without wondering a little at her mother's mysterious behaviour. On the third day, she was summoned to the presence of Mdme. de Lignerolles, who received and bade her be seated, with the same significant solemnity, and then proceeded to inform her that she had a most painful secret to communicate—a secret that had long prest upon her conscience, but which she could never find resolution to disclose; that lately, however, her confessor had so strongly urged her to perform this act of duty, that, with the greatest reluctance, she had resolved to obey his injunctions—her doing so having become more imperative from the fact of Adeline's having arrived at marriageable years, as in the event of any alliance presenting itself, honour would constrain her to speak. The dreadful secret was, that Adeline was not her child; that the nurse who had had the charge of her infancy, confessed on her death-bed, that she had substituted her own infant for the countess's, that the latter had subsequently died, but that she could not leave the world in peace without avowing her crime.
"'I did not believe her,' said Mdme. de Lignerolles, 'but she reminded me that my child had a mole under the left breast, which you, Adeline, have not. This cruel change was effected during our absence from France. Shortly after my confinement, I was ordered to spend the winter in Italy, and the child was left to the care of my father and mother, who by that time had nearly lost her eye-sight. To this circumstance, and the little notice men usually take of infants, the woman trusted to escape detection. Of course, I could not discern the difference between the child I had left and the one I found. I had no suspicion; and whatever alterations I remarked, I attributed to the lapse of time—though I must own that maternal instinct offered a strong confirmation of the nurse's confession. While I believed you my own offspring, I had none of those tender yearnings which I have heard other women speak of, and I often reproached myself for the want of them. However, I endeavoured to do my duty by you, and no pains or expense were spared on your education, which was already nearly completed, when I became acquainted with this dreadful secret, of which, when the nurse died, I was the sole possessor. But, aware of the intense grief such a disclosure would occasion my husband, who was then in exceedingly bad health, I determined during his lifetime to preserve silence. After his death, I ought to have exerted courage to speak; but my mother adored you—it would have killed her. She is now gone, and there is only your grandfather left. I well know the suffering it will cause him, and, believe me, I feel for you—but my duty is plain. You will be amply provided for—' but ere the sentence could be finished, Adeline, who had sat like a statue, listening to this harangue, with wondering eyes and open lips, suddenly rose and rushed out of the room. That she was not Mdme. de Lignerolles' daughter caused her little grief, nor was she of an age very highly to appreciate the position and splendours she was losing; but she thought of her grandfather, whom she really loved; she thought of De la Cruz, and her heart filled with anguish.
"She was not pursued to her retreat; the whole day she kept her chamber, and Mdme. de Lignerolles kept hers. On the following morning, a note was handed to her from Mdme. de L., announcing that she was starting for Paris to communicate this distressing intelligence to M. de Givry; and desiring Adeline to remain where she was, under the care of Mdme. Vertot, the housekeeper, till she received further directions; assuring her, at the same time, that everything should be done for her happiness and welfare, and, in due time, a suitable parti be provided for her."
Just as Monsieur de Venacour reached this point of his story, Madame de Montjerac returned from bathing, and if I looked at her with interest before, it may be well imagined how much more she inspired now.
"How extraordinary!" I said, as my eyes rested on her noble countenance and majestic figure, "that that distinguished-looking woman is really the daughter of a good-for-nothing servant; and yet I should have said, if ever there was a person who bore the unmistakeable impress of aristocracy, it is she."
He nodded his head, and significantly lifting his fore-finger to the side of his nose, said "Ecoutez!" and forthwith proceeded with his narration as follows.
"On Madam de Lignerolle's arrival in Paris, she sent for her father, threw herself at his feet, and with tears and lamentations, disclosed this dreadful secret, which, she said, had been making the misery of her life for the last two years; but whatever distress it occasioned her, it was quite evident that that of Monsieur de Givry was much more severe. He was wounded on all sides; his pride, his love of lineage, his personal affection for Adeline, and his horror of the notoriety such an extraordinary event must naturally acquire. So powerful were the two last sentiments, that for a moment he even entertained the idea of accepting Adeline as the heiress of Givry, and concealing the whole affair from her and every body else; but to this proposition his daughter objected that the poor girl was already in possession of the truth, and that it was impossible to make her a party to such a deception.
"'Then,' said Monsieur de Givry, 'she must die! There is no other expedient.'
"'Mais, non, mon pere!' cried Hermione, starting from her seat, evidently taken quite aback by this unexpected proposition.
"De Givry waved his hand with a melancholy smile; 'Enfant!' he said. 'Do you think I intend to become an assassin? God forbid!' And then he explained that he did not mean a real but a fictitious death, for which purpose she must be removed to a foreign country, under the pretence of the re-appearance of pulmonary symptoms; that a husband must be found for her who would bind himself to leave France for ever, and to keep this secret, under pain of forfeiting the very handsome allowance he proposed to make them; for the safe conduct of which part of the business, it would be necessary to confide their unhappy circumstances to the family physician and lawyer. In the meantime, as these arrangements could not be made in a day, it was decided that Adeline should remain where she was till all was ready for their completion.
"'I shall take her out of the country myself,' he said, 'and you must accompany us. Every consideration must be shown her; she is the victim, and not the criminal.'
"In the course of this conversation, as may be imagined, Monsieur de Givry more than once lamented the extinction of his race; his daughter, however, on that point, offered him some consolation, by suggesting that she was still a young woman, and that for her father's sake, although she had never intended to marry again, she would consent to do so provided she could meet with an unobjectionable parti.
"Shortly after this melancholy disclosure, De la Cruz arrived with his father in Paris; where they were so well received by Madame de Lignerolles, that the old gentleman, fascinated by her beauty and manners, expressed his surprise that his son had not fallen in love with the mother, instead of the daughter. However, at his son's desire, he made formal propositions for the young lady's hand; which, to the surprise of the young man, Monsieur de Livry said, was already promised; adding, however, that his granddaughter's state of health would, probably, retard the union; the physicians having discovered that the seeds of consumption were beginning to develope themselves in her constitution, and, consequently, recommended her removal to a warmer climate.
"In the meanwhile, the poor young girl was pining alone in the dreary, old château, with no companion but her own maid,—receiving no intelligence, and ignorant of her future fate. All she knew was, that she never could be the wife of Rodriguez de la Cruz. She supposed, that when he made his proposals, he would be informed of the circumstances above related, and that she should never hear more of him. But, in this, she was mistaken. About three weeks after her mother had left her, a letter from him arrived, saying, that he had succeeded in discovering where she was, and that he had lost no time in writing to inform her of the ill fortune that had attended his proposals; adding, that if her sentiments continued unchanged, he would come to Château Noir, accompanied by his own chaplain, who would unite them; after which, he had no doubt, it would be easy to obtain her grandfather's forgiveness; he, probably, having only refused his consent because he was trammelled by a prior engagement.
"But this letter was addressed to Mademoiselle de Lignerolles; and it was evident, from the whole tenour of it, that the writer knew nothing of the change in her fortunes. Honour forbad her to take advantage of this ignorance;
