“Gaston! How dare you? I am not a child; I am a woman loyal to my heart's core! I know nothing of your fine distinctions which constitute 'a gentleman and a man of honour,' But I do know the feeling which made men charge almost single-handed on the English line at Culloden. I know, too, the feeling which made the humblest Highland mother give up the child of her heart, and wish she had twenty more, to die for her King and her Prince. Better—far, far better that my brother had died unpardoned but loyal! He died for me the day his hand signed that traitorous compact. God pity me! I have neither father, mother, nor brother left. I have naught but you,” she cried, as she buried her face on Lady Jane's shoulder, and shook with the storm of grief that swept over her. Lady Jane motioned us to leave, and we withdrew sorrowfully enough.
It was weeks before the poor girl recovered her old liveliness; but she could not combat against the natural elasticity of youth, though the struggle left its trace in a sudden maturity quite unlooked for. Her relation towards the Vicomte became visibly colder; and he, simple soul, instead of being spurred to greater effort, went blundering on in his direct childlike way, with but small effect, though warmly reinforced by Lady Jane.
All this time His Royal Highness Prince Charles was making no slight stir in Paris. He was in deep disgrace with the King, whom he treated with the most studied discourtesy. An unwelcome and dangerous intruder, he paid not the slightest attention to the repeated requests that he should leave the capital; he kept open house in his hotel on the Quai des Théatins, and appeared nightly at the Opera despite every consideration of good taste and breeding. And yet one-half Paris looked on and applauded, blaming the King for his inhospitality to this hero of a hundred flights.
I did my own prospects of advancement no small harm by allowing myself to accompany Margaret and Lady Jane to one of his levees, where he bestowed much fulsome flattery on me, though he took good care it should reflect on himself, for he never could pass over an occasion to shine before a woman—one of the weakest vanities that ever inflated the soul of man.
The Vicomte was much chagrined over our going, and inclined to lay the blame upon me.
“M. de Kirkconnel,” said he, addressing Margaret, “should know that such a proceeding is extremely injudicious when the Prince stands in such ambiguous relations towards the Court; especially when aware of my position towards you and my official duty in the present difficult negotiations with the Prince.”
“'M. de Kirkconnel,' as you style him,” retorted Margaret, with great spirit, “has only done his duty, M. le Vicomte, as 'a gentleman and a man of honour,' in accompanying two ladies to pay their respects to the son of their King—whatever may be his relations towards a time-serving government.”
“Tut, tut, Margaret!” broke in Lady Jane, “none of your hoity-toity airs? Gaston is perfectly right. I blame myself for not having thought of his position in the matter. We'll keep ourselves outside these delicate questions, for which women have too hot heads, until wiser ones settle them, one way or another.”
That Lady Jane was much displeased was evidenced by the strenuous efforts to procure me a captaincy which she put on foot again with renewed vigour, and, to tell the truth, I was not sorry, for I was beginning to find no little embarrassment in Margaret's unconscious revelation of her feelings towards me, and I was heartily sorry for the Vicomte as well.
Nothing came of Lady Jane's efforts, and now we all began to live a life of much discomfort. That the Vicomte disliked me was patent, and yet he would make no effective efforts to better his own position with Margaret; that Lady Jane was troubled at my presence was writ large on her expressive countenance, and yet she could not bear me to leave unless fittingly provided; and that Margaret, our Pearl of Great Price, was as cold to the Vicomte as she was affectionate to me I could not greatly, and all this to our common disquiet. The Vicomte sighed for possession, Lady Jane for the fulfilment of her plans, and I for the end of a situation that had become wellnigh impossible.