The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-01-15 00:00:00

ADRIENNE;

on,
THE SHADOW OF THE PAST.

[ALL RIGHTs RESERTED4

CHAPTER IV. '
TrrE party wound slowly forward for many moments
befcre an opening appeared. At length they reached
Et neglected hedge which surrounded a wide lawn now
Choked with weeds and undergrowth, that had en-
croaohed upon the ground even to the doorstep. A
carriage sweep covered with gravel was the only por-
tion free in a measure from dank weeds, and in the
circle it enclosed stood a broken fountain, the water
of which had once flowed through a cluster of marble
water-lilies. Now it was dry, the flowers broken and
falling, and the place left to desolation. The few
flowers that survived such neglect bloomed unheeded,
and only seemed to add to the dreariness of the im-
pression produced by the whole scene.
M. Mendon and his companion reached the front of
the building and dismounted. On looking around for
Pierre, they found that he had disappeared; in fact,
he had struck off into a side-path leading to the
quarters of Eady, to warn her of the unexpected arrival
of strangers.
The floor of the front gallery was covered with
d.al autumn leaves, and the huge iron knocker was
so stiff from disuse, that it was with much effort
at length forced to perform its legitimate service. The
sound reverberated through the solitary house
like a sudden clap of thunder. No answer came, and
again the loud summons awakened the echoes around.
The front window in M. Lecour's tower was thrown
violently open, his head was thrust over the railing of
the balcony which was in front of it, and his angry
voice asked :

"What fool is battering my door down? Is it not
yet understood that I admit no strangers into my
house? Go away, and cease that noise, or I will let
loose my bloodhound upon you!"
M. Mendon was about to reply and explain the
cause of their appearance, when the door suddenly un-
closed, and Eady, in her bright calico dress andscarlet
turban, stood before them. She seemed in a most
Perturbed state of mind, and, before M. Menden could
address her, she exclaimed:

" Marse Adolphe, I Ma open de door when you
knocks, let de consequins be what dey may. Oh, you
is welcome here, to de ole 'oman at least !"

"I believe it, Eady, and I am glad to see your good-
natured face again. I have set my foot in this house
once more, to bring to its shelter the child of its present
owner. Mademoiselle Durand intends to take up her
abode at Bellair, if she finds it possible to remain
here."
Adrienne held out her hand to the old woman; she
took it, peered wistfully into her face, and gravely
Shaking her head, led the way into the lower room of
the eastern tower. She requested them to be seated,
While she went up to her master, and explained the
cause oi the intrusion.

_
Adrienne glanced around the apartment with deep
Interest. It had evidently been adorned by a woman
of refined taste and genial culture, with wealth at her
command. The faded walls were painted in freseaoes,
representing the history of Hector and Andromache.
The floor was inlaid in a mosaic, made of the dark
and light woods furnished by the southern forests, and
statues stool in the angles of the wall; for, like the
other tower, it was an octagon. Faded curtains of
blue brocade draped the windows, and carved furni-
ture, of the Louis Quatorze style, with cushions of the
same material uppn the sofa and chairs, filled the
apartment.

A small inlaid table sustained the favouritevolumes
of her who had once been the presiding spirit of that
forsaken spot, and beside them stood a vase filled with
faded flowers, placed there years before, and left to
Wither in solitude; for the old negress, who dusted the
furniture occasionally, had left them with a kind of
superstitious reverence for the mistress whose hands
had placed them there in her presence a few hours
before the last act in the sad tragedy which those
walls had witnessed. What followed, Eady shuddered
to remember, and she never entered that room without
devoutly crossing herself, and glancing around, as if
the scene enacted there sprang up before her in all its
vivid reality of horror. She guarded her. sec-et
faithfully, and only to herself and the maniac up-
stairs was known the origin of a dark stain upon the
floor, which looked as if coffee had been spilled upon
it. Once it gleamed with a brighter hue, but, as I
have said, the secret was well kept.
With a painful contraction of the heart, M. Mendon
walked around the apartment, for he had sincerely
loved tbe charming woman who had watched over a
Portion of his boyhood, and the last time he had stood
in that room she had clasped him to her heart, and
wept tears of bitter anguish over their enforced
separation.

A veiled picture hung above the parting of
Hector and Andromache, and with almost reverential
awe he lifted the curtain, and said, in suppressed
tones:

"Look up, mademoiselle, and behold the sweet face
I have told you your own so strikingly resembles."
Adrienne beheld a fair woman, with blonde hair
hanging in long curls nearly to her waist; a rosy
mouth, of almost infantile sweetness of expression, and
large, dark, sorrowful eyes.
" Ah, Madame Lecour is far lovelier than I am," ex-
claimed the young girl, and she gazed with rapt ex-
pression upon the eyes which seemed to beam upon
her with tender regard. An indefinable sympathy
seemed to link her to the original of that picture,
and tears started in her own eyes as she gazed upon
it.

