CHAPTER II.

The three individuals, to whom Madame de Guéran had written on the previous evening, were punctual in obeying her summon, and they were received by their hostess, not in the geographical boudoir which has already been described, but in a drawing-room furnished with equal luxury.

After tea, or at very nearly ten o'clock, the Baroness de Guéran, after having been for some time under the influence of very powerful emotion, suddenly roused herself, and, looking her guests full in the face, said—

"And so, gentlemen, you love me?"

Astonished at theis very matter-of-fact plunge, and off their guard by reason of so utterly unforseen an attack, neither of the three knew exactly which way to look, and when one of them, gifted with more hardihood than his companions, was on the point of speaking, Madame de Guéran motioned him to be silent, and went on herself to say—

"In saying that you love me, gentlemen, I am really only expressing my opinion that you are men of honour, incapable of harbouring the idea of marrying any woman for whom you do not entertain a sincere affection. Now, you have, all three of you, proposed to me—none of you will deny that, I presume. You, M. de Morin," she continued, turning towards a tall young man of about thirty-five, whose mien and dress were alike irreproachable, "you have sent to me, in the capacity of ambassadress, your aunt, Madame de Genevray, whom I esteem highly. You, M. Périères, have written to me; and as for you, M. Desrioux, you have spoken outright. There cannot, therefore, be any doubt on the score of your proposals."

MM. de Morin, Périères and Desrioux, thus appealed to, after exchanging a triangular smile of amusement, bowed their assent, and Madame de Guéran resumed her address—

"I am deeply sensible, I can assure you, gentlemen, of the honour which you have done me. No protestations, pray! I am speaking in all seriousness, and I beg that I may be heard in the same spirit. I repeat, I am deeply grateful for the regard, at once respectful and affectionate, which you profess for me. But, if you will pardon me so far, I am at a loss to discover a sufficient reason for such a feeling. Why, you scarcely know me, even as an acquaintance."

Simultaneous protests rose to the lips of the trio, but the Baroness would not give them time to utter a word.

"I have a title," she continued, "and a fortune; I am a widow, and sufficiently well-connected to have the _entrée_, should I so wish, into the best society in Paris; I am barely five-and-twenty years of age, and I am passably good-looking. That, gentlemen, sums up your knowledge of me, every atom of it. It has now become essential that you should know more, and I take it upon myself to enlighten you."

Having brought this exordium to a conclusion, she rose and approached the tea-table, once more to resume her duties as hostess. But, when the wants of her guests had been attended to, she again, still smiling in her own fascinating manner, resumed her seat on the sofa, and the thread of her discourse.

"My accent, be it ever so slight," she began, "will have told you before this that, if I speak your language as well as you do, I cannot claim your beloved Paris as my birth-place. Indeed, I am an Englishwoman, but I was educated by a French governess. I was married when I was twenty, and since then I have lived uninterruptedly in France. My father, after having passed half his life in exploring the remote parts of Africa, and after having recorded, in connection with them, much valuable information and deep research, one day, when no other course was open to him, made up his mind to betake himself to a quiet life in the bosom of his family. But he could never divest himself of his great interest in those questions which he had, for so long a time, made his study, and up to the day of his death he was one of the most valuable and valued members of the Royal Geographical Society of London. In our drawing-room at home—we lived in London—I have seen, from time to time, most of the celebrated travellers of our age. I remember distinctly having been nursed, when I was quite a little girl, by Overweg and Speke; and I have an equally vivid recollection of having been kissed by Richardson, on his departure for the Soudan, as well as of the tears I shed when we heard the report of his death, which we refused to credit until it received its sad confirmation from the lips of Barth. I knew Edward Vögel, who was treacherously murdered in the Waday territory, Schweinfurth, Baker, Brun-Rollet, and as many more, whose names I cannot recall at this moment, but whom I shall ever hold in remembrance. My father, cosmopolitan rather than English, held our insular prejudices in but slight esteem, and so it happened that, after dinner, instead of receiving a hint to retire, I was permitted to remain in the society of his friends. All the great scientific questions which have stirred the world during the last ten years, have been discussed in my presence by the men best qualified to elucidate them.

"Science, however, was not the unvarying topic of conversation. Slavery, that hideous plague-spot of Africa, and the slave-trade, which still continues in unimpaired activity, frequently occupied the attention, and roused the indignation of our guests. Even now I can call to mind the words of Livingstone one evening, 'Whilst we are sitting here, in ease and pleasure, and surrounded with every comfort, long caravans of slaves are wending their toilsome way towards the markets of Khartoum, Zanzibar, and Timbuctoo. Yoked like oxen, or fastened to a long cord which drags them along in huddled groups, male and female, old and young, they plod along under that burning sun, naked, worn out with fatigue, dying by inches of hunger and thirst. And then, to think that these poor creatures are only an infinitesimal fraction of the victims of the slave-trade! In the man-hunts organised in those accursed countries, thousands die of their wounds or find a last resting-place in the woods whither they have fled for concealment. Yes—corpses and skeletons are the landmarks in the way of the desert.'

