The letter was addressed to “Mistress Lucy Routh, in the care of Mme. de St. Just,” and much as I shrank from opening it, I did so, as it might contain matters which concerned their son. And so it proved. The letter read:
“22 Jan'y 1760.
Dear Lucy,—I send this, trusting to the courtesy of General Murray that it may reach your hands safely. I was so suddenly called away that there was much left unsaid when we parted, and there has been no time for personal matters since. In the event of anything happening to me, I wish you to impress on Christopher that Mr. Drummond, the banker of Charing Cross, holds in trust a small sum deposited there for me by my cousin, the late Lady Jane Drummond. I have placed my will in the hands of M. de Vaudreuil, and whichever way things fall out, this will serve as a receipt, and insure its delivery. I would be glad to know of your well-being.
Hugh Maxwell.”
I sent for Christopher, who was not with us but stationed at the General Hospital with others of his regiment, and made known the matter to him, and through the general he sent to his father his acknowledgments and the news of Lucy's death.
I was pleased at the consideration of which the letter was proof, and it was a satisfaction to hear Archie's acknowledgment of Hugh's charm; but beyond this the letter awoke in me no farther feeling, and I was surprised to find I could look at his writing and read his words with so little emotion. The truth is, I was living in a new world; the discovery of my brother's love, the revelation of Mme. de Sarennes's affection towards me, had gone far to fill the hunger and emptiness of my life, and the old spell which had so long dominated every thought and aspiration was no longer paramount. Then, too, the long strain of feverish hope and unrest, the disappointments and dangers, through which I had passed, had rendered me peculiarly sensible to the charm of the quiet convent life by which I was surrounded. Therein I found work into which I threw myself with ardour, and was encouraged by the Superior towards that way of peace upon which the convent doors gave entrance. Could I once determine to cut myself free from the unrest and struggle of the world, I felt that before me opened a life of usefulness which promised amends for all suffering and atonement for all error. My life had so far been lived for myself alone, and I saw about me women who had attained happiness through a complete sacrifice of self. Could I only be sure I had the strength, was not the same reward held out to me?
[CHAPTER XXV]
A FORLORN HOPE
Absorbed though I was in my work, I could not but mark what was passing between Angélique and Archie—how unconsciously my single-hearted brother was following her in that path in which the feeblest maid can lead the strongest of his sex.
Her imagination had been fired by the romance of his finding me, and the story of his early adventures found in her a skilful listener, who could extract every detail from his somewhat unwilling lips. His endeavours to catch her nimble wit as it flew, and the expression of awakening wonder on his face when he suspected her of nonsense, would many a time send us into peals of laughter. Even Mme. de Sarennes was interested, though she frankly professed nothing beyond an armed neutrality towards our hosts.