"Your father—he has arrived, and I must bid you farewell," said Munro, kissing her trembling hands with sudden emotion.
"Stay, monsieur," said Therese, in an imploring voice. So "monsieur" stayed; to go was impossible.
"M. le Baron!" exclaimed Nanon, rushing towards them, while her round black eyes dilated with excitement; "M. le Baron, and oh, mon Dieu, M. le Comte d'Arcot is with him!"
"M. d'Arcot!" murmured poor Therese, and stood rooted to the spot, the statue of terror and grief; for, after six days such as the last, to meet an old and previously unknown fiancé with the cordiality requisite, was more than poor human nature could bear or achieve.
The baron, who was considerably changed in person since we last had the pleasure of seeing him, having become stout and paunchy, abrupt and irritable in manner, now approached, leading, and indeed almost pulling forward a tall, thin, and soldier-like Chevalier of St. Louis, whose form and face seemed wasted by inward thought and care, by exposure to the burning sun of India and the toils of war, rather than by lapse of time; yet he seemed quite old, though in reality not much more than fifty years of age. His hair, which he wore unpowdered, was white as snow, and was simply tied behind by a black ribbon. He wore the undress uniform of a French Maréchal du Camp, and leaned a little on his cane as he walked.
"Mademoiselle de Beauchatel—my daughter—M. le Comte d'Arcot," said the baron, introducing them, and kissing Therese.
"M. le Comte is most welcome to Fontbrune," said Therese, presenting her trembling hand to the tall old soldier, who kissed it respectfully; and after a few polite commonplaces, muttered hurriedly, on the calmness of the evening, the beauty of the chateau, its gardens, the scenery, &c., she drew aside to wipe away her tears, and desire Nanon to conceal Munro or get him quietly away.
"What think you of her?" asked the baron, covertly.
"She is most lovely; but now, my dear Beauchatel, though I have come to visit you, pray forget your project of the marriage."
"Forget the object nearest my heart!" exclaimed the impetuous baron.