Hope deferred
dL kr\F^ <^fe ■rmi, ■..■■! <i|. ■■■i-iii,i..».i_ i jiii'-i ifck H3-, ' ^Ha l°\v THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES S4T.GILBERT. BOOKSELLERS. , HOPE DEFERRED. VOL. II. HOPE DEFERRED. BY ELIZA F. POLLARD, AUTHOR OF "AVICE," ETC. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 18, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1872. Tlie right of Translation w reserved. LONDON : PRINTED hY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE. 3- r-f£ ST/87 PART II. (CONTINUED.) VOL. II. r i47522 HOPE DEFERRED. CHAPTER VI. rPHE Count lay thus watching Jeanne as one dreaming, only sometimes his eyes would wander round the old familiar room with a sad, hopeless look. He did not speak, he did not seem to have the power to do so. And Jeanne, her heart was overflowing: words will not come when the channels of the soul are too full. He was there beside her — that was all she knew. Dying ! Her }roung strength, her love, re- pudiated the idea. A strange sense of con- B 2 4 HOrE DEFERRED. tent was gradually creeping over her. Her love had come home at last, bruis- ed, wounded, but still himself. She re- cognized him in each turn of the head, each movement of the hand. Each tone of the feeble voice awoke an echo in her heart, like a strain of music long unheard ; and a gladness diffused itself over her whole na- ture, dyeing her cheek a richer hue, lending a deeper brightness to her eyes. After a time the Count seemed to revive. He roused himself from his apparent torpor, told Jeanne he thought he could eat now, and when they brought him a slice of cold chicken, tried to swallow it ; but the effort was great, and the result small. Still, he was less intensely weary, and said, at last, quite suddenly, HOPE DEFERRED. 0 " Jeanne, what have you been doing all these three years ?" It was on her lips to ask him if he had not received any of their numerous letters ; but she checked herself, saying only, " Just the same as before you went away. Charles — seeing after the people, reading, riding, and painting." " And you are not tired of the monotony, Jeanne ?" " No," she answered ; then ventured to add, " But we have been very anxious about you. Why did you not write, Charles ?" " Because I neither could nor would," he answered, eagerly, the light coming back to his eyes, and his voice gaining strength and power. "Listen to me, Jeanne; it is <; IIOrE DEFERRED. 5est wc should understand each other once for all. I have come home, I believe, to die. If I could blot out the last two years of my life, with all its acts and deeds, with all its memories, I would gladly do so ; but, alas ! I cannot, therefore, Jeanne, my cousin, Id the dead bury their dead. Stand be- tween me and the past; do not arouse it by word or question, do not let others do so. I left you a child, I come back to find you a woman, Jeanne; are you a generous one?" • I cannot tell. What would you have rhe do ?" she said, quietly. " As I ask you, never to speak of the past, never to question me, and to make others understand that they must do the same. Will you be thus much my friend, Jeanne ?" HOPE DEFERRED. ( She hesitated a minute ; then said calmly, " I will, Charles." She was standing now beside him. Half raising himself, half drawing her down to- wards him, he took her face between his hands, and kissed her on the forehead, say- ing gently, ' Thank you, Jeanne, I will trust you. When I am dead there will be no mys- tery." Jeanne waited a few minutes longer; then, taking up her shawl, said, " I must go now, Charles. Mamma will think I am lost. I will send Gordon down." "No, not to-night, Jeanne. I shall go to bed ; and Louis knows my wants better than any one. Give my love to my aunt, 8 HOPE DEFERRED. and tell her I would not send for her to- night, for fear of frightening her. 1 shall look less ill to-morrow morning. Good- bye, my cousin." And he held her hand, as if loth to let her go. As Jeanne was leaving the house, ac- companied by Jacqueline — for she had sent Louis to his master — she met Gordon coming to fetch her. " Jeanne, what have vou been doing all the evening ? We have grown quite anxious at your long absence." She put her arm in his, and bidding Jacqueline good night, turned towards home. A minute's silence, during which Gordon perceived that something unusual had taken place ; then she said, " Gordon, Charles de Lutz has come home." HOPE DEFERRED. 9 Had he been told that the Emperor of the French was at the Chateau de Lutz, Gordon would have been scarcely more surprised. " Are you sure, Jeanne ? Have you seen him ?" he asked, standing still in his as- tonishment. " I have been sitting with him for the last hour," answered Jeanne, quietly. " Where is he, then ?" asked Gordon. " Why did he not bring you back to the Cottage, instead of leaving Jacqueline to accompany you ?" " Because he is very ill, Gordon. He himself says he is dying. I do not quite think that. Still he is but the shadow of his former self." " Then I will take you home, and go back to him," said Gordon. 