“I have remarked how ardently you are longing after freedom. St. Simon cannot honourably effect it; and a soldier’s honour, William, should be dearer far to him than life.”
“I know you feel the sentiment, and I am convinced that it guides your acts, my brother.”
“I hope so, Nina.”
“And surely it should guide mine—a soldier’s wife—a soldier’s orphan. I never told you my short history, William.”
“No, dear Nina.”
“I am the daughter of a sous-lieutenant, who was killed in the Low Countries while I was yet a baby. Dying, he committed me to a comrade’s care; and faithfully that comrade discharged what he considered a sacred duty. I was tenderly nursed when young, and when I was old enough, placed as a boarder in a convent. At fifteen, my benefactor’s sister, with whom I had resided for the two preceding years, died suddenly. I was thus left, to a certain extent, without protection; and Captain St. Simon offered me the only one a man can give—the sacred one of husband. In our marriage, love could not have had aught to do. He was fifty; I, fifteen. He, for honourable motives had offered to make me his, and I, through gratitude, consented. Five years have passed. All the happiness which could be expected from a union so unequal in point of years, has been mine. If I said I were happy as a wife, I should say what was untrue. But am I not the consort of a brave old man, the mother of a child, in whom all my love is centered?”
“And with these objects of affection, Nina, you must be happy.”
“I was,” she answered, with a sigh.
“Was? Nina. Nay, nay, you are.”
“No, William; strong in gratitude to my husband. I feel a woman’s weakness in the heart, and love and duty by turns obtain its mastery. William, neither you nor I have yet seen two-and-twenty summers; and at that age, friendship is too close akin to love to be encouraged. My husband dare not assist you to escape—I dare, and will. Prudence tells us to separate; and the act that would sully the honest reputation of the old soldier, is not dishonourable in his wife. Yes—it shall be done. I have already devised means for your deliverance, and when my plan is fully matured, you shall know all. Farewell. Let us not meet in future but in my husband’s presence.” She stooped her cheek to me, I kissed it, next moment she quitted the supper-room, and I returned to my chamber, to marvel how much strength and weakness, principle and passion, can be united in a woman’s heart!