A Secret Inheritance. Volume 1 of 3

"Aspiring to win her, you would win her worthily?"

"It shall be my endeavour."

"I do not say she is easily swayed, but she is simple and confiding. She must have time to question her heart."

"What is it you demand of me?"

"That you should not woo her hastily. I am her father and her natural guardian. It would not be difficult for me to keep you and her apart."

"Do you contemplate an act so cruel?"

"Not at the present moment seriously, but it has suggested itself to me as the best safeguard I could adopt to save an inexperienced child from possible unhappiness."

"She would suffer."

"Less now than at some future time, when what is at present a transient feeling may become a faith, from which to tear her then would be to tear her heartstrings. You are, or would be, her lover; I am her father. Were you in my place and I in yours, you would act towards me as I am acting towards you. I repeat, you are a stranger among us; you must give us time to know more of you before I can take you by the hand and welcome you as a son. You must give my daughter time to know more of you before you ask her to take the most important step in a woman's life. It is in my power to-day to make my conditions absolute, and I intend to use my power.

"You require a guarantee from me?" I said.

"Yes."

"And if I give it, will it be the means of separating me from Lauretta?"

"No."

The fears which had begun to agitate me vanished. What guarantee could Doctor Louis demand which I would refuse to give, so long as I was permitted to enjoy Lauretta's society?

"State what you require," I said.

"I require a sacred promise from you, to be repeated when you are in full possession of your faculties, that, until the expiration of twelve months from this day, you will not seek to obtain from my daughter any direct or indirect pledge of love by which she will be likely to deem herself bound."

"On the understanding that I am a free agent to stay in Nerac or leave it, and that you will not, directly or indirectly, do anything to cause Lauretta and me to be separated, I give you the promise you demand."

"I am satisfied," said Doctor Louis.

"A moment," I said, a sudden vague suspicion disturbing me; "there is something forgotten."

"Name it."

"You will bind yourself not to use your parental authority over Lauretta to induce her to enter into an engagement with, or to marry, any other man than me."

"I willingly bind myself; my desire is that she shall be free to choose."

Those were the last words which passed between us on that occasion; and soon afterwards Doctor Louis left me to my musings. They were not entirely of a rosy hue. At first I was in a glow of happiness at what it seemed to me I had learnt from between the lines of Doctor Louis's utterances. If he had not had good reason to suppose that Lauretta loved me, he would not have sought the interview. What had been said was like a question asked and answered, a question upon which the happiness of my life depended. And it had been answered in my favour. Lauretta loved me! What other joys did the world contain for me? What others were needed? None. Blessed with Lauretta's love, all sources and founts of bliss were mine. It did not immediately occur to me that the probation of twelve months' delay before heart was joined to heart was a penance, or that there was danger in it. But certain words which Doctor Louis had uttered presently recurred to me with ominous significance: "My desire is that she shall be free to choose." To choose! Were there, then, others who aspired to win Lauretta? The thought was torture.

To debate the matter with myself in hot blood I felt would be unwise; therefore I schooled my mind to a calmer mood, and then proceeded to review the position in which I stood with respect to the being who was all the world to me.

It was not to be supposed that Lauretta had grown to womanhood without forming friendships and acquaintances, but I had seen nothing to lead to the belief that her heart had responded to love's call before I appeared. She was sweet and tender to all, but that it was in her nature to be, and I had allowed myself to be strangely self-deceived if the hope and the belief were false that in her bearing towards me there was a deeper, sweeter tenderness than she exhibited to others. That she was unconscious of this was cause for stronger hope. But did it exist, or was it simply the outcome of my own feelings which led the word of promise to my ear?

To arrive at a correct conclusion it was necessary that I should become better informed with respect to the social habits of Doctor Louis's family. I had been until this day confined to a sick room, but I was growing strong, and I had looked forward with tranquil satisfaction to the prospect of recovering my usual health by slow stages. This was no longer my desire. I must get well quickly; I would will myself into health and strength. I was sure that even now I could walk unaided. By a determined effort I rose to my feet, and advancing three or four steps forward, stood upright and unsupported. But I had overtaxed myself; nature asserted her power; I strove to retrace my steps to the chair, staggered, and would have fallen to the ground had it not been that a light form glided to my side and held me up. Lauretta's arm was round me.

"Shall I call my father?" she asked in alarm.

"No, no; do not speak, do not move; call no one; I shall be well in a moment. I was trying my strength."

"It was wrong of you," she said, in a tone of sweetest chiding. "Strength! You have none. Why, I could vanquish you!"

"You have done so, Lauretta."

She gazed at me in innocent surprise, and I equivocated by asking,

"You are not angry at my calling you Lauretta?"

"No, indeed," she replied; "I should feel strange if you called me by any other name. Lean on me, and I will guide you to your chair. You will not hurt me; I am stronger than you think."

Her touch, her voice with its note of exquisite sympathy, made me faint with happiness, I sank into the chair, and still retained her hand, which she did not withdraw from me.

"Do you feel better?"

"Much better, Lauretta, thanks to your sweet help. Remain with me a little while."

"Yes, I will. It was fortunate my father sent me to you, or you might have fallen to the ground with your rash experiment."

"Your father sent you to me, Lauretta?"

"Yes."

This proof of confidence, after what had passed between us, did wonders for me. A weight was lifted from my heart, a cloud from my eyes. I would prove myself worthy of his confidence.

"The colour has come back to your face," said Lauretta. "You are better."

"I am almost quite well, Lauretta. I have been so great a burden to you and your good parents that I thought it was time to give up my idle ways and show I was capable of waiting upon myself."

"It was very, very wrong of you," she repeated. "And as wrong to say you are a burden to us. It is almost as if you believed we thought you were. I must tell my dear mother to scold you."

"No, do not tell her, Lauretta; it might pain her. I did not mean what I said. Let it be a secret between us."

"A secret!" she exclaimed, raising her eyes to my face. "I never had one; but there is no harm in this."

"You have no secrets, Lauretta?"

"Not one," she replied, with guileless frankness; "and I will promise that my mother shall not chide you if you will promise not to try to force yourself into strength. The wisest and cleverest man cannot do that. But perhaps you are weary of us, and wish to run away?"

"I should be content to remain here for ever, Lauretta."

"Well, then," she said gaily, "be patient for a few days, and, as my dear father would say, do not be inconsistent." She uttered the last four words in playful imitation of her father's voice, and I was enchanted with this revealment of innocent lightness in her nature. "But I am losing sight of his admonition."

"He bade you do something?"