In this ironical manner she treated the title-tattle of the envious and malicious; but, driving to Madame Le Brun's, she met her niece, just arrived before her, from circulating her scandalous tale: a malignant joy danced in her eyes, though she was a little confused when she saw the Marchioness. 'I beg the favