Part 10

“Every word that you say, madam, is another claim upon me. A lady, and alone in a strange country! Pray command my services. May I ask if you are a visitor to any of the county families?--for in that event everything would be very much simplified.”

“Scarcely,” responded the stranger, with the ghost of a smile upon her handsome face; “but I have traveled many thousand miles to have an interview with Mr. Richard Romaine. Permit me to introduce myself--I am Madame de Fonblanque.”

The Colonel’s face was a study as Madame de Fonblanque continued, calmly: “I should like first to go to a hotel--somewhere--and then I could arrange to meet Mr. Romaine.”

“But, madam, there is no hotel, except a country tavern at the Court House, ten miles away. My residence, however, Corbin Hall, is only four miles from here--and Mr. Romaine’s place, Shrewsbury, is also within that distance; and if you would accept of my hospitality, and that of my sister and my granddaughter, I should be most happy. I have here a chaise and pair, and would feel honored if you would accept of their service as well as mine.”

Madame de Fonblanque then showed considerable knowledge of human nature: for she at once agreed to trust the Colonel, although she had never laid eyes on him before.

“I think,” she said, after a slight pause, “that I shall be compelled to accept of your kindness as frankly as you offer it. I will say at once, that as I have come to demand an act of justice from Mr. Romaine, he may not make any effort toward seeing me--and as he may do me that act of justice, I must ask you to trust me for that. But the sooner I see him the better. If, therefore, you would drive me at once to his château--house--I could in a few moments discern his intentions. The boat, I understand, passes here daily before the sun rises--and I could leave to-morrow morning.”

The simplicity and directness of Madame de Fonblanque’s language prepossessed the Colonel still more in her favor. But at the proposition to go to Shrewsbury he winced a little. However, there was no help for it--he had offered to befriend her, and he stood unflinchingly to his word.

“Then, madam,” said the Colonel, bowing, “it shall be my privilege to drive you to Shrewsbury, Mr. Romaine’s residence--and from there to my own place, where my sister and granddaughter will be happy to entertain you as long as you find it agreeable to remain with us.”

“I thank you a thousand times,” replied Madame de Fonblanque. “I have never met with greater kindness, and you have the gratitude of a woman and a stranger, whom you have relieved from a most inconvenient predicament.”

The Colonel then offered her his arm, and together they traversed the long wharf in the descending night, while a wild east wind raved about them and made the black water seethe below them. There was not much talking in the teeth of such a wind, but when Madame de Fonblanque was seated in the chaise with the lap-robes tucked around her, and the horses were making good time along the soggy road, she told all that was necessary about herself. She was the widow of an army officer, and since her widowhood had spent much time in traveling. She had come to this country to see Mr. Romaine on a matter which she frankly declared was chiefly one of money; and she desired a personal interview with him before taking legal steps. She had had a maid with her, but the woman, having found an unexpected opportunity of going back to France, had basely left her only the day before.

“And so, as I am a soldier’s daughter and a soldier’s widow,” she said, with a smile, “I thought, ‘What can harm one in this chivalrous country? I will go alone. I will take enough money with me’--I was careful not to take too much--‘and I will simply find out the quickest way to reach Mr. Romaine, and see him; and then I will return to New York, where I have friends.’”

“A very courageous thing for a lady to do, madam,” replied the Colonel, gallantly. “But I think you will find, particularly in the State of Virginia, that a woman’s weakness is her strength. Every Virginia gentleman is the protector of a defenseless woman.”

Madame de Fonblanque smiled prettily, showing very white teeth. She did not quite understand the Colonel’s allusion to Virginia gentlemen especially, but having great tact, she appeared to comprehend it perfectly.

“But do not think for a moment,” she said, “that I would bestow my confidence upon all men as I have bestowed it on you. The supreme honesty of your character was perfectly visible to me the instant you addressed me. I have seen much of the world, and I am no bad reader of character, and I trusted you from the moment I saw you.”

The Colonel took off his hat, and bowed so low that the chaise, at that moment giving a lurch, nearly pitched him head foremost under his horses’ heels. Madame de Fonblanque uttered a little scream.

