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Updated: May 19, 2025
The world was shocked and clamorous for a matter of nine days, and then it forgot this foolish and awkward circumstance; but Just Trafford never forgot it. He remembered all vividly until the hour, a year later, when London journals announced that Hester Orval and her husband had gone down with a vessel wrecked upon the Alaskan and Canadian coast.
At this juncture a certain Father Bernard de Montgaillard, Abbot of Orval, of the Cistercian Order, came to the town. She flew to him, and besought him to rescue her; and this monk, enlightened by a truly divine spirit, understood that she was born to be a victim of expiation, to atone for the insults offered to the Holy Eucharist in churches.
Seems I shall have to call her `the Mystery, until she condescends to throw off this incognita business." "But we are sure to see her," interposed Orval Molyneux, the young poet. "She must go out sometimes, I suppose."
He saw the Indian frame her name upon his lips, and then came the words, "Hester Hester Orval!" He turned sternly, and said, "Who are you? What do you know of Hester Orval?" The Indian shook his head gravely, and replied, "You spoke her name, my brother." "I spoke one word of her name. You have spoken two." "One does not know what one speaks.
But there was one rebellious subject, and her name was Hester Orval. She was a wilful girl who had lived life selfishly within the lines of that decorous yet pleasant convention to which she was born. She was beautiful, she knew that, and royalty had graciously admitted it. She was warm-thoughted, and possessed the fatal strain of the artistic temperament.
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