The Story of Mademoiselle D'Estanville

Chapter I

To describe Anne Hall's indignation when she heard of her brother's engagement would be simply impossible. She personally disliked Marie d'Estanville ; she disapproved of her religion ; she hated the prospect of her being Sam's wife ; and never before had she felt so helpless. Lady Hall was tearfully happy. Sam had gone to her room at once on returning home, and told his story, certain of his mother's sympathy, if not of her cordial approval ; but Lady Hall from the first had taken a strong fancy to the bright, genial girl, whose deference and sweetness towards her own mother, and gentle respect for herself, promised so much for the happiness of their future relations. Even the VOL. II. b conviction that Anne would not like it, and consequently would probably make things un pleasant, did not destroy the happiness that this marriage gave her.

And Lady Hall, enlightened by Madame Biete, was flattered by the cordial approbation given by Madame d'Estanville. She knew by heart all the principal alliances which had, after all, done very little for poor Madame d'Estan ville, but which, Lady Hall felt, made all the difference in announcing this marriage at home. Her first warm impulse was to despatch a little note to Mademoiselle d'Estanville, by Lisette, in which, after lauding Sam up to the skies, she welcomed Marie as being quite worthy of him. This note filled Marie's eyes with tears, and her heart with happiness, while poor Madame d'Estanville acknowledged gratefully that now the only fear she had had about all this was entirely removed, and mother and daughter were in the seventh heaven. It was, therefore, with a chill that Madame d'Estanville was recalled to a recollection of their past sorrows by a letter from Monsieur Maitre's lawyer, giving her a date, after which he would Mademoiselle d' Estanville. 3 consider himself entitled to enforce his claim, by employing the agency of the law, should it still remain unsettled.

She could not quite see her way ; she did not know what to do : one great blessing to her now, was being able to talk to Marie about these things. There was no necessity for any concealment, and this was the only thing, she thought, for which she had to thank Monsieur de Belleville. Like most girls desperately in love, Marie's one sole idea was to take their troubles to Monsieur Hall. So noble, so good, so clever, he would solve every difficulty for them — to tell him everything, except except the engage ment she had been willing to make ; Marie feeling lowered in her own eyes when she remembered this, felt sure that it would lower her also in Sam's eyes, she could not bear this, and yet she felt as if he ought to know. But Madame d'Estanville did not agree with her. Where was the use of opening up this story to a stranger like Lady Hall ? once married, Marie could do as she pleased, but saying, ' My daughter had consented to marry a man she hated to save me from ruin and despair, but happily we prevented her doing so," would involve such tedious and numberless explana tions, so unnecessary, and so painful. . . .

No, Madame d'Estanville would not hear of it, and Marie, half relieved and half sorry, consented to say nothing at present. It was Monsieur de Pendarves who came to the rescue, and his doing so was owing in a great measure to Jacqueline. Jacqueline had not seen unmoved the perturbation and distress of Madame d'Estanville, or heard what it was that had made Marie ill, and destroyed the child's lightness of heart, and Monsieur de Pendarves was put au courant of all that Jac queline knew. Monsieur de Pendarves was one of those rare characters that are able to carry out an idea at however great an expense to their own pri vate feelings. He was able to put himself entirely upon one side : he loved Marie d'Estan ville with the purest, the most unselfish devo tion. Her happiness was dearer to him than anything else, and to secure that he resolved to sacrifice everything.

The very day that Madame d'Estanville received the letter from Monsieur Maitre's lawyer saw him on his way to the chateau, where of late he had been very little seen ; and Madame d'Estanville received him warmly, wondering at his gravity and silence, and also wondering why his eyes had so mournful, so pathetic an expression. Alas ! even she could not fathom the depth of his unselfish love for Marie : had he told her everything, had he betrayed himself, she would after all have only half comprehended it. With an effort which paled even his bronzed face, Monsieur de Pendarves announced that he had sold his home, the home he so loved, where his mother had lived and died, to an American family. " Que voulez vous ?" he said, endeavouring to turn it off lightly, " I wanted the money." " How could you do such a thing?" exclaimed Madame d'Estanville, in great indignation.

