The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-05-28 00:00:00

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WHEN Victor du Vernay reached La Sante, he was re-
ceived with open arms by the good doctor; and in
reply to his eager enquiries, he received the assurance
that Adrienne was safe beneath his roof. But when
he asked for an immediate interview, great was the
consternation of the lover to hear that the beloved one
he had come to seek lay in a sleep artificially pro-
duced, from which she might awake with a distraught
mind and broken life. _

As briefly as possible, Dr. Brunel related the sub-
stance of what has already been made known to the
reader. Ile then went to inform Louise of the arrival
of Du Vernay. She soon entered with a sad smile of
welcome on her face. She softly said—
"l have nursed you in my arms many times, dear
Victor, when you were a baby, and heaven has been
kind enough so to order it as to cause you and my
darling child to meet and love each other. She has
suffered much—much; but I trust, in the infinite
mercy of our heavenly Father, that she will yet awake
to happiness."
With many fears struggling in his heart, Du Vernay
followed Louise into the chamber of Adrienne. She
still lay so white and motionless, that be almost feared
that life had already left her frame; but a closer ex-
amination showed him that there was around the lips,
and over the closed eyelids, a faint, tremulous motion
which surely indicated that the effect of the potion
administered to her was passing away, and in a few
more moments the dormant mind would resume its
functions.
Dr. Brunel watched these indications with deep
anxiety; he pressed his fingers upon her pulse, and
bent his car over her slightly parted lips. He then
promptly proceeded to make the arrangement on
which he believed so much depended.
Louise was a fine musician, and the organ
which had once belonged to her stood in the next
room. Since it would be dangerous for her to appear
before her daughter before she was prepared to receive
her as an actual existence, the doctor placed her at the
musical instrument, with instructions to play a soft,
low air, while the door of communication was left
slightly ajar.
Victor knelt beside the bed, and gently laid one of
her passive hands in his own, and Dr. Brunel stood
ready to give such assistance as his professional skill
warned him might become necessary.
Thus prepared, the keys of the instrument were
lightly and tremulously touched by fingers long un-
familiar with them; but the old melodies the player
once loved could never be forgotten, and sweet and
solemn were the tones that floated into the room in
dying cadences, like music from some distant sphere.
A faint shade of colour gradually crept over the
whiteness of Adrienne's cheeks, a soft smile parted
the lips, and soon murmured words issued from
them.

"Has my soul passed from earth to heaven?' Ah !
this must be the music of the spheres that falls so
softly upon my ears. Ah, Victor—beloved--if I could
only meet you there."
"I am here, dearest; open your sweet eyes and look
upon me."
Obedient to the command, the heavy eyelids were
slowly lifted, aud the eyes with a steady, quiet gaze,
looked into her lover's.
" Yes ; you are indeed my Victor! but how did you
get to heaven with me? I had not heard of your
death, and that change is necessary to gain admit-
tance in the mansions of the blest."
"I feel that lam truly blessed, my Adrienne; for
I am beside you, and you are mine; but we are yet
on earth, my darling, and you are safe. Do you un-
derstand, ray love? Safe from every one, and soon
to become my bride."
She slowly raised herself, looked around the room,
and then touched and examined her hands.
"Yes, I can see now that I am still in the flesh, but
tell me how—oh, I remember now! That fearful—
fearful room! that terrible old man !"
She fell back with such an expression of vivid horror
upoe her features, that the two men who watched her
were greatly alarmed. Victor, instructed beforehand
by Dr. Brunel what course to pursue clasped her
hand to his heart, and slowly and distinctly said—
"You went into the picture-room in the sleep of
somnambulism, and were there rescued, without injury
from the dog; your mother accomplished this. She it
is who has played the part of the White Terror in the
house that was once her own. You are not M.
Lecour's granddaughter, but the child of Henry
Durand and Louise Montreuil. You are the undis-
puted possessor of your grandfather's estate, and I
have come to Louisiana with the full consent of my
father to marry you, and take you back with me to
France."
While Du Vernay thus spoke, the expression of feir
slowly faded from the features of Adrienne, a sad
smile took its place, and she said—
"My mother! does she indeed yet live? Where is
she now? Will you not bring her to me?"
"She is here; but are you sure that you can bear
the agitation of seeing her?"
"Oh, I can bear anything now. This new flood of
happiness has restored my strength; the horror has
left me, and I can only see bright hopes clustering
around me. Already have I looked upon my mother's
face, and I shall know it again. Victor, bring her to
me, I entreat."
"Her good friend, Dr. Brunel, has already gone for
her; she will be here in another moment. Calm
yourself, my beloved, and do not risk yeur health by
any excitement."
She smiled so radiantly, so confidently in his face,
that her lover was reassured. She softly said—
" Do net fear for me now, Victor. I feel as if I had
suddenly been rescued from the depths of despair,
and placed upon the very pinnacle of happiness. And
it was my mother that rescued me; I now remember
the face of the supposed phantom bending over me
when I was dragged from—"
She shuddered, and changed colour so violently,
that Du Vernay's fears were again aroused. He
hurriedly interrupted her.
"Stop, my darling; don't think of that terrible
scene. It will make you ill again. Ah here is your
mother."
Louise, trembling and pale, came in, followed by
Dr. Brunel. Adrienne raised herself suddenly, held
out her arms, and in another instant mother and
daughter were clasped in a fond embrace, weeping as
if their hearts would break.
Dr. Brunel drew Du Vernay away, as he whispered:
"Allis safe now; leave them together; it will be
best."
Louise lifted Adrienne's face from her bosom, and
looked tenderly upon her as she said—
"Oh, my child, at last I clasp you to my heart, as
m'ne. How will you be able to forgive me for my
ay-parent desertion through all these long, long years?
Twice in my life have I visited France only to see
you, but you were then too young to remember me."
"I have a faint recollection of a lady who once
wept over me so bitterly that I became alarmed and
had to be removed from the Superior's room. And
that was you, my mother?"
"It was, and since that hour we have not met till
I discovered you in the power of the most ruthless of
men.'
"But why was I kept so far from you, and led to
believe myself the daughter of another person ?"
"It is a story of sad wrong, my child, perpetrated
by one who should have guarded me from evil. You
shalt soon learn all its details. I will explain now
that M. Menden was aware of your existence before I
gave him my hand, and be took me to France to visit
you; but neither he tor my father was willing that I
should acknowledge you as my child. I then believed
thAt my marriage with your father had not been
I.gal, and I shrank from revealing to the world the
deception of which I had been made the victim. Now
I have the proofs in my possession that Henri Durand
was my true and lawful husband?'
"And you are really and truly my mother ?" asked
Adrienne, earnestly scanning her features. "It seems
so strange—so incredible. But why did you persecute
that dreadful old man by making him believe that he
Was haunted by a visitor from another world ?"
Again that flash of wild exultation swept over her
face, and her lip curled defiantly as she said—
"He
oh
to
od
dbeen l tihne
neavyi Ipo demonwer of t
oa
avenge
gl
eif
yasnedl f wasHe
had
crushed me—crushed me; he had given death to
one I loved, and I would not forego my only means of
wreaking on him some of the misery he had inflicted
on me.'
Adrienne tenderly kissed her mother's brow, as she
softly said—
"You will nowm forget
happiness, y o t 2
make
awk wrongs,
it
gdso,
umblyy precious
mother,
and in sharing y

