Miss Forrester. A novel

Front matter

MISS FOKRESTEK. MISS FOEEESTER & Hofcl. BY MRS. EDWARDS, AUTHOR OF "THE MORALS OF MAY FAIR," "CREEDS," "THE ORDEAL FOR WIVES," &C. &C. " The leopard follows her nature as the lamb does, and acts after leopard law ; she can neither help her beauty, nor her courage, nor her cruelty ; nor a single spot on her shining coat ; nor the conquering spirit which impels her ; nor the shot which brings her down." — Esmond. IN THEEE VOLUMES. VOL. III. LONDON : TLN3LEY BROTHERS, 18, CATHERINE ST., STRAND. 1865. [The Right of Translation is Reserved.] LONDON t BRAUBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITETR1ARS. CONTENTS.

Chapter I. The Two Locks Of Hair

" M. Reynan had evidently not risen in his profession since the days when ' Nita' danced;" proceeded Bryanstone, " for he was still a ballet director — and a ballet-director now at one of the poorest, shabbiest little theatres in Paris. I had had some difficulty in ascertaining that he was in existence at all ; I had more still in getting an audience of him, for the corps de ballet was in the middle of rehearsal, when I penetrated into the unclean back premises of his theatre. The sight of a twenty-franc piece, however, induced a wandering sylphidc to show me into what she termed the foyer de la danse, with the promise VOL. III. B that she would ensure the master waiting upon me the moment the dancing lesson was over ; and at the end of half-an-hour or so, M. Reynan entered, and without preamble or introduction of any kind, I asked him what I had come to learn.

Did he recollect the girl called ' Nita,' who danced at such a theatre in fifty — ? and could he give me any account of what had become of her since? M. Reynan looked at me nar rowly : I may remark that he was a little, very old, very dirty, Frenchman, possessed of a great deal of manner, and frightful volubility : rested his forehead a minute in his hand, and then launched into a long history which told me nothing whatsoever, save what I already knew. " ' Monsieur Reynan,' I remarked, when he had done ; ' I have come here to ascertain one ur two plain facts, and to pay handsomely for them. Can you, or can you not, tell me anything about the girl ' Nita,' who danced in your corps de ballet in the year of which I speak ? ' " At the word ' pay,' the whole expression of the man's face changed ; he came close to my THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR. 5 side and laid one fabulously dirty finger upon my sleeve.

(Mind, Nelly, I'm telling you a story to amuse you, and so I don't mind descending a little from high tragedy.) ' Monsieur,' he remarked, in a meaning whisper, ' I know all about the girl, Nita, and what became of her, and everything. But I'm a poor man, a poor man, Monsieur ; and in a profession like mine, secrecy is everything, and ' " In short, he bargained for his price. I pro mised him what he asked ; not very much, really, poor little wretch ; but exorbitant according to his ideas ; and then he told me all he knew, which amounted to this : — " A girl, known as Mademoiselle Nita, but who was by birth an Englishwoman, was engaged in 185 — by the theatre of which, at that date, he was the ballet-director. She was nothing of a dancer • but drew very good houses during one season by her extreme beauty.

In the following winter she was tried at the Italian Opera, where she danced two nights ; then was hissed from the stage ■ left Paris ; married, he had been afterwards told ; and died. I give you the bare B facts, Nelly, ungarnished by the extraneous matter relative to Mademoiselle Nita which Monsieur Reynan freely introduced. ' If Mon sieur wishes to see her portrait, it hangs in our little gallery of artistic celebrities,' he remarked, when the story was told. 'Would Monsieur give himself the trouble to turn his head and look at it ? ' " I did so, and there — in a company I can't talk to you about, Nelly — hung a coloured pho tograph of — of the dancer Nita. She was danc ing a Spanish shawl-dance with her bare arms clasped above her little golden head, with a dress reduced to the extremest limits that even the ballet allows, with — no, Nelly, no, no, no !

" he broke off, passionately, " I can't talk about that. The picture was of Honoria ! younger, slighter, fairer, but Honoria ! I took her photograph from my pocket and compared the faces, line for line — and hers is no common face, as you know. If I had thought the Jarvises' testimony convinc ing, what was this ? " ' Monsieur appears to be gravely interested,' .said the old Frenchman, watching me closely. THE TWT0 LOCKS OF HAIR. 7 ' If Monsieur really desired more detailed in formation as to the young person's history, it would not be difficult to give it him. One of the old friends and companions of Nita per formed at present in his corps de ballet, and was at this moment in her dressing-room, not a dozen yards away. Would Monsieur see this person ' ? Mademoiselle Fifine, or some such name.

