to speak of my pride, that revolted at the secresy. If two persons are worthy of each other, I thought, and their consciences worthy of being called to witness what they do, why should there be secret?
"'I was in sore trouble day and night, and God knows how I struggled, Flor! To hear that proud man--naturally so violent and so imperious--to hear him beg and beseech, and to see him suffer, and to go on living here in this solitary wilderness beside him, without a soul to help me, or any counsel, save my own weak heart--it was hard to bear, it was terrible! and it was worse when he never spoke to me at all for months, nor even looked at me; and all the while I could see how his dumb passion was wearing him out; and then at last the blood from that wound!--then I did feel my courage spent, and I gave myself up. Dear Flor, if there really be a woman's pride, that could have taken her through all this unmoved--ordeals, I may say, by fire and water--if there be such courage, I hardly think I could covet it!
"'We took an oath,' she went on; 'we pledged ourselves to eternal constancy and to secresy. My mind was at peace--happy I was not. Not that I ever doubted him, whatever he may have done--and indeed he never tried to make me think better of him than others. This I know--never will he love another woman now, nor I another man. But there was always a heavy presentiment of evil that was to come--and now it has come, and my life is at an end.
"'It is not possible for me to remain where I am,' she continued; 'between father and son. If Count Ernest had come back, and found me as his father's lawful wife, he would have smothered his boyish flame at once, and all would have been plain and open. But now this wretched secresy has borne its bitter fruits! I have prayed to God to guide me, and I am resolved to take it all upon myself, and by leaving the house at once, to save what there is yet to save. If I were to die, it would be the best thing I could do for all of us, and so I must anticipate death, and take myself away, never to be heard of more. I will tell my brother all, and that shall be my penance. I do not mean to spare myself, for henceforth I shall have to live all my days alone. But it will be a comfort to me, dear Flor, to think that you remember me and have a kindly feeling for me!'
"I held her hand and stroked her cheek; 'I will never forget you, dear,' I said: 'Wherever you go, my heart will follow you;' and it quite moved me to see a faint rose return to her pale cheeks, with pleasure at hearing me speak so. She drew a deep breath, as if a load had been taken off her mind; and then she begged me to keep her flight a secret. Afterwards, when it was no longer to be concealed, I was to say that she had gone to her brother to persuade him to go back to England quietly, and that perhaps she would not come back that night.
"'When I am safe across the channel, I will write to the count; she said; 'and as for you, my best and dearest friend, I shall always think of your love and goodness for me to my dying day.'
"And she fell upon my neck, and cried so bitterly that I cried myself while I was trying to comfort her--saying the most stupid things--for my poor old head was all astray. I could hardly get out the words for sobbing, and only kept repeating: 'God bless you, poor dear!--bless you I--don't forget your own old Flor, who wronged you so!--you are far too good to be so wretched!'
"As if, in this world, the good people were the best off! As if my blessed mistress had not been an angel even before she died!
"As soon as we heard the first birds singing in the woods, the pretty creature rose and dried her eyes, and gave me her hand to say good-bye; and when at the door she turned round to nod to me again, she looked so lovely that I looked after her, as if I had been her lover myself, and ran to the window to see her pass through the little gate, and walk towards the wood to wave my hand to her again. The day was dawning gradually over the trees, that all stood still, as if asleep, till the dew fell, and then they began to stir in the morning air. To this moment I can remember how I felt, as I put out my hot head to cool the fever in it, and let the fresh breeze blow over my hair. 'God be praised! who gave that poor girl the sense and courage to go at once, and make an end of it!' I thought one moment, and the next--'But has she a right to go? If that be true about the oath she took, and the conscience-marriage, can she--can any woman--go and leave her husband as though her life were still her own to dispose of?' Yet at every step she was taking farther out into the wide world and farther from the castle, I felt the weight on my heart loosening, and I imagined that if only my poor dear boy were safe never to set eyes on her again, all might yet be well, and we might leave the rest to Providence.
"She must have got a good start by the time our people began to be stirring about the stables and the farm-buildings, and my master never got up till several hours later. I always was the earliest in the house, and had more than enough to do and to look after, but that morning I could think of nothing at all; my head was dazed, everything seemed running in it at once--I took a whole hour to plait up my poor wisps of hair before I could make up my mind to leave the room. For I thought I should meet the count, and if he were to ask for Mamsell Gabrielle, I was sure to stammer and hesitate, and very likely to confess the whole. However, I could not hold out any longer, I wanted so much to go and see what my poor Count Ernest was about. I went along on tiptoe, and slowly up the stairs. My legs shook as though I had grown to eighty in a single night.
"I listened at the door of his room, and hearing nothing, I softly opened it and went in. The room was empty, and the bed untouched; but he must have spent the night here, for the candles were burned down to their sockets. It all looked so sad, it made me begin to cry again, as I went about setting things to rights, and opening the windows. I looked out far over the tree-tops, and fell a-thinking. I can remember that I almost went into a passion with that faded dog-boy there on the tapestry, who grins and looks so happy, shewing all his teeth. 'Whatever happens, that fool must grin,' I said; sorrow had made me that distracted, that even a picture on the wall could provoke me, Sir."
"All at once I heard the piano in the room below me, long before the time when my master was used to rise. 'The whole world is topsy-turvy;' I thought, as I went downstairs. Now that I was sure not to meet the count, I wanted to go and look for my dear boy all over the castle and about the grounds."
"When I came to the door of my lady's room, where we had put Mamsell Gabrielle, I could not pass it. I felt drawn in against my will, as it were--it was like those places where dreadful murders have been committed. I stood staring at the glass, and talking to myself like a mad woman. We women are a weak and a curious race, you know. Sir, and have a right to be, as our mother Eve was before us; and I could not help fumbling about till I had found the mechanism; and then, I thought, I would take one peep at the hidden passage--just one peep, I thought--but when the mirror turned upon its hinges, I had one foot over without intending it, and then the other--and I found myself walking on, hardly venturing to breathe, and the door had closed behind me of itself. I was not frightened. If I really never did get out, or saw the light of day again, what would it matter? What is there in the world to please me, where all is temptation and disappointment, and where one man plays the part of Lucifer to the other?
"I saw a faint streak of light falling through a crack, and so I went on till I came to the steps; I went up cautiously; I heard the piano getting louder and louder as I went up. While I live, I shall not forget that strange feeling; the dark dank air, like a prison, and the beautiful music pealing above my head.
"I felt as if I were in my grave, and thousands of birds were singing over the sod, and I could hear them and understand them all. At the last step I stood still--'Where does this lead to?' I thought, 'and shall I be able to get out?' and I turned cold all aver, when I saw that this passage could only lead into Count Henry's morning-room, just where the piano stood. If I were to walk in suddenly, what would he think of me?
"Then I saw the light shining through a hole in the wall, and that made me go on again. The mirror had been injured at one place, which looked like a spot or blemish, and it had often vexed me while I was cleaning it; and now I saw that it had been done on purpose, to enable one to look into the room and see that all was safe, before putting the springs in motion and opening the door.
"I
