The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-02-12 00:00:00

ADRIENNE ;

THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

M. Crozat's first wife, was with her when she died,
and had the exclusive charge of my step-daughter,

_
Pauline, till I married him."
"And where is she now to be found? She can give
information that may be invaluable to us."
"She is here, but not in a condition just now to
throw mach light on this subject. She has always
refused to be separated from her nurseling, and,
although she was not of much use to me, I gave her a
cabin, and permitted her to remain as a sort of
hanger-on. During my absence she was attacked by
a low fever, and she is now quite delirious. I came
from her just now, and in her mutterings the name of
Louise Montreuil occurred, coupled with another that
I have heard before. Depend on it, the whole story
is in the keeping of this woman, if we can only get

her to reveal it."
"I trust she is not in danger of dying, madame. It
will be too bad to have the clue of this mystery tcrn
from our grasp exactly at the crisis when it is most
important to retain it.'
"She is very low. I have sent for the doctor to see
what can be done for her, and you may be sure that I
shall leave no means untried to restore her to such a
state as will at least enable her to speak rationally
and with certainty of the past."
A sudden thought seemed to strike M. Mendon, and
he asked, with some solicitude—
"If this young girl is the true heir, will she be safe
in the power of so uncrupulous a man as we believe
M. Lecour to be P He may have better means of
ascertaining the truth than we possess, and it may be
an imperative duty toward Mademoiselle Adrienne to
remove her from Bellair at once, in spite of any op-
position she might make."
Madame Crozat shook her head gravely.
"We need not proceed to extreme measures yet,
for M. Lecour must send to France to gain confirma-
tion of his suspicions, if any have been aroused, and
it will be several months before he can get a reply.
In the meantime Leonie may recover, and we have
ample time to claim the custody of the heiress."
"And in the meantime, how am I to use these
flatteries to which you just now referred? Adrienne
may as well be in her convent in France as in that
gloomy old den, with such an ogre for her guard. He
almost ordered me out of his presence, and gave me
distinctly to understand that I was to make my ap-
pearance in his house no more?
"And she did not remonstrate, after all your kind-
ness to her? Did she not seem grieved that she was
not permitted to see the only friend she had in this
strange country ?"
"1 daresay she regretted it, but she acquiesced, and
accepted his protection on those terms."
"Well, after all, it was the only thing the poor girl
could do, and I am quite at a loss to know what to
propose. She will not come to us, and you cannot go
to her." _

M. Mendon drew near to her, and almost
whispered—
"A sudden revelation has COMO to me. Adrienne
has effected her escape from the convent to which she
was destined from infancy. No doubt M.lecour has
delegated to the Superior such authority as will en-
able her to claim the fugitive wherever she may be
found within the jurisdiction of the Catholic Church.
Can we not take Father Eustace into our counsels,
arm him with spiritual power, and threaten to return
her to her nunnery:'
"And the priest would be very likely to keep his
word. That might be surest means to foil our
plans."
"No—we could step forward to protect her, and
save her from Father Eustace, for old Lecour would
give her up at once if he believed the bishop demanded
her. Don't you see, madame, that if she is deprived
of her present home' and threatened with being sent
back to France to be immured for life in her old
prison, Adrienne will gladly avail herself of your offer
to protect her? Then, what would be easier to con-
vince her that only by giving me her band can she
save herself from this dreaded fate ?"
"But will Father Eustace lend himself to such a
purpose? He seems a true ascetic, and I have not
been able yet to find out what has brought him from
France to dwell in this new country. I am sure he
has some ulterior object in view in coming hither.
Father Eustace has risen, and is coming this way now.
I leave you to sound him, and see if he will enter into
our plans."
As the lady entered the house, M. Mendon slowly
sauntered into the yard and joined the priest, who,
with bowed head and corrugated brow, seemed deeply
absorbed in thought.
As the two approached eath other Father Eustace
looked up, bowed, and would have passed on, but M.
Mendon turned in the direction he was pursuing, and
said—
"I will be the companion Of your walk, father, as I
have something to communicate to you which is im-
portant to me."
"Then I must pause to listen, my son, though I was
on my way to repair a piece of negligence which is
unaccountable to myself. I had utterly forgotton
that this is the day I should have gone to Bellair to
hear the confession of its master. But once a month
will he receive me, and if I fail to visit him this morn-
ing, another month must pass before I am admitted to
his presence. In the state of M. Lecour's health, this
carelessness might have a fatal result--he may die in
his sins, and I should feel myself responsible for the
safety of his soul."
The lip of the listener curled scornfully, and he
said—