We'll call her Fifine, at all events. " I answered quietly, ' Yes, I would see her ;' took my purse from my pocket and paid him, and then Monsieur Reynan went out of the room, and I was left alone — left to the contemplation of the works of French art that surrounded me (Nita conspicuous above them all), and to such ideas as their sufficiently varied styles of beauty might suggest ! " In about a quarter of an hour Monsieur Reynan returned with Mademoiselle Fifine — a miserable-looking woman, dressed in a faded silk, rouged even at this hour of the morning, and with a stronger odour of absynthe than was agreeable pervading her whole presence. " Either she was less rapacious than Monsieur Reynan, or she thought an ingenuous air the likeliest one to pay. She began without bargaining, at all events, to answer my questions.

" ' Nita— the poor Nita ? Mon Dieu, if I know her ! But she was one of my most intimate friends. Do you know, Monsieur, that the Nita and I came out in the same year? We made our debut at the Theatre de la Porte St. Martin, both. Ah, yes ; eight — nine years, it must be,' turning to Monsieur Reynan, ' since Nita was first engaged by you. Is it not ? ' '"It was in 185 — ,' Monsieur Reynan replied, after a moment's consideration. ' Nine years ago exactly.' " ' And under what name was she entered upon your lists ? ' I inquired. " ' Mais e'est evident ! Under the name of Nita Dupont,' answered the old man, promptly. ' By what name but her own should she have been entered ?' " ' Her own name was not Dupont,' I remarked. ' Dupont is not an English name, at all.' " Monsieur Reynan and Mademoiselle Fifine gave a simultaneous shrug of the shoulders.

" ' If Monsieur searched the lists of every theatre at which the Nita danced he would find no name but Dupont,' they answered, both in a breath. " ' But she was an Englishwoman,' I remarked, looking straight into Mademoiselle Pifine's eyes. ' As one of her' intimate friends, Madame, you were doubtless aware of that fact.' " ' Monsieur,' answered the dancer, ' I was told by others that Nita was an Englishwoman. From herself I never heard it ; and as far as accent went, she might have passed for a Pari sienne.' " ' And you never heard of her under any other name than that of Dupont? ' " ' Never, until after her marriage.' " ■ And then ? ' " ' Her name, of course, was her husband's — Bernadin.' " I reflected for a minute, and decided that it was useless to press for information that these people either could not, or would not, give.

Besides, if Nita Dupont was dead, what mat tered her name ; what mattered her country ; what mattered any detail of her history to me ? " ' You will excuse me for my pertinacity, Madame,' I remarked ; ' but it is no idle curiosity that prompts me to ask these questions. Were you acquainted with Nita Dupont after her marriage, and also at the time of her death? This is the last inquiry with which I shall have to trouble you.' " Mademoiselle Fifine looked over her shoulder suspiciously ; then walked to the door and made sure of its fastening before she replied. ' Mon sieur," she observed in a whisper, which, as Mon sieur Reynan had now left the room, was cer tainly unnecessary. ' I know nothing of the Nita after her marriage, beyond occasionally passing her with a bow or a " bon jour " in the street.

But I saw her close — close, Monsieur, after her death ! Yes, I saw her then ! ' And Made moiselle Fifine cast her little black eyes up to the dingy ceiling of the salle with a look of melodramatic meaning, that at once told me she wished to be asked more questions. " I put them, and at the end of an hour I got out the whole of her story. I can tell it you, Nelly, in two minutes. Upon Nita's return, married, to Paris, Fifine and other of her female friends, naturally showed a disposition to renew their intimacy with their old companion. But Nita's husband would have none of them in his house. His wife was sick ; his wife had done with theatres and theatrical people : his wife had domestic duties to attend to. They all knew what this meant, of course. Nita had fallen into the hands of a horrid, suspicious monster, who was jealous of her past life and all belonging to it.

When, occasionally, any of them passed the poor child, walking with him, plainly dressed, and pale and thin, a faire peur ! a little short bow, a nervous word or two, was all she evidently dared give them. " And even this soon came to an end. One morning, within a year after the marriage, as Mademoiselle Fifine was returning home from rehearsal, one of her friends told her that Nita was dead — had died that morning. " ' I went to their house at once,' she con cluded, not without an appearance of genuine feeling, ' and, after hearing from the porter that Monsieur Bernadin was out, walked straight up to the quatrieme where my poor friend's apartment was. An old woman who answered the bell told me that Monsieur was out, and that it was impossible for me to come in till his return. But having got thus far I was not to be turned away so easily, and just brushing the old woman away — so, I walked straight into the sitting-room, then on through another smaller apartment to a bedroom — the room of death ! ' And Mademoiselle dissolved.

