"Who was there to help me make it or to care if I made it at all? Now that you know the truth and see what Henry is and was, how could I be anything or do anything in such a milieu! You taunt me, you—who profess to have known nothing of the Archambault affair all these years!"
"I give you the word of honour, mademoiselle, I swear it to you—I knew nothing! Recollect—your brother never would admit a doctor, you were strong and healthy and much away from Clairville; of the child I only heard from those at Hawthorne and I did not connect what I did hear with either you or the seigneur, as he liked to call himself. These afflicted ones, these peculiar ones—Mme. Poussette kept the secret well. But two days ago he sent for me and told me everything; how he was properly married in the parish of Sault au Recollet to Artémise Archambault, she, the half-witted, the empty-headed—God knows whether that was the charm or what—and of the birth of the child, he told me. What could you expect from the union of two such natures? If you marry, mademoiselle, mate neither with a bad temper nor an unbridled thirst."
"Ah, be quiet, Dr. Renaud! You are the blunt well-wisher, I suppose, a type I detest! How can I help myself! I have chosen, and you know the Clairville character."
"Yes, I know, but count before you jump—'tis safer. Jesting aside, ma'amselle, and although I come from a death-bed I jest with a light heart as one who sees on the whole enough of life and never too much of death—you are still too young and too brilliant a woman to marry anything but well. But I have said, I have finished."
"And not too soon"—was Miss Clairville's inward thought, as with new fears pricking at her heart she kept silence, so unusual a thing with her that the garrulous Renaud observed it and endeavoured to correct his pessimism.
"Enough of Life and not too much of Death," he repeated, gaily flourishing his whip. "It has a queer sound, that, eh? But it is like this, ma'amselle; when I bring to life, when I usher into this world, I see the solemnity and the importance of life in front of me and I am sad; it makes me afraid. When I assist at the grave I am calm and happy, light-hearted even, because there our responsibility for one another ceases, so long as we keep the Masses going."
"The Masses! For their souls you mean, for his soul? How then—do you believe that, Dr. Renaud?"
"Eh? Believe—mademoiselle? Come, you take me at a disadvantage. Am I not a good Catholic then? Pardon me, but I never discuss these questions. Without the Church we should be much worse than we are, and faith—some of us are about as bad as we can be already."
Pauline, tired out, said no more, but leaning back fell into dreaming of her marriage and of the life before her. Her brother was gone, peacefully and honourably on the whole; of Angeel it was not necessary to think, and if Artémise were to remain at Clairville as its mistress, a very good way might be opened toward conciliating the neighbourhood and of managing the child for the future. The Archambaults would most likely all return, evict Mme. Natalie Poussette, who would return to her husband, and Clairville Manor again assume the lively air of a former period, with French retainers young and old overrunning the house and grounds.
Once more in thought Miss Clairville saw the culmination of her hopes all revolving around the interesting Hawtree, and once more she began in fancy to add to, sort over, and finally pack away the airy trousseau which must now be enriched by at least one sober black suit, hat and mourning veil.