X.
They next deviated to Amiens, intending to stay there only one night;but their schemes were deranged by the sudden illness of Charlotte. Shehad been looking unwell for a fortnight past, though, with her usualself-abnegation, she had made light of her ailment. Even now shedeclared she could go on; but this was said over-night, and inthe morning it was abundantly evident that to move her was highlyunadvisable. Still she was not in serious danger, and having called in aphysician, who pronounced rest indispensable, they prepared to remain inthe old Picard capital two or three additional days. Mr. Power thoughthe would take advantage of the halt to run up to Paris, leaving DeStancy in charge of the ladies.
In more ways than in the illness of Charlotte this day was the harbingerof a crisis.
It was a summer evening without a cloud. Charlotte had fallen asleepin her bed, and Paula, who had been sitting by her, looked out into thePlace St. Denis, which the hotel commanded. The lawn of the square wasall ablaze with red and yellow clumps of flowers, the acacia trees werebrightly green, the sun was soft and low. Tempted by the prospect Paulawent and put on her hat; and arousing her aunt, who was nodding in thenext room, to request her to keep an ear on Charlotte's bedroom, Pauladescended into the Rue de Noyon alone, and entered the green enclosure.
While she walked round, two or three little children in charge of anurse trundled a large variegated ball along the grass, and it rolledto Paula's feet. She smiled at them, and endeavoured to return it by aslight kick. The ball rose in the air, and passing over the back ofa seat which stood under one of the trees, alighted in the lap of agentleman hitherto screened by its boughs. The back and shoulders provedto be those of De Stancy. He turned his head, jumped up, and was at herside in an instant, a nettled flush having meanwhile crossed Paula'sface.
'I thought you had gone to the Hotoie Promenade,' she said hastily. 'Iam going to the cathedral;' (obviously uttered lest it should seem thatshe had seen him from the hotel windows, and entered the square for hiscompany).
'Of course: there is nothing else to go to here--even for Roundheads.'
'If you mean ME by that, you are very much mistaken,' said she testily.
'The Roundheads were your ancestors, and they knocked down my ancestors'castle, and broke the stained glass and statuary of the cathedral,'said De Stancy slily; 'and now you go not only to a cathedral, but to aservice of the unreformed Church in it.'
'In a foreign country it is different from home,' said Paulain extenuation; 'and you of all men should not reproach me fortergiversation--when it has been brought about by--by my sympathieswith--'
'With the troubles of the De Stancys.'
'Well, you know what I mean,' she answered, with considerable anxietynot to be misunderstood; 'my liking for the old castle, and what itcontains, and what it suggests. I declare I will not explain to youfurther--why should I? I am not answerable to you!'
Paula's show of petulance was perhaps not wholly because she hadappeared to seek him, but also from being reminded by his criticism thatMr. Woodwell's prophecy on her weakly succumbing to surroundings wasslowly working out its fulfilment.
She moved forward towards the gate at the further end of the square,beyond which the cathedral lay at a very short distance. Paula did notturn her head, and De Stancy strolled slowly after her down the Rue duCollege. The day happened to be one of the church festivals, and peoplewere a second time flocking into the lofty monument of Catholicism atits meridian. Paula vanished into the porch with the rest; and, almostcatching the wicket as it flew back from her hand, he too enteredthe high-shouldered edifice--an edifice doomed to labour under themelancholy misfortune of seeming only half as vast as it really is, andas truly as whimsically described by Heine as a monument built with thestrength of Titans, and decorated with the patience of dwarfs.
De Stancy walked up the nave, so close beside her as to touch her dress;but she would not recognize his presence; the darkness that evening hadthrown over the interior, which was scarcely broken by the few candlesdotted about, being a sufficient excuse if she required one.
'Miss Power,' De Stancy said at last, 'I am coming to the service withyou.'
She received the intelligence without surprise, and he knew she had beenconscious of him all the way.
Paula went no further than the middle of the nave, where there washardly a soul, and took a chair beside a solitary rushlight which lookedamid the vague gloom of the inaccessible architecture like a lighthouseat the foot of tall cliffs.
He put his hand on the next chair, saying, 'Do you object?'
'Not at all,' she replied; and he sat down.
'Suppose we go into the choir,' said De Stancy presently. 'Nobody sitsout here in the shadows.'
'This is sufficiently near, and we have a candle,' Paula murmured.
Before another minute had passed the candle flame began to drown in itsown grease, slowly dwindled, and went out.
'I suppose that means I am to go into the choir in spite of myself.Heaven is on your side,' said Paula. And rising they left their nowtotally dark corner, and joined the noiseless shadowy figures who intwos and threes kept passing up the nave.
