevolence, offers me the shelter of his roof for as long as I can behave myself, and his friend the Baron de Nesselrode has kindly volunteered to be my guide through the Piron. What a number of accidents, all coming together, conduce to this pleasant meeting! Well, I suppose it _was_ to be, Miss Marsh, and I, for one, have every reason to congratulate myself that it has occurred.’

I tried to say that it pleased me also, though the lie left my faltering tongue but tamely.

‘You have an engagement with De Nesselrode to-morrow morning, I believe?’ remarked Mr. Lovett.

‘Yes; that is the reason of my sudden appearance here. He wrote me word that they have got up a boar-hunt in the forest for the day after to-morrow, and I was anxious to see what sort of a mount I could get in St. Pucelle. I do not wish to send to Rille or Brussels, unless it is absolutely necessary. Are there any horses to be hired about here?’

‘None to be hired, but plenty to be bought.’

‘It makes no difference to me; indeed, I would prefer to purchase if I can get a place to keep the animal in.’

‘We have an excellent stable and cowshed adjoining the house, which are both at your service, being, unfortunately for us, empty.’

‘That is settled, then; and will suit me far better than the hiring system. If I remain here, as I hope to do, for a few months, I should not care to be riding a different animal every day.’

‘And the horse you will purchase here will serve your purpose better than any town-bred animal. It takes a stout-hearted little beast, I can assure you, not to turn tail in forest-shooting. But here it seems bred in their bone. Even our sheep-dogs have wolf-blood in them, and will attack anything.’

‘I anticipate any amount of pleasure in the forest,’ said Mr. Charteris; ‘and if your friend Monsieur de Nesselrode is half as courteous as his letters, I am sure we shall get on well together.’

‘He is a thoroughbred gentleman,’ replied my guardian; ‘one of the _ancienne noblesse_, who are so fast dying out of France. He is expatriated for the present—the Château des Roses having been one of the shooting-boxes of the family—but when he comes into his own again, there will not be a finer courtier throughout the length and breadth of the land.’

‘So Miss Markham has given me to understand. She has often mentioned the Baron de Nesselrode to me.’

‘Oh! do you know Sophy Markham? cried Ange, with a childish giggle.

Cave Charteris took her cue at once.

‘Who _doesn’t_ know her?’ he answered, laughing. ‘She is ubiquitous, and appears to be an institution wherever I go. I have met her at Paris, in Italy, Switzerland and Germany; at Brussels and Rille, and now I find her settled in St. Pucelle. I begin to believe I am never to be rid of Miss Sophy Markham, and if I crossed to Dover to-morrow, I should expect to see her face hanging over the rails of the landing-stage to welcome me home.’

They all laughed heartily at that, and Tessie said slyly:

‘Do you not admire her, then?’

‘Come, come, my girl! no scandal,’ interposed Mr. Lovett, quickly.

‘Ah, papa! I forgot you were one of the followers in her train.’

‘I am sure papa is no such thing,’ said Ange, indignantly. ‘_She_ follows papa, you mean!’

‘Here, Charteris! let us get out of this,’ exclaimed her father, rising from table. ‘You see what you have to expect from putting your character in the hands of a couple of little scandalmongers like these. If you will not take any more wine for the present, we will stroll down the town and speak to Jacques Despard about the horses. I know he has several nice colts for sale, and if you are anything of a horseman, you may like the mettle of a young, untrained animal. De Nesselrode will be up here by-and-by, I have no doubt, when I shall have the pleasure of making you personally acquainted. Tessie, my dear, should the Baron arrive before I return, tell him to make himself _chez lui_ till I come. Now, Charteris.’

And, with a bow that included us all three from the latter, and a nod from Mr. Lovett, the two gentlemen took their way down the street of St. Pucelle.

Oh, how I longed to go to bed and bury my bursting brain in the feather pillows; to find myself quite, _quite_ alone in the friendly darkness, and with the key in my door turned against all intruders.

My head ached from repressed thought; my heart was sick and trembling; I felt really ill for want of giving vent to my emotion: yet, so strong are the influences of custom and society, that I dared not tell the girls I needed rest. On the contrary, I eagerly denied their assertion that the sudden appearance of Mr. Charteris had upset me, and disdained all need of the affectionate sympathy they tendered me in consequence.

‘My dear children,’ I said impatiently, ‘I assure you you are mistaken. I am not half such a fool as I look. I confess it startled me to see Mr. Charteris walk into the room, because, for aught I knew to the contrary, the man might have been dead and buried by this time; but that fact alone will tell you that we could not have been very intimate friends in the olden days.’

‘Still, I suppose you know _something_ about him?’ persisted Ange.

‘How do you mean “_something about him_?”’

‘Why, about his family, and so forth.’

‘Indeed, I do not. I never paid a single visit to his family—I believe they are Northampton people!’

‘Norfolk, I think,’ put in Ange, timidly; ‘at least he said so when we first saw him at Rille.’

‘Oh, indeed! then I dare say you know a great deal more about him than I do. The fact is, Tessie,’ I continued, longing to have the explanation over once and for ever, ‘Mr. Charteris was introduced to us, many years ago, by an old friend of my dear mother’s. He was hanging about town then, doing nothing, I fancy—any way, he used often to run down to Norwood to see us, as you have heard him say, and—and—we were rather intimate for a few months—that is, until his father sent him to travel on the Continent, since which I have heard nothing of him until we met to-day.’

‘You knew none of his sisters or brothers, then—nor his parents?’

‘I knew none of the family but himself. I think he used to speak to me of his sisters, but I forget how many there were.’

‘He has only one sister now,’ said Ange, again. ‘I wonder if it is she who has the scarlet fever.’

‘Most likely! Have you heard what profession he is in?’

‘I do not think he has any,’ replied Tessie. ‘He seems to be a man of independent property! Did you hear him say that it made no difference to him if he bought a horse or hired one.’

‘Yes; I suppose, then, he must have come into some money. He was not rich when we knew him. I remember that! He was to have read for the law, and my dear mother used to say—she said, I remember—I can recall her saying——’ But no! put it which way I would, that sentence utterly refused to come to the birth. I had harped, unwittingly, on a string too nearly connected with my dead hope, and the discovery broke me down. ‘Oh, mother! mother!’ I cried aloud, as I put my head in Tessie’s lap and sobbed without restraint. Of course they attributed it to the associations which the presence of their guest had recalled to my mind, and they were as tender and sympathetic with my distress as though they had been to blame for it.

‘I am so sorry we kept it a secret from you, dear Hilda,’ they exclaimed simultaneously; ‘it was such a silly thing to do: but we had not the slightest conception that you had met him before, and under such happier circumstances. Do forgive us, Hilda! You will make us so very miserable if we think we have made you so.’

I assured them solemnly, as I rose and dried my eyes, that the girlish trick they had played upon me had nothing to do with my present state of mind. I should have felt the rencontre just as much I said, and truly, had I been prepared for it weeks beforehand; and I only required a few hours by myself to subdue the unusual emotion which old memories had raised in me. My answer had just the effect I desired.

‘Do go to bed, then, dear Hilda,’ urged Tessie, ‘and sleep off the remembrance of this unhappy evening. I am sure you will like Mr. Charteris very much when you come to speak to him more freely, and perhaps, in a few days, you will congratulate yourself that you have met him again.’

How little I thought, as I dragged myself up to my room, that her surmise would prove true.

[Illustration: [Fleuron]]