“I always was so nervous about horses,” she said; “although both my father and my husband were in the Lancers, they never could induce me to ride.”

Then she began asking some questions about Mr. Romaine, which showed that she had a very clear knowledge of his character.

“And is the English mees there still?” she inquired, with a slight smile.

“Yes; but I understand that she has been desirous to leave for some time,” answered the Colonel.

“Mr. Romaine is a very extraordinary man,” continued Madame de Fonblanque, after a pause. “I have known him for a long time, and I do not think in all these years I have ever known him to do one thing in the usual manner.”

“I have known him, madam, many more years than you have--we were boys together sixty years ago--and I must say your estimate of him is correct. Yet Romaine is not without his virtues.”

“Quite true,” replied Madame de Fonblanque, composedly. “He can be the most generous of men--but I do not think he knows what justice is.”

“Precisely--precisely, madam. After Romaine has spoiled a life, or has used the power of his money most remorselessly, he will then turn around and do the most generous and princely thing in the world. But I should not like to be in his power.”

“Nor I,” said Madame de Fonblanque, in a low voice.

“At present,” continued the Colonel, “the relations between us are somewhat strained. I am much vexed with him, and have shown it. But Romaine, as you say, being totally unlike any created being, sees fit to ignore it, and actually rides over and borrows my man David--a worthy negro, of very inferior intellect, though--to shave him!”

It did not take long to make the four miles to Shrewsbury, and presently they dashed up to the door of the large, brightly lighted house, and the Colonel rapped smartly on the door. There was a bell--an innovation introduced by Mr. Romaine--but Colonel Corbin disdained to use so modern and unheard-of an appliance.

Dodson opened the door, and a flood of light from the fine old-fashioned entrance hall poured out into the night. Colonel Corbin, according to the Virginia custom, walked in, escorting Madame de Fonblanque, without asking if any one was home--somebody was certain to be at home and delighted to see visitors.

Dodson was about to usher them politely in the drawing-room, when Bridge suddenly appeared. To say that his hair stood on end when he caught sight of Madame de Fonblanque is hardly putting it strong enough. His jaw dropped, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He recovered himself and ran and seized the knob of the drawing-room door.

“Please,” he said, in a very positive tone, “Mr. Romaine hisn’t at ’ome.”

“How do you know that, sir?” sternly demanded the Colonel, advancing on Bridge, who still held on to the door-knob.

“Because--because--I _knows_ he ain’t--to--that--’ere--pusson.”

The Colonel, who was tall and strong, caught Bridge by the coat collar, and, with clenched teeth, shook him up and down as a terrier shakes a rat.

“You insolent scoundrel,” he said, in a fierce basso, “I have a great mind to throw you out of the door. Go this instant and tell your master that Madame de Fonblanque and Colonel Corbin are here.”

Bridge, nearly frightened out of his life, and black in the face, was glad to escape. He made his way half across the hall to Mr. Romaine’s study door, and then hesitated. Afraid as he was of the Colonel, the idea of facing Mr. Romaine with such a message was still more terrifying. The Colonel helped him to make up his mind by advancing and giving him a well-directed kick on the shins which nearly threw him into Mr. Romaine’s arms, as that individual unexpectedly opened the door.

Then there was a pause.

Madame de Fonblanque had remained a silent spectator of the whole scene, wearing a look of calm amusement. As soon as Mr. Romaine caught sight of her, his pale face grew still more ashy, and his inscrutable black eyes blazed with a still more somber splendor. Colonel Corbin, quite unmoved by his little rencontre with “that infernal flunkey,” as he described the worthy Bridge afterward, advanced and said, with his most magnificent air:

“Allow me, Romaine, to announce a lady with whom I imagine you to have the honor of a previous acquaintance--Madame de Fonblanque.”

“The devil I have!” replied Mr. Romaine.

X

Colonel Corbin could not kick his friend Romaine as he had done poor Bridge--but he would have dearly liked to at that moment.

Mr. Romaine, after glaring at Madame de Fonblanque, without the slightest greeting, turned to the Colonel.