M. Mendon glanced from one to the other and
Said:

" ro me the living face is more interesting than the
Pictured one, for it has energy and power, which my
unfortunate sister lacked. But you are wonderfully
like her, mademoiselle, and that resemblance will
probably be an additional bar to your remaining
here."

She turned toward him with an expression of sur-
prise, but the answer trembling upon her lips was
arrested by the appearance in the doorway of the
bizarre figure of M. Lecour. He wore an old brocade
dre ssi ng•go w n , faded and-worn nearly thread-bare;
and his long hair and beard, white as a snow-drift,
contrasted strangely with the vivid passion that
blazed in his eyes, convulsed his mobile lips, and
blanched his aged cheeks to the pallor of death.
Adrienne involuntarily shrank back, and sought to
shelter herself behind the tall form of her companion.
The irate old man advanced into the room, con-
fronted M. Mendon, and said, in deep, stern tones:
"You here, Adolphe Mendon ! I thought that you
long since understood that my roof affords no shelter
to you or yours."
"I understood that perfectly, M. Lecour ; but as I
have brought to you your own child, I think that I
may be pardoned for the intrusion. My visit shall be
brief enough to satisfy you."
"And it is not enough to come unbidden into the
house which has so long been closed on you, but you
must violate the sanctity of that curtain which no
sacrilegious hand has lifted for years. Who is this
girl? What do you mean by my child? I have no
Child ; and this stranger does not look as if she belonged
to.nly race."

• "'et this is Mademoiselle Durand—l should have
I your grandchild, monsieur. This young lady has
Jssed the ocean with the purpose of sharing the
solitude in which you live."
At this announcement, M. Lecour advanced to the
agitatPd Adrienne, and harshly asked:
" W'hy did you not wait for my reply to your let ter
before you came on such an errand as this? I shall
send you back to your convent as an escaped nun,
and I do not care if they put you in prison, and feed
you on bread and water, for your disobedience to my
wishes."
"Stop, monsieur," said Mendon, with dignity. "I
am here as Mademoiselle Durand's protector, and in
my presence you shall not threaten her in your usual
brutal manner. If you refuse to receive her, she can
find an asylum with my stepmother, who already
knows and appreciates her."
M. Lecour glanced from one to the other, and then
sulkily said:
"Get along with you, then. Take her away as soon
as may be, for if you are to have any claims upon her,
I will have nothing to say to her.
Hitherto Adrienne had stood in the shadow of
M. Mendon's stalwart figure, but she now stepped
forward, with clasped hands andtearful eyes, and im-
ploringly said:
"Oh, mOn pere, after all my efforts toretniachaiynou4itihs
this the reception you give me? Let me r
you, I entreat; let me become the minister of peace
and hope to you. Alas! Is your heart closed to the
claims of your daughter's child
His gaze fell upon her upturned face: he started •
staggered back, and lifted his hands in a deprecating
manner, as he faltered:
" You---riou the child of Estelle Lecour Her hair
Was udrk as the raven's wing, and her eyes black as
the sloe. No, no, no! It cannot be—it cannot be !"
"Yet my father was fair, I have been told. Yes,
M. Lecour, I am the child of your daughter, and I
claim a home beneath your roof. I have fled from my
convent—l will die sooner than return to it. Let me
remain with you, I entreat, for I am a stranger in a
strange land, with no claim on anyone save you. If I
Prove a burden to you, I promise in the future to seek
the means of making my own support. New, I only
ask for protection; if I can render myself necessary
to your happiness, you will then permit me to remain
beside yoa!"
" Happiness I" he repeated, with scornful bitterness ;
"I do not know what the word means; but since you
are so confident of teaching me that such a thing ex-
ists, you may remain and try the experient. Since I
find that M. Blendon and his mother are anxious to
take you off my hands, I believe I will disappoint them
by keeping you myself."
Ungracious as this permission was, Adrienne re-
ceived it with an expression of joy which caused M.
Meadon to frown and bite his lips with vexation. She
Fracefully offered him her hand, and looked appeal-
legly in his face as she said:
"Pardon me, if I Stay even with such a reception
r wtkiliiiss•oo Mn
seeyduty is here ; this is truly my home; but
you again. When M. Lecour knows
h. ow kind you and your good mother havu been to me
he will not prohibit our meeting again."
M. Lecour harshly broke in :
" But I do most positively prohibit it; and M.

A dolphe knows better than to thwart me. You part
here; if you remain with me, it must be on my own
terms."