10 HOPE DEFERRED. " Nay, you must not do that," answered Jeanne. " His man Louis is with him. He is too worn-out to see any one to-night." " Did he send for you, Jeanne?" " No ; he gave especial orders nobody was to be disturbed to-night ; but Jacque- line was so terrified, when she saw how ill he was, that she, of her own accord, came up and told me. I could hardly believe her ; and before alarming my mother thought I would ascertain the truth for myself." " When did he arrive ? And where does he come from ?" asked Gordon. " He arrived this evening," answered Jeanne. "I cannot tell you where he comes from," she continued, speaking slowly and distinctly, "for I have not questioned him, and shall not do so. Moreover, I HOPE DEFERRED. 11 have promised him that, as far as lies in my power, I will prevent other people doing so. He is very ill ; he says when he is dead the mystery of the last two years will be made clear. In the meantime, if he is to remain amongst us, they must be as a sealed book. Such are his words, and I do not see that we have any right to question them. He is accountable to no one." "True, Jeanne," said Gordon, seriously; " at least, so far as you and I are concerned at present ; but as regards your mother, I hold him somewhat responsible." " I do not," answered Jeanne boldly. " Who ever dared to question the honour of a De Lutz ? I have passed my word to him that his wish shall be respected, and I think my mother will agree with me that it J 2 HOPE DEFERRED. ought to be. If he dies," — her voice trem- bled as she gave utterance to the thought — 'we shall know all there is to be known ; and if he lives, Charles de Lutz is not the man to live under a cloud." " It is well, Jeanne," answered Gordon. 1 1 have no right to demand an explanation from the Count ; moreover, you know your will is law with me. Am I not your vowed knight ?" And a smile, touching in its sad- ness, played round the young man's mouth. "Thank you, Gordon," said Jeanne gently. " And you will help me to silence others also, will you not ?" " I will do my best, Jeanne." They had just reached the Cottage, and were met at the entrance by Madame de Lutz and Miss Ivor, the former saying, HOPE DEFERRED. 13 "Jeanne, what have you been doing? Jacqueline should not have kept you out so late." Jeanne did not answer at once, but throw- ing off her plaid, said, " Mamma, I am very tired. Shall we go to bed ? I can tell you what has de- tained me so long while I am undressing." Jeanne's looks belied her words. There was no apparent fatigue in the glowing cheeks, the clear bright eyes, and the wake- ful speaking happiness of mouth and lip ; and as she turned to kiss and wish Miss Ivor good night, something of the merry, mis- chievous gladness of her early girlhood danced like a ray of sunshine on her sweet face. " Ask Gordon to tell you what has hap- 14 HOPE DEFERRED. pened, Amie; I must go to mamma," she whispered; and taking up the small bed-room lamp, which stood on the hall-table, she passed her arm lovingly round her mother's shoulders, and drew her into her own room. As the door closed upon them, Miss Ivor turned to Gordon, saying, " I am to ask you what has happened, Mr. Elliot." "The Count de Lutz has returned," was the short answer. " The Count returned !" exclaimed Miss Ivor, and she looked round as if she half expected to see him standing before her. "Where is he?" ' At the Chateau, I believe," answered Gordon, — "at least Jeanne says so." HOPE DEFERRED. 15 " Then you have not seen him ?" "No. I would have gone and ascer- tained the fact for myself, but Jeanne ob- jected. It seems he is very ill — he himself says dying ; but Jeanne will not believe that. More than this I cannot tell you, Miss Ivor, except that Jeanne most earnestly begs that no questions may be asked. As regards the past, a strict silence is to be observed. Of course, as far as you or I are concerned, we have no right to question ; but my aunt — I cannot but think she will be ill-satisfied. It is altogether an unsatisfactory state of affairs." He paused, and lifting his kindly, handsome face, looked straight into hers, saying in a lower voice, " Miss Ivor, why did Jeanne refuse the Count?" " Because she did not wish to be his 1G HOPE DEFERRED. wife — at least, I presume so," was the ready answer. "Why not?" asked Gordon, thought- fully. " Really I cannot tell you, Mr. Elliot," replied Miss Ivor. " Who can answer for a young girl's fancy ? You know Jeanne was barely seventeen at the time." "Yes, I know," said Gordon. "Do you think she has ever regretted her decision since, Miss Ivor ?" " I have never asked her, and never shall," was the quiet answer ; " and if I were you, I would not allow it to occupy my thoughts too much, Mr. Elliot — it will scarcely conduce to your happiness." " I daresay you are right," said Gordon, sighing heavily. " Good night, Miss Ivor." HOPE DEFERRED. 17 She held out her hand. "Good night, Mr. Elliot. Instead of Rome, why do you not go to Switzerland?" " You recommend mountain air ?" he asked, with the shadow of a smile. " I recommend anything that is bracing," she answered. " Believe me, it is not good to dream — one's head gets full of fancies — fancies which we laugh at a few years later." "May be, when they are fancies," said Gordon, seriously. " Which is more often the case than we imagine, or are willing to believe. Take my advice, and go to Switzerland. Now, good night." And, shaking him heartily by the hand, she left him still standing in the door. VOL. II. C 18 HOPE DEFERRED. " Poor fellow !" she murmured, closing her own door; "one heart healed, another bleeding. How will it all end ?" And, throwing herself into her arm-chair, she sat thinking till a late hour, strange misgivings lilling her mind for the future of the pupil she loved so well. Jeanne, closeted alone with her mother, told her gently all that had passed — how Charles de Lutz had come home ostensibly to die. " But, mamma dear, I do not think he will — a little good nursing, a little care, and he will be well again," she said. " And then, doubtless, he will tell us the secret of the last two years. In the meantime we must be patient, and not drive him away again. Is it not so, mother mine ?" And Madame de Lutz could but agree HOPE DEFERRED. 