" That dear old place ! how vexed Marie will be ! Is it quite hopeless ? is the affair finished ?" " Quite, — papers sealed, signed, and de livered." " Quel malheur !" exclaimed Madame d'Es tanville ; " and in that, perhaps, we might have helped you. Though it is only just arranged, I must tell you, I must consult you. Oh ! mon ami, I am very happy, and so is Marie. It is again a question of marriage. This time oh, such happiness ! Monsieur Hall — you know him, you have met him here ! well, it is he, that amiable, young, fair-haired Englishman, that has proposed to Marie." " And Marie ?" " Marie adores him — she considers him an angel," said Madame d'Estanville, warmly. " Ah! you were right; her romance is not thrown away; her instincts were true; she loves and loves happily, and my happiness is almost too great."

Poor Monsieur de Pendarves ! His good and noble heart was destined to be severely and cruelly tried that day ; but the very conscious ness of his weakness, and of his necessity for self-control, gave him strength. After all, it was a different thing loving her thus, giving her up to one she loved, and who was worthy of her, to the possibility of her being sacrificed to the urgent necessities of her house. Mademoiselle d Estanville. 7 But even knowing Madame d'Estanville as he did, it astonished him to see how utterly her daughter's prospects obscured for the time the anxieties she was still in. This marriage had not altered the debt, nor her position towards Monsieur Maitre ; it altered her daughter's future, and this was all. He could not help saying to her, " And the debt ?" Madame d'Estanville's countenance fell a little.

" I am in great perplexity," she said. Monsieur de Pendarves mused a little, and then he said, " If Monsieur Hall marries Marie, why not ask him to buy this place, and settle it upon her ? He is rich, and in that way it would not leave the family. Why not ?" and yet poor Madame d'Estanville hesitated ; she could not bear to' shadow the great happiness and brightness of this engagement by plunging into the story of her troubles ; and yet there was so much reason in what Monsieur de Pendarves urged, that she could bring nothing against it ; but at any rate she could not act upon the suggestion without getting leave from a certain cousin, the Due de Mentran. Monsieur de Pendarves had sold his place, but the money it brought, to his very great disappointment, had fallen short of the whole claim, which he and his lawyer had thoroughly examined ; there remained only one way open to Madame d'Estanville if she did not sell the chateau, and this was to mortgage the little farm upon which they actually lived.

Rather than show all her troubles to young Hall, Madame d'Estanville might do this, and Mon sieur de Pendarves, thinking it all over, came to the conclusion this would be her best plan. In this way, though the grounds of the chateau would be let, the chateau itself would belong entirely to Madame d'Estanville. Monsieur de Pendarves with some difficulty persuaded her to consent to this arrangement, intending privately to ask Monsieur Hall to help her to this extent, and conceiving that, under the circumstances, there was no harm in changing her position so far, during the few months that must elapse before Marie's marriage. She would become his tenant, and would pay a rent — which, of course, would be merely a nominal one ; and in this way nothing would really be changed, except that this weary debt would be off her mind, and for this reason he would speak to Marie by herself.

She, at least, would be reasonable, and if she loved Monsieur Hall, the fact of speaking openly to him became a matter of course. It came really to this, that Madame d'Estanville's own daugh ter would be simply assisting her. Neither Monsieur de Pendarves nor Marie knew that every farthing her mother possessed was money earned by the management of the little farm, and that this arrangement would deprive Madame d'Estanville of all her means of subsistence. Jacqueline spoke so often about Mademoiselle's dot, that Marie had learnt to believe in the existence of a little money some where, and now she would be rich, of course, she and her mother would have a home together. So when Monsieur de Pendarves and Marie talked together, he found Marie as ready as he had expected to enter into this arrangement.