-
to me.
"Yes, I have accomplished that, at least, my
daughter; you will be honourably and happily settled
in life; but I shall not remain with you. I have long
been dead to the world, and it is my will to continue
80.”
Adrienne would have combatted this resolution, but
she soon found that the attempt would be useless,

The mind of her mother was fixed on resuming her
duties as a Sister of Charity, and no arguments could
turn her from her purpose.
In a few days Adrienne was sufficiently recovered
to set out for New Orleans, and she went thither ac-
coMpanied by her mother and her lover. Father
Eustace and Dr. Brunel were also of the party, and
the former offered to his niece such an explanation of
his conduct towards her as seemed sufficiently
plausible to himself, but it was far from satisfactory
to the truthful mind of Adrienne. His mission in
Louisiana was ended, and he was preparing to return
to his native land. _ _ _

The settlement of M. Montreuirs estate detained
Du Verngy several months later; but he and Adrienne
were united in the Cathedral a few weeks after their
arrival in New Orleans.

The hoarded savings of M. Lecour were found to be
very large; and as no heir appeared to claim them,
they were bestowed upon the convent in which his
daughter had been educated, for Adrienne retained a
grateful remembrance of the kindness shown to her-
self during her childhood, and she was glad to be able
to compensate in this way for her own desertion of the
sisterhood. _ _

- Victor du Vernay played a brilliant part in the court
of Napoleon; but at his downfall, they again came
with their two children to Louisiana, to resume pos-
session of the old place. Before this time the ruinous
house had been removed, and a commodious mansion
built upon its site. Eady, who had accompanied them
to France, found her husband still living, and still as
devoted to the use of liquor as in earlier days; but she
kindly atoned for her long desertion by taking care
of him the remainder of his life.
At the restoration of the Bourbon rule in France,
M. Mendon also came back to his old home to take
possession of Madame Crozart's plantation, which had
fallen to himself and his wife by the death of that
lady. In the passage of those years, Pauline had
grown sharp and cadaverous; but as she had no
children, her stepson forgave her for the deception she
had practised on him to socure his father for herself.
Her husband led a quieter life with her than he antici-
pated when he gave her his hand, and Adrienne never
knew that to Pauline's treachery she came so near
owing her death.
On their return to Louisiana, friendly relations
were maintained between the two families, and in
course of time the only daughter of Madame Du Vernay
became the bride of M. Mendon's youngest son and
he thus had the satisfaction of knowing that half of
the coveted estate would descend to his grand-
children. -

THE END.