The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-04-23 00:00:00

ADRIENNE;

OR,
THE SHADOW OF THE PAST.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED...I

CHAPTER XXI.

Tire next day M. Lecour sent a small phial to Adri-
enne, containing the drug which he desired to be ad-
ministered to the prince, with written directions
which it was impossible to mistake.

"Give Louis three drops every hour till twilight;
then double the dose till he lies so deeply locked
in sleep that it will be impossible to arouse him. See
that you obey me to the letter, for any failure on your
part will be severely dealt with by E. L."
This command she dared not disobey; but she ad-
ministered the drug with a secret prayer that it might
produce no worse effect than M. Lecour intended.
While thus engaged, she was informed tha._ M. Lecour
wished to see her in his own apartment.
In a few moments Adrienne obeyed the summons,
On entering his room, she found M. Lecour engaged
in packing, and to her surprise the table was covered
with jewels of such beauty and lustre as almost
dazzled her vision. Diamonds, emeralds, and rubies
lay before her, and she could not resist the exclaim.
tiou—

" How beautiful! Oh, mon pere, where did you get
all those lovely gems from?"
" Where ? Everywhere. Know, Adrienne, that my
father followed the honourable calling of a usurer.
People called him a banker, but the other was the
right name for the kind of business he did. I followed
it after him, and a pretty penny I turned in those
days IN hen the aristocrats were glad to get a tithe of
the value of their family jewels that they might buy
bread. Each of these gems has its history and if
they could speak, a fearful tale would many of them
tell of anguish, terror, and despair. But I forget why
I sent for you. I wish you to bring me from your
room the three seta of jewels that are kept in the
cabinet there. They belonged to Madame Lecour, and
I have not removed them; but now it becomes
necessary to do so. I cannot leave such valuable
articles behind me."
Adrienne soon returned with the boxes, and with
evident shrinking he unclosed them, to ascertain if
the gems were all there. The pearls and diamonds he
scarcely glanced at, but the opals he held long in hie
hand, turning them from side to side, to catch the
iridescent reflections that flashed from them. At
length he abruptly said—
"These stones always bring to my mind the English-
man's extraordinary story of Vathek. The burning
heart is here well-typified, gleaming beneath the finely-
polished surface, like scathing memories beneath the
smooth, outward polish of conventionalism. Oh! this
is a rare world we live in. What is your opinion of
it, Adrienne ?"
"I know too little of it to venture an opinion," she
replied. "But I have the belief that it is a very good
world to those that make the right use of it."
" Hem ! well; I only hope you may find it so. I
have not found it either a good or a pleasant place to
live in, I assure you."
"Then I am sorry for you, mon pere' for you have
long dwelt in it. Your hair is silvered, and your form
begins to bend. It is dreadful that you do not find
your long life pleasant to look back upon."
She spoke dreamily, as if her thoughts were wander-
ing over that sombre reeord of crime and evil-doing,
and M. Lecour flashed on her one of his most
rancorous glances, as he said—
"I do not think that God has given you much more
sense than he has granted to the royal dunce I intend
to make your husband, or you would scarcely talk to
a newly created Due of his age. Age! forsooth! I
am only sixty, and with my thews and sinews I am
good for eighty years of life, perhaps ninety, or a
century—who knows?"
Adrienne looked at him with surprise. She simply
said--

"I did not know that you consider life so precious,
I have thought you have little to attach yourself to
it."

"Little! so I had a few days ago, but now I am a
noble. Ha! ha! a nobl e ! and I intend to live long
to enjoy my honours and my wealth. I have hoards
unknown to any one, that I will now lavish with a
prodigal hand. I will live in imperial style; my palaces,
my horses, my jewels, shall rival those of the king
himself. Ha! what was that ?"

The last exc'amation was produced by a thrilling
pain which shot through his left arm, and traversed his
heart, followed by a sensation of numbness. For an in-
stant he thought that the grim conqueror had laid his
touch upon him, even at the moment of his strength;
but the suffering passed away, and with it the momen-
tary apprehension it had aroused. He put aside the
opals, as he said, in a more subdued tone—

_ ,
Those stones once adorned the Princess de Lambalie
—she who, for her faithful attachment to the queen,
was torn to pieces by the mob of Paris."
"And how did they come into your possession?"
asked Adrienne, with a shudder she could not re-
press.
" They were stolen in the sack of her father's
château: the man in whose hands they fell offered
them to me in the way of trade, and of course I took
them at my own price. See, child, the gems that lie
OD that table are worth a million. Do you think I
could have purchased them at anything like their true
value ?''