To her, money was so entirely an abstract thing ! If she had been rich and Monsieur Hall poor, she would naturally have helped him and his family ; as she was poor, it would be equally natural that he should help her. In answering Lady Hall's note, Madame d'Estanville only stipulated for one thing, that the engagement should not be a long one ; she had learnt to dread delay, and was feverishly anxious that all should soon be settled. Poor woman ! she little knew that this wish of hers furnished a weapon to Anne Hall, and that in the mood she was in she was more than in clined to take advantage of it.

Chapter II

There were two people thoroughly dissatisfied with the existing state of things at the Chateau d'Estanville — Miss Anne Hall and Adele Morier. Adele Morier was discontented and unhappy beyond description. Nothing good came in her way, she thought, and even Marie d'Estan ville's rejected suitor would not see what was good for him. So though she remained quiet, watchful, and cat-like — ready to take advan tage of the first opening that occurred — she was secretly chafing under a bitter sense of disappointment, and resented the overflowing happiness of Marie d'Estanville almost as though it was paraded purposely to annoy her. There was no sympathy in her nature, no warmth in her heart ; even Madame d'Estan ville began to see that she was not the genius she had imagined— even she began to feel that the calmness and stillness was utter weariness, and intensely oppressive.

But she was very sorry for Adele, the more so as Marie had frankly declared that she could not and would not have her as an inmate of her new home ; and Madame d'Estanville was now writing letters innumerable in the vain hope of finding her another home. When Adele was told this, she said nothing, but she looked with the deepest reproach at Madame d'Estanville, and the first moment she was at liberty she sought Monsieur Maitre. Her idea was, that if she put him under obligations to her, he might marry her out of gratitude, and she wanted to find out in what way she could do him a service. She knew but imperfectly all that had happened, but she guessed a good deal, and if she could succeed in making a home for herself, and at the same moment mortify Marie d'Estanville, she felt Mademoiselle d Estanville. 13 she should be perfectly happy.

She well knew that Monsieur Maitre passed the gates of the park at a certain hour, and that he went to the billiard-rooms at Ortan-sur-Mer; in short, Mademoiselle Morier, like other people not over scrupulous about obtaining information, generally got it in some way or another. So she waylaid Monsieur Maitre, and entered into conversation with him, looking very hand some in a shady hat she had on. " I am trying to get a little repose," she said, in a melancholy voice. " I am tired of being so happy and so gay ; one must be sympathetic, you know ; I am paid for it." She spoke with a bitter emphasis upon the words. Monsieur Maitre paused and looked at her. " May one ask what all the happiness is about ?" He spoke in a mocking, incredulous voice — he thought she was saying so, not meaning it, and that she found the chateau and its inmates too dull.

Adele lifted her handsome eyebrows ever so little. " When we love and are beloved, when we are to be married, then we are happy," she said. « Who ?" " Mademoiselle d'Estanville — who else ? You do not suppose I love or am loved." "Who is Mademoiselle d'Estanville going to marry ?" " Monsieur Hall — rich, blond, English, and insolent," answered Mademoiselle Morier. Monsieur Maitre was silent. He had not expected this, though he might have imagined it, seeing the Englishman there so constantly ; but as he was of a different nation, of a different religion, he had never thought of it. " So this is why she would not carry out her engagement with me," he said, under his breath. Mademoiselle Morier started. "You were engaged ; is this why you hate her ?" " I did not say I hated her," said Monsieur Maitre.

" I do not say so," rejoined Adele Morier, " but I suspect our feelings are pretty much alike." Monsieur Maitre looked at her. " I may return your question, Mademoiselle — why do you hate her ?" " I hate her for her prosperity. I hate them both," she cried, vehemently. " Look at the selfishness they have shown me. You come evening after evening ; you sit talking only to me, looking as if you cared only for me, and this is encouraged by both mother and daughter. A. man, a very handsome man, is encouraged to pay me meaningless attentions to serve their own purposes. My feelings go for nothing. Had I been weak and vain, I should now say death is all I have left to me ; but though I do not deny I suffer, I am brave, I have some courage, I have some spirit ; enough to punish those who have been so heartless towards me ; and now, alas !