M. Mendon whispered:
Leave him to his madness, mademoiselle, and
come where happiness courts your acceptance. You
will die of ennui here, even if that old ogre does not
break your heart."
She flushed deeply—an expression of reserve swept
over her fair face, as she decisively said:
"It is a happiness which I cannot accept, monsieur.
Place no hopes on me, for they can only meet with
disappointment. My gratitude is yours for the kind-
ness received, but my duty is here. I accept my
grandfather's terms."
He muttered some unintelligible words, bowed low,
and turned to depart. He had reached the door when
a new impulse seemed to move him, and he turned
his face, stern, dark, and fixed, toward her; he held
out his hand and said:

"If you should need me, command my services.
Remember that I am always your fast friend."

Before she could thank him, M. Mendon was gone,
and the strong heart which had courageously borne
up against all the vicissitudes of her long voyage,
seemed to faint within her as the sound of his horse's
hoofs died away in the distance; and when me caught
the cold gleam of M. Lecour's eyes fixed steadily upon
her features, she sank into a chair, and burst into
tears.

With more consideration than might have been ex-
pected of him, the old man remained silent till this
burst of emotion had exhausted itself. He motioned
to Eady to leave the room, and quietly awaited
Adrienne's own time to speak.
Making a violent effort for self-control, she looked
up, wiped away the tears from her eyelids, and
faltered:

"Pardon me, 9non pere, but I have borne so much
to get here, that I am quite overcome by the recollec-
tion of all I have gone through."
" Hem ! well—yes, it was a long jourwy for a young
girl to undertake, and you must have a spirit of your
own to carry it through as you have done. Tell me
all about it; how did you evade the holy sisterhood
among whom you have been educated? I really like
your enterprise and courage."
Reassured by the change in his tone, Adrienne half
smiled as she commenced her narrative:

"The lady superior has doubtless informed you that
I occasionally visited one of my classmates. A few
days after her last letter was despatched to you, a
pressing request came that I should be permitted to
act as the attendant of Mademoiselle le Grand, on the
occasion of her approaching marriage. My protectress
very unwillingly consented; but as the bride was the
niece of a high dignitary in the church, and the
daughter of an officer distinguished among the friends
of the first consul, she could not very well refuse.

"From my childhood the abbess had looked on me
as one destined to the cloister, and these glimpses
of brilliantly worldly life, she feared, might influence
my mind against the vocation chosen for me. But
that was not needed, for I disliked the thought of
spending my life in a convent; and when I set out to
juin the bridal party, it was with theresolution strong
in try heart never to return to it."
She paused as if uncertain how to proceed, and M.
Lecour significantly said:
"Go on, mademoiselle. Speak the whole truth,
I L.n aware of the lover already."
She blushed vividly, as she proceeded:
"I played my part at the wedding. I had often
before met with the cousin of my friend, but Victor
Duvernay until now had never ventured to speak of
love. Emilia told him of my resolution to claim my
freedom, and he offered hinsself to me as my protector
through life."
"And why did you not marry this lover, and
save us both from the ordeal we are about to
undergo 2"
The young girl changed colour at this, but she
gravely went on:
"I might have done so, had circumstances been
favourable to our union; but M. Duvernay objected
to a portionless daughter-in-law. My claims to an
inheritance were so uncertain that no reliance could
be placed on them; and he advised me to return to
the sisterhood, and endeavour to forget my initiation
into worldly pleasures and worldly cares. His son re-
fused to give me up, and the father, exasperated at
the opposition to his wishes, threatened to inform the
bishop of what was passing. That would have been
fatal to our hope of a future union, for I knew that
I should be restored to my convent to be kept under a
strict watch, till your decision as to my futuTe fate
should arrive.
"I knew beforehand what that decision would
probably be, for the superior had always assured me
that there could be no doubt of your intention to
devote me to a religious life. My lover was dependent
upon his father; I knew that we could not then be
united; and no resource was left to me but to come
to you. Emilia kindly assisted me with money; her
husband secretly made arrangement with a merchant
who was about to emigrate from Havre to New
Orleans with his family, to receive me under his pro-
tection. He merely stated to M. Nicot that I was a
young lady educated in France, who was anxious to
return to her family in Louisiana. Madame Nicot was
as kind as a mother could have been, and we had a
prosperous voyage to New Orleans.

"From theie I feared to write, lest you might resent
my contumacy, and prohibit me from coming to you.
I lost no time in setting out for your home, as my
friends luckily found a keel boat about to ascend the
river. I was placed under the care of the captain,
but among the passengers I met M. Adolphe Menden
and his mother, who kindly interested themselves
about me, and, on learning who I was, took me under
their charge. I found that they were from the same
parish, were near connections of yours, and I unfolded
to them ray history. During our tedious trip they
were very kind to me, and if I would have listened to
them, they would have taken me home with them;
but I thought it best to come t o you first."
"And it is well you did," said M. Lecour, vin-
dictively. "If your foot had pressed their threshold
first it should never have crossed mine. Those people
are my deadly and detested enemies, and they had
some sinister object in view, or they would not have
sought to gain influence over you. But what became
of the craven lover who permitted you to be snatched
from him in such a manner? Separated so far from
you, he can scarcely hope for a reunion on this side of
eternity. Methinks he is but a laggard in love after
all."