“Corbin,” he said, “you always were and always will be the most unsophisticated, impractical creature God ever made. The idea of your taking up with this brazen adventuress and bringing her to my house!”

“Hear me, sir,” responded the Colonel; “if you utter another disparaging word respecting this lady, I will forget your age and infirmities, and give you the most genteel walloping you ever had in your life.”

“It will be the first time you ever forgot my age and infirmities,” coolly answered Mr. Romaine; and then turning to Madame de Fonblanque, he said:

“What do you want of me?”

“You know very well what I want of you.”

“You will never get it.”

“I shall try, nevertheless. I wish to see you in private.”

“Madam,” said the Colonel, “if you desire the protection of my presence, you shall have it. I have not the slightest regard for this--person--who so maligned you; and you see that physically I am still worth a good deal.”

“You are worth a good deal in every way,” replied Madame de Fonblanque warmly. “Still, I will see Mr. Romaine alone; and when the interview is over I will again throw myself upon your protection.”

Mr. Romaine turned and led the way to his library, Madame de Fonblanque following him. He closed the door, and stood waiting for her to speak. He was in the greatest rage of his life, but he did not in the least lose his self-possession.

“Well?” he said, his face blazing with the intensity of his anger.

“One hundred thousand francs,” responded Madame de Fonblanque, sweetly.

They were standing in the middle of the floor, the soft light of the fire and of a great lamp on the table falling upon them.

“You have raised your price since we last met.”

“Yes. I reckoned up the interest and added it. Besides, I really think a woman who was disappointed in being made your wife needs a hundred thousand francs to console her for your loss. Now, most men would not be worth more than thirty or forty thousand.”

Madame de Fonblanque spoke quite cheerfully and even gaily. She tapped her pocket gracefully.

“Here I have those letters of yours. They never leave me--particularly the one proposing marriage, and the half dozen in which you call me your dearest Athanaise and reproach me bitterly for not loving you enough. Just imagine the hurricane of amusement they would cause if read out in court with proper elocutionary effect.”

Madame de Fonblanque laughed, and Mr. Romaine positively blushed.

“What an infernal, infernal ass I was!”

“Yes, I thought so, too,” responded the pretty and sprightly French woman--“I have often noticed that people who can make fools of others, invariably, at some time in their lives, make fools of themselves.”

“I did,” answered Mr. Romaine, sententiously. “But I tell you, once for all, not a penny will I pay.”

“Ah, my dear M. Romaine, that is not for you to say. These breach-of-promise cases sometimes turn out very badly for the gentlemen. I can so easily prove my position, my respectability--the way you pursued me from London to Brighton, from Brighton to Folkestone, from Folkestone to Eastbourne--and these invaluable and delightful letters. It will be a _cause célèbre_--that you may depend upon. And what a figure you will cut! The New York papers will have a column a day--the London papers two columns. By the way, I hear you have leased a fine house at Prince’s Gate for the season. You will have to give up that lease, my friend--you will not dare to show your face in London this season, M. Romaine.”

All this time Madame de Fonblanque had been laughing, as if it were a very good joke; but she now became serious.

“There is a tragic side to it,” she continued, going closer to Mr. Romaine, and looking at him in a threatening way. “I know all about that visit to Dr. Chambers. No matter how I found it out--I know he passed sentence of death on you; and while this good, amiable Chessingham is doctoring you for all sorts of imaginary aches and pains, you have one constant ache and pain that he does not suspect, because you have so carefully concealed it from him--and the slightest annoyance or chagrin may be fatal to you. I know that you have tried to persuade the good Chessingham that you have every disease in the calendar of diseases--except the one that is killing you.”

Mr. Romaine walked rather unsteadily to a chair and sat down, burying his face in his hands. Madame de Fonblanque, after a moment, felt an impulse of pity toward him. She went and touched him lightly.

“You called me a brazen adventuress just now--and I acknowledge that I am not engaged in a very high business, trying to make you pay me for not keeping your word. But I feel sorry for you now. I dislike to witness your unhappiness. Say you will pay me, and let me go.”

