“Poor Charles Felters was quite thunderstruck at the reception I gave him. His gay partner of last evening’s dance had changed into a veritable fury. I told him plainly I didn’t care a jot for him. He hesitated, he stammered, and couldn’t make up his mind to go. I was expecting Lord William every moment to take leave of me, and I would not have them meet. In my confusion my eyes rested on a ‘trophy of arms’ with which my father had decorated one side of the room. Scarcely knowing what I was about, I seized a foil, handed it to my would-be lover, and taking another myself, I took up my position on guard, exclaiming—

“‘The man who wins my love shall win it with the sword.’

“The miserable ninny never even observed that the foils were buttoned, but, throwing down his, rushed out of the room in the greatest alarm.”

“I have heard of this feat of arms, Francis,” I said, laughing; “and, moreover, that Felters is still running away from you.”

“‘VoilÀ comme on Écrit l’histoire.’ I have myself heard he made a voyage round the world to escape from me; but the truth is he only made a tour up the Rhine, fell in with the daughter of a clergyman, and married her. She has made him a happy man, and he is now the father of a family; nevertheless, all his relations bear me the most intense hatred, and lose no opportunity of serving me a malicious turn. I still held my foil in my hand when Lord William entered the room. His look was sufficient to show me his disapprobation.

“‘If your father had taken my advice, Francis,’ he said, ‘he would have waited some little time before informing you of the intentions of Felters; still there was no reason for your acting in this way. For shame to treat a poor fellow, who perhaps never had a foil in his hand before, in such a manner. But, well! I have always hesitated about putting you to the test; permit me now, however, to take the place of the miserable fugitive.’

“And without waiting for an answer he picked up Felters’ foil, and cried—

“‘En garde!’

“I literally did not know what I was doing. I would not decline his challenge, and I determined to show him that he was not fencing with an inexperienced girl. He handled his foil with a lightness and firmness of hand I had little expected to find in a man of letters, confining himself, however, to parrying my attacks only; and yet this he did so skilfully that I was unable to touch him. I exhausted myself in my desperate efforts, but I would not ask for quarter.

“‘You see such exercise requires more than the arm of a woman,’ he said coolly.

“My wild despair and anger seemed to give me strength, and falling in upon him I broke my foil upon his breast. He, with a smile, had neglected to parry this attack, and I saw a thin stream of blood trickle down his shirt-front. Now I was overwhelmed with sorrow and repentance. Sir John and grandfather immediately came upon the scene.

“‘It is nothing, gentlemen,’ he said to them, ‘only a scratch; a little satisfaction which I owed to Miss Francis, and which will perhaps cure her of her taste for such unladylike weapons.’

“‘I will never, never more touch them,’ I cried in terror when I saw his pocket-handkerchief, which he had applied to the wound, saturated with blood.

“And I have kept my word, though it has not prevented my obtaining a wide reputation as a duellist. Neither Charles Felters nor the servant of Lord William could hold their tongues, though the latter had been forbidden by his master to say a word on the subject. I was reminded very unpleasantly, next time I appeared in the town, that the affair had become public property. Lord William would not allow us to send for a surgeon, but had the wound dressed by his own servant; and, fortunately, it turned out to be less dangerous than I feared at first. I sought my own room, and hid myself there with all the remorse of a Cain. I resolved to throw myself at his feet and beg his pardon. But the reaction to my excited state of feelings had now set in, and I fell exhausted on a sofa, where I slept for several hours a feverish kind of sleep. When I awoke Lord William was gone. After this I was seriously ill; and on my recovery my grandfather took me as soon as possible to the Werve for the fresh country air. Sir John told me, when I was quite well, that Lord William had certainly given proof of his good-nature to allow me to touch him; for while at Eton he had been considered one of the best fencers in the school, and just before quitting England he had fought a duel with an officer in the Horse Guards, and wounded him in a manner that report said was likely to be fatal.

“My answer to this was that I had never suspected Lord William of being a duellist.