" ' Nothing had been done for the poor dear corpse,' she resumed, when she saw that I was prepared to wait patiently while she wept. 'No holy water at the head of the bed, no flowers on her breast, not so much as I have seen done for some poor nameless wretch dying in an hospital. The blind was left up, and the sun came in. Yes, Monsieur, the sun actually shone, indecently, on the livid face of the dead — the face that half the men in Paris had once been fit to fall down and worship ! Well, I went to her side; stooped over, and looked at her. She was changed, of course, for she died, as they said, of your national disease, and her features and hands had become frightfully emaciated since I saw them last. But it wasn't this that shocked me : I was prepared for this. Monsieur,' and again the woman looked over her shoulder nervously. ' I saw a thing about Nita's corpse that I have never seen (and I've seen hundreds of 'em) on any corpse before.

The colour of her hair had utterly changed. It used to be a bright glitter ing yellow ; such a colour as you won't see twice in your life ; except on a young child's head ; and now — it was a dull, heavy red!' " ' Impossible,' I said quickly ; but I heard that my voice had a sound unlike its own, for a ghastly coincidence, in that moment of time, had already crossed my thoughts. ' You were excited at the sight of your dead friend,' I added. 'You made no allowance for long illness taking away the lustre of health from the young woman's hair.' " ' Monsieur,' she answered, ' I was no more excited then than I am now. As to illness taking the brightness from the hair, I know certainly that it would do so, but it would never change its colour totally. Nita's hair in life was yellow — I've a lock of it now ; I could show it to you.

After her death it was a dull, dark red. I'm not superstitious, Monsieur, quite the other thing. But to my last hour I'll swear no natural illness ever worked such a change as that.' " ' And you think, then — ? ' I began to suggest, carelessly. " ' I think that Nita Dupont was poisoned,' she interrupted, coming close to me and almost whispering the words ; ' and I think the effects of the poison worked the change in her that I tell you of. A dieu ne plaise that I should be learned in such things ! ' she added. 'But the moment I saw her the thought of foul play struck me; and what should I do, Monsieur, but I took out my work-case from my pocket, got out my scissors, and before the old nurse could stop me, cut off a long tress from her head ! Almost before I'd finished I heard Bernadin's step, and flew, too thankful to escape with only his curses, as he passed, for my impudence in enter ing his apartment — for of course, Monsieur, if he had murdered his wife he might have murdered me as easily !

And from that day to this I never saw him again. He was arrested not a fortnight afterwards, for reasons of state, I believe, and since then I have heard, I think, that he died in prison. " ' But, Monsieur, though I could do nothing at the time, nor since — what would the evidence of one poor girl like me have been worth ? and what good, now she was dead, would it have been to Nita to prove she'd been murdered? — I've never gone from my first thought. I put the question once, without names, to a friend of mine, a very scientific man indeed, and he laughed at the idea of poison, and said much more likely my friend had dyed her hair. So I gave him a little piece to examine, and he poured acids, and gases, and things on it, and it was not dyed: dyed ! what should a woman with such hair as Nita's dye it for ?

And that con firmed me in my belief. Monsieur,' she added, ' I see that you think as I do. Monsieur has turned as white as death.' " I need scarcely tell you, Nelly, that I did not for a second share in the woman's ridiculous suspicions of poison, or that, supposing I had done so, I should have been wholly indifferent to the domestic differences of Monsieur and Madame Bernadin. What contracted my heart — what, for aught I know, did make my cheek pale, was this story of the hair changing its colour, upon which I seemed to be coming everywhere. Honoria, a dozen times since her marriage, had told me of the singular change her hair had undergone of late years ; the Jarvises and their servant had spoken of it while they knew her as red ; my uncle was ready to swear to her as the celebrated Nita of years ago from the yellow colour of her hair alone; and now this friend and companion of Nita Dupont informed me that her friend's hair after death was no longer gold, but red ; dull, deep red, just as the Jarvises' servant had described Miss Honoria Forrester's !