19 with her, promising to respect for the time, at least, the sick man's request. She was so thankful to have him back again, she would have acceded to far more difficult terms. And so the night closed over the sleeping inmates of the Chateau and the Cottage. Sleeping, did I say ? — there was little sleep for one fair girl, who lay beneath the white curtains of her bed, with eyes wide open, waiting for the dawn of day, fearful lest the rising sun should disperse her new-found happiness. c 2 20 CHAPTER VII. TT was still early, and the household at the Cottage was hardly stirring when Jacqueline made her appearance, bathed in tears, and informed the astonished servants of the Count's arrival on the previous evening. " But he is dying, I tell you," said Jacqueline. "To think of his coming home in this state ! He has poisoned himself with paints — that is what he has done. Oh ! ray God ! ray God !" and she wrung her HOPE DEFERRED. 21 hands. The woman loved both the Count and Jeanne beyond all things else. The Count had been her foster-child, and Jeanne her nursling, therefore her grief was by no means exaggerated. " Some one must go over at once to Amonville, and bring Mon- sieur Auber back," she continued. " I thought we should never have got him through the night. He is just sinking." The servants looked at each other, scarcely knowing whether to believe Jacqueline or not, the news was so perfectly unexpected. "Does the Countess know?" asked the coachman. " Doubtless, Mademoiselle Jeanne must have told her. Robert, I say you must saddle the fleetest horse you have — there is no time to lose." 22 HOPE DEFERRED. " Very well," answered the man. " Mind, if you have been dreaming, Jacqueline, you will bear the blame." "I am not given to trouble folk with my dreams, or else you would have had little peace for the last month," answered Jacque- line, sharply. " When I saw my blessed Count carried into his own Chateau last night more dead than alive, I was no more surprised than if one of you had walked in. I knew he was in a bad way. Have I not seen him laid out as a corpse three nights running ? Ah ! well, I have no time to tell you all that now, but I knew mischief was brewing. Why must he needs go to Italy and poison himself with paints, as if there were not enough in France?" And she began whimpering afresh. HOPE DEFERRED. 23 "Now, Jacqueline, what's the use of crying?" said Robert. "If the Count is really here, and ill, we must all put our shoulders to the wheel and get him well again. We can't afford to lose him. There was not a better master in the whole province, and we have missed him sorely. I'll be off to Amonville as quickly as Made- moiselle's mare will carry me, and you go and wake the young lady, and tell her how bad the master is." And with that the coachman, who had been in the family from earliest boyhood, left the kitchen, and Jacqueline went to Jeanne's room. She knocked gently, not to awake Madame in the next apartment. Jeanne opened the door immediately. She was already more than half dressed. 24 HOPE DEFERRED. " What is it, Jacqueline ?" she asked, fearfully. " The Count has been as bad as he could be all night, Mademoiselle, and I have just sent Robert off to Araonville to fetch Mr. Auber." " Is he really so ill as that, Jacqueline? I thought last night it was more fatigue than anything else." " Ay, fatigue of the worst sort, Mam'selle Jeanne. He has just no more strength in him than a babe. It seems those Italian doctors have been bleeding and blistering his very life away. At least, so Louis says." "Ah! Jacqueline," said Jeanne, passing her hand across her brow, as if to clear away a dark mist. Then she spoke quickly, HOPE DEFERRED. 25 " Go to Mr. Elliot's room, wake him, and ask him, from me, to go down to the Chateau and remain with the Count until my mother can join him. He ought not to be alone with Louis." "No, Mam'selle, indeed he ought not. Louis is as good as he can be, and knows his masters ways ; but when a man is as ill as Count Charles, his own people ought to be with him." " Very well, Jacqueline ; go quickly." The woman obeyed ; and Jeanne, closing the door of her room, threw herself on her knees and prayed — prayed with all the pas- sion of a woman suing for the life of the man she loved. She did not weep — tears do not come in moments such as these. " Ask and it shall be given you." And 26 HOPE DEFERRED. Jeanne asked in perfect faith, in full confi- dence, never doubting, "My God, grant me this man's life. Take from me what Thou wilt, but spare — spare him to my love !" Straight to the throne of God such prayers ascend, borne on the wings of faith. Strengthened and calmed, Jeanne rose, and passed into her mother's room. In less than an hour Madame de Lutz was standing be- side her nephew's bedside — his death-bed, she thought, when she first set eyes upon his altered face. He had scarcely strength left to lift his head, with some- thing of his old courteous grace, as his aunt bent over him, tears, which she strove in vain to check, trickling down her face. He suffered no actual pain ; only the weariness, the exhaustion was intense, and the com- HOPE DEFERRED. 