“‘That he never was; but in this instance his honour was at stake. He could not leave the insult of this captain unpunished. Perhaps, however, he would have acted more justly if he had put his wife to death; and though an English jury would certainly have brought him in guilty of murder, yet, considering the great provocation he had received, public opinion would have sympathized with him in the highest degree. Now he is reconciled to her again, at least in outward appearance; but he has written to me that he is going to make a tour all over the world.’”

“And you have never since heard of this ‘My lord?’” I asked Francis, to whose story I had listened with as much sorrow as attention.

“Never; and I don’t even know his family name to this day. Changes now followed in rapid succession. My father died suddenly; my grandfather was promoted in rank, and we removed to Zutphen, where I proposed to begin a new life. But though we break with our antecedents, it is impossible to sponge out the past. However, more of this hereafter. I must attend to the other gentlemen, otherwise I shall be accused of neglecting my duties. I will tell you more of this history at another time if it interests you; for it is a relief to me to confide it to a friend. Only never begin the subject yourself, as there are moments when I cannot bear to think of it.”

“I promise you this, Francis,” I replied, pressing her hand.

It would be impossible for me to recount all the feelings which passed through my mind in listening to Francis’s trials. I will not weary you, dear William, for I acknowledge I felt sad and irritable. And yet I tried to think these were her “campaign years,” as she calls them, though it was evident her heart had suffered long before she attained her twenty-fifth birthday. If she had told me of deception, so common in the world, of an engagement broken off, of a misplaced affection, such things would not have troubled my peace of mind. What affected me was to think this Englishman had won the place in her affections which I wished to be the first to occupy—that place which permits a man to inspire a woman with confidence, and exercise over her an influence authoritative and beneficial. Time had done much to cool her love for him, but she had not forgotten him; and it was certainly a devotion to his memory which rendered her so indifferent to the merits of other men. I wondered if she had told me all this history in order to make me comprehend the improbability of my being able to replace her ideal. Had she not told me on the heath, on our first meeting, that if she suspected I came to demand her hand in marriage, she would leave me there and then? I felt myself diminishing in her estimation. And there was a portrait of WilliamIII. hanging over the mantelpiece which seemed to say to me, ironically, “Too late, too late!”

Yet again I asked myself whether I was not growing jealous of a vain shadow. Eight years had passed since these events. She was no longer a little girl, who could imagine she saw a Romeo in her mentor who was a long way on the wrong side of forty. Who could say that the comparison, which she could not fail to make now, would be to my disadvantage?

I determined not to remain in this perplexity. At the risk of committing an imprudence, I made up my mind to ask her whether she regarded the loss of her Lord William as irreparable. It was necessary for me to know what chance of success was left me.

This night I slept little, for I was rolling over in my mind all sorts of extravagant declarations which I intended to make to my cousin next day. This, however, was the day preceding the General’s birthday, and Francis was fully occupied with the Captain in making all sorts of preparations; so that during the whole day I never once could find a suitable moment to begin the subject. The master of the village school would bring up to the Castle his best pupils to recite verses made for the occasion; the clergyman and the notables would also come to offer their congratulations.

Francis sent me to the post-office to fetch a registered letter for her.1 General von Zwenken was in a bad humour because Rolf had no time to amuse him, and finding myself rather in the way I went off to my room to write.

Here in the afternoon I found on my table a little Russian leather case, on which my initials had been embroidered above the word Souvenir. Inside I found a bank-note equivalent to the sum Francis had borrowed of me; on the envelope which inclosed it she had written, in a bold hand, the word Merci, her name, and the date. The case itself was not new. Poor dear girl! she must have sat up half the night to work my initials in silk, as a surprise. I now felt more than ever how dear she was become to me, and I promised myself not to temporize any longer. Then the idea occurred to me: If I can get her permission, I will ask her hand of the General to-morrow after I have congratulated him on his birthday.

This idea threw me into a transport of joy. I got up from my chair with the intention of seeking my cousin and bringing matters to a crisis at any risk. My hand was already on the handle of the door, when I thought I heard a tap at the window. Immediately a hoarse voice called several times—

“Francis! Francis!”

Astonished, and wishing to know who this could be, I stood motionless. The voice cried again—

“Francis, if you don’t open the window I will break the sash all to pieces.”