University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
The Guests.

`You are welcome, Messieurs,' said Mr. Livaudais, approaching the
water-side as the brig's boat touched the shore, raising his hat as he
spoke, out of deference to the lady.

`I believe I address Mr. Livaudais,' said Captain Marshall, stepping
on shore and approaching him.

`Yes, sir. May I know to whom I have the honor of speaking?'

`Captain Marshall, of the Mexican war schooner Lady of the Gulf.
I have rescued from pirates the Marquis La Fontleroy and his daughter,
who were on the way to Louisiana, where the Marquis has an estate
left him by his brother M. Pierre Fontleroy.'

`I knew him well. His plantation is but a few miles above mine.
Monsieur Marquis,' he added, approaching him, for Marshall in
speaking had made a gesture with his hand towards him to indicate
him, `I am happy to see you, and congratulate you on your safe
arrival. I knew your brother well. His loss has left a gap in our
society, but I trust that you will remain among us and take his place.
Mademoiselle, I have a daughter, whom you see there in the saddle,
who will gladly welcome you. See, she is already alighted, and
hastening hither.'

The Marquis and M. Livaudais then embraced, and so did Auguste
and Josephine. M. Livaudais then proposed that the Marquis should
become his guest till he recovered from the fatigues of his voyage, and
then he would take him in his own carriage up to the estate which he
had inherited. As this arrangement perfectly coincided with their
wishes, and fell in with the plan of the Captain, it was thankfully
accepted, and the whole party walked towards the villa, leaving a
servant to bring the horses home.

On the way, the two maidens talked themselves into each other's
confidence and friendship. Josephine related the incidents of her
voyage, and Auguste listened with the deepest attention. She spoke

so cloquently of the young officer, who had saved her at the risk of his
own life, that Auguste smiled and said, playfully,

`And of course you gave him your heart. He could have desired
no more than this from one so lovely as you are, and I know so good
too.'

Josephine dropped her eyes an instant, and slightly colored. But
she rallied and resolved to speak in behalf of her preserver, who, just
before her leaving the brig, had told her all his fears.

`I would have given him my heart; but seeing the interest I was
feeling in him, he took occasion to speak with me and unfold to me, by
degrees, the sad truth that his heart was another's.'

`I sympathize with you. He was honorable to speak thus soon,
before you became so much attached to him as to make you unhappy.'

`Yes; he was honorable. He is the very soul of honor and truth.
He is brave, gentle, and generous above all men.'

`He is the first lieutenant of the brig, I think you said.'

`Yes.'

`And pray why did he not come on shore also? I have some
curiosity to see this hero.'

`He has duties to keep him there, the Captain being with us.'

`What is his name?'

`It is not a Mexican name, but American, I believe,' answered
Josephine, not desiring to make known who he was till she had made
some interest in his behalf in her breast; for inasmuch as she could not
have his love she generously resolved when he told her his story, to do
all in her power to reconcile him with the maiden who had his heart.

`I told you that he loved another, Mademoiselle,' she added, without
giving a more direct reply to her inquiry, `but I did not tell you, what
will excite your sympathy, that he fears the lady looks upon him as
degraded, and he is despairing of ever attaining her hand.'

`Degraded!'

`Yes, Mademoiselle. This is the story. He was a young man of
fortune, and he met this lady, who was very beautiful—almost as
beautiful as yourself, indeed. He had reason to believe that he had
won a deep hold upon her affections. But circumstances separated
them ere he declared his passion. He found that he could not live
unless he declared his passion to her. He hastened to her home for
this purpose, but unfortunately he was ensnared by some persons who

wished to strip him of his money, by enticing him to play. He yielded
to the temptation, and lost so much of his fortune that he became
ashamed to approach her, lest she should not only think him influenced
by a desire to mend his estate, and perhaps, hearing of his follies,
reject his suit altogether with contempt. This reflection, acting upon a
sensitive mind, and a mind conscious of guilt, (for he was fully alive to
his folly in having gamed) drove him into a sort of reckless career.
He plunged into every dissipation, and finally, one night left the halls
of a gaming palace, stripped to his last dollar. You look pale,
Mademoiselle!'

`No—it is nothing. Go on,' she said, with nervous rapidity.

`I have little more to say. He would have destroyed himself at
once, being too proud to live, when he was fallen in with in the streets
by the Captain of the brig whose influence saved him. He prevailed
upon him to accompany him to sea. From that hour his character
changed and his feelings were composed. He resolved to distinguish
himself and win a name worthy of the maiden's regard, for he still
loved her with the most passionate adoration. Fortune threw us into
his vessel, as I have told you; and how nobly he acted, I have told
you. He still lives in the fond hope of being able, one day, to retrieve
the past, and by and by, when he shall have redeemed his errors by an
honorable career, he has told me that he means to lay his name and
honors at her feet, or else leave his life there. I see that I have
enlisted your sympathies, and that you feel for him as I do.'

`Mademoiselle,' said Auguste Livaudais, who had listened with the
wildest eagerness to her narration, pressing her arm and looking
earnestly in her face, `pray tell me the name of this person—for—
for—'

Ah, young ladies,' cried M. Livaudais, who, with the Marquis and
Captain Marshall, were walking ahead, leaving the two maidens to talk
together, `you loiterers! One would think you had been sworn friends
all your lives. What prattlers you are! Why, Auguste, what is the
matter?' he added, as they came slowly up to the gate where he and
the others had stopped to await them, `have you heard bad news?'

