"Your mistress seems extremely delicate?" I observed.
"Yes, poor thing! She will never again be the girl she was."
"Are you, may I ask, her mother?"
"Her mother? Lawkamercy, no! I ain't worthy to be more than what I am."
"And what is that, my friend?"
"Her servant, poor angel! Her mother is, I am sure, in Heaven."
"Pardon me. I remember that she told me last night that she was an orphan."
"Ay, poor child, a orphan indeed--a orphan of the 'eart," she added, shaking her head, as she became unintentionally poetic.
"I fear my visit excites you," said I, moving towards the door, as the young girl reappeared, and seemed to have quite recovered her composure. "Your cough requires the greatest care, and those open windows----"
"Oh, I should die without air," she exclaimed, while her eyes sparkled; "for there are times when even my own thoughts seem to stifle me."
"La, miss!" said her attendant, warningly, and glancing impatiently at me.
"A strange girl," thought I; "but can she be subject to flights of fancy--insane?"
"If I can at any time be of service, pray command me, though we shall not be long in Britain now, as we soon start for the Crimea."
"Very soon?" she asked, with her eyes and voice full of earnest inquiry.
"I cannot say exactly when; but soon, certainly."
She pressed her left hand upon her breast, as if to restrain her cough, and cast down her eyelashes. At that moment she seemed remarkably bewitching, soft, modest, and Madonna-like.
I was again about to go, and yet stayed, for I longed to learn, at least, her name.
"And you go cheerfully forth to face danger and death?" she asked, looking up with a mournful smile in her pleading eyes.
"Not cheerfully, for my path is not without its thorns; but for all that I don't dread death, I hope."
"Death!" she said, musingly, as if to herself, while looking at the blood spot on her handkerchief. "Daily I feel myself face to face with him, and shall bid him welcome when he comes nearer, for death has no terrors for me."
"Don't 'ee talk so, darling," said her follower, with a mixture of sorrow and irritation in her manner; "though he you weeps for is a bad 'un at 'art, and I knows it."
"Oh, don't break mine by saying so, nurse."
"I trust that you only fancy yourself worse than you really are," said I, with genuine sympathy in my tone and manner. "Remember, the long and sweet season of summer is before us. You are so young, and life must still be full of hope to you."
"Hope! oh, no, not of hope! My destiny has already been fulfilled!" she replied, with a strong bitterness of manner; "so hope has done with me."
"Pardon me; but may I ask your name--I told you mine," said I, laying my hand on hers.
She coloured deeply, almost painfully. It was but the hectic flush of a moment, and when it passed away she became pale as marble.
"Captain Norcliff, I think you said?"
"Yes; Newton Calderwood Norcliff--and yours?"
"Agnes Auriol."
"Good heavens!" I almost exclaimed, as the whole mystery of her life and manner burst with a new light upon me.
So my mysterious incognita was that poor girl of whom the mess had whispered. Berkeley's mistress--Agnes Auriol--the girl whose letter--a heart-breaking one, likely--he had dropped at Calderwood, and which he had burned so carefully when I restored it to him. So _his_ were the initials that were on the gold locket at her neck, and _his_ were the forage cap and cigar which had attracted my attention on first entering the cottage parlour.
It was certainly an awkward situation for me, this self-introduction and visit. If discovered there, I knew not how far it might compromise me with him, and still more with others whose opinion I valued.
And as thoughts of the Chillinghams and of the mess flashed upon me, I felt that I would gladly have changed places with Sinbad on the whale's back, or Daniel in the lion's den.
*CHAPTER XVII.*
Oh, for the wings we used to wear, When the heart was like a bird, And floated through the summer air, And painted all it looked on fair, And sung to all it heard! When fancy put the seal of truth On all the promises of youth! HERVEY.
To have introduced myself abruptly to Mr. De Warr Berkeley's wedded wife, if he had one, might be explained away satisfactorily enough; but to present myself to Miss Auriol, related as she was to him, there could be no palliation whatever, and in duelling days could have led to but one result--the pistol!
