“I met Sydney, and he begged me to beware of her. Nay, listen, Gerald! I know she has told her story, and that you believe it; but her own letters convict her. She tried to charm Sydney as she did us, and nearly succeeded in inducing him to marry her. Rash and wild as he is, he is still a gentleman, and when an incautious word of hers roused his suspicions, he refused to make her his wife. A stormy scene ensued, and, hoping to intimidate him, she feigned to stab herself as if in despair. She did wound herself, but failed to gain her point and insisted upon going to a hospital to die. Lady Sydney, good, simple soul, believed the girl’s version of the story, thought her son was in the wrong, and when he was gone, tried to atone for his fault by finding Jean Muir another home. She thought Gerald was soon to marry Lucia, and that I was away, so sent her here as a safe and comfortable retreat.”
“But, Ned, are you sure of all this? Is Sydney to be believed?” began Coventry, still incredulous.
“To convince you, I’ll read Jean’s letters before I say more. They were written to an accomplice and were purchased by Sydney. There was a compact between the two women, that each should keep the other informed of all adventures, plots and plans, and share whatever good fortune fell to the lot of either. Thus Jean wrote freely, as you shall judge. The letters concern us alone. The first was written a few days after she came.
“Dear Hortense:
“Another failure. Sydney was more wily than I thought. All was going
well, when one day my old fault beset me, I took too much wine, and
I carelessly owned that I had been an actress. He was shocked, and
retreated. I got up a scene, and gave myself a safe little wound, to
frighten him. The brute was not frightened, but coolly left me to my
fate. I’d have died to spite him, if I dared, but as I didn’t, I
lived to torment him. As yet, I have had no chance, but I will not
forget him. His mother is a poor, weak creature, whom I could use as
I would, and through her I found an excellent place. A sick mother,
silly daughter, and two eligible sons. One is engaged to a handsome
iceberg, but that only renders him more interesting in my eyes,
rivalry adds so much to the charm of one’s conquests. Well, my dear,
I went, got up in the meek style, intending to do the pathetic; but
before I saw the family, I was so angry I could hardly control
myself. Through the indolence of Monsieur the young master, no
carriage was sent for me, and I intend he shall atone for that
rudeness by-and-by. The younger son, the mother, and the girl
received me patronizingly, and I understood the simple souls at
once. Monsieur (as I shall call him, as names are unsafe) was
unapproachable, and took no pains to conceal his dislike of
governesses. The cousin was lovely, but detestable with her pride,
her coldness, and her very visible adoration of Monsieur, who let
her worship him, like an inanimate idol as he is. I hated them both,
of course, and in return for their insolence shall torment her with
jealousy, and teach him how to woo a woman by making his heart ache.
They are an intensely proud family, but I can humble them all, I
think, by captivating the sons, and when they have committed
themselves, cast them off, and marry the old uncle, whose title
takes my fancy.”
“She never wrote that! It is impossible. A woman could not do it,” cried Lucia indignantly, while Bella sat bewildered and Mrs. Coventry supported herself with salts and fan. Coventry went to his brother, examined the writing, and returned to his seat, saying, in a tone of suppressed wrath, “She did write it. I posted some of those letters myself. Go on, Ned.”
“I made myself useful and agreeable to the amiable ones, and
overheard the chat of the lovers. It did not suit me, so I fainted
away to stop it, and excite interest in the provoking pair. I
thought I had succeeded, but Monsieur suspected me and showed me
that he did. I forgot my meek role and gave him a stage look. It had
a good effect, and I shall try it again. The man is well worth
winning, but I prefer the title, and as the uncle is a hale,
handsome gentleman, I can’t wait for him to die, though Monsieur is
very charming, with his elegant languor, and his heart so fast
asleep no woman has had power to wake it yet. I told my story, and
they believed it, though I had the audacity to say I was but
nineteen, to talk Scotch, and bashfully confess that Sydney wished
to marry me. Monsieur knows S. and evidently suspects something. I
must watch him and keep the truth from him, if possible.
“I was very miserable that night when I got alone. Something in the
atmosphere of this happy home made me wish I was anything but what I
am. As I sat there trying to pluck up my spirits, I thought of the
days when I was lovely and young, good and gay. My glass showed me
an old woman of thirty, for my false locks were off, my paint gone,
and my face was without its mask. Bah! how I hate sentiment! I drank
your health from your own little flask, and went to bed to dream
that I was playing Lady Tartuffe—as I am. Adieu, more soon.”
No one spoke as Edward paused, and taking up another letter, he read on:
“My Dear Creature:
“All goes well. Next day I began my task, and having caught a hint
of the character of each, tried my power over them. Early in the
morning I ran over to see the Hall. Approved of it highly, and took
the first step toward becoming its mistress, by piquing the
curiosity and flattering the pride of its master. His estate is his
idol; I praised it with a few artless compliments to himself, and he
was charmed. The cadet of the family adores horses. I risked my neck
to pet his beast, and he was charmed. The little girl is romantic
about flowers; I made a posy and was sentimental, and she was
charmed. The fair icicle loves her departed mamma, I had raptures
over an old picture, and she thawed. Monsieur is used to being
worshipped. I took no notice of him, and by the natural perversity
of human nature, he began to take notice of me. He likes music; I
sang, and stopped when he’d listened long enough to want more. He is
lazily fond of being amused; I showed him my skill, but refused to
exert it in his behalf. In short, I gave him no peace till he began
to wake up. In order to get rid of the boy, I fascinated him, and he
was sent away. Poor lad, I rather liked him, and if the title had
been nearer would have married him.
“Many thanks for the honor.” And Edward’s lip curled with intense scorn. But Gerald sat like a statue, his teeth set, his eyes fiery, his brows bent, waiting for the end.
“The passionate boy nearly killed his brother, but I turned the
affair to good account, and bewitched Monsieur by playing nurse,
till Vashti (the icicle) interfered. Then I enacted injured virtue,
and kept out of his way, knowing that he would miss me, I mystified
him about S. by sending a letter where S. would not get it, and got
up all manner of soft scenes to win this proud creature. I get on
well and meanwhile privately fascinate Sir J. by being daughterly
and devoted. He is a worthy old man, simple as a child, honest as
the day, and generous as a prince. I shall be a happy woman if I win
him, and you shall share my good fortune; so wish me success.