Within the choir there was a blaze of light, partly from the altar, andmore particularly from the image of the saint whom they had assembledto honour, which stood, surrounded by candles and a thicket of floweringplants, some way in advance of the foot-pace. A secondary radiance fromthe same source was reflected upward into their faces by the polishedmarble pavement, except when interrupted by the shady forms of theofficiating priests.
When it was over and the people were moving off, De Stancy and hiscompanion went towards the saint, now besieged by numbers of womenanxious to claim the respective flower-pots they had lent for thedecoration. As each struggled for her own, seized and marched off withit, Paula remarked--'This rather spoils the solemn effect of what hasgone before.'
'I perceive you are a harsh Puritan.'
'No, Captain De Stancy! Why will you speak so? I am far too muchotherwise. I have grown to be so much of your way of thinking, thatI accuse myself, and am accused by others, of being worldly, andhalf-and-half, and other dreadful things--though it isn't that at all.'
They were now walking down the nave, preceded by the sombre figures withthe pot flowers, who were just visible in the rays that reached themthrough the distant choir screen at their back; while above the greynight sky and stars looked in upon them through the high clerestorywindows.
'Do be a little MORE of my way of thinking!' rejoined De Stancypassionately.
'Don't, don't speak,' she said rapidly. 'There are Milly and Champreau!'
Milly was one of the maids, and Champreau the courier and valet who hadbeen engaged by Abner Power. They had been sitting behind the other pairthroughout the service, and indeed knew rather more of the relationsbetween Paula and De Stancy than Paula knew herself.
Hastening on the two latter went out, and walked together silently upthe short street. The Place St. Denis was now lit up, lights shonefrom the hotel windows, and the world without the cathedral had so faradvanced in nocturnal change that it seemed as if they had been gonefrom it for hours. Within the hotel they found the change even greaterthan without. Mrs. Goodman met them half-way on the stairs.
'Poor Charlotte is worse,' she said. 'Quite feverish, and almostdelirious.'
Paula reproached herself with 'Why did I go away!'
The common interest of De Stancy and Paula in the sufferer at oncereproduced an ease between them as nothing else could have done. Thephysician was again called in, who prescribed certain draughts, andrecommended that some one should sit up with her that night. If Paulaallowed demonstrations of love to escape her towards anybody itwas towards Charlotte, and her instinct was at once to watch by theinvalid's couch herself, at least for some hours, it being deemedunnecessary to call in a regular nurse unless she should sicken further.
'But I will sit with her,' said De Stancy. 'Surely you had better go tobed?' Paula would not be persuad
ed; and thereupon De Stancy, saying hewas going into the town for a short time before retiring, left the room.
The last omnibus returned from the last train, and the inmates of thehotel retired to rest. Meanwhile a telegram had arrived for Captain DeStancy; but as he had not yet returned it was put in his bedroom, withdirections to the night-porter to remind him of its arrival.
Paula sat on with the sleeping Charlotte. Presently she retired into theadjacent sitting-room with a book, and flung herself on a couch, leavingthe door open between her and her charge, in case the latter shouldawake. While she sat a new breathing seemed to mingle with the regularsound of Charlotte's that reached her through the doorway: she turnedquickly, and saw her uncle standing behind her.
'O--I thought you were in Paris!' said Paula.
'I have just come from there--I could not stay. Something has occurredto my mind about this affair.' His strangely marked visage, now morenoticeable from being worn with fatigue, had a spectral effect by thenight-light.
'What affair?'
'This marriage.... Paula, De Stancy is a good fellow enough, but youmust not accept him just yet.'
Paula did not answer.
'Do you hear? You must not accept him,' repeated her uncle, 'till I havebeen to England and examined into matters. I start in an hour's time--bythe ten-minutes-past-two train.'
'This is something very new!'
'Yes--'tis new,' he murmured, relapsing into his Dutch manner. 'You mustnot accept him till something is made clear to me--something about aqueer relationship. I have come from Paris to say so.'
'Uncle, I don't understand this. I am my own mistress in all matters,and though I don't mind telling you I have by no means resolved toaccept him, the question of her marriage is especially a woman's ownaffair.'
Her uncle stood irresolute for a moment, as if his convictions weremore than his proofs. 'I say no more at present,' he murmured. 'Can I doanything for you about a new architect?'
'Appoint Havill.'
'Very well. Good night.' And then he left her. In a short time she heardhim go down and out of the house to cross to England by the morningsteamboat.