"Trembling with indignation I used to drink in every word of these conversations, and I could not but admire, from the very depth of my soul, those men, who, free to live a life of wealth and honour in their own land, yet chose to pass their existence in deadly climes, facing all dangers, bearing every ill, that they might lend a helping hand to the progress of science, and interest the world in the sacred cause of the victims of oppression."

Here Madame de Guéran paused to sip her tea, whilst her hearers, completely under the charm of her winning eloquence and moving tones, kept an almost religious silence. They were learning, and for the first time, to know her. Living in the world of Paris, they had recognised in her a woman distinguished for her intelligence, her beauty, and her manner, and they had fallen in love with her, attracted by the refinement of her features, the grace of her smile, and the vivacity of her wit. But now, all suddenly, that countenance was resplendent with a novel brilliancy, those eyes shone with renewed light, the mind unfolded itself with unexpected rapidity, and the heart was beating with a sympathy which made itself felt.

"It will scarcely astonish you," resumed the Baroness, in a calmer voice, "to learn that I, brought up, as I have been, amongst the men whom I have mentioned to you, have become a sharer both in their ideas and their enthusiasm. Neither will it surprise you, I am sure, that I should have given my love to one of my father's most frequent guests. The Baron de Guéran was a Frenchman, and was descended from that fearless René Caillet, the first European who attempted the perilous journey from Sierra-Leone to Tangier, and, it may be, effected an entrance into Timbuctoo. Although he had not reached his thirtieth year when I saw him for the first time, M. de Guéran had already journeyed in central Africa, and had there made some important discoveries. If his name is not familiar to you as a geographer or an explorer, it is simply because he would not publish any of his notes until all were complete. Alas! he has not been able to finish his work.

"My father raised many objections to my union with the Baron. As a colleague, he both loved and esteemed him—as a son-in-law he had his doubts. So soon as I had to enter into his calculations, his admiration for travels and travellers cooled down considerably. He was never tired of saying to me—'Take care; the love of remote exploration and discovery—I speak from experience—absorbs all other love, and would make the best of men utterly oblivious of his family duties. Be not too confident; your husband, whilst adoring you, may still accustom himself to worship you from a distance. You will be proud to belong to him, but you will rarely be happy at his side, for your life will wear away in fear and apprehension.' And then I would reply—'Have no fear; I will answer for M. de Guéran.' 'What? You imagine that he will sacrifice all his ideas for your sake, and will live ever by your side?' 'Nothing of the sort, my dear father; I should not wish it for a moment, but I will go with him. I am determined to share all his dangers, and I will say to him, as our friend Lady Baker did to her husband—whither thou goest I will go; where thou diest will I die, and there will I be buried.'

"However, he had to give way and consent to the marriage, and I came to reside in Paris with M. de Guéran. For two years the fears of my father appeared groundless; the Baron did not seem to be troubled with any desire to travel. He wandered in Elysian fields only, and I was only too happy in wandering there with him. The awakening was terrible. 'I am off to Africa,' said he to me one day. For two years I had forgotten Africa, the slave-trade, slavery, science, everything but love. And you might well suppose that, starting up thus suddenly, as it were, out of my sleep, I called to mind, and whispered in the ear of my husband Lady Baker's, or, to speak more correctly, Ruth's touching words. Nothing of the kind! Thenceforth, I had but one thought—and that was to preserve my mode of life unaltered, not to risk my happiness in any one way, to leave nothing to chance or contingency. I devoted all my energy to the task of trying to persuade M. de Guéran that the tribes of Africa had no claim whatsoever on him, that the Geographical Society could well dispense with any information from him, and that science would still march onward without his aid. My efforts were unavailing, and I failed to convince him, so that, taking advantage of my absence in England on a visit, he rushed off to Marseilles, and embarked without even letting me know the exact destination of his fresh expedition. 'You would be wanting to follow me,' he wrote. 'I cannot take advantage of your devotion; but, take courage, my absence will be of but short duration.' At first, I waited, for where was I to go? And I always hoped that he would not delay his return, but would keep his promise to me. Tired of waiting, at last I made up my mind to start, when the French Consul, at Cairo, sent me word that the Baron de Guéran was dead.

"Such has been my life. Gentlemen, you know me now, and, doubtless, you have come to the conclusion that I have devoted too much time to myself. Let me relieve your minds by telling you that, what more I have to say refers solely to you. Let me give you all another cup of tea, and then I will commence my peroration."