I am to go from this home, such as it is. Ah! I could tell you something, Monsieur Maitre — I could put revenge in your power ; but you do not make me your friend, you tell me nothing. You care nothing for what I say !" "You take things for granted, chere Made moiselle," said Monsieur Maitre, in an insin uating tone ; " how do you know that my attentions were utterly meaningless ?" " Because you were engaged to Mademoiselle /> d'Estanville," answered Adele. "You say so yourself." " Because I was compromised with that peacock of a Count," answered Monsieur Maitre. "You see money is at the bottom of it all." " Oh !" said Adele. " Well, Monsieur Maitre, I must say good-bye. You never come to the chateau now — not that it signifies." " But you had something to tell me," said Monsieur Maitre. " What was it ?"

" I have changed my mind," said Adele, indifferently. Monsieur Maitre reflected. It might be nothing, and yet she might, from her position at the chateau, have a good deal in her power. The only thing was that, judging by himself, he never could depend upon any one, much less upon a girl who was evidently playing a double game with Madame d'Estanville. " As you please," he said. " I know the world too well, charming mademoiselle, not to be aware that, if you offer to put revenge in my power, you gain either revenge or something else yourself. Nothing for nothing in this world all the world over." " Good-bye, Monsieur," said Adele, in a pained voice, turning away. " Good-bye, Mademoiselle. You will not be long away," he added, as he watched her slowly pass down the road in front of him. He followed her slowly, walking along with apparent indifference, whistling as he went, and every now and then stopping to talk to his dog.

It was not for some time that he made up to her, and even then he walked on a level with her without speaking. Adele was ex cessively provoked. She had always considered this man a sort of fool. She found him more than her match, and she was impatient and angry with herself for having said so much already. " Do not compromise me," she said, at length. " I am to meet Jacqueline here ; do not walk any farther." " This is the high road, free to all," answered Monsieur Maitre. " I am going on ; it is optional with you; you can either return or continue, as you please." vol. n. c Mademoiselle d' Estanville. 18 "You are really very good," said Adele, angrily. "Mademoiselle Morier, let us not fence with each other any longer," said Monsieur Maitre, suddenly crossing the road and coming close to her.

" I wish you would be reasonable ; tell me what you want, what you expect, and if it is in my power, you shall have it. In return, tell me the revenge you spoke of." Adele was silent. How could she say to this hard and cold-hearted man, " Marry me, for I want a home. I want to be rich, and to crush the d'Estanvilles ?" and yet she was not inclined to part with her information without securing to herself some advantage. What was she to do ? And yet without him she was powerless. Rapidly she considered everything, and at length she made up her mind to arrange so as to have several interviews with him. She would teach him to depend upon her, and to love her after his own fashion. She must risk, she would risk everything rather than be thrown upon the world again. So she told him of the plan she had overheard between Marie and Monsieur de Pendarves, of the mortgaging of the farm and the park at d'Estanville.

Much she did not comprehend, but what she did know enabled Monsieur Maitre to form conclusions. He laughed scornfully. " So your revenge is simply that I am to get my money." " You might, through some other person, have this mortgage," said Adele, " and take the farm into your own hands." " And what good would that do me ?" asked Monsieur Maitre. Adele's eyes opened wide. " You do not deceive me, Monsieur, by this affectation of indifference," she said, coldly. " I know what that would be to Madame d'Estanville. Never to be able to go through her own park without meeting you or your people — to be liable at all hours and at all times to have her privacy intruded upon, — I know what this would be to you, to hold her thus in your power." " Mademoiselle, your revenge is really de lightful. I give you credit for it," said Mon sieur Maitre, " only I do not quite see how to arrive at the important particulars without which it is utterly useless to me.