27 plete prostration of that once noble form was terrible to see. Mr. Auber's visit did not tend to encour- age them. " He is suffering from the effects of the worst sort of low typhus fever. I doubt if he will ever be the same man asrain," said the doctor, " even suppose he ultimately recovers. How he has managed to travel is more than I can tell ; and, of course, the re-action is terrible. He has not much fever now ; but he is sinking from exhaustion. I scarcely think his constitution can bear up against the shock. I would warn you also, Madame, against allowing Mademoiselle to see her cousin. In its present stage the fever is still infectious, and she could not bear up against it." 28 HOPE DEFERRED. " But she saw him before any of us," answered Madame. " The mischief is done already." " Perhaps not," answered the doctor. " In any case, she is best out of his room — she can do no good there." And so Jeanne was banished ; and Ma- dame de Lutz, Jacqueline, and Louis di- vided the watching. Gordon, notwithstand- ing considerable opposition on his part, shared Jeanne's banishment. Days passed by, bringing little or no change. Sometimes Madame's heart would sink to the lowest ebb. " There is no vitality in him — he does not try to live," she would say to Jeanne and Miss Ivor ; " and all I can get out of Louis is, ' He has been worse, Madame, far worse.' " HOPE DEFERRED. 29 But though others despaired, Jeanne never did. " He will live, mother — I feel sure he will," she would say, cheeringly, when, worn out with care and watching, she sought rest and comfort in her daughter's company. Once made aware of her presence, the Count could not bear his aunt out of his sight. The first day he had asked for Jeanne, but when told of the doctor's prohibition, he had acquiesced directly, saying, as he turned wearily on the pillow, " God knows I would not bring harm to her. Enough have suffered already." "When we are tired, she will be fresh," Madame de Lutz had said. " Gordon, 30 HOPE DEFERRED. Jeanne, and Miss Ivor will be your conva- lescent nurses." Alas ! convalescence did not seem to come quickly. And Jeanne, what did she do through those weary hours of watching and of wait- ing ? Her heart, her thoughts in the sick- chamber, yet forced to keep a calm exterior, and not venturing, in her maidenly reserve, to murmur at the decree which forbade her active service. She was learnins: her lesson of womanly patience and endurance. He who knoweth all things knew how she would need it, and, like a tender father, was gradually and gently moulding her to her lot. It was as well for everyone that Jeanne had no especial tie to bind her, for she was HOPE DEFERRED. 31 enabled to minister to the comfort of in- valid and nurses far more than she guessed herself, her ready wit and thoughtful care supplying all deficiencies. Nothing passed into the Count's room but what Jeanne first saw and approved. There was no haste, no disorder in the household. The meals were carefully served at the usual hours, and, if possible, more than habitual care was bestowed upon those little details of house- hold economy which tend so much to the comfort and rest of those concerned, and which, at the appearance of sickness in a house, so often entirely disappear, thereby increasing the fatigue of the watchers, and naturally, however careful one may be, to a certain extent affecting the sufferer. And Jeanne's hope — let us call it by a 82 HOPE DEFERRED. higher name, "her faith," — never failed. She moved like a ministering spirit about the Chateau, cheering everyone who crossed her path with her sweet smile and gentle, kindly words. " She is like a ray of sunshine," Louis said one day to Jacqueline. " It does one's hea?t good to look at her. I never thought Mam'selle Jeanne beautiful before." " Then it must have been wilful blind- ness," answered Jacqueline, crossly. " Your travelling has served, at least, to open your eyes ; let us hope it may do the same by the master, and that he will settle down quietly now among his own people, and marry Mam'selle. He may look for and not find a better or a fairer Countess." " Ah ! Jacqueline, he should have done HOPE DEFERRED. 33 that three years ago," answered Louis, sadly, " it is too late now." And therewith he went about his business. This was more than Louis had ever ven- tured to say before. He was usually per- fectly silent as to everything concerning his master. And Jeanne watched and prayed. The villagers would tell, long afterwards, how, morning and evening, she might be seen in the village church praying. Day after day she came, kneeling before no espe- cial altar, but bowing her head low in prayer and supplication before the God and Saviuur of the world. He who knew the most secret emotions of her woman's heart, who loved and blessed the little children, to Him Jeanne came fearlessly, and asked VOL. II. d 34 HOPE DEFERRED. the life of him whom, next to God, she loved. And the peasant women, sitting at their cottage doors, would see her pass, and as she disappeared beneath the porch would silently follow her, some carrying infants in their arms, others with children clinging to their gowns, and kneeling down, they, too, would pray after their fashion, muttering over and over on their chaplets a " Pater Noster" and an "Ave Maria." It was an act of kindly faith, and comforted Jeanne's heart. Nobody knew exactly when the Count first began to mend. It was so gradual as not to be reckoned by days, but weeks. Still he did improve ; and, at last, one day finding himself alone in his room, some- thing of his old energy came back to him, HOPE DEFERRED. 