`No, sir, I have been listening to a story, told me by Mademoiselle,
that has enlisted my sympathies.' She spoke with some agitation, and
Josephine needed not more than a child's penetration to see that she
had identified the story with the history of Hastings, and that her

heart was yet his, or could easily return to him. Whether she
suspected that it was Hastings of whom she had been speaking,
Josephine could not tell.

`You must not tell such sad tales, Josephine,' said the Marquis,
smiling. `We must not carry sorrow to the house of our hospitable
entertainer. Mademoiselle,' he added, with courtesy, presenting his
arm, `allow me to have the honor of escorting you. I will keep you
away from my daughter, unless she can talk more merrily. In sooth,
she ought to be gay, for by and by she means to be a bride.'

`Father!' said Josephine, blushing.

`It is no secret, girl; or rather, it shan't be. There, Madamoiselle,
is the happy man, smiling like a Cupid,' added the Marquis, pointing to
Marshall, whose face looked as ruby as a rose, with conscious blushes.

M. Livaudais, now proffered his assistance to Josephine, while the
Captain walked on and joined the Marquis and Auguste.

`You have a charming villa and grounds here, Mademoiselle
Livaudais,' he said.

`Yes. I was just admiring them to her,' answered the General,
`and she tells me that my new estate is equally beautiful. Why can't
you remain till to-morrow on shore and ride up with us, and let the brig
follow?'

`I do n't like to be ashore at night, Marquis. I will sail up, while
you ride along the banks. What sad story was that my Josephine was
telling you, Mademoiselle?' asked Marshall, suspecting the truth.

`It was of one of your officers,' she answered, trying to speak with a
smile. What is the name of your first lieutenant, sir?' she asked
quickly.

`Bless me, I always call him Harry,' answered the Captain, who
now divined her object, and saw clearly the cause of her emotion.
`Lieutenant Harry, Miss! an odd name, but sailors have odd names
very often. He is a noble fellow. I suppose Josephine has been
telling you about his gallantry in saving her life. He is the best officer
I ever saw. Brave as a lion, and handsome as Apollo, too. I wish you
could see him board a vessel. We took a French brig of war, six
weeks ago, wholly by his daring. Then he has a heart generous and
noble. Do you know Josephine was half inclined to fall in love with
him, heroine-like, for saving her life; but as soon as he saw it, he
frankly told her he was hopelessly in love with another maiden, and

knowing that I was in love with her, he took occasion to speak a good
word for me. So, when I made bold to tell her how much I adored
her, she did not turn a deaf ear, and we are to be married in a few
weeks. But Harry has n't lost anything by giving her up to me; for
the lady he is in love with, and for whom he does nothing but sigh, is
as beautiful as an angel.'

`Then you have seen her?' she asked, quickly.

`Oh, did I say so? Harry has told me all about her. By the by,
I wish you could see my lieutenant, I have no doubt you would fall in
love with him yourself, that is if you are not already in love. Excuse
the openness of speech of a sailor, Mademoiselle.'

`Certainly, Monsieur Captain. But what good would it do me to
fall in love with a young gentleman who loves another?'

`That is very true. But, nevertheless, I want you to see him.'

`I should like much to see him. You and Mademoiselle have said
so much about him, that I have a good deal of curiosity to become
acquainted with him.'

`You shall have that opportunity whenever you say the word,
Mademoiselle.'

At this crisis of their conversation, during which Miss Livaudais
was a good deal embarrassed, for she could not but think of Hastings
all the while, they came in front of the villa. M. Livaudais and
Josephine came up with them, and the former welcomed them to his
house and led the way up the steps of the piazza.

The sun had just gone down, and a soft twilight pervaded the
atmosphere with its dreamy influence. The gentlemen sat down upon
the piazza in comfortable arm-chairs, to enjoy the cool evening breeze
after their walk, and converse about the estate of which the Marquis
was to possess himself. The two maidens walked arm in arm, like long
known friends, up the piazza, now talking together, and now lingering
to admire the beauty of the evening. The brig was visible at her
anchorage, about half a mile off, and was an interesting object amid the
scenery. Hastings watched them from the brig's deck, through his
glass, until the deepening twilight hid them from his view. He then
paced the deck impatiently, praying in his heart for success upon the
two-fold mission of Josephine and Marshall.

`Did Lieutenant Harry, (I believe that, is his name,) tell you
Mademoiselle Josephine,' asked Miss Livaudais, in a low tone, but

earnestly, `who the maiden was he loved, but feared she loved him no
longer?'

`He did, but I may not repeat the name.

`Your looks—your words—your mysterious manner, all lead me
suspect that—that—but no, it cannot be!'

`Suspect what?'

`Nothing. It cannot be. But,' she added, to herself, `he may
ave changed his name, for the letter which I received from New York,
from my friend Louise Chantard, spoke of the probability of his having
gone to sea. His name is Henry. He may have changed it to Harry
and so called himself, or else he may have told his story to the Captain
and this maiden, who are now endeavoring to sound my feelings. Oh,
too happy, happy news! if this should prove to be Hastings, and
redeemed too from his errors, and elevated by courage and humanity
to be worthy again of my love! I dare not ask. I dare not closer
press the question, lest, after all, I should be disappointed—lest it
should not be, but some one whose history resembles his. I must see
him and judge for myself. I cannot endure this suspense'