For instance, I must know Monsieur de Pendarves' man of business and Madame d'Estanville's. I suppose Monsieur Hall will employ hers ?" " I will find this out for you," said Adele, who found herself, after all, gaining nothing. "And for yourself, Mademoiselle?" said Monsieur Maitre. " For myself? Never mind me," she said, with a look of melancholy and resignation that had not the smallest effect upon him. "Well, then, farewell," he said, and added, in a tone of admiration, "I think, Made moiselle, that you and I together might defy fate. You are very clever, and — very hand some." Mademoiselle Morier raised her eyes for one moment to his. He was right, she looked very handsome ; but for all that, Monsieur Maitre was much too wise to think of her as a wife ; and she parted from him, and went on to meet Jacqueline, who had been to Monsieur de Pendarves, and who did not appreciate having been kept waiting in this way.

" Where have you been, Mademoiselle ?" she exclaimed, sharply. " My butter is melt ing to nothing waiting in this heat for you, and this poor old horse is tired to death be tween the flies and the dust." " I am sorry," said Adele, with her usual composed air. " I have been talking to a man I met on the road." " Some impostor, of course," said Jacqueline. " Well, I do not suppose he got much out of you ; you are not so soft as you look, Made moiselle." And Adele laughed quietly without answer ing her.

Chapter III

Madame Biete was on the verge of a quarrel with Madame Leroux ; and the cause was the marriage of Mademoiselle d'Estanville. " It will never be," she said ; " you will see it will never be." " But as it is settled," persisted Madame Biete. "That is nothing," said Madame Leroux. " I had a cousin, she was engaged, even her wedding dress was ordered — well, the marriage never took place." " Why ?" asked Madame Biete. "The man had either another wife, or he died, I forget which ; it comes quite to the same thing," said Madame Leroux ; " and you will see that I am right — my convictions are never wrong." Madame Biete could not help losing patience. " I know Monsieur Hall is un married," she said ; " and he looks as if his health was excellent — you must confess that." " I think he has too much colour, perhaps," said Madame Leroux ; " but I do not wish to make you unhappy, Madame Biete ; to me the whole thing is simply not natural.

The idea of Madame d'Estanville giving her consent in this way ! there must be some reason for it." " The young people are devotedly in love," said Madame Biete. " As if that signified. What would that excellent, that delightful Comte d'Estanville have said had he been alive ? You must remember he hated the English— he had lost immensely through them. Why, the very idea is enough to make him turn in his grave, poor man !" A bitter retort was on Madame Biete's lips, but she suppressed it. " I did not remember that you knew him," she said, quietly. " Every one knew him by reputation," said Madame Leroux, " every one knew what a life his imperious wife led him ; how she checked his generous impulses. Look at his subscrip tions : he promised hundreds of francs — hun dreds to everything." " Promised, and never paid," Madame Biete could not help saying.

" Whose fault was that ? every one knew it was Madame d'Estanville who prevented it. The proof lies in her own actions. I assisted at the last Quete, and I saw what she put in — five francs. Madame d'Estanville, Comtesse d'Estanville, with royal blood in her veins, puts in five francs at a charitable quete ! C'est incroyable !" " Possibly she could not afford more ; the very fact of Monsieur d'Estanville's liberal expenditure may have lessened her fortune," suggested Madame Biete. " Utterly impossible ! utterly ridiculous," said Madame Lernux. " Every one knows her fortune was larger than his, and settled upon herself. Well, at all events, I have a conviction — a conviction," she repeated, solemnly, " that this marriage never will be. I know so many instances just like it, and if they ever were to marry, they would be miserable : Mademoiselle d'Estanville has not such brilliant eyes for nothing.