“Never,” answered Mr. Romaine, looking up, with an unquenchable determination in his eyes.

“Very well, then,” answered Madame de Fonblanque, quietly; “you know I am a very determined woman. I came here to see for myself what your condition is. I shall go away to instruct my lawyers to bring suit against you immediately. I may not get one hundred thousand francs in money--but I will get a hundred thousand francs’ worth of revenge.”

“It seems to me,” presently said Mr. Romaine, with a cynical smile on his face, “your revenge will be two-edged.”

“So is nearly all revenge. It’s a very ignoble thing to avenge one’s self--few people can do it without sharing in the ignominy. But I weighed the matter well before I made up my mind. French newspapers take but little notice of what goes on outside of Paris. I have influence enough to silence those that would say anything about it--and I care not a sou for anybody or anything in this country or England. I shall go back to Paris and say it was another Madame de Fonblanque.”

Madame de Fonblanque, following Mr. Romaine’s example, seated herself, and opened the long, rich cloak of fur she wore. She was certainly very handsome, particularly when the heat of the room brought a slight flush to her clear cheeks.

“It is strange to me that a woman of your education and standing should engage in this scheme of yours,” after a while said Mr. Romaine.

“One hundred thousand francs,” responded Madame de Fonblanque.

“You might have married well a dozen times if you had played your cards right,” he continued.

“One hundred thousand francs,” again said Madame de Fonblanque.

“What are your plans of campaign, may I ask?”

“To get one hundred thousand francs from you.”

“That ridiculous old blunderbuss, Corbin! I suppose he has invited you to take up your quarters at Corbin Hall, indefinitely, without knowing any more about you than he does of the man in the moon.”

“He has--the dear, innocent old gentleman--and I shall stay until I get my one hundred thousand francs. But he shall not regret it. I know how to appreciate kindness. I have met with so little. The man I loved--my husband--squandered my _dot_, which I gave him, and it is on account of my rash fondness for one man that it is now absolutely necessary for me to have some money from another; and I intend to make every effort to get a hundred thousand francs from you.”

Mr. Romaine remained silent for a few minutes, considering a _coup_. Then his usual sly smile appeared upon his countenance. When he spoke his voice had more than its usual velvety softness.

“Your efforts, Madame de Fonblanque, will not be necessary; for I hereby declare to you my perfect willingness to marry you, and I shall put it in writing.”

It was now Madame de Fonblanque’s turn to be disconcerted. She fell back in her chair and gazed dumbly at Mr. Romaine. Marry him! And as she had laughed while Mr. Romaine had suffered, now he laughed wickedly while she literally cowered at the prospect presented to her.

“And as regards my sudden and speedy death, which you seem to anticipate, it could not benefit you”--he leaned over and said something to her in a low tone, which caused Madame de Fonblanque to start--“so that you will have the satisfaction of enjoying my money--such as I may choose to give you--as long as I live. But I warn you--I am not an easy man to live with, nor would the circumstances of our marriage render me more so. Ask Chessingham if I am easy to live with, and he will tell you that I am not, even at my best. It would not surprise me, in case our marriage took place, if you were to wish yourself free again. You say you desire revenge. So would I--and I would take it.”

Madame de Fonblanque grew steadily paler as Mr. Romaine spoke. She knew well enough the purgatory he was offering her. To marry him! Such an idea had never dawned upon her. The conviction of his insincerity had caused her coyness in the first instance which had stimulated Mr. Romaine so much. It had really looked, in the beginning, as if he would not succeed in the least in making a fool of this pretty French widow. But he had finally succeeded at the cost of making a fool of himself. However, it was now his turn to score--because it was plain that Madame de Fonblanque was anything but enraptured at the notion of marrying him.

She caught sight of Mr. Romaine’s black eyes dancing in enjoyment of her predicament. She rose and drew her fur cloak around her.

“I will think it over, Mr. Romaine,” she said, calmly.

“Pray do,” responded Mr. Romaine; “and I will write you a letter to-morrow morning, making a specific offer to fulfil my promise, which will make those cherished letters of yours worth considerably less than the paper they are written on--and what a honeymoon we will have!”