The young girl blushed vividly, and eagerly re-
plied:
"No monsieur, you wrong him. I concealed from
Victor that I was about to embark for Louisiana.
When M. Duvernay appealed to me, and showed me
the ruin I would bring upon his son if I gave him my
dowerless hand, I resolved to withdraw myself from
Paris without the knowledge of my lover. The
arrangements for my evasion were of course con-
ducted with the greatest secrecy, and Emilia and her
husband came with me to Havre under the pretence
of making a brief bridal tour."
"It is well for them that the good old days of papal
supremacy and lettres de cachet have passed away, ol
they might not fare so well after assisting a young
person almost in her noviciato to run away from hei
convent. It was wrong in the superior to permit yoe
to visit your friend ; the walls of the cloister should
have bounded your earthly vision. Oh,. child! I
wish you were safe back among the good sisters, for
I am afraid that you have made a sad exchange in
coming to me."
Though his tone was harsh, his words seemeif to
imply some sympathy for the future that lay before
her, and Adrienne took his hand in her owt?, and
looked tenderly in his eyes as she replied:
"Can you not find room in your heart, mon pere, for
your poor daughter's child? Ah! I need to be loved—
to love something, and that is why the cold, formallife
of the convent was so oppressive to me. Let me cling
to you; give me only kind words and looks, and I
will be your slave. Alas! lam wilful, but lam
not strong. lam unable to stand alone."
M. Lecour smiled grimly at this appeal.
"One would scarcely think so after your recent
escapade. I believe you must have some of my blood
in you, though your looks seem to belie it. Girl, do
you know that if you had come to me alone, wearing
the resemblance to one in her grave, which I can so
plainly see, I should have ordered you from my door?
But that accursed Mendon came with you—l read his
face and I saw that love for your fair looks already
grows in his heart. I was resolute that he should not
wrest you from me, although you came to me an un-
welcome and unbidden guest. Ido not choose to act
a part toward you, mademoiselle. I tolerate your
presence only; you must prove your right to a better
rsition in my howe by endurance, patience, and for-
bearance. You will find ample scope for ail three,
unless I am greatly mistaken."
Adrienne telt chilled by his words and manner, but
she endeavoured to conceal it from the keen eyes
that rested upon her varying features, and softly
said:
"I accept your terms, mon pate: till I can gain a
place in your heart for myself, let it be closed to me.
Ah ! I can surely bring a ray of sunshine into this
lonely abode. I shall not be denied the power to
brighten a life which love has so long forsaken."
" Love!" he repeated, with a bitter sneer. "It is a
dream—a delusion of youth; it survives not the first
storm, as your own experience should
will
have
shown you; for Victor Duvernay soon find
that
tthoe caobnsseonl ece hio mf
all foort
hyeor•alrovfleo,s
yLou be You faneabley
to attach yourself to a ruin like me. Child, does the
ivy cling to a tree scathed by lightning? Do you
find flowers on the fiery brink of Etna? As well may
you hope to call down an angel from heaven, as to
bring back hope or gladness to my seared soul. No,
no; I am a miserable wreck, and you would have
done well to accept the love M. Mendon was ready to
offer you, if you had been lured to the home of nis
stepmother."
"All. that was impossible while I love another,"
said Adrienne, who had listened to this passionate
outburst with yearning compassion which she dared
not express to the cynical old man. "Years may
intervene before Victor can claim me as his own, but
I feel in my heart that the time will surey come."
A bitter sneer crossed the face of the listener, and
he said in his hardest manner:

"I wish you to u-x-i-de-rTit;id two things, made-
moiselle. The first is, that I shall have no fortune to
bestow upon you; a bare maintenance is all you will
ever get from me. The second is, that you shall not
attempt to hold any intercourse with M. Mendon or
his family. They have traduced and injured me—

they would have wrested my wife's fortune from me,
if they could have accomplished it; but! baffled them
—ha! ha! I baffled them, as I have always baffled
my enemies."
He arose and walked up and down the floor with an
expression of exultation upon his features. Suddenly
his eyes fell upon the veiled picture, and a singular
change came over him ; he staggered, gasped for
breath, and said, in a stifled tone:
"Let us leave this room; its atmosphere oppresses
—it is rarely opened, for I live in my own den up-
stairs. Come with me; the dinner hour approaches,
and Eady will serve it in my room."
(To be continued.)