35 and he crept to the atelier. Jeanne was there, sitting on a low chair by the window, working. She started up as the door opened, and in another moment was at the Count's side. " Is this prudent ? Have you done well ?" she asked, trying to steady her voice, for the suddenness of his appearance had un- nerved her. " I think so, Jeannette, as I have been able to do it," he answered, smiling, and laying his hand on her shoulder to support himself. And Jeanne, as she guided him to an arm-chair, knew that her prayer was granted — that Charles de Lutz would not die ! His voice was clear and full — no longer hopelessly weary, as when it fell upon her ear the night of his return. Only, d 2 36 HOPE DEFERRED. as Jeanne looked at him, she saw that the sadness had not left his eyes; alas! it was too deep-seated. So she talked to him and cheered him, till the genial smile came back to mouth and lip, and unwit- tingly he found himself teasing and order- ing her about as in former davs. Still the shadow rested on him, and not even Jeanne, with all her tact and brightness, had power to disperse the gloom. When Madame de Lutz returned, and, not finding the Count in his own room, repaired to the atelier, and saw how mat- ters stood, he was inexpressibly relieved. It was the lack of all willingness or desire to exert himself which had so tried both her and the doctor. He had said he had come home to die, and the idea was so HOPE DEFERRED. 37 fixed in his mind that it was only by slow and difficult degrees that he had allowed the possibility that he might recover. " Aunt," he said, holding out his hand to her, "you must forgive me. I have raised the quarantine. I do not think Jeanne will take any harm now." " I am heartily glad you have taken the matter into your own hands," answered Madame, cheerfully. "I have long thought the precaution useless; but I did not like openly to disobey the doctor. You already look better for the change." " Do I ?" he answered. " I have been telling Jeanne half my illness has been caused by the shock she gave my nerves the night of my return. I expected to see my pretty, sunny little Cousin Jeanne, and I 38 HOPE DEFERRED. found a stately young lady. What shall I do for a plaything, aunt ?" Scarcely had the words passed his lips when a thought, agonizing in its intensity, seemed to cross his brain. His face turned deathly pale, and, closing his eyes, he let his head fall back upon the pillows. " I do not think you much need a play- fellow at present," said Madame de Lutz, as she hastened to bathe his brow with eau de Cologne. "True, aunt," he rejoined, a minute after- guards— " I forgot myself. Life has nothing left for me but stern reality." 39 CHAPTER VIII. " "\T^ sterner f°r y°u tnan f°r otner meni Charles," said Madame de Lutz, looking steadily at the Count ; and, going up to him, she continued, gently, " I know- nothing of your life for the last two years ; and until you choose to break the silence, no man or woman has a right to question you. Were I your mother, I would not do it. Confidence, to be real, must be freely given. Therefore the past will be as a dead letter until you yourself break the seal. 40 HOrE DEFERRED. But, Charles, now there is work for you to do, work which has been calling for you, and which no other hand but your own can worthily accomplish. Your life has been spared, and I entreat you, for the honour of your house and of your name, to take up once more the broken threads of that life, and to make the end worthy of the begin- ning." Charles de Lutz was silent — he never was a man of many words ; and, feeling deeply, said but little. The silence there- fore which followed Madame de Lutz's words might have been awkward, had it not been broken by the deep, full organ tones pealing forth one of Beethoven's melodies, soul-quieting, soul-searching, filling the room, and driving all idle thought away — now HOPE DEFERRED. 41 soft and low, then rising in full harmony of touch and sound. No unpractised hand was Jeanne's. Some might have thought she lacked brilliancy ; but there was power in her music — the power of the soul. Each note she played told its own tale, and was its own inter- preter. And as Charles de Lutz lay and listened to her, with his aunt's last words still ringing in his ears, the mist seemed clearing away from brain and heart. Steadi- ly he looked back upon the past, whatever that past might be ; earnestly, courageously, he gazed forward into the future. All that through those lon<? months of sickness, when body and soul were alike diseased, had seemed difficult, if not impossible, to compass, grew now comparatively easy of 42 HOPE DEFERRED. accomplishment — at least possible, worthy of the effort. He seemed to see the road along which he had to walk, and though stones and barriers might lie across his path and impede his progress, he felt no longer power- less to combat, maybe to overthrow them. The burden of his past life, wrong or right, he knew that he must still bear ; but at that moment, in the quiet stillness of that old room, with music stealing over his whole being, and the familiar forms of his almost mother and his sister-friend beside him, courage and life seemed to come back to- gether. He knew that he should live, and he almost marvelled to think how he had courted death. Long Jeanne played — until the growing shadows warned her that evening was draw- HOPE DEFERRED. 