I was sitting musing in my room, about an hour after supper, when the door opened, and Father Ferdinand appeared. He was evidently a good deal agitated, and seemed scarcely able to speak to me.

"My son," he said, taking both my hands, and gazing anxiously in my face,--"my son, I am afraid you have done wrong."

I understood him at once, and replied, "No, father, I have not; unless to struggle against every feeling of my heart, which prompted me to ingratitude and deceit,--unless, I say, to struggle against such feelings be evil,--I have not done wrong."

He raised his right hand, while he still held mine in his left, saying, solemnly,--"Thank God for that. I at least have acted wrong," he added: "I once gave you hope without clearly knowing whither that hope might lead you. I now know all; and, I tell you, you must despair."

"Father," I replied, "I have never entertained a hope. I knew that you were unacquainted with my situation, and the dreams you raised lasted but half an hour."

"Forgive me for having raised them at all," he said; "and now, mark me; you must speak with Monsieur de Villardin----Nay, indeed you must: he already expects you. Give me but five minutes to speak with him more at length, and then follow me to the library."

I would fain have asked more: I would fain have discovered what, or rather how much, Monsieur de Villardin knew; but there were so many contending emotions in my bosom that I was afraid my voice would be choked ere I could put my questions, and I merely replied, "I will."

Without rejoinder, Father Ferdinand left me; and, burying my face on my arms, I remained in the same state of mind as a condemned criminal who has just heard an order given for his instant execution. I was not one, however, to shake before any mortal man. I felt, too, that with the power to have won happiness for myself by wronging him I was just about to see, I had sacrificed my own peace rather than act ungratefully towards him. This feeling nerved my heart for whatever might come, and by the time that the five minutes were over, I was slowly descending the great staircase towards the library. I knew not how Monsieur de Villardin would treat me, and I almost feared, from some casual traits which I had remarked in his character, that he might demean himself haughtily towards me. Such a method was not that calculated to govern or affect one of my disposition; and, as I passed through the saloon, and crossed the very spot where I had seen Madame de Villardin stand with the Count de Mesnil, a number of services which at different times I had rendered to the Duke rose up before my eyes, and I advanced with a firmer step, from feeling that the balance of obligation was not altogether against myself. As I passed by the mirrors, I saw that I was deadly pale; but I could not help that; and, opening the door, I entered the library with more command over myself than I had thought I could assume.

Monsieur de Villardin was alone, and striding up and down the room in a state of agitation that it is impossible to describe. He was at the farther end of the chamber when I entered, but immediately turned round and paused for a moment, gazing upon me with a quivering lip. I took a step or two more forward, and then waited for him to begin; but he said nothing, and, advancing rapidly towards me, threw his arms around me as if I had been his child, exclaiming--"Oh! De Juvigny!"

It overpowered me at once: pride--and resolution, and firmness, all gave way; and I wept like a woman, while he mingled his tears with mine.

"This is too much," said Monsieur de Villardin. "Sit down, my dear boy, and let us speak as calmly as possible over an event that has made me more wretched than you can conceive."

Casting myself into the seat opposite to that in which he usually sat, I leaned my head forward upon the table, and suffered him to proceed, while feelings that defy all language struggled fearfully in my bosom.

"De Juvigny," he said, in a low, earnest voice, "my friend, my benefactor, my more than son--twice have you saved my life, once have you saved my child, ever have you counselled me aright even as a boy--you have watched my couch of sickness, you have calmed me in the moment of passion, you have laboured to prevent me from committing crime, you have striven to sooth the voice of remorse, you have sought far and near to find consolation for my grief--and now, what is it I am called to do? I have to make you miserable. I have to inflict upon you the bitterest pangs that a heart like yours can suffer. I have to deny you the only gift which could fittingly recompense the benefits you have conferred upon me; and all this, because I foolishly engaged myself by a promise, ere I knew how much misery it would cause to fulfil it. Believe me, my dear boy,--believe me, upon my honour,--that were it not for that promise, I would set all the world's maxims of pride, and ambition, and avarice at nought: and, knowing none so worthy or so noble as yourself, would bestow upon you my sweet child as contentedly as if you were a king:--but oh! De Juvigny, that promise--that fatal promise!"

I did not forget that he had made me, too, a promise in former years, to grant me any boon that I might ask; and the idea certainly had crossed my mind, as I had descended to the library, to demand its execution now. But he had met me so differently from the manner in which I had expected to be met, that all my feelings were changed in a moment; and, as he spoke, I could make no reply; for his generous kindness shook and agitated mc far more than if he had piled upon my head the bitterest of reproaches.