Was I beginning, darkly, to discern the clue I sought, and yet dreaded to find? " I thanked Mademoiselle Fifine for her confidences ; gave her a sum which perfectly satisfied her conscience as to having yielded them; and after considerable argument, and many assurances that I was not going to bring her evidence forward in any way, bribed her into promising me the two locks of hair whose difference of colour formed the strong point of her story. She sent them faithfully to my hotel that afternoon ; and I was able to compare them. You may do so now, Nelly. Here they are in my hand. Before going out to meet Lumley I put them up, with Sir Hyde Bryanstone's letter and one or two other papers, into a packet that would have come into Honoria's hands if I had been killed. Living, it is my place, inch by inch, line by line, to find out the truth and act upon it.

I owe it simply to myself and to my people to do so ; and mercy in the way of concealment I will show her none, if she prove guilty. But when I was just face to face with the possibility of death, Nelly, it seemed different. I have, thank God ! no child to call Honoria ' mother,' and if I had died she would simply have passed away quietly, out of the family, and our share in her story would have ended. And thinking this, I just put up such traces of her secret as I possessed into a packet, accompanied by two or three lines, con cerning whose purport" — and here Bryanstone's lips did for a moment tremble — " I need not say anything now. I was not killed; and the packet has not left my dressing-case till now. Here it is, and here are the two locks of chameleon hair. Tell me if you think, with Mademoiselle Fifine, that either poison or witchcraft could have effected the change ?

" And as he spoke, Bryanstone produced a small folded packet from an envelope, and placed it in Nelly's hand. She opened it without a word, and examined the two tresses of hair that it contained long and narrowly. " Mr. Bryanstone," she cried, when her survey was ended, " I wish to take no part in all this. In my heart I try not to admit a suspicion even of Honoria. But one thing I would swear ; these two locks of hair were never cut from the same woman's head ! The red piece is coarse and harsh, the yellow fine and supple as silk ; so much I know." "You are right, Nelly, I felt the same the moment I received them from Mademoiselle Fifine. Those two pieces of hair were never cut from the same woman's head. All evidence connected with the red hair I set aside at once, as not concerning myself in any way.

It be longed to a certain Madame Bernadin, dead and in her grave. Had the golden tress been cut from the head of the woman I call my wife, or had it not? Even with no counter-interest at work, evidence that shall prove any human being's identity is about the hardest that a man can set himself to obtain. On calmly reviewing such broken links as had already come into my possession, it became clear to me at once that the person whose testimony would be worth a thousand-fold more to me than any other must be Bernadin. The man who married Nita the dancer, must have it in his power, if he chose, to B* VOL. throw light upon whatever mystery was connected with this part at least of Sir Hyde Bryanstone's suspicions. I found out more than one person who spoke vaguely of his death, but none of them could give me any certain information as to the place or time of its occurrence.

By com municating with the police, however, I should be able to ascertain whether he lived or not ; and had it not been for the misfortune of getting wounded in this accursed duel, I should in another week have been back in Paris, and have probably brought the whole inquiry to an end." " And how were you led into that horrible wicked act at all, sir ? — for indeed I must call it by its right name, even though you did it and think it honour. Suspecting, disbelieving Ho noria as you did, what made you risk your own life and another's for her sake ? " " Nelly, it was not for her sake at all. A blackguard — the man whose cowardly shot has brought me to this pass — had spoken lightly of my wife, and it was my plain part, whatever her demerit, to tell him that he lied. I did so, on the morning I came to town before seeing the Miss Jarvises ; but making some other cause the pretext for my insult to him.

You know the rest. Nelly, child," he added, " these are not subjects for you at all. Go back to Norfolk, and don't trouble yourself too much about me. My present life won't last very long. One way or another it must be decided. Why, 'tis too monstrous, too monstrous ! " he exclaimed, the blood rising in his pale face, " to think that such a history can remain hid, when the man most interested in it would move heaven and earth — would give his own soul, to lay it bare ! The first step I shall take, as soon as I can act at all, wfll be to search for Bernadin. If Bernadin lives " He stopped abruptly, for a hand was softly turning the handle of the door. In another moment Honoria. with her usual silent tread, entered the room. The afternoon had faded, unnoticed, into evening, while Bryanstone had told his story ; but, dim though the light was, Nelly Bertram noticed a ghastly fixedness about Honoria's lips as she came forward, with a little set speech full of delight, and wonder, and thankfulness that dear Henry should already have strength enough to sit up so long ! His last words had been of Bernadin ; had Mrs. Bryanstone heard them ? i

Chapter II. Tell Him The Truth

Honoria was in despair when Nelly next morning announced her intention of going home. Henry would have a relapse — Henry would be so dull. No one read aloud, no one did any thing, like Nelly. Why, even that monster, Martin, had left off suspecting people of poison ing each other since Nelly came : with more of the same nature. I don't think her eloquence would have effected much; indeed, Bryanstone grew more and more obstinate about Nelly's departure the more Honoria pressed her to stay ; had not a deus eæ mdchina in the shape of a letter from Uncle Frank, given opportune weight to Mrs. Bryan stone's wishes. Mr. Bertram had exchanged a VOL. duties with a brother clergyman at the sea side for six weeks, this letter announced ; and Nelly could either accept her friends' soli citations to remain at Brussels, or go and stay with her Aunt Lydia at Ramsgate.

