Page:Once a Week Dec 1860 to June 61.pdf/182

 . 9, 1861.] “Do you?” replied Laura, slowly and reproachfully. “There! I must not think of it, and I must not expect you to be stronger than you are. Robert will come here without Arthur,” she added in a calm voice, “and you have nothing to fear from what may pass between them. It is I only who am in danger—comfort yourself with that thought.”

“Do not speak so unkindly.”

“I did not mean unkindness, dear. I only mean to reassure you. Now, we have no time to lose.”

“If one of the servants should say that you have been here,” said Bertha, tremulously, “and Robert should know.”

“Angelique only has seen and knows me. We must trust to Henderson to silence her. That is a small risk among great ones.”

“But if Arthur should have told Robert?”

“My life and soul on Arthur’s silence where I am concerned,” replied Laura, almost fiercely. “Do not hint at such a thing again, Bertha, or I will leave you to yourself, and go off to England. It is only my intense confidence in Arthur, my deep conviction of his overmastering love for me, that sustains me in this trial. You do not understand me, but understand that you will ruin yourself if you shake the belief that holds me up. Not one more word about that.”

“What next are we to do?” said Bertha, humbly.

“We have done little or nothing, and yet I seem to see a way opening. Pardon me, Bertha dear, but it is useless to talk to you. I must see Henderson. It is shocking to be driven to such counsels, but things have gone too far for hesitation, and I must avail myself of every means in my power to help you and save you. Please to send Henderson to me.”

“I wish I was dead,” said Bertha, slowly departing.

“Would dying save your honour in the eyes of your husband?” asked Laura, laying a firm hand on her sister’s arm.

“I should be out of the way of all fear,” sobbed Bertha.

“Send Henderson to me,” replied Mrs. Lygon, calmly. And she gazed wistfully at the retreating form of her sister.

“If the saving her were all,” she murmured, “would I have incurred this peril? But I will go through with it now, to the very end. O, Arthur! my darling Arthur! My own, my noble, loving one.”

Henderson stood before her, ere the wife’s eyes could discern her through the mist that dimmed them.

Mrs. Lygon recovered herself with a strong effort.

“If I might speak, Madame, before you had anything to say to me?”

“Yes, Mary.”

“I did not think I should have any news so soon, Madame, but you may wish to hear of something which has happened.”

“Quick, tell me.”

“It does not concern anybody you know, Madame, except through me. But I told you that I believed I knew a person that I could trust to shed his life for me, if wanted.”

“Strong words, Mary.”

“They are that, Madame, but not too strong, if I may say so.”

And she briefly told the story of the duel at the inn, and did not fail to lay the utmost stress upon M. Silvain’s having become the deadliest and the most resolved enemy that Adair could have.

Mrs. Lygon listened with intense interest. If, when the story was done, she felt a pang of regret that the speaker had not to tell of a different ending to the fray, it need hardly be said that she gave utterance to no such vengeful thought.

“You should be a good girl, Mary, to have inspired such a love in a brave and honourable mna.”

And Henderson’s lips quivered proudly at the double praise.

“I did not think that anybody’s words could make me so happy, Madame,” said the girl, keeping down tears of pleasure. “You make me bold to ask one favour.”

“You will ask nothing improper, Mary, I am sure.”

“I would cut off my hand first, Madame. But if you would have the goodness only to see him.”

“Him?” said Mrs. Lygon, startled. “You mean”

“M. Sylvain, Madame. Only for one moment. If you would only let him see you. I would not think of your speaking to him, or condescending to talk to him about anything. That is my business. But to see him for a minute, and let him say one word.”

“The fewer persons I see the better.”

“Not another soul in the world, Madame. I shall take care of all that, and proud to be trusted. But if you would see poor Sylvain for just one minute.”

“If you desire it, then, I will.”

“Thank you, Madame, for him and for me. There is no one in the house just now, except Madame and yourself—Angelique and Suzanne are gone to mass—and if you would come into the next room, only for a moment as I say. O, not even Sylvain knows of this place, no soul but me.”

Mrs. Lygon ascended the stairs, and, conducted by Henderson, whose vigilance was tiger-like, came down into the chamber of science. Mary, with an apology, departed for a moment, and returned, bringing her lover.

M. Sylvain’s approach was most respectful, and his bow, without being servile, expressed the deep honour he felt. He either had not intended to speak, or hesitated for words, when Mrs. Lygon, addressing him in his own language, said,

“M. Sylvain, this young person has told me that you have been displaying your affection for her by an act of unusual bravery. I know her friends in England, and it will give me happiness to tell them that she has secured the regard of a man of honour.”

That speech, delivered in a gracious voice, and moreover in French, by a beautiful woman, vanquished M. Sylvain at once; and literally brought him to the ground. For, remembering what his mistress had said upon the subject of oaths, it