I mean to keep my counsel, and shall most
assuredly, irrespectively even of your request--which should, however,
of course, have weight with me--maintain a strict and cautious silence
upon this subject." Some little time longer they remained together, and Marston, buried in
strange thoughts, took his leave, and rode slowly back to Gray Forest. Months passed away--a year, and more--and though no new character
appeared upon the stage, the relations which had subsisted among the old
ones became, in some respects, very materially altered. A gradual and
disagreeable change came over Mademoiselle de Barras's manner; her
affectionate attentions to Mrs. Marston became less and less frequent;
nor was the change merely confined to this growing coldness; there was
something of a positive and still more unpleasant kind in the alteration
we have noted. There was a certain independence and carelessness,
conveyed in a hundred intangible but significant little incidents and
looks--a something which, without being open to formal rebuke or
remonstrance, yet bordered, in effect, upon impertinence, and even
insolence. This indescribable and provoking self-assertion, implied in
glances, tones, emphasis, and general bearing, surprised Mrs. Marston far
more than it irritated her. As often as she experienced one of these
studied slights or insinuated impertinences, she revolved in her own mind
all the incidents of their past intercourse, in the vain endeavor to
recollect some one among them which could possibly account for the
offensive change so manifest in the conduct of the young Frenchwoman. Mrs. Marston, although she sometimes rebuked these artful affronts by a
grave look, a cold tone, or a distant manner, yet had too much dignity to
engage in a petty warfare of annoyance, and had, in reality, no
substantial and well-defined ground of complaint against her, such as
would have warranted her either in taking the young lady herself to task,
or in bringing her conduct under the censure of Marston. One evening, it happened that Mrs. Marston and Mademoiselle de Barras had
been left alone together. After the supper-party had dispersed, they had
been for a long time silent. Mrs. Marston resolved to improve the
Tate-à-Tate, for the purpose of eliciting from mademoiselle an
explanation of her strange behavior. "Mademoiselle," said she, "I have lately observed a very marked change in
your conduct to me." "Indeed!" said the Frenchwoman. "Yes, mademoiselle; you must be yourself perfectly aware of that change;
it is a studied and intentional one," continued Mrs. Marston, in a gentle
but dignified tone. "Although I have felt some doubt as to whether it
were advisable, so long as you observe toward me the forms of external
respect, and punctually discharge the duties you have undertaken, to open
any discussion whatever upon the subject; yet I have thought it better
to give you a fair opportunity of explaining frankly, should you desire
to do so, the feelings and impressions under which you are acting." "Ah, you are very obliging, madame," said she, coolly. "It is quite clear, mademoiselle, that you have either misunderstood me,
or that you are dissatisfied with your situation among us: your conduct
cannot otherwise be accounted for," said Mrs. Marston, gravely. "My conduct--_ma foi!_ what conduct?" retorted the handsome Frenchwoman,
confidently, and with a disdainful glance. "If you question the fact, mademoiselle," said the elder lady, "it is
enough. Your ungracious manner and ungentle looks, I presume, arise from
what appears to you a sufficient and well-defined cause, of which,
however, I know nothing." "I really was not aware," said Mademoiselle de Barras, with a
supercilious smile, "that my looks and my manner were subjected to so
strict a criticism, or that it was my duty to regulate both according to
so nice and difficult a standard." "Well, mademoiselle," continued Mrs. Marston, "it is plain that whatever
may be the cause of your dissatisfaction, you are resolved against
confiding it to me. I only wish to know frankly from your own lips,
whether you have formed a wish to leave this situation. If so, I entreat
you to declare it freely." "You are very obliging, indeed, madame," said the pretty foreigner,
drily, "but I have no such wish, at least at present." "Very well, mademoiselle," replied Mrs. Marston, with gentle dignity; "I
regret your want of candor, on your own account. You would, I am sure, be
much happier, were you to deal frankly with me." "May I now have your permission, madame, to retire to my room?" asked
the French girl, rising, and making a low courtesy--"that is, if madame
has nothing further to censure." "Certainly, mademoiselle; I have nothing further to say," replied the
elder lady. The Frenchwoman made another and a deeper courtesy, and withdrew. Mrs.
Marston, however, heard, as she was designed to do, the young lady
tittering and whispering to herself, as she lighted her candle in the
hall. This scene mortified and grieved poor Mrs. Marston inexpressibly. She was little, if at all, accessible to emotions of anger and certainly,
none such mingled in the feelings with which she regarded Mademoiselle de
Barras. But she had found in this girl a companion, and even a confidante
in her melancholy solitude; she had believed her affectionate,
sympathetic, tender, and the disappointment was as bitter as unimagined. The annoyances which she was fated to receive from Mademoiselle de Barras
were destined, however, to grow in number and in magnitude. The
Frenchwoman sometimes took a fancy, for some unrevealed purpose, to talk
a good deal to Mrs. Marston, and on such occasions would persist,
notwithstanding that lady's marked reserve and discouragement, in
chatting away, as if she were conscious that her conversation was the
most welcome entertainment possible to her really unwilling auditor. No
one of their interviews did she ever suffer to close without in some way
or other suggesting or insinuating something mysterious and untold to the
prejudice of Mr. Marston. Those vague and intangible hints, the meaning
of which, for an instant legible and terrific, seemed in another moment
to dissolve and disappear, tortured Mrs. Marston like the intrusion of a
specter; and this, along with the portentous change, rather felt than
visible, in mademoiselle's conduct toward her, invested the beautiful
Frenchwoman, in the eyes of her former friend and patroness, with an
indefinable character that was not only repulsive but formidable.