Bertha half leaped from her chair, her breath grew thick, and her heart must have beat painfully, for she pressed her hand upon her breast, as though to still the violent pulsations.
"To Brittany, my grandmother?" said Maurice, in accents of consternation. "I trust not. In my father's state of health, I could not feel that I was doing my duty if I were separated from him, and my interests, my professional engagements, compel me to remain in this country."
"Your filial affection, Maurice de Gramont, must be remarkably strong, if you weigh it against your petty, selfish interests,—your professional engagements. But, do as you please,—I ask nothing, expect nothing from you,—not even the protection of your presence, though I have no longer a son who is able to offer me protection."
"But if you will allow me to explain,—if you will allow me to show you that my lot is cast in America,—that it would ruin all my future prospects to return to Europe! My father's affairs are so much entangled that I must exert myself for his support and my own." (He might have said the support of his grandmother also, but was too delicate.) "There is no opening for me in France, no occupation that I am fitted at present to pursue."
"I do not undertake to comprehend what you mean by your prospects—your engagements—your exerting yourself—or any of the other low phrases that drop so readily from your tongue. These are not matters with which I can have any concern. I have nothing to do with your prospects, your exertions, your engagements, or your intentions. My intentions are plain and unalterable. As soon as the physician says my son is in a state to travel, I shall engage our passage upon the first steamer that starts for Havre, and turn my back upon this miserable land, to which you, Bertha, by your capricious folly, lured us. It does not matter who accompanies me, or who does not; my son and I will depart,—that is settled."
Bertha and Maurice were silent through dismay. The countess finding that neither replied, said to her niece,—
"Upon what have you resolved, Bertha? Will you allow me to return alone? Do you intend to refuse to go with me, because my grandson has coldly disregarded all the ties of kindred and severed himself from his father and me?"
Bertha answered quickly, "I wish, oh! I wish you could be persuaded to remain here; but if not,—if you will go,—if you must go—I will go with you."
It was long since the countess had looked so gratified, and she drew Bertha toward her and kissed her brow, exclaiming,—
"There is, at least, one of my own kindred left to me! Thank God!"