"Our excellent friend, Father Ferdinand," continued Monsieur de Villardin, "has pointed out to me the cause of all your conduct during the last campaign. Strange your behaviour certainly has appeared in my eyes; and, if I remember right, the change took place when I told you of the promise I had given, and gave you news that must have blasted all your hopes for ever."

"My lord, I never entertained a hope," I replied. "Although, I believe, without boldness, I may say that my race is as noble as your own, yet I came before you as an exiled adventurer, without home, without country, without fortune; and most presumptuous would it have been for me to entertain a hope under such circumstances. The change in my conduct, or rather the end of my happiness for life, took place as soon as I discovered what were the feelings which I had been nourishing in my bosom. It did, perhaps, add somewhat to the load, to know that Mademoiselle de Villardin was destined to wed a man she did not love; but that knowledge destroyed no hopes, for I had entertained none."

Monsieur de Villardin gazed upon me thoughtfully for several minutes, and then said,--"De Juvigny, I am almost afraid to ask you; yet answer me sincerely, and fear not that I shall blame you, for I have been too faulty a being myself to have any title to chide with others where passion is concerned. Tell me, is Laura acquainted with your feelings towards her?"

"She is so now, my lord," I answered; "but such was not the case till our return from the last campaign."

"You have done wrong, De Juvigny," he said, speaking mournfully, but not harshly; "you have done wrong: but still, as I have said, I have no right to blame you, for I look upon myself as the cause of all this unhappiness. I should have been upon my guard; I should have known that such an intimacy could not go on without ending as it has done; and I should have taken measures either to warn you yourself, or to make you happy. I blame you not, therefore, however great might have been the relief to know that Laura was unacquainted with feelings that cannot be gratified."

"Believe me, my lord," I answered, "I never intended that she should be made acquainted with those feelings, and that the discovery of them was entirely accidental. You will do me the justice, too, I am sure, to feel confident that my opportunities of seeing and conversing with Mademoiselle de Villardin have never been employed to make her forget her duty towards you. On the contrary, our whole thoughts have been turned to the means of overcoming a passion that we felt to be hopeless."

"There is but one means, De Juvigny," replied Monsieur de Villardin,--"there is but one way--to part. To know that I am bound to wound my daughter's happiness, as well as that of a man I love better than if he were my own son, is bitter enough; but still it must be done. My promise is given, and it must not only be held inviolable, but I must show no hesitation in fulfilling it--no wish to evade its immediate execution. You and Laura must part, De Juvigny, and I am sure that on reflection you will find it is better for you both to do so at once. I trust--I hope--that this passion has not yet obtained so deep a root in the bosom of either, as not to yield to the power of reason and the effect of time and absence."

I shook my head, for I felt that such could not be the case; but at the same time I replied,--"It will be better for us to part, I do indeed believe, my lord; for, however vain it is to hope that I shall ever forget, yet my stay here serves no good purpose, and only renders myself and her I love more miserable. I am ready to set out even this very night, if you think fit."

"No, no," he said, hastily; "not so, my dear boy: you must not quit my dwelling as one in disgrace! That I cannot suffer!--especially when I feel that I owe you atonement for having exposed you to so much unhappiness, as well as deep gratitude and affection for all that you have done for me and mine. No,--your departure must be as that of a well-beloved son, honoured, esteemed, and regretted; and your fortune must be rendered equal to maintain a high station in society, and to obtain for you a ready acceptance from the friends of any one on whom you may hereafter place your affection."

The feelings in my heart were too bitter to permit of my making any reply for some minutes, but I answered at length,--"I will appeal to your own heart, my lord, whether those who have loved deeply and truly ever love twice. But that matters not. In the present instance, you must permit me to decline any farther gift. I am proud to believe that, on some occasions, I have rendered your lordship services of some importance; and deeply gratified to find that you value them at a higher rate even than they deserve. But if, as you are pleased to say, you owe me some gratitude, I owe you infinitely more; and though I love you too deeply and too sincerely to offer to restore those things which you formerly bestowed upon me, yet I can accept no more, especially at a moment like this."

"I will not press you then now," replied Monsieur de Villardin; "but we are not going to part for ever, De Juvigny, and when we meet again, I shall insist upon that which I wave for the present. But tell me, in the meantime, what you intend to do with yourself; for of course my interest in you remains not only unabated, but increased, from all that has occurred."