"I thought you were poor when you accepted the
charge of Louis, and brought him hither."
" Yes ; I certainly was poor, for in those days these
lewels could not have found purchasers. I should
have been compelled to sacrifice them, and I was re-
solute not to do so. I believed the time must come
when they would be important to me. It has arrived,
and I have not kept them in vain. But go, child.
Look over your finery, and choose such things as you
may wish to claim. Once in Paris, and you shall be
supplied with the most expensive nonsense the
milliners and mantua-makers can fashion. Yes, yes;
you shall have a rare time, my daughter.'
_ - -

_
Adrienne looked at him, and marvelled if she could
really stand in that relation towards him. Ile revolted
her finer sensibilities so continually, that it seemed to
her implssible that she should belong to the same
calibre. She made him no reply, but glided from the
room to obey his commands.
M. Lecour looked after her, and muttered—
" One cannot choose their children; more is the
pity, for that girl has none of my spirit in her, though
she has plenty of her own. I hardly know how I feel to-
wards her. Sometimes I almost like the child, and
again I feel the fire of hatred rising in my heart
against her. What is it? a warning? Is she a malign
influence in my house of life? Ah, if so, let her
beware! I strike as surely as the cobra capello, and
Thy blow is always deadly. Ha! that pang again!
What can it mean ?"
His eyes fell upon the thin red scratch upon his hand,
and an expression of horror came upon his features.
He said—

What if the dog was rabid? Oh, my God! not
that! Any other doom but that! Let me see; I will
test it."

With set teeth, glittering eyes, and cheeks suddenly
blanched to deathly pallor, he approached a pitcher
and poured water from it into a crystal goblet. A
flash of exultation lighted up his face, as he lifted it
steadily to his lips, drank a few drops, and replaced
it upon the table.
Not too late yet," he muttered. I was mad not to
take every precaution at once."
M. Lecour opened a cabinet filled with chemical
preparations, took from among them caustic, and
burned the wound upon his hand, scarring it deeply
and painfully, to escape from the sudden fear that had
fallen on him. Then wrapping it carefully, he ad-
dressed himself to his task again.
He was busily employed during the greater part of
the day, but he evidently kept a keen watch on the
movements of Adrienne. Every hour he summoned
her to his presence, under the pretext of inquiring
about the condition of Louis, and ascertaining that
she was prompt in administering the drops on which
so much depended.
Adrienne felt that he did not trust her; that he
feared some treachery on her part, impossible as it
seemed to her to find means to accomplish it.
He also called on her frequently to assist him, and
by the time twilight fell she was almost worn out in
the service of the two. As the day passed on, she saw

Wi-th-apprehension the effect of the medicine on the
sick youth; consciousness seemed gradually fad.ng
out, and when night fell Louis lay still as if already
dead, with a heavy dew standing upon his brow, and
the faintest respiration issuing from his slightly-parted
lips. His pulse was scarcely perceptible, and his heart
beat feebly, though regularly.
' Toward night M. Lecour came to his bedside, and
examined his condition. A smile of triumph broke

over his lips as he said--
"My Indian drug certainly works wonders. IL
fires my blood to frenzy, and freezes that of this poor
failure into numbness. Do not be alarmed, Adrienne.
Louis will lie thus many hours, perhaps a day or two;
but he will eventually revive to life and fortune. Do
you fancy that I wou!d risk the life of the goose that
is to bring me the golden egg."
"How will he be removed asked Adrienne, ap-
prehensively.
"A palanquin has been prepared, and in it he can be
easily and safely carried to the boat. Do not fear for,
the result, for everything is carefully arranged to
fa,!ilitate our passage to the river. All that now re-
mains fer you to do, is to be ready at the exact
moment to accomp ley us."
" I am quite rea ly now." she replied; " but, on,
mon' pere, will it ty2st to take this step? My heart
strange!y misgives me."
"Your heart is as soft as your head, you miserable
little coward. Leave Jackdaw to take care of this lad
and come to my room. I with you to read to me t 11
Pierre comes back from the office. I expect the old
wretch has got drunk again, and is afraid to come
home with my letters."
She silently complied, though she was too weary
w.th the various employments of the day to feel able
to fulfil his request. He did not choose to remark her
lassitude, but kept her thus employed till nearly
eight o'clock. M. Lecour then yawned portentiously,
and said—
"Go up now and , relieve Jackdaw Tell her to
prepare a strong cup of coffee for me—but beware
how you suffer a hint- of our intended departure to
escape you. Everything now ~depends on secrecy
and diligence. I fell as if I can sleep an hour or twb,
and I need the refreshment before I set out on our
journey."
44ienne went to her apattment. surveyed it: she