43 ing in, and that it was hardly prudent for an invalid to be still seated at the open win- dow ; so she stopped her playing, and, rising, closed the casement. In so doing she passed by her cousin. He held out his hand, and, taking hers, said, " Thank you, Jeanne. I understand now how David dispelled Saul's evil spirit." His brow was clear, his voice had the old familiar ring of strength and power. A thrill of gladness ran through Jeanne's frame, as she answered softly, " We all need, or perhaps imagine that we need, a David at some period of our lives." And smiling pleasantly upon him, she went her way. That same evening, for the first time since the Count's return, the whole party, namely, 44 HOPE DEFERRED. Madame, Gordon, Jeanne, and Miss Ivor, assembled in the studio, with the Count in their midst, and once more the home-life seemed to begin afresh. Her twenty-one years rested lightly on Jeanne. How joyous she was that night, how sunny her smile, how soft and musical her laugh ; how womanly and graceful the attitude of form and face as she bent over her embroidery- frame, ever and anon tossing back her head, and brushing away with her hand the hair that fell in soft waves upon her brow — an old trick, familiar to her from childhood, and which Charles de Lutz smiled at as he recognized it once more. This was the first step towards recovery, and from henceforth the progress was rapid. No sooner was it generally known that the HOPE DEFERRED. 45 Count was beginning to get about than visits and congratulations poured in. Among the very first was Madame la Marquise de la Croix. Jeanne and her mother received the guests, and answered all inquiries; but after the first week or so people began to ask for the Count himself, and to marvel at his non-appearance. Gently Madame de Lutz hinted the same to her nephew, and gently, but decisively, received for answer, " Aunt, I have come back, but not to mix in the world ; that, for the present, at least, is over. I will live now for my people, and by-and-by, when I have the strength, for my art — into society I will not go. I have no taste, no inclination for it. Nor will I receive guests in my own house, save 46 HOPE DEFERRED. those few old friends who will come without form or ceremony ; but balls and fetes, and all the various calls of society, I will not re- spond to." " Then you mean to live a hermit's life, Charles?" said his aunt. He looked at her. A clear, earnest smile lighted up his whole face. " I trust you will have no reason to ask me that question six months hence, aunt. You told me the other day that there were neglected duties of two years' standing await- ing me. I am going to find them out and accomplish them now. I do not think I shall have much idle time ; and do not fear for me, aunt, I shall be a nine-days' wonder, and then the good people of Amonville will have forgotten my existence, or, if they do HOPE DEFERRED. 47 think of me, it will be as an eccentric indi- vidual, unworthy of their favours." Madame de Lutz shook her head, but was satisfied by the tone of the answer. At the Cottage they had lived so quietly for the last two or three years, that the sudden in- flux of visitors had rather disturbed them than otherwise, and they were glad once more to subside into their own home-life. Steadily and earnestly the Count went to work. Long before he was able to go about and freely mix with his people, he learnt from Jeanne all that most intimately concerned both them and the estate. She knew everything, was familiar with every family, knew each birth, each marriage on the estate ; not a sorrow nor a joy for miles round but what she shared it ; not a 48 HOPE DEFERRED. cottage-roof needing repairs but what she was cognizant of the fact. Unpaid rents, neglected work, and ill-kept farms, she could point out, one and all ; and she did so now, so clearly and distinctly that, while still con- fined to the house, the Count regulated many things, with the out-door assistance of Gordon and his bailiff ; receiving also his chief tenants, hearing and redressing com- plaints. He had ever been a clement land- lord, but he was now more especially so, passing over many things which he would not formerly have allowed, saying simply, "It is my fault. Had I been present such and such a thing would not have happened." Only he told his people that he hoped from henceforth to live among them, that their interests would be mutual, and that he HOPE DEFERRED. 