"Oh! fear not, my lord," I replied, the bitterness of my heart mastering me in spite of all my efforts, and drawing from me but an ungrateful return for the kindness of Monsieur de Villardin; "fear not, my lord; I shall do well enough. When I first touched the shores of France, my worldly situation was much less brilliant than it is at present, though I had, indeed, a lighter heart. I have now lands and lordships, and a regiment in the service of the King of France. What need I more?"

"I will tell you, De Juvigny," replied Monsieur de Villardin, laying his hand kindly upon my arm, and speaking mildly, though somewhat reproachfully; "I will tell you what you need more than all:--a friend and companion, who will sooth your sorrows, will divert your griefs from preying on your own mind, will point out topics of consolation, will persuade you to think well of those who love you, will endeavour to make you feel less acutely what it may be impossible to forget, and, in short, will act towards you in your sorrows the part which you acted towards me in mine. It grieves me that I cannot be the man to do so myself; but if you will follow my advice, you will seek out your friend Lord Masterton, and, from all I have ever heard of him, I think you will find one who will take a deep interest, in your fate, and feel the most sincere sympathy for all that afflicts you."

"No, no, my lord," I replied, "it cannot be. Lord Masterton, happy in his wife and his family, shall not be disturbed by any sorrows of mine; and, however selfish it may appear, I must confess that the sight of his domestic tranquillity would but render more painful the consciousness that such a state can never be mine. There is nothing fit for my present frame of mind but solitude. I doubt not that thought and reflection, before I am called upon to resume my duties in the service, will enable me so far to conquer my regrets and disappointment as to permit of my mingling in society, without much pain to myself or any annoyance to others. In the meantime, however, if your lordship will permit me, I will retire either to Juvigny or to Dumont, and spend a month or two there in perfect privacy. My little page Clement will furnish me with society and entertainment enough; and when, in the course of time," I added, struggling for as much firmness as I could command,--"and when, in the course of time, the last irremediable seal is put to the destiny of Mademoiselle de Villardin and myself, as your lordship will probably be left alone from time to time, I shall hope to enjoy your society, when it can be no longer dangerous to myself, or inconsistent with your other arrangements."

Without making any reply, Monsieur de Villardin took two or three turns up and down the library, and then, sitting down again, he said,--"It is better, De Juvigny, to tell you my determination at once. As my word must be fulfilled, and as I see no object whatever to be gained by delay, I have resolved that Laura shall give her hand to the Count de Laval as soon as it be possible to complete the necessary arrangements."

This was certainly a new pang, but I had already borne so much that night, that the very habit of suffering enabled me still to endure. I did think that Monsieur de Villardin was wrong; I did think that it was even cruel to afford his daughter no time for thought or consideration, no time to compose her feelings, no time to prepare for the future or to forget the past. Of course, however, it was not for me even to suggest an objection, and I merely bowed my head, while Monsieur de Villardin went on. "As soon as the ceremony is over, I will write to you and let you know," he said; "and I hope that, from that moment, you will be able to come to me, and supply the place of the child from whom I am about to part. In the meantime, you must not certainly set off till I have seen you to-morrow; and, let me beg you, my dear Juvigny," he added, grasping my hand, "let me beg of you to strive for as much firmness as possible. Remember that, though my honour is dearer to me than life itself, yet that I love you better than any other thing, and that to make you happy, I would sacrifice everything--but my honour."

"I will do my best, my lord," I replied, "both to be and to appear firm; and, whatever I now suffer--whatever I may hereafter have to undergo, your kindness and generosity towards me, in these, as in all other circumstances, will be the chief consolation, and the brightest remembrance that I have left."

Thus saying, I rose and turned towards the door; but ere I reached it, the remembrance that Laura knew nothing of what had taken place during that evening, and would expect me at our usual place of meeting, flashed across my mind, and somewhat embarrassed me. However, I could not entertain the thought for a moment, of showing the slightest ingratitude or want of confidence to one who had just treated me with so much kindness and feeling; and, turning at the door, I again approached Monsieur de Villardin, saying,--"You desire me, my lord, not to set out to-morrow ere I have seen you. Will you give me your own directions as to how I am to behave towards Mademoiselle de Villardin?"

