The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"Yes indeed; you may consider yourself most fortunate," added my uncle. "Considering the misfortune of your birth and your state of poverty and dependence, it is a match far beyond anything we have a right to expect for you. It will give me great pleasure to see you established at the head of Monsieur de Luynes' fine house before I leave Paris."

My resolution was taken in a moment. If Monsieur de Luynes' offer had come to me at the beginning of my residence in France, I should instantly have accepted it, and rejoiced in the opportunity of doing so. But my mind had changed. I know not how, but I was just as certain that Andrew had remained faithful to me as if he himself had told me, and being so assured, I would have suffered myself to be thrown into the fire rather than marry any one else. I waited till my uncle had done speaking, and then, with a calmness which amazed myself, I told him of my determination.

"Tut!" said he. "Let me hear no such girlish folly. You will do what I consider best for you, and take care you do it with a good grace or it will be the worse for you."

"Nay, do not be severe with Vevette," said my aunt. "All girls think it necessary to put on such airs and make such declarations. Leave her to me."

Left to my aunt I was, and I set myself to soften her heart toward me. I begged only to be allowed to remain single, promising to be guided by her in everything else—to perform any menial service, to work my fingers to the bone. All was in vain. My aunt laughed at my entreaties, considering them only as the wilfulness of a child; told me the time would come when I would thank her for not yielding to my folly. Finally losing patience, as I continued weeping, she let me feel the iron hand masked under the velvet glove. She told me in severe tones that my wilfulness was unbearable, and that unless I gave way and did what was thought best for me, I should be sent to that same Carmelite convent to be brought to my senses.

"We have wished to be kind to you," she added; "but there are means of subduing refractory girls which the good sisters well know how to practise, and of which you shall make trial if you are disobedient. Now go to your room, dry your eyes, and let me see you looking your best when Monsieur de Luynes comes this evening."

I had nothing for it but to comply. My resolution was fixed as ever. They might send me to the Carmelites, starve me, bury me alive if they would, but I would never marry—never! However, I thought best to temporize. The evening found me dressed, my aunt herself looking over my toilette and commending my docility.

"I thought you would see the propriety of giving way," said she; "and I am glad for your sake you have done so. You would not have liked to be shut up alone in the charnel-house of the convent, without light or food for twenty-four hours together, as happened to a cousin of my own who set herself up against her father's authority. No, it is much better to be in my salon than in the company of mouldy skeletons."

I held my tongue; but I could have said that I should have preferred the society of the mouldiest Carmelite ever buried in sackcloth to that of Monsieur de Luynes. The kind old man was very attentive to me, made many gallant speeches, and presented me with a magnificent box of bonbons and preserved fruits, containing also a beautiful pearl clasp. I almost wished I could have loved him, and indeed if my heart had not been full of another, I believe I should have married him, if only to escape from my present state of servitude. But there it was: I loved Andrew. I should always love him, and I could never marry any one else, whether I ever saw him again or not.

Under ordinary circumstances, I should never have been left alone with my intended bridegroom till after the ceremony; but my aunt had a great opinion of the discretion and goodness of Monsieur de Luynes, which indeed he well deserved. She also trusted a good deal, I fancy, to his powers of persuasion, for she allowed him more than once to remain tête-à-tête with me for an hour or two at a time in the little salon, while she entertained her visitors or gave audience to the tradespeople who were busied with my wedding outfit. On one of these occasions I took a desperate resolution and opened to Monsieur de Luynes my whole heart. Monsieur tried hard to shake me, promising me every sort of good, and even going so far as to hint that I should, in the course of nature, outlive him; and then, being a widow, I could go where I liked and do as I pleased.