49 should expect each and all to do their duty to him, even as he should strive to do his by them. The first active use he made of his return- ing strength was to drive over to Amonville. On this expedition he refused all company save that of his valet Louis. He was ab- sent nearly the whole day, and on his re- turn shut himself up in his own room on plea of business. The following morning the old family lawyer arrived at the Chateau, and was closeted with the Count for several hours. Later, when the old man went to pay his respects to Madame de Lutz, his face was serious almost to sadness, but she was too delicate to demand, and he too dis- creet to offer, an explanation. The day after this interview Louis started VOL. II. E 50 HOPE DEFERRED. for Italy, to pack and forward to Lutz all that remained there of his master's posses- sions. The Count's return had been so hurried, and under such unfavourable cir- cumstances, that much had been left behind. Charles de Lutz was restless, and evidently anxious, for the first week or ten days after Louis was gone ; but upon the receipt of certain papers he grew calmer, and gradually threw himself once more heart and soul into the life he had cut out for himself. With health came renewed energy, too much perhaps — it was a reaction. With almost feverish hands he laboured now ; but the brightness, the easy, careless brightness, which had so marked his artist nature, never came back again ; or, if it did, only in faint HOPE DEFERRED. 5 1 gleams. In the midst of merry talk or gay repartee, a shadow would settle on his face, extinguishing the light in his eye, and, like a wintry ray of sunshine, the smile would die out on brow and lip. There was no mistaking it; however much he might try to hide it, Charles de Lutz was a saddened man, a cloud had overshadowed his life — it remained to be seen how long the silver lining would be hidden from view. And in the meantime, with Jeanne at his side, he worked hard to make up for lost time. Nobly and efficaciously they laboured ; she, with her perfect knowledge, and her woman's heart, which made her the beloved, the angel of every household ; he, using his authority, soon re-established order, and be- e 2 52 HOPE DEFERRED. fore the Autumn had well set in the inhabi- tants of Lutz rejoiced in having once again found their master. Ere this Gordon Elliot had returned to England. Towards the end of the long vacation, when the Count was fairly on the road to convalescence, he had bidden them all farewell, joined some fellow-students in Switzerland, and from thence gone back to Oxford, to keep his last term. Miss Ivor, too, had absented herself on a visit to some old friends in Paris, and the two cousins, and Madame de Lutz, found themselves alone, as in Jeanne's childhood. So the Count and Jeanne rode and walked, worked and painted together. Painted, did I say? Jeanne painted, and the Count looked on, but never touched a brush. HOPE DEFERRED. 53 " I cannot, Jeanne, I cannot vet awhile — it will come in time." This he had said one day when she had urged him to paint. She never did so again — she saw it hurt him in no common way. Indeed, all sedentary employment seemed to tell upon and harass him greatly. Thus by degrees all business correspondence, the looking over and settling of accounts, fell into Jeanne's hands. It happened thus. One night he arrived at the Cottage, tired and worn out with some difficult business, and with a long day's ride in bad weather light across the countrv. He brought with him some accounts to verify, and business let- ters to read and answer. He was weary both in mind and body, utterly unfitted for the task. Madame interfered, telling 54 HOPE DEFERRED. him he was wrong, very wrong, and would only make himself ill again. That night he desisted to please her, but the following evening he did not return, and Jeanne learnt from old Jacqueline that he had passed the greater part of the night in the study at work. So the next evening the writing-table was prepared, and Jeanne, turning laughingly to him, said, "Now, Charles, you may dictate, and I will write ; you may listen, and I will read. Try me for your secretary, just for one week — then, if you are not satisfied, dismiss me. And so the partition of labour was ac- cepted, somewhat unwillingly at first, on the Count's part, but he soon found he had no reason to regret it. HOPE DEFERRED. 55 " Let her try, Charles," Madame had said. " Sooner or later she will have to manage her own estate. It is well she should learn." And Jeanne's head was as sound as her heart — it only needed a little guidance, a little tempering. Steadily she went to work — timidly at first, but determined to succeed. Was it not for him she worked ? How, then, could she fail ? And she did not. From henceforth the Count and she together managed the whole estate, in the day time abroad, and at night at home. When their task was done, those three would gather round the fire, the table drawn in front of the hearth, laden with bright china, and the hissing silver urn, behind which Jeanne took her place; and then 56 HOPE DEFERRED. would ensue that pleasant idle converse which only grows with close familiarity. Sometimes, but not often, the Count would tell of his sojourn in Italy ; but he rarely spoke of himself, or of events of personal in- terest. It was not his own life he told, but that of those with whom he had mixed, or who had casually crossed his path. Both Madame de Lutz and Jeanne noticed this — they could not fail but do so, yet they kept silence, even to each other — the time for speaking had not come yet ; they were wait- ing, waiting ! So, calmly, and without interruption, the Winter months passed by. And Jeanne, was she happy ? Yes, indeed she was ! Is the sailor happy when he comes within sight of port? So was Jeanne happy, quietly, se- HOPE DEFERRED. 