believed, for the last time, closed and locked the
trunk in which she had packed such articles as she in-
tended to take with her, and wearing her hood and
shawl, slowly proceeded toward the apartment of
Louis. But hearing the stumbling steps of Pierre, she
knew at once that he had returned in the condition
anticipated by M. Lecour. She went hurriedly out to
meet him, and seeing that he could scarcely stand,
Adrienne said to him—
" Give me the letters, Pierre, and I will take them
to my grandfather, and spare you the scolding you
would get if you were to appear before him in your
present condition.*
"You is a born lady, young mistis," muttered
Pierre, as he fumbled in his pocket for the letters,
"an' I thank you kindly for your 'tention. not
well 'nuff to go up to de marster, shure 'nuff, but I
hopes you won't think dare's anything like drunk de
matter of me? Oh, no—nuffin se 'sgracefal as dat."
Adrienne took the letters, saw that one was for her-
self, and the others for M. Lecour. The address on
her own gave a great bound to her heart, for she re-
cognised the writing of Victor du Vernay. One of her
grandfather's was also addressed by him, but the other
was evidently from some one in the vicinity of Bellair,
for it had no post-mark, and she noticed it was
directed in small feminine characters.

She lightly tripped upstairs, peeped into his room,
and saw that he was lying fast asleep on his couch.
She noiselessly entered, and placed his letters in so
conspicuous a place that he must see them as soon as
he awoke. She went on her way to the apartment of
Louis, and with a beating heart unclosed her letter.
She found within it only these words—

Adrienne, I have received those lines addressedtn me in such
an inconceivable frame of mind as they indicate, rind I refuse
to give you back your troth, or to accept my own freedom. You
are mine, and I will never give you up while life lasts.
1 have seen Madame Norson, and learned a most extra-
ordinary history, which I dare not commit to wi Ring, lest it
might fall into the hands of one who is hostile to cur interests.
You shall soon learn it from my own lips, for I shall be on my
way to Bellair in a few hours. I have written to M. Lecour,
informing him of my intended visit, and the object I have in
view in making it.
A personal interview with him is absolutely necessary, and I
ant more than willing to seek it, because in so doing I shall find
my adored Adrienne. Yours truly and unalterably,
VICTOR DU VERNAT.
Yes, her lover was coming, and he would find her
gone—spirited away from him, probably for ever.
Yet she could not evade the fate that menaced her.
She felt herself powerless in the hands of this pitiless
old man, and vainly did she rebel against the necessity
that removed her from her present asylum at the
moment it seemed most important to remain.
Louis was still lying in the same helpless condition,
and as the unhappy watcher sat beside his couch, the
stillness of death seemed to have fallen over every-
thing, for not even the hoot of an owl was heard
without. Adrienne had scarcely slept throughout the
previous night, and during the past day she had per-
formed a degree of labour to which she was unac-
customed. The needs of the physical frame at length
overpowered the mental suffering, and her head
drooped forward on the bed. In a Yew moments she
was wrapped in a profound sleep.
She was quite oblivious of the approach of cautious
feet, and two figures, clad in dark flowing robes, and
wearing inquisitor's caps, which entirely concealed
their features, entered the room. They drew near and
looked down upon the sleeping girl, without the
slightest movement on her part which betrayed con-
sciousness of their presence.

" Ah, this is well," whispered Father Eustace. "It
will not be necessary to use force to prevent her from
giving the alarm. She is evidently sleeping from ex-
haustion, and will not be likely to interrupt us. To
work at once, my son, and we shall secure our prize."
The two noiselessly spread out upon the floor a grass
hammock, and placed upon it blankets they had
brought with them for the purpose. Then leaving
undisturbed the coverlot on which the head of the
sleeping girl rested, they skilfully wrapped the in-
sensible Louis in the under bed-clothing, and trans-
ferred him to the couch they had prepared for him.
The prince was perfectly passive in their hands, and
soon he lay rolled up in the temporary bed thus pro-
vided for him, while the two men gathered the knotted
ends of the hammock together, and easily lifted the
weight between them.
_ . _ _ _ _

At the foot of the staircase stood a man with a dark
lantern, and the three made their way without inter-
ruption to the private entrance. They emerged be-
neath a star-lit sky, and after a few moments quick
walking stood beside a wavn in which a bed had been
placed.
The insensible Louis was carefully transferred to
this, the priest took the reins from the man who had
remained in charge of the vehicle, M. Mendon
jumped on the box beside him, and they drove
rapidly away.
Before doing so, however, the priest issued his
orders to the two men he left behind.
"Remain near Bellair, and keep a strict watch on
those.who may visit it to-night. Do not permit us to be
pursued. If you should hear any unusual commotion in
the house you had better find means to enter it, and if
the young lady who is there needs protection, give it
her at all havirds. Report to me to-morrow all that
occurs."