At this, Madame de Fonblanque positively shuddered, but she held her head up bravely as Mr. Romaine opened the door politely for her, and they discovered Colonel Corbin stalking up and down the hall alone.

“Corbin,” said Mr. Romaine, blandly, “Madame de Fonblanque and I have reached a perfectly satisfactory agreement.”

“Sir,” replied the Colonel, glowering with wrath, “it must also be made satisfactory to me. When I bring a lady to a house, she is under my protection; and when she has the term ‘brazen adventuress’ applied to her, simply because she has come to demand a mere act of justice--and I know this to be a fact, because she has so informed me--I must insist upon an apology from the person applying that term.”

“Very well, then,” said Mr. Romaine, debonair and smiling. “I apologize. Madame de Fonblanque is not a brazen adventuress--she is merely a lady of great enterprise and assurance, and I wish you joy of her acquaintance.”

In Madame de Fonblanque’s breast there sprang up that desire that is never wholly smothered in any human being--to appear well in the presence of a person she respected. She did sincerely respect Colonel Corbin, who had befriended her on that risky expedition, and it cut her to the heart to be insulted before him. Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned to him with trembling lips.

“Do not mind what he says. He hates me because he has injured me, and keeps me out of money that he ought to pay me.”

“I do not mind him in the least, madam,” replied the Colonel, suavely. “Mr. Romaine knows perfectly well my opinion of him. He keeps you out of money he owes you, and insists upon forcing on my granddaughter money that she does not want, and which will involve her in endless trouble. I think that is quite characteristic of Romaine. Let us now leave this inhospitable house.”

Madame de Fonblanque took the arm the Colonel offered her, and walked out of the hall without noticing Mr. Romaine’s courteous bow.

The proposition made to Madame de Fonblanque was truly startling. Almost anything on earth was better than marrying him--and what he had whispered to her proved that she could not profit one penny by his death. She would gladly have foregone that offer on paper for some other letters she had in which he flatly refused to keep his word, and which she had held over him _in terrorem_. She could not determine in a moment what to do, but she was convinced that she could not see Mr. Romaine again, and the matter would have to be settled by correspondence. And then she felt the sooner she got away from this place where she had been checkmated the better. When they were traveling fast through the murky night toward Corbin Hall, she broached the subject at once of her return in the morning. The Colonel declared it depended upon the weather, which puzzled Madame de Fonblanque very much until it was explained to her that it was a question of weather whether the boat came or not. Sometimes, in that climate, the river froze over, and then the river steamers stopped running until there was a thaw--for ice-boats were unknown in that region. It was very cold, and getting colder, and the Colonel was of the opinion that a freeze was upon them, and no boat could get down the river that night.

When they got to Corbin Hall, Madame de Fonblanque was extremely nervous about the greeting she would get from the Colonel’s womankind--but it was as cordial and unsuspicious as his had been. The Colonel explained that Madame de Fonblanque had business with Mr. Romaine, who had treated her like--Mr. Romaine; and Letty, as soon as she found somebody with a community of prejudice against the master of Shrewsbury, felt much drawn toward her. There was no doubt that Madame de Fonblanque was a lady; and in the innocent and unworldly lives of the ladies at Corbin Hall, the desperate shifts and devices to get money of people with adventurous tendencies were altogether unknown and unsuspected. Besides, people from a foreign country were very great novelties to them; and Letty seated herself, after tea, to hear all about that marvelous world beyond the sea. The Colonel still talked about his visit to Europe in 1835, and Paris in the days of the Citizen King, and imagined that everything had remained unchanged since then. Madame de Fonblanque was a stout Monarchist, as most French people of dubious antecedents profess to be, and gave out with much tact that, although only the widow of a poor officer in the Lancers, she was on intimate terms with all the Faubourg St. Germains. As she frankly admitted her modest means, there was no hint of braggadocio in anything she said in her fluent French-English. She had great curiosity about Mr. Romaine, and was well up in all his adventures since he had been in America. She spoke of him so coolly and critically that it never dawned upon her listeners that the difficulties between them were not of the usual business kind.