57 renely, working with and for the man she loved. Seeing him each day, hearing his voice, sunning herself in his companion- ship. The two thrown together, united by common interests and occupations, grew to- gether ; their tastes and their opinions meet- ing, developing, they learnt to know each other as man and woman, no longer man and child. They stood on an equality, he governing and guiding, she suggesting, help- ing, sympathizing, ever tender and true, lending a grace to the rudest task, each sup- plying what the other lacked — only com- plete together. And Jeanne was glad, right glad, looking neither before nor behind, content to live in and for the present. Was it not joy enough for her to know, when she awoke in 58 HOPE DEFERRED. the morning, that before many hours she should be at his side, that she had work to do for him ; to know that his face would brighten at her coining; to know that she alone had power to clear the cloud away from his brow? Ay, surely that was joy enough ! And if at times a certain sense of incompleteness crept over her, she cast it from her, she would not pause long enough to recognize the void. Had she not her life to live, her work to do? Something had bruised and wounded him she loved, him whom she had sent from her, though she loved him, and because she loved him. Never once did Jeanne regret her past conduct. She knew now better than ever how terrible a loveless life with him would HOPE DEFERRED. 59 have been to her, how soul and body would alike have suffered. She knew it better now than in her girlish days, because she understood better. Then love had been but a dream, a tenderness, a something un- defined ; now it was the ruling passion of her life, a component part of herself. To know that she was his, that he was hers ; to have no thought apart, no dream in earth or heaven in which he did not mingle ; to follow in his footsteps, to hold his hand through life's long journey, never to part, never to weary ; to let the whole world run its course, so that they two stood together, and nought came between them ; to love and to be loved ! Such was Jeanne's dream. And gradually creeping over her came the knowledge that she did not love alone. 60 HOPE DEFERRED. Timidly, fearfully, she recognized the fact. Yet in no wav did it alter her. He never spoke to her of love ; he never sought to win her. She was outwardly, to all intents, the sister friend she had ever been ; and she was content to wait. Nothing could change her ; she had loved, she did love, and she should ever love him — just as she believed in God above. Thus she lived on from day to day. And he who was the object of this pure devotion knew not, dreamt not of its existence ; had he known, he would have fled for dear life away. But with such gentle maidenly reserve, such quiet self-possession, did Jeanne accomplish her daily tasks, easing his bur- dens, cheering his solitude, that her very simplicity of word and deed was a bar HOPE DEFERRED. 61 against any thought of passion, even had he been so inclined. He knew that she was su- premely necessary to him, but he never asked himself why her presence rilled the aching void, and stilled the agonizing pain ever gnawing at his heart ; he did not even recognize the fact that it was her presence. She was ever there, ever willing, ever ready. Twice she had refused to be his wife ; truly no thought of danger for him or her pre- sented itself to his mind. But there was a looker-on who soon saw with her mother's eye the course events were likely to take. Earlier, Madame de Lutz would have rejoiced deeply at the affection she saw growing from day to day, the very thing she had deemed impossible, the love she had so coveted for Jeanne, 62 HOPE DEFERRED. coming, coming, like the rising tide ; she heard the murmur of the waves in the dis- tance, and her heart trembled. Woman that she was, she knew the signs. She re- membered how her own lover had learnt unwittingly to need and seek her — how wistfully his eye had wandered round the room until it rested upon her — how soft his voice had grown when speaking to her — how tender the touch of his hand ! All these signs she saw now for the first time in Charles de Lutz, and with the mystery of the last two years hanging over him, she feared and trembled. One early Spring morning, the inhabit- ants of the Cottage were waiting in the boudoir for breakfast to be announced. Miss Ivor had returned, and the Count was HOPE DEFERRED. 63 there, as usual. The village postman had just brought up the letters, which had been duly distributed. Jeanne was standing at the open window reading hers. Turning quickly round, she gave it to her mother, saying simply, " I think I ought to go, mamma." " I think so too," answered her mother, after perusing the note; and without further remark, she once more turned to her own letters. " Where ought you to go, Jeanne ?" asked the Count, coming and standing beside her. " To Amonville," answered Jeanne. " Ma- dame Beauvais gives a party to-morrow, and she has sent me a most pressing invita- tion. However, that does not constitute the ' ought.' It encloses a note from Clo- 64 HOPE DEFERRED. 