"Say that I will be with him directly," said Madeleine.
"It is M. de Bois. I will go with you," murmured Bertha, rising at the same time as her cousin.
The countess did not move her eyes, but Maurice turned his head to look after them. Madeleine could never pass from his presence without his experiencing a sense of loss which inflicted a dull pang.
M. de Bois had been ushered into Madeleine's boudoir. He had not anticipated the happiness of seeing Bertha. When she entered, his start and flush of joy, and the gently confident manner in which he took her hand, and drew her toward him, might well have surprised Madeleine; but that surprise was quickly turned to positive amazement, for Bertha's head drooped until its opulent golden curls swept his breast,—and—and—(if we record what ensued be it remembered that constitutionally bashful men, stirred by a sudden impulse, have less control over their emotions than their calmer brothers)—and—in another second, his own head was bent down, and his lips lightly touched her pure brow, just where the fair hair parting ran on either side, in shining waves. Truly was that first kiss
"The chrism of Love, which Love's own crown
With sanctifying sweetness did precede."
Gaston's ideas of what amount of tender demonstration punctilious decorum permitted a lover, had finally undergone an alarming modification, through the corrective influence of the social atmosphere he had inhaled during the last few years. In his own land the limited privileges of an accepted suitor do not extend thus far until the day before a wedding-ring encircles the finger of a bride. Is it on this account that the Parisian Mrs. Grundy, dreading some irresistible temptation, never allows affianced lovers to be left alone?
Bertha's conceptions of propriety must also have been in a very unsettled state; for, albeit "to her brow the ruby mounted," that first kiss seemed to her to lie there as softly as an invisible gem, and she did not withdraw her head, nor look up reproachfully, nor utter one word of chiding.
Gaston noticed Madeleine's wonder-struck look, and said, "You did not know, then, Mademoiselle Madeleine, how happy I am?"
Then Bertha escaped from the arm that encircled her, and nestling in her cousin's bosom, faltered out, "I was so much troubled about Cousin Tristan that I could not tell you."
"One of my most cherished hopes has become reality!" returned Madeleine, fondly. "M. de Bois knows how much I have wished for this consummation; and I think you have known it, Bertha, ever since you made me a certain confession."