AN INTERLUDE.
I purpose here to give only a brief sketch of my sojourn under the roof of the La Vignes. In another book, and at another time, when some that now live shall have passed away, or years shall have made dim the memory of results rather than events (for until then the last must continue, with their causes, to be mysteries), I may unfold the tissues of a dire tragedy enacted, by some strange providence, under my peculiar view alone, and thus inexplicable to others.
Of this no more, not even a hint, at present; lest, dropping the substance for the shadow, the reader should cease to find interest where I most wish to concentrate it for a season. The heroine so far of my own story, I cannot yet voluntarily relinquish the privilege of sympathy, so dear to the narrator of adventure, though I did, indeed, for a time forget my own identity in the dark shadow, the mysterious crimes, the unprecedented and speedy retributions that followed quickly on the heels of guilt at Beauseincourt.
The picturesque old place, with its quaint French name and architecture and antique furniture, did truly at first enchant my fancy (which learned to shudder at its aspect later), as did, in the beginning, the contiguous estates of "Bellevue" with its exquisite grounds, fountains, and white-stuccoed mansion closely simulating the finest Italian marble. Later, in accordance with the law of associations, this, too, became as sorrowful in my sight as was the Hall of Vathek to those who mingled in its mournful yet magnificent pageantry.
The denizens of this lonely abode were a most interesting couple. Still young comparatively, virtually childless, and bearing the name (also a Huguenot appellation) of "Favraud" the husband was bright, intelligent, frivolous—the wife, an invalid of rare loveliness and sweetness of character, who seldom emerged from her solitude. Both were perfectly well bred.
These were relatives of Colonel La Vigne, whose son Walter was the residuary legatee of Bellevue, with but one imbecile life, after that of Madame Favraud, between him and enormous wealth. Great intimacy existed between the families, although from circumstances—nameless here—the ladies seldom met, and never at Bellevue.
Major Favraud was a constant visitor at Beauseincourt, when on his estates. He was, however, of a roving disposition, and, though tenderly attached to his wife, was often absent, negligent, and careless of her feelings. He was a renowned duelist, and deemed a challenge the essential element and result of every unsettled discussion. A typical Southerner of his day, I felt keen interest in the scrutiny of his character, until events developed those venomous tendencies which came very near destroying my peace of mind forever, with the life of the noble man whom, after a brief acquaintance, I had learned to love against my own desires.
The occasion of this belligerent demonstration was afforded at the Christmas festival, held yearly at Beauseincourt, by Colonel and Mrs. La Vigne—in the great, many-windowed drawing-room with its waxed parquet—its ebony-framed mirrors, its pier consoles, and faded damask furniture.
There were assembled around the bright pine-fire, on the occasion of this universal anniversary, neighbors, and guests from a distance, invited specially for a certain number of days, among whom the unexpected advent of a troop of engineers, of Northern extraction, made a desirable variety.
One of these gentlemen only, the chief-engineer, who came to make new roads for Lesdernier,[[1]] by order of government, had already been a visitor of some weeks, and a strong attachment, vital from the first, had sprung up between us; so far, unacknowledged by either.