University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
The Meeting.

`I know not how to express my grateful sense of your kindness,
Mr. Livaudais,' said Harry Hastings, as the carriage which conveyed
him to the villa entered the avenue of orange trees.

`You need not feel so deeply, my young friend,' answered the father
of Auguste. `You have shown yourself a changed man, and I have
no doubt will henceforth act as a wise one.'

`I trust I shall, sir.'

`I will vouch for him, Monsieur,' cried Marshall, who had returned
with Mr. Livandais, leaving his brig in charge of his English lieutenant,
and determined, as he said, to see the meeting between the lovers, at all
risks. `But how are you to break the matter to Mademoiselle
Auguste?'

`I fear there that I may after all be defeated,' said Harry. `Yet it
is much to have the father's forgiveness and countenance.'

`I will answer for Mademoiselle Auguste,' replied Marshall, with
earnestness.

`My plan is this, gentlemen,' said Mr. Livaudais. `Auguste is not
aware of the presence of Mr. Hastings. I shall take him at once to
my library and let you keep him there till I report proceedings.
Should she receive you favorably, Mr. Hastings, I will let you know at
once.'

`This is a rare plan!' cried the Captain. `I will, however, if you
please, be with you in your interview with Auguste,' he added, to Mr.
Livaudais.

`Yes, with pleasure. Mr. Hastings will probably not be afraid to
remain alone in the library.'

At length the carriage drove to the door, and the three gentlemen
alighted, passed into the hall, and entered an apartment on the left.

`Here now, Mr. Hastings, you will remain until you hear from me,'
said Mr. Livaudais, taking his hand and pressing it. `Be assured that

I shall be happy to return and say to you that Auguste will see
you.'

`I scarcely dare hope so much.'

`Courage, Harry,' said Marshall. `You kept my spirits up, and I
will try and do the same for you.'

When Mr. Livaudais entered the drawing-room he found the Marquis
engaged in writing a letter to be sent to his trustee in the city,
notifying him of his arrival, and Josephine occupied in looking over a
volume of Audubon's gorgeous birds, and stealthily watching at the
same time, with anxious, earnest curiosity, the countenance of Auguste,
who stood by the window which commanded a view of the river now
faintly seen in the gloom of the night, and only indicated by the
reflection of the stars upon its surface. A little below the villa, was
visible the beacon-like light of the brig's battle lanterns hung in the
main rigging.

`The eyes of the maiden were watching the light. Her cheek was
pale and her appearance agitated. The secret had been revealed to
her. She had learned from Josephine the name of the lieutenant, and
been told that that of the maiden he so loved was Auguste Livaudais.
When she heard this, she exclaimed with a deep glow upon her cheek,
and in an excited, emphatic tone,

`I did half guess the truth!'

Without more words, she walked rapidly up and down the room in a
state of mind painful to contemplate. Now, she would stop full and
look as if she was about to speak to Josephine. Then she would rush
on again and clasp her hands upon her heart as if to press down its
wild throbbings. At length she stood by the window and gazed off
upon the water at the brig's light. She gazed long and earnestly, and
so intensely lost in her thoughts, that she did not notice the carriage
when it drove up to the portico.

All the while Josephine closely observed her, and marked the
struggle going on in her bosom. She saw that it was a contest
between resentment and love. She saw that it was a struggle in a
proud but loving heart whether to receive again one who had outraged
her feelings, had cast himself down from her level, and been therefor
silently banished from her memories and hopes, but not from her heart.
Oh, no! not from her heart! The painful conflict that was going on in
it proved that her affections still clung to him.

`Do you solemnly assure me, Mademoiselle,' she suddenly said,
turning round upon Josephine, `that Henry Hastings is on board that
brig!'

`I do, sweet Auguste.'

`And you have told me that he has not forgotten me.'

`He lives only upon the memory of you. Your love is his sun.'

`You did tell me that all his errors were from his great love for me,
—his despair lest I should not look kindly upon him.'

`Yes, I told you all this, which I received from his own lips.'

`You know not, maiden,—none but heaven above knows, how hard I
have tried to tear his image from the throne of my heart, since I began
to learn he was unworthy of me. But, though I brought pride to my
aid, I could not wholly destroy my idolatry. Yet, yesterday I thought
I had well nigh forgotten him; but to-day, with the knowledge that he
is so near me, that he has reformed, and won your esteem and that of
his commander, and that he has been so humane and brave, I feel
rising in my soul all my former love for him.'

`This is a sweet and noble confession. It will make him so happy.
I wish he were here to hear it as I do.'

`And do you think his happiness depends on my love?' she asked,
sadly and earnestly.

`Do I? Oh, were you to refuse to see him, he would not live
another hour. All his earthly happiness depends on the manner in
which you receive the information of his presence.'

`Then tell him — oh, that you could tell him this night!' she cried,
earnestly, `tell him that I am still unchanged, that the past is nothing
to me, so that the present restores him unchanged in his love.'

She had just uttered these words, and once more turned to gaze
intently from the window upon the brig's light, when her father and
Captain Marshall entered.

`Well, Auguste, what do you see from the window so interesting?'
asked her father, approaching her.

`Nothing, sir; I was merely looking.'

`So I see,' responded her father, dryly. `But one would think you
knew who was her lieutenant, and were trying to make him out with
love's eyes.'

`Her lieutenant, sir!' repeated Auguste, coloring to the brows and
looking alarmed. `Do you know who he is, sir?'