With a little shrug, as if she resented his interference in so delicatea point, she settled herself down anew to her book.
One, two, three hours passed, when Charlotte awoke, but soon slumberedsweetly again. Milly had stayed up for some time lest her mistressshould require anything; but the girl being sleepy Paula sent her tobed.
It was a lovely night of early summer, and drawing aside the windowcurtains she looked out upon the flowers and trees of the Place, nowquite visible, for it was nearly three o'clock, and the morning lightwas growing strong. She turned her face upwards. Except in the case ofone bedroom all the windows on that side of the hotel were in darkness.The room being rather close she left the casement ajar, and opening thedoor walked out upon the staircase landing. A number of caged canarieswere kept here, and she observed in the dim light of the landinglamp how snugly their heads were all tucked in. On returning to thesitting-room again she could hear that Charlotte was still slumbering,and this encouraging circumstance disposed her to go to bed herself.Before, however, she had made a move a gentle tap came to the door.
Paula opened it. There, in the faint light by the sleeping canaries,stood Charlotte's brother.
'How is she now?' he whispered.
'Sleeping soundly,' said Paula.
'That's a blessing. I have not been to bed. I came in late, and have nowcome down to know if I had not better take your place?'
'Nobody is required, I think. But you can judge for yourself.'
Up to this point they had conversed in the doorway of the sitting-room,which De Stancy now entered, crossing it to Charlotte's apartment. Hecame out from the latter at a pensive pace.
'She is doing well,' he said gently. 'You have been very good to her.Was the chair I saw by her bed the one you have been sitting in allnight?'
'I sometimes sat there; sometimes here.'
'I wish I could have sat beside you, and held your hand--I speakfrankly.'
'To excess.'
'And why not? I do not wish to hide from you any corner of my breast,futile as candour may be. Just Heaven! for what reason is it orderedthat courtship, in which soldiers are usually so successful, should be afailure with me?'
'Your lack of foresight chiefly in indulging feelings that were notencouraged. That, and my uncle's indiscreet permission to you to travelwith us, have precipitated our relations in a way that I could neitherforesee nor avoid, though of late I have had apprehensions that it mightcome to this. You vex and disturb me by such words of regret.'
'Not more than you vex and disturb me. But you cannot hate the man wholoves you so devotedly?'
'I have said before I don't hate you. I repeat that I am interested inyour family and its associations because of its complete contrast withmy own.' She might have added, 'And I am additionally interested justnow because my uncle has forbidden me to be.'
'But you don't care enough for me personally to save my happiness.'
Paula hesitated; from the moment De Stancy confronted her she hadfelt that this nocturnal conversation was to be a grave business. Thecathedral clock struck three. 'I have thought once or twice,' she saidwith a naivete unusual in her, 'that if I could be sure of giving peaceand joy to your mind by becoming your wife, I ought to endeavour todo so and make the best of it--merely as a charity. But I believe thatfeeling is a mistake: your discontent is constitutional, and would go onjust the same whether I accepted you or no. My refusal of you is purelyan imaginary grievance.'
'Not if I think otherwise.'
'O no,' she murmured, with a sense that the place was very lonely andsilent. 'If you think it otherwise, I suppose it is otherwise.'
'My darling; my Paula!' he said, seizing her hand. 'Do promise mesomething. You must indeed!'
'Captain De Stancy!' she said, trembling and turning away. 'Captain DeStancy!' She tried to withdraw her fingers, then faced him, exclaimingin a firm voice a third time, 'Captain De Stancy! let go my hand; for Itell you I will not marry you!'
'Good God!' he cried, dropping her hand. 'What have I driven you to sayin your anger! Retract it--O, retract it!'
'Don't urge me further, as you value my good opinion!'
'To lose you now, is to lose you for ever. Come, please answer!'
'I won't be compelled!' she interrupted with vehemence. 'I am resolvednot to be yours--not to give you an answer to-night! Never, never will Ibe reasoned out of my intention; and I say I won't answer you to-night!I should never have let you be so much with me but for pity of you; andnow it is come to this!'
She had sunk into a chair, and now leaned upon her hand, and buried herface in her handkerchief. He had never caused her any such agitation asthis before.
'You stab me with your words,' continued De Stancy. 'The experienceI have had with you is without parallel, Paula. It seems like adistracting dream.'
'I won't be hurried by anybody!'
'That may mean anything,' he said, with a perplexed, passionate air.'Well, mine is a fallen family, and we must abide caprices. Would toHeaven it were extinguished!'
'What was extinguished?' she murmured.