The men only bowed in reply, and silently wended
their way to the same door by which their employer
had gained admittance, to establish a strict espionage
over the spot.
Father Eustace said to M. Mendon—

" I trust you are satisfied now. I have amply pro-
vided for Adrienne's satety by those two trusty fellows
to watch over her."
"Still, I could wish we had brought her with us,"
was the rejoinder. "I know how unscrupulous, how
hard old Lecour is, and I am naturally unwilling that
my promised wife should be left to his merciless rage
even for an hour."

He will not dare to injure her after the warning I
have left him. Adrienne will be safe, I assure you,
for my emissaries will surely protect her. Do not fear
that any evil shall happen to the heiress."
The sarcastic emphasis on the last word had the
effect of silencing N. Afendon, though he bitterly re-
sented the implied taunt. After a pause, he sullenly
asked—

"If Mademoiselle Durand should refuse to accept
me as her husband, what course is it your purpose to
pursue ?"
"I shall act on your first hint, and offer her the
choice between the cloister or your hand. Her dis-
taste to a conventual life is so great, that I have no
doubt as to the decision she will make."

"But if she should be so perverse as to prefer the
convent ? '

"In that cage, we can, at old Lecour's death, divide
the estate. It falls to Adrienne as his heir, and ahe
will have abjured the possession of worldly goods in
assuming the veil. I believe the clever trick we have
just played on him will be a finishing stroke to that
old reprobate, and we shall not have long to wait fora
division of the spoils. I must drive faster, for if we
do not reach our boat before eleven, there will doubtless
be a wild chase after us."

He whipped the horses into a gallop, and they were
rapidly whirled towards their destination. When they
gained the bank of the Mississippi, a wide, level road
ran along its margin, and atter a drive of several
miles up the river, the priest drew rein near a clump
of bushes that concealed a large keel boat, furnished
with oars, and a clumsy-looking sail. The boat was
cast off immedibtely, and powerful rowers applied
their sinews to the task of removing her from that
vicinity as soon as possible. A large reward bad been
offered to the captain, and a bonus to the men, both
of which were to be doubled at the successful ending
of the voyage.
In a rough way, everything that was possible was
done to promote the welfare of the poor youth, whr,se
fate had already undergone so many sad mutations.
For many hours he continued in the same condition in
which he had been brought upon the boat; and when
he did revive to look around him, the little light that
bad lately beamed in his eyes was quenched.
The new faces and strange objects around him
seemed to make no impression, and it was soon
evident that the memory of the past was annihilated
for ever. If the paralysed mind ever reacted, it would
be among new scenes, and with entirely different im-
pressions from those which had hitherto been made
upon it and his past life must remain a blank.
His physical health slowly amended, and when he
was able to sit up, those rough men lifted him to the
deck every bright day, and the open air, the changing
shores, and rollicking fun going on among the crew of
the boat, produced a marked and invigorating effect
upon his bodily health before the end of the long
voyage was gained. _ _ _

-
His helpless limbs gradually strengthened, and when
they finally reached the small settlement on the Upper
Mississippi, to which they were bound, Lou;s, with the
aid of the captain, was able to ascend the bank him-
self. But his new protector received him as a hridy
without a sou', for the drug which M. Leenur had
ventured to give him in unrsual quantities had com-
pletely deadened memory, auii loft the past withom a
record on his brain.
Change of climate, and more active habits of life,
slowly developed a new and stronger intelligence than
he had possessed since early childhood; but the aled
page was never again unfolded. One little seed
dropped from a tender hand in his benighted mind
germinated, and produced fruit. How or when he
had learnt the history of Christ, Louis knew not ; but
it seemed to him, in his new life, that it had intui-
tively come to him.
When alter events made him aware that in his
veins flowed the royal blood of the Bourbons, he de-
rived from his own recollection of his early youth no
Confiruiati nsi of the truth of the revelation. The lineal
King of France became a humble missionary among
the Indian tribes, with whom his strange destiny
had cast hill), and passed a more useful life than if he
had been made the puppet of another's ambition.