Something of what passed in my mind, together with an air of bewilderment, must have been apparent in my face, for the young lady, after gazing at me earnestly, as if her clear and bright, but dark blue eyes would read my very soul, looked suddenly down, and said, while her colour came and went, and her bosom heaved painfully--
"I can perceive, Captain Norcliff, that my name explains much to you; but not all--oh no! not all. There are secrets in my short but wretched life that you can never learn--secrets known to God and to myself alone!"
"It really explains nothing to me, Miss Auriol," I replied with a smile, being willing to relieve her embarrassment, by affecting ignorance of that which the whole mess knew--her ambiguous position; "for I am not aware that--that we ever met before."
"But you have heard, perhaps--you know Mr. Berkeley?"
"Of ours--yes; he was in Scotland with me a few weeks ago."
"That I know too well for my own peace," said the girl, coughing spasmodically, and applying her handkerchief to her mouth.
"He is frequently in this quarter, is he not?"
"Yes."
"At this pretty cottage, perhaps?"
"No, sir."
"Where then--the Reculvers?"
"At Chillingham Park. Since he has begun to visit there he scarcely ever comes here. Have you not heard--have you not heard," she repeated, making a fearful effort at articulation, "that he is to be married to the only daughter and heiress of Lord Chillingham?"
I felt that I became nearly as pale as herself, while replying--
"I certainly have not heard of such an alliance; it is probably the silly humour of a gossiping neighbourhood."
She shook her head sadly, and seated herself with an air of lassitude.
"Are you sure that Mr. Berkeley was not here after I escorted you home last night?"
"I am, unfortunately, but too sure. Why do you ask?" she inquired, looking up, while her eyes dilated.
"Because I could have sworn that I passed him on horseback in the dusk."
"Riding in this direction?"
"No, towards Canterbury."
"Ah, towards Chillingham Park, no doubt--there shines his loadstar now!"
"And mine too," thought I, bitterly.
This girl's intelligence, whether false or true, crushed my heart more than I can describe.
Aware, however, of the imperative necessity for retiring, I took up my hat and bade her adieu; but for the purpose of learning more of Berkeley's movements, I promised, when riding that way, to call again, and inquire for her health.
"The locket you have just restored was Mr. Berkeley's gift to me upon a fatal day," said she; "and, believe me, sir, that--that, whatever you may have heard of me, or whatever you may think, I have been 'more sinned against that sinning.'"
In another minute I was in the saddle, and on my way back to Canterbury.
Though she did not know it, nor could she know it, this unfortunate girl had been planting thorns in my breast. I could not believe in the reality of such perfidy on the part of Louisa--of such facility on the part of the haughty Countess, her mother--or of such rapid progress on the part of Berkeley with all his wealth, the hard-won thousands of the late departed brewer.
How I longed now for the arrival of Cora, who might solve or explain away some of the doubts that surrounded me!
My heart swelled with rage; and yet I felt that I loved Louisa with a passion that bade fair to turn my brain!
As Miss Auriol would be certain to know something of Berkeley's movements and as she and her faithful follower, old Mrs. Goldsworthy, might prove invaluable in acquainting me with what passed at Chillingham Park, for they had jealousy to spur on their espionage, I resolved to visit once or twice again the cottage at the Reculvers, when I could do so unseen. This I did, little knowing how greatly the poor girl would interest me in her sad fate, and still less foreseeing that the course I pursued was a perilous one. But the agony of my anxiety, the bitterness of my suspicions, and my love for Louisa, overcame every scruple, and blinded me to everything else.
She, on the other hand, was naturally anxious to learn the movements of Berkeley, whom, notwithstanding his cold desertion, she loved blindly and desperately. Thus we could be useful to each other.
My heart recoiled at times from such a mode of working; but I could have no other recourse till my cousin Cora came.
As I rode up to the door of the hotel, my heart leaped on seeing Willie Pitblado awaiting me there.
"A letter at last!" I exclaimed, as he came forward.
"From the colonel, sir," said he, touching his cockaded hat.
"The colonel?" I repeated in disappointment and surprise, as I tore open the note, the contents of which ran briefly thus:--