'The De Stancys. Here am I, a homeless wanderer, living on my pay;in the next room lies she, my sister, a poor little fragile feverishinvalid with no social position--and hardly a friend. We two representthe De Stancy line; and I wish we were behind the iron door of ourold vault at Sleeping-Green. It can be seen by looking at us and ourcircumstances that we cry for the earth and oblivion!'
'Captain De Stancy, it is not like that, I assure you,' sympathizedPaula with damp eyelashes. 'I love Charlotte too dearly for you to talklike that, indeed. I don't want to marry you exactly: and yet I cannotbring myself to say I permanently reject you, because I remember youare Charlotte's brother, and do not wish to be the cause of any morbidfeelings in you which would ruin your future prospects.'
'My dear life, wh
at is it you doubt in me? Your earnestness not to do meharm makes it all the harder for me to think of never being more than afriend.'
'Well, I have not positively refused!' she exclaimed, in mixed tonesof pity and distress. 'Let me think it over a little while. It is notgenerous to urge so strongly before I can collect my thoughts, and atthis midnight time!'
'Darling, forgive it!--There, I'll say no more.'
He then offered to sit up in her place for the remainder of the night;but Paula declined, assuring him that she meant to stay only anotherhalf-hour, after which nobody would be necessary.
He had already crossed the landing to ascend to his room, when shestepped after him, and asked if he had received his telegram.
'No,' said De Stancy. 'Nor have I heard of one.'
Paula explained that it was put in his room, that he might see it themoment he came in.
'It matters very little,' he replied, 'since I shall see it now.Good-night, dearest: good-night!' he added tenderly.
She gravely shook her head. 'It is not for you to express yourself likethat,' she answered. 'Good-night, Captain De Stancy.'
He went up the stairs to the second floor, and Paula returned to thesitting-room. Having left a light burning De Stancy proceeded to lookfor the telegram, and found it on the carpet, where it had beenswept from the table. When he had opened the sheet a sudden solemnityoverspread his face. He sat down, rested his elbow on the table, and hisforehead on his hands.
Captain De Stancy did not remain thus long. Rising he went softlydownstairs. The grey morning had by this time crept into the hotel,rendering a light no longer necessary. The old clock on the landing waswithin a few minutes of four, and the birds were hopping up and downtheir cages, and whetting their bills. He tapped at the sitting-room,and she came instantly.
'But I told you it was not necessary--' she began.
'Yes, but the telegram,' he said hurriedly. 'I wanted to let you knowfirst that--it is very serious. Paula--my father is dead! He diedsuddenly yesterday, and I must go at once... . About Charlotte--and howto let her know--'
'She must not be told yet,' said Paula.... 'Sir William dead!'
'You think we had better not tell her just yet?' said De Stancyanxiously. 'That's what I want to consult you about, if you--don't mindmy intruding.'
'Certainly I don't,' she said.
They continued the discussion for some time; and it was decided thatCharlotte should not be informed of what had happened till the doctorhad been consulted, Paula promising to account for her brother'sdeparture.
De Stancy then prepared to leave for England by the first morning train,and roused the night-porter, which functionary, having packed off AbnerPower, was discovered asleep on the sofa of the landlord's parlour. Athalf-past five Paula, who in the interim had been pensively sitting withher hand to her chin, quite forgetting that she had meant to go to bed,heard wheels without, and looked from the window. A fly had been broughtround, and one of the hotel servants was in the act of putting up aportmanteau with De Stancy's initials upon it. A minute afterwards thecaptain came to her door.
'I thought you had not gone to bed, after all.'
'I was anxious to see you off,' said she, 'since neither of the othersis awake; and you wished me not to rouse them.'
'Quite right, you are very good;' and lowering his voice: 'Paula, it isa sad and solemn time with me. Will you grant me one word--not on ourlast sad subject, but on the previous one--before I part with you to goand bury my father?'
'Certainly,' she said, in gentle accents.
'Then have you thought over my position? Will you at last have pity uponmy loneliness by becoming my wife?'
Paula sighed deeply; and said, 'Yes.'
'Your hand upon it.'
She gave him her hand: he held it a few moments, then raised it to hislips, and was gone.
When Mrs. Goodman rose she was informed of Sir William's death, and ofhis son's departure.
'Then the captain is now Sir William De Stancy!' she exclaimed. 'Really,Paula, since you would be Lady De Stancy by marrying him, I almostthink--'
'Hush, aunt!'
'Well; what are you writing there?'
'Only entering in my diary that I accepted him this morning for pity'ssake, in spite of Uncle Abner. They'll say it was for the title, butknowing it was not I don't care.'