He, Uncle Frank, would be back at the Parsonage on such a date in March, and would expect her to be home on that evening to make his tea for him. Now Nelly was not at all a heroine or an angel, but a faulty, impressionable, oftentimes most unreasonable, young woman, formed of the commonest flesh and blood ; and every word that she had said about wanting to go to her duties was false ; and the delight she felt on hearing she might stay longer with Bryanstone was real. " If Honoria wished me gone, or was jealous of me in any way, it would be different," she thought, when she had been having a tough battle with her conscience about going to her Aunt Lydia, and had gained a decided victory over that somewhat resilient faculty ; " or if Mr. Bryanstone looked on me in any other light than what he does — a plain, patient sort of woman, who has nursed him diligently in his sickness — or if the state of things between them was not so miserable, and I did not think I could at least ward the evil day off by remain ing."

And then she went away with rather a hypo critical air of doubt to Mr. Bryanstone, and informed him of her uncle's letter, and of Honoria's arguments, and her own vacillation ; " and of course I shall just do as you wish, and as you think best for me to do, Mr. Bryan stone." And looking at her flushed, downcast face, Bryanstone, you may be quite sure, went speedily round from all his former views, and thought the best thing for Miss Bertram to do would be to stay in Brussels. Mrs. Bryanstone's face betrayed more grati fication than Nelly had ever yet seen her show, on the morning of Uncle Frank's letter. It was no matter of common interest to her whether her visitor went or stayed. What the future might hold in store she did not, perhaps she dared not, ask herself; indeed, she had long r ago felt that in a life of sharp transitions, of fierce hourly gambling like hers, the future is an unprofitable problem to dwell too much upon.

The present was her own, to make use of, to work in ; and every day that Bryanstone remained quiescent was, at the present juncture, an enormous gain to her. She had had a letter quite recently from Stretton, telling her that he was about to enlist in the Federal army : a lucky bullet any hour might rid her of him : and somehow Stretton, with all his cowardice, was in her inmost heart the enemy she dreaded most. If he was dead, and the Count — but she loathed having to think that thought out — the Count silenced, there was then only one tongue left that could with certainty bear evidence against her. Only Bernadin : the man she had years ago betrayed, and whom she fervently hoped might now prove to be dead. She strove to believe that it was impossible she could have heard the word " Bernadin " that night on Bryanstone's lips ; but, reason as she would, the bare suspicion tortured her horribly ; and, as I have said, every day in which she could still keep Bryanstone under her eyes seemed a priceless gain to her.

Within two hours after she had interrupted his conversation with Nelly, she had made the Count de St. Georges start for Paris. It was possible she might have been mistaken altogether. It was possible, barely possible, that Bryanstone was speaking of some other man named Bernadin. But the faintest chance of his being upon the right scent was too all-important to neglect, whatever it cost. St. Georges had been despatched alone to Paris to ascertain, through every channel he had at command, if Bryanstone had been making inquiries before him ; also to see Ber nadin, if he lived, and find out his present state of temper and finance. And Honoria, calm outwardly, but with a very fever of excitement burning at her heart, had during this time to go through the daily round of domestic acting with Nelly and her husband.

However he meant to pursue his search here after, Bryanstone was quiescent now. Honoria's instinct was right in desiring to keep Nelly near him in these first irritable days of convalescence. For Miss Bertram merely to be in the room soothed him : her conversation, her silence, suited him alike. She never bored him — she never allowed him to bore himself; and with life hanging still by so feeble and uncertain a thread, there was perhaps nothing very cowardly in his shrinking a little longer from his repulsive task, and abandoning himself without reserve to the tenderest friendship a man, sick or well, can know — a friendship for a woman with whom he is not, and believes he never will be, in love. Not in love? Certainly not in love. Once or twice of late Bryanstone had asked himself what his feelings were towards this patient nurse of his, and this was always the answer : he was not, he never had been, in love with her ; and yet how far more of a companion she was than any woman he had loved ! how entirely, if he had married her, she would have suited him !