"Pray do not,"his mother added;"we were just talking about you,Miss Silver.My son hopes you will accept this book from him,and from us all,with all kind birthday wishes."And rising,with a little more gravity than was her wont,Mrs.
Halifax touched the girl's forehead with her lips,and gave her the present.
Miss Silver coloured,and drew back."You are very good,but indeed I would much rather not have it.""Why so?Do you dislike gifts,or this gift in particular?""Oh,no;certainly not."
"Then,"said John,as he too came forward and shook hands with her with an air of hearty kindness,"pray take the book.Do let us show how much we respect you;how entirely we regard you as one of the family."Guy turned a look of grateful pleasure to his father;but Miss Silver,colouring more than ever,still held back.
"No,I cannot;indeed I cannot."
"Why can you not?"
"For several reasons."
"Give me only one of them--as much as can be expected from a young lady,"said Mr.Halifax,good-humouredly.
"Mr.Guy ordered the Flora for himself.I must not allow him to renounce his pleasure for me.""It would not be renouncing it if YOU had it,"returned the lad,in a low tone,at which once more his younger brother looked up,angrily.
"What folly about nothing!how can one read with such a clatter going on?""You old book-worm!you care for nothing and nobody but yourself,"Guy answered,laughing.But Edwin,really incensed,rose and settled himself in the far corner of the room.
"Edwin is right,"said the father,in a tone which indicated his determination to end the discussion,a tone which even Miss Silver obeyed."My dear young lady,I hope you will like your book;Guy,write her name in it at once."Guy willingly obeyed,but was a good while over the task;his mother came and looked over his shoulder.
"Louisa Eugenie--how did you know that,Guy?Louisa Eugenie Sil--is that your name,my dear?"The question,simple as it was,seemed to throw the governess into much confusion,even agitation.At last,she drew herself up with the old repulsive gesture,which of late had been slowly wearing off.
"No--I will not deceive you any longer.My right name is Louise Eugenie D'Argent."Mrs.Halifax started."Are you a Frenchwoman?""On my father's side--yes."
"Why did you not tell me so?"
"Because,if you remember,at our first interview,you said no Frenchwoman should educate your daughter.And I was homeless--friendless."
"Better starve than tell a falsehood,"cried the mother,indignantly.
"I told no falsehood.You never asked me of my parentage.""Nay,"said John,interfering,"you must not speak in that manner to Mrs.Halifax.Why did you renounce your father's name?""Because English people would have scouted my father's daughter.You knew him--everybody knew him--he was D'Argent the Jacobin--D'Argent the Bonnet Rouge."She threw out these words defiantly,and quitted the room.
"This is a dreadful discovery.Edwin,you have seen most of her--did you ever imagine--""I knew it,mother,"said Edwin,without lifting his eyes from his book."After all,French or English,it makes no difference.""I should think not,indeed!"cried Guy,angrily."Whatever her father is,if any one dared to think the worse of her--""Hush!--till another time,"said the father,with a glance at Maud,who,with wide-open eyes,in which the tears were just springing,had been listening to all these revelations about her governess.
But Maud's tears were soon stopped,as well as this painful conversation,by the entrance of our daily,or rather nightly,visitor for these six weeks past,Lord Ravenel.His presence,always welcome,was a great relief now.We never discussed family affairs before people.The boys began to talk to Lord Ravenel:and Maud took her privileged place on a footstool beside him.From the first sight she had been his favourite,he said,because of her resemblance to Muriel.But I think,more than any fancied likeness to that sweet lost face,which he never spoke of without tenderness inexpressible,there was something in Maud's buoyant youth--just between childhood and girlhood,having the charms of one and the immunities of the other--which was especially attractive to this man,who,at three-and-thirty,found life a weariness and a burthen--at least,he said so.
Life was never either weary or burthensome in our house--not even to-night,though our friend found us less lively than usual--though John maintained more than his usual silence,and Mrs.Halifax fell into troubled reveries.Guy and Edwin,both considerably excited,argued and contradicted one another more warmly than even the Beechwood liberty of speech allowed.For Miss Silver,she did not appear again.
Lord Ravenel seemed to take these slight desagremens very calmly.He stayed his customary time,smiling languidly as ever at the boys'controversies,or listening with a half-pleased,half-melancholy laziness to Maud's gay prattle,his eye following her about the room with the privileged tenderness that twenty years'seniority allows a man to feel and show towards a child.At his wonted hour he rode away,sighingly contrasting pleasant Beechwood with dreary and solitary Luxmore.
After his departure we did not again close round the fire.Maud vanished;the younger boys also;Guy settled himself on his sofa,having first taken the pains to limp across the room and fetch the Flora,which Edwin had carefully stowed away in the book-case.Then making himself comfortable,as the pleasure-loving lad liked well enough to do,he lay dreamily gazing at the title-page,where was written her name,and "From Guy Halifax,with--""What are you going to add,my son?"
He,glancing up at his mother,made her no answer,and hastily closed the book.
She looked hurt;but,saying nothing more,began moving about the room,putting things in order before retiring.John sat in the arm-chair--meditative.She asked him what he was thinking about?
"About that man,Jacques D'Argent."