"Truly the age of miracles cannot be past if you
think any earthly ministration can save a soul so
dyed in crime as that of this miserable old man. It is
of him I wish to speak with you. We will go towards
the stable, and give orders to have a horse saddled
and brought after you. In the meantime, we can
walk on, and despatch our business without delay."
The priest acquiesced, and after the order was
given, the two men issued from the yard, and slowly
sauntered along under the shade of an avenue of
magnificent oaks. M. Mendon did not speak for so
long a time that at length Fathn Eustace gently said,
"Well, my son, what have you to say of this un-
happy old man ?"
"Nothing new of him; but are you aware that
Castle Dismal has received a new inmate within the
last few days ?"
An expression of incredulity came upon the face oi
the priest, and he said:
"It is surely impossible that M. Lecour shall have
departed trom his habits of seclusion so far as to re-
ceive a guest. Who has been hardy enough to ask or
accept his hospitality ?"
"A young lady; and, by my faith! a fair one,
too."
Father Eustace suddenly stopped, turned upon him
with the vivid glare of passion in his deep black eyes,
and asked, with breathless interest:
"Who is she? Whence does she come? and what
claim has she on this man?"
"Really, father, you manifest such interest in this
errant damsel, as might render me jealous, if 'twere
not for your cloth; for know that I am half in love
with the young lady of whom we are speaking."
• "Young lady! Who is it? I again ask,
monsieur. Do not trifle, for lam terribly in
earnest ! "
"So I perceive, for you are trembling with excite-
ment. Have you not yet heard that the granddaughter
of M. Lecour -came from New Orleans on the same
boat with Madame Crozet and myself? that she re-
fused the pressing invitation we gave her to come
hither and preferred going to Bellair at once ?"
The naturally pale complexion of the priest became
livid at this announcement, but instantly recovering
his usual stoical self-command, he said—

" This young stranger is doubtless an impostor, for
the only descendant of M. Lecour is too safely guarded
In her convent home to make such an escapade as
this. Some clever adventurer has heard of his great
fortune, and undertakes to personate his heiress."
"I believe you are mistaken, father, for Made-
moiselle Durand did not conceal from my mother and
myself that she is a fugitive from the convent in
which she was educated with a view of taking the
veil. The life of a recluse was odious to her, and,
Ignorant of the brutality of her grandfather, she
has imprudently thrown herself upon his protec-
tion." .
" Which she will not long retain, for it is my duty
to inform the bishop of these facts, that this
contumacious young person may be restored to
the bosom of the community she has sinfully
forsaken."
"Softly, softly, father; it is of this I wish to speak
to you. Mademoiselle Durand declares that she will
die sooner than return to the captivity of her convent,'
and, in certain contingencies, it is my wish, and also
that. of Mademe Crozat, that this young lady may be
fre ed from the control of the Church."

"And those contingencies?' interrogated the priest,
with a cold gravity, which contrasted strikingly with
his late vehemence.
"If she is really the heir of M. Lecour's wealth,
it is my purpose to end the struggle between us tor
this fine property, by making his granddaughter my
wife."
.. I thought the struggle was already ended by the
decision of the law," was the significant reply.
Yes, for the term of M. Lecour's life; but at his
death my efforts shall be renewed, unless this marriage
can he accomplished."
Father Eustace had gained time to reflect, and with
e osw.
~:necafsatr eaysesl actindeasiustaev:timy acnanns,
etn e said
bound to con-
eider your interests, and the wishes
h
your good
f your cup,
tn
andot hterar,infoyroluear,
cthoilfdyreonurtobwreaaldk,
in
h
drink
paths of faith
this girl but if she proves not to be the descendant
and truth. For the present I will do nothing
daagnaithostf
as
Braln.dLehaevouerh,
elrsphuaellistahekde stepsM. Mendon changed colour: he replied—
" Even etA)deesxePr°vse the imposure,
es.
" Even in that contingency it may become my duty
to protect her, and bestow on her my name."
"You speak in riddles, my son."
"Yet it is a riddle which time will solve, father.
When the right time comes, you shall heir a singular
piece of family history; I do not exactly know all the
details myself. but I shall before long, and then I will
enlighten you."
"I can wait on your pleasurc—in the meantime I
must be lenient towaids this young lady. Such is
your will for the present ?"
"Exactly—for the present. Should future events
show that Adrienne Durand is not the legal heiress, it
may be that I may admit your claim, and allow of
her being taken back to her convent."
A faint sneer quivered on the lip of the listener, and
he said—
"How devotedly you roust love her, my son. Ab,