"I have the most perfect confidence in you, De Juvigny," he replied, "and can have no objection to your having one more interview with her, though of course that must be the last. See her--speak with her--endeavour to console her--use what arguments you may think meet. I rely entirely upon your honour to do all that you can to make her yield a willing consent to that arrangement for which her father has plighted his word. You will doubtless find ready means to see her. In these respects I ask no questions in regard to the past; and for the future I trust entirely, as I have said, to your own honour."

We now separated; and, returning to my own apartments, I busied myself with thoughts too wild and confused to be remembered or transcribed. I had long seen and had long known, indeed, that such must be the result of my love for Laura de Villardin. I had long seen that fate could have nothing else in store for me; but yet I do not think that, even if I had been taken totally unprepared, I could have felt more bitterly--more terribly--the agony of sudden disappointment, than I now felt the severing of the last tie between love and hope. If there was anything in the whole which might have proved soothing,--if there was anything on which my mind might have rested with pleasure, it was on the noble confidence which Monsieur de Villardin had shown towards me; but even that was not without a pang, and the sting which it inflicted was bitterer than all: for I saw from his conduct now, that had I, when first I discovered the passion that I entertained for his daughter, made him acquainted with it at once--had I, when we were journeying on together towards Paris, poured out my whole feelings into his bosom, and confided in him, as perhaps I ought to have done, Laura might still have been mine, and a brighter destiny than ever hope had pictured would have crowned the end of my career. Thus then the bitterest regret was added to the most acute disappointment. The cup of happiness had been nearly at my lips; but, not knowing what it contained, I had passed it by, and I felt too surely that it would never come within my reach again.

I knew that such regrets were useless; I knew that nothing remained for me but to endure; I strove even to acquire strength from despair; but it was all in vain. Regret, disappointment, agony, mingled with every thought, and every memory, and every expectation; and for an hour, I strode up and down in a state of mind that I shall not attempt any farther to depict. At the end of that time, there was a light tap at my door, and the next moment, Laura's maid, Lise, entered the room. My agitation was sufficiently apparent, and would probably have betrayed what had occurred, even had not the soubrette been partially aware before that some sort of a discovery had taken place.

"Ah! Monsieur le Baron," she said, as soon as she saw me, "I see how it is all going. I have been watching all the evening, and have learned enough from the going to and fro, to perceive that monseigneur has discovered it all, and that unless you will follow my advice, you and Mademoiselle will be unhappy for ever."

"And, pray, what is your advice, my good Lise?" I demanded; "the Duke has indeed discovered all, but that makes very little difference in regard to our situation. But say, what is your advice?"

"Why, it is simply this," replied the waiting woman; "that you come directly to Mademoiselle's chamber, and persuade her to set off with you to Rennes. My good friend, Father Martin, will perform the ceremony, as he promised me he would, not a week ago. Degville, the notary, will draw up the contract, and for a couple of thousand francs to a priest and a lawyer, you will get the sweetest lady in all Brittany, and the one that loves you best."

It is not impossible that, had Monsieur de Villardin said one harsh or unkind word to me, had he treated me with pride or with indignity, he might have lost his daughter; and I, teaching myself to believe that every stratagem is honourable in love, might have embraced the plan which Lise, in her love for the romantic, had laid out, and might have made Laura de Villardin my bride before the next morning. The state of Brittany at that time, and the lax administration of the law, both civil and ecclesiastical, so greatly facilitated any scheme of the kind, that I well knew it was perfectly practicable; but my mind was so completely made up as to the course which I was bound in honour to pursue--the whole of my good feelings were so strongly arrayed against the persuasions of passion, that the proposal made by Lise did not even tempt me for a moment. It was unnecessary, however, to tell her all that had passed; and, assuming as much calmness as I could, I replied,--"No, no, Lise, such a course is quite unnecessary. Do not agitate your mistress, I beseech you, by telling her that anything has occurred in the chÂteau to disturb the usual course of events; but beg her to let me see her to-morrow in the same place in which we have usually met."

Lise gazed at me with some surprise. "Will they let you see her, then?" she demanded: "are you sure of being able to come?"

"Quite sure, Lise," I replied; "so tell her what I bid you; and take this ring," I added, giving her one that I had bought in Paris, "and keep it as a remembrance of me hereafter."

"It is a very pretty ring," replied Lise, taking it, "and I will keep it for your sake with all my heart; but, nevertheless, I would much rather that you had given another of a different kind to my mistress this very night. However, I suppose, Monsieur le Baron, you know your own business best, and so I shall meddle no more."

Thus saying, Lise took her leave, and left me to pass as miserable a night as ever wretch yet spent upon the face of this earth.