`Why do n't we all know he is a hero, dear? I thought you had
heard his story and how gallantly he saved Josephine, and what a brave
man he is in battle.'

`Oh, yes, sir, I did hear,' answered the maiden, taking a long breath
very much relieved; for she trembled lest he had discovered what she
wished, yet feared, he should know.

`Do you know, child, I have taken a great fancy to see this young
officer,' said her father, enjoying her confusion.

`Indeed, sir!'

`Yes. It is n't every day that we have a hero light down upon us.
I think I shall send for him to come and breakfast with us. Have you
any objection, Captain Marshall?'

`Not in the least. I have no doubt he would be very happy indeed
to come. No doubt he would like to see the fair Auguste, for I told
him how lovely she was, when I went on board.'

`Perhaps, Gusty dear,' said her father, he might fall in love with
you and you with him. I dare say he will make you forget this truant
spendthrift, Hastings.'

`My dear father, I do not wish to see any one. If this officer comes
on shore, I shall not see him.'

`Not see him!'

`No, sir. That is, I do n't wish you to invite him on shore; for —'

`For what?' Why, how embarrassed and distressed you look.
Why should n't he come?'

`Because, sir, to tell you the truth, my dear father, I know who he
is, and I know that when you see him and recognize him you will be
enraged.'

`Who then is he, my child? How do you know him?'

`Through Mademoiselle Josephine. This officer, whom you so much
admire, is none other than Henry Hastings.'

`Indeed! Is that so, Captain?' asked Mr. Livaudais, turning with
assumed gravity to Marshall, who was smiling at the perplexity of the
maiden,—who, between her love for her lover, and her fear of her
father's hostility towards him, was standing up before them painfully
embarrassed.

`It is, sir.'

`I thought his name was Lieutenant Harry.'

`Lieutenant Harry Hastings, sir.'

`Oh, a trifling omission. So, my child, you knew this?'

`Yes, sir. I have just learned that it was he?'

`No wonder, then, you did not wish me to invite him to the villa. It
shows me that you do n't care a fig for him, and did n't wish me to be
imposed upon. I am glad you have so well got over your foolish
passion.'

`Father, I —'

`Not a word, dear! I understand. I know you do n't love him, and
are indignant that he should presume to come so near you as he
has.'

`Indeed Mr. Livaudais,' said Marshall, with well assumed warmth,
`I do not like to hear my favorite officer calumniated. I see that he
has been guilty of some errors, and he has confessed them to me and is
deeply penitent. I do not see but that it would be just to give him an
opportunity to make his defence before you, and especially before Miss
Livaudais, who seems to be the most unrelenting.'

`I unrelenting!' she exclaimed, with deep emotion. `Oh, no!
You have both mistaken me. My dear father, it was not, (be angry
if you will, sir!) because I disliked Mr. Hastings, that I did not wish
to see him at the villa. I trembled to have him come on shore, for you
to recognize in him the person you have commanded me so often to
forget. Forget? Oh, no, sir! I have never forgotten him. I have
forgiven him all his faults. He is as dear, nay dearer to me than ever.
I know that he has loved me through all—that it was love for me, in the
shape of despair, that drove him to the excesses you have condemned.
My dear father, if you love me and would make me happy, go and
invite him hither — receive him as a friend, and give your hand to him
from mine.'

`Ah! this is presenting the affair in a new light, my dear Captain.
I see that there is no destroying true love in a woman's bosom.'

`Oh, you will forgive him, sir!' pleaded the beautiful Josephine,
pressing his hands.

`I also will intercede for him.' cried the Marquis, advancing.

`Then I forgive him, Auguste.

`My dear father!' cried the grateful, joyful girl, throwing her arms
about his neck.

The Captain, at a glance from Mr. Livaudais, had, a few seconds
before, left the room. He now returned leading in Hastings.

Mr. Livaudais advanced, and taking his hand led him towards the
happy Auguste.

`Your hand, my daughter. Thus I join them, as your hearts have
long been joined. May you be happy.'

Harry would have pressed his lips to her hand, but her father cried,

`Her lips, Hastings! Her lips, boy!'

The happiness of that moment was shared in by all present. The
Captain kissed both ladies, and hugged Harry, the Marquis, and Mr.
Livaudais, and joy and cheerfulness reigned without a cloud throughout
the happy circle.

In a month Harry led the faithful and lovely Auguste before the
altar in the cathedral of New Orleans, while the Captain led the
beautiful Josephine, for the ceremony of marriage, to be performed
according to the imposing rites of the Roman Church.

Both of them quietly settled down as planters upon the estates of
their wives, being just far enough apart to make the ride pleasant from
one villa to the other. The visions of the Captain, already mentioned,
touching paternal bliss, were in due time realized; and the old Marquis
and M. Livaudais, no longer ago than the very last Christmas, well
nigh came to an open rupture touching the weight, avoirdupois, of the
youngest grandchildren appertaining to each.

The Lady of the Gulf, was despatched back to Vera Cruz, under the
command of the English lieutenant; but as she never reached that port,
it was surmised by Marshall, that the lieutenant had gone cruising in
her upon his own account; and a vessel, answering her description, had
recently made several captures in the West Indies, on the coast of
Brazil, but was finally fallen in with and destroyed by an American
sloop of war, that sailed out of Rio expressly in pursuit of her.