I know she's got a temper, and it is utterly impossible for the brother of Mademoiselle Hall not to have a temper ; of course, if she has a temper, and he has one, what follows ? they are miserable," and Madame Leroux looked quite triumphant at this un answerable argument. " Have you found an apartment you like ?" asked Madame Biete, to turn the conversation. " I have not looked for one," said Madame Leroux, who had seen all that were to be had. " I shall not think of moving till I am turned out. I shall then catch a violent cold, and bring an action against Monsieur le Maire ; it is all quite simple." " Is not the noise annoying ?" said Madame Bi£te, " and all the dust." " It is a purgatory," said Madame Leroux. " No one but myself would ever have had the evil fortune of being in such a place.

I open a window, mortar in powder, showers of it, descend into my room ; I go to bed, I have a Mademoiselle d 'Estanville. migraine; the hammering throws me into a fever ; I write fresh remonstrances to Monsieur le Maire ; I take every possible means of prov ing to him my unhappy condition. His only answer is a recommendation to move as soon as possible. He is obstinate to a point — but I am also obstinate. His life, at all events, shall not be one of repose," said the little woman, maliciously. " He shall not go to bed and slumber soundly with a digestion unimpaired by reflections, while I, after a night of sleep lessness, am disturbed from early morning till late at night with their detestable improvements. I will do my best to make my suffering and inconveniences in some small measure fall back upon him, and I rather think in the long run he may find out that it would have been better to have left me alone."

" I was only going to tell you that there is a small pavilion to be let cheap, not far from Madame Bayon's house : it is in the grounds adjoining her house." " Thank you for the information," said Madame Leroux ; " it is horribly damp ; if you wish me to descend rapidly to my grave, I will go there : it is the very place for neuralgia (I am already neuralgic) and for every illness under the sun. It is much too small." " Too small ! It has four rooms, and a very nice garden." " Only, that living so far out of the town, I must keep two servants instead of one. No, Madame, if I move (which I do not intend doing), I fully intend going to that house near Monsieur Pottier's." " Impossible !" exclaimed Madame Biete ; " become the tenant of that quarrelsome man ! "He is inclined to befriend me, therefore every one abuses him," said Madame Leroux, in a tone of the most provoking resignation.

" Never mind, I am accustomed to most things now ; a widow has a great deal to bear, as you know, Madame." "And much to be grateful for," thought Madame Biete. "Well, good-bye," said Madame Leroux. " I wonder why Mademoiselle d'Estanville's engagement to Monsieur Maitre was broken off. There was a marriage !" "You know so much more than I do of Madame d'Estanville's affairs," said Madame Biete, " that you can hardly expect information from me." Madame Leroux laughed. " I wonder if he broke it off, or if the d'Estanville's did. Well, again good-bye, and mark my words, the marriage you think is settled never will be."

Chapter IV

Anne Hall in the mean time had not been idle. She knew far better than any one how easily she could force her mother to see things in her fashion. Lady Hall wanted confidence in her own judgment, and was only too ready to see a fault in herself when Anne pointed one out to her. Mother and daughter sat together, and Lady Hall's red eyes and look of depression showed how stormy an interview had passed between them. " I cannot conceive — I can hardly believe you really have done this," said Anne Hall, her lips absolutely trembling and white with passion. " Write a cordial note accepting this manœuvring girl and her ridiculous mother, and send it off without consulting, without one word to me, on whose advice and affection you so often say you rely !" " My dear Anne," said poor Lady Hall, " I wrote from my heart, as I felt.

You have so much good sense, dear Anne ; you can under stand how happy I was, to find a lady so much above us in rank consenting so gracefully and so cordially to dear Sam's engagement, and appreciating his good qualities as she does; and I confess, my dear Anne, I do like Made moiselle d'Estanville excessively. I am sure you must understand this." " I do not understand it at all," answered Anne, shortly, " and I know there is something behind all this we do not see, and that we shall find out presently. Do you suppose that Madame d'Estanville, who gives herself the airs and graces of a queen, would consent to a marriage like this if there was no reason why her daughter should not marry some of her grand relations ? Believe me, mother, there must be some reason for all this, and what that reason is I shall make it my business to find _s_ " out.