Was there anything, therefore, in the deep feelings of gratitude and love which I experienced towards the dead, which should forbid my making the attempt so to protect and shield the child of her who had conferred so many benefits upon me? Was it not rather what I owed her, to endeavour, as far as Heaven gave me power, to prevent my poor Louise from being driven into a union with one who could make her only wretched; the pure tied to the impure, the innocent to the corrupt? Again the answer was--yes!
No one can say, when he argues with his own heart on a question where all its deepest feelings are interested--no one can say that simple, straightforward reason alone dictates the reply; nor can I say that it was so in the present instance. But still I had done my best to make it do so. I believed that I was right; I believed that there could scarcely be any farther question of what my conduct ought to be; and I determined, therefore, to tell Louise of how I loved her; to inform her of my hopes and wishes for the future; not, indeed, to bind her by any promises, but to open her eyes, to satisfy myself as to the feelings of her heart, and then to leave her native strength of mind, her resolution and her love, to do the rest.
With this resolution I rose at daybreak on the following morning. It was a clear, bright, cheerful day, and on my going my early rounds, I found the soldier charged to bear the flag of truce, with letters from the Prince de Condé to the Duke of Anjou, waiting for my farther orders. I instantly sat down and wrote the letter which I had promised to the Baron de Blancford, explaining in few and brief words what had happened in regard to Louise, expressing my grief that she had been subjected to some inconvenience and fatigue, but making no excuse or apology whatever for an event which I did not think required any.
Having done this and despatched the messenger, I made some farther inquiries concerning the state of the army, perceiving that a large body of troops were moving to the left from the spot which had been assigned to us for our quarters, leaving only five or six hundred men in the hamlet. I now found that the troops I saw marching were destined to take up their quarters nearer Loudun, in order to strengthen the centre of the position, as a violent fever had broken out among the soldiers from Provence, which had occasioned a mortality of nearly two thousand men within a few days.
Our little hamlet was now comparatively deserted; a number of the officers had gone to Niort with the Prince de Condé; and though Montgomery remained in the command, he was the only man of any consequence left.
After occupying myself with various military avocations, I returned, and found the rest of my little household up and waiting for me. Good old La Tour looked at me with grave and thoughtful eyes; but Louise had risen refreshed and beautiful as the morning; and had there been any doubt or irresolution remaining in my mind, I do not believe that it would have resisted those bright looks. There was no irresolution, however, and immediately after our morning meal was over, I said,
"Come, Louise, the day is most beautiful; good Marguelette here will doubtless find you some better head-gear than that with which you travelled through that terrible cold night, and I will take you round the camp, to let you see more of the military world than perhaps you have ever seen yet."
Marguelette assured me that almost all the young lady's wardrobe was within immediate reach, for that the baron had gone off so hastily, he had taken little enough for the journey with him. Louise, therefore, was soon equipped for her walk, and, leaning fondly on my arm, she went forth, walking with me from post to post for about half an hour. Not knowing what was in my heart, she might, doubtless, wonder at the fits of silent thoughtfulness into which I fell, and, beginning to think that all went not well with me, she asked, with the sweetest and tenderest tones of her sweet and tender voice, what made me so sad, and why I did not tell my own Louise. I replied that I would tell her presently, and, walking forth out of the hamlet, I led her past the old manoir, where the Prince de Condé had made his abode for a time, up the slope of the hill to a little wood of tall fir-trees, whose ever-green tops spread out till they met each other, although the bolls below were far apart, suffering the clear rays of the low winter sun to stream in over the red and yellow leaves which had fallen from the branches above, and thickly strewed the ground beneath. The day, indeed, was as bright as summer, and it was cheerful and refreshing too; but there was something which told that it was not summer; something in the aspect of the whole scene which gave a shade of thoughtfulness, if I may so call it, even to the brightness of the morning. The blades of grass upon the sides of the hill were all shining as if they had been decorated with gems; but one saw and felt that, like the blaze of light upon many another gem, the sunshine fell upon nothing but frostwork, and that everything was cold and frozen underneath. There was now no fog upon the ground, and through the clear, calm air the church of Loudun and various other buildings in that small town were seen rising up in the distance, and we paused, and gazed over the scene around, without one sound breaking the wintry silence of nature.
"How far is it to that town?" demanded Louise, after gazing for some time.
"Nearly five miles, dear one," I replied.