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Hermione's choice in marriage seemed to be wholly left to herself. Mr. Leare told me, when I had that formidable talk with him dreaded by all aspirants to the hand of a man's daughter, that Hermione had too much good sense, self-respect and womanliness to give herself away to a man unworthy of her. "That she can love you, sir," he said, "is sufficient recommendation."
Indeed, these patriots had rendezvoused at a cabaret at the entrance of the village, and swarmed from its tables to intercept us. The ladies, they insisted, must alight and be examined. Mammy Chris was drawn out of the cart, looking as if her face had been rubbed in ashes: Mrs. Leare was nervously excited, Hermione went up to her, supported her and drew her bag of diamonds out of her hand.
"Miss Leare has plenty of sense and character," said my mother: "I do not think her mother's queer surroundings seem to affect her in any way. She moves among the Frenchmen, Poles and Italians of her mother's court like that lady Shakespeare or was it Spenser? wrote about among the fauns and satyrs. With all her American freedom she avoids improprieties by instinct.
They were firing down the street, and now I dare not." "Trust it to me, Miss Leare, and promise me to send for me if you have any more such errands. You must never run such risks again." "I have to be the man of the family," she answered, almost with an apologetic air. "Do not say that again. I shall come over three times a day while this thing lasts to see if you have any commissions."
Your education and the premium on your admittance to the office of the great man for whom you work have been my provision for you: the little property I have to leave must support your sisters. You cannot under such circumstances address Miss Leare. You must either go back at once to your work in England and forget this episode, or you may go out to America and see her father.
We alighted at last at old Monceaux, and walked about its solemn alleys. Sometimes Miss Leare talked sense, and talked it well. Those were exciting days in Paris.
There was not the smallest touch of vulgarity about her. The coarse readiness to accept publicity which distinguishes the underbred woman, whether in England or America, the desire to show off a foreign emancipation from what appear ridiculous French rules, were not in her. Yet she might have amused herself as she liked with complete impunity, for Mrs. Leare appeared to leave her entirely alone.
"No," she answered: "leave them to their fate. I dare not overload the cart, and I doubt whether those men with hungry eyes would let us take them. Mamma," she whispered, "has her diamonds." "You will get into the cart, Miss Leare?" I said as I saw her motioning to the old colored woman to take the place beside her mother.
All was cold and cheerless in the rooms. There were no servants. Mrs. Leare sat down; the old nurse bemoaned her rheumatism and her aching bones; Hermione, with the assistance of the concierge's wife, lighted a fire, made some tea and waited on her mother. For several days afterward she was very ill.
Farquhar, that will suit us exactly," cried Mrs. Leare. "Hermione, won't it be lovely if Mr. Farquhar takes care of us on the voyage? You will engage your passage won't you? in the same steamer as we do? No one was ever so good a squire of dames as your son, Captain Farquhar. Hermione and I shall never forget our obligations to him."
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