I was very nearly twenty, now; Mabel, ten.  There was still time to redeem the past, and carry out all my frustrated intentions, after the expiration of one year of abeyance and exile.  Yes!  I would “stand and wait,” trusting so “to serve.”

LIFE AT “LESDERNIER."

    “Break the dance and scatter the song,
        Some depart, and some remain;
    These beyond heaven are borne along,
        Others the bonds of earth retain.”

SHELLEY.

PART II.

LIFE AT “LESDERNIER."

AN INTERLUDE.

I purpose here to give only a brief sketch of my sojourn under the roof of the La Vignes.  In another book, and at another time, when some that now live shall have passed away, or years shall have made dim the memory of results rather than events (for until then the last must continue, with their causes, to be mysteries), I may unfold the tissues of a dire tragedy enacted, by some strange providence, under my peculiar view alone, and thus inexplicable to others.

Of this no more, not even a hint, at present; lest, dropping the substance for the shadow, the reader should cease to find interest where I most wish to concentrate it for a season.  The heroine so far of my own story, I cannot yet voluntarily relinquish the privilege of sympathy, so dear to the narrator of adventure, though I did, indeed, for a time forget my own identity in the dark shadow, the mysterious crimes, the unprecedented and speedy retributions that followed quickly on the heels of guilt at Beauseincourt.

The picturesque old place, with its quaint French name and architecture and antique furniture, did truly at first enchant my fancy (which learned to shudder at its aspect later), as did, in the beginning, the contiguous estates of “Bellevue” with its exquisite grounds, fountains, and white-stuccoed mansion closely simulating the finest Italian marble.  Later, in accordance with the law of associations, this, too, became as sorrowful in my sight as was the Hall of Vathek to those who mingled in its mournful yet magnificent pageantry.

The denizens of this lonely abode were a most interesting couple.  Still young comparatively, virtually childless, and bearing the name (also a Huguenot appellation) of “Favraud” the husband was bright, intelligent, frivolous—­the wife, an invalid of rare loveliness and sweetness of character, who seldom emerged from her solitude.  Both were perfectly well bred.

These were relatives of Colonel La Vigne, whose son Walter was the residuary legatee of Bellevue, with but one imbecile life, after that of Madame Favraud, between him and enormous wealth.  Great intimacy existed between the families, although from circumstances—­nameless here—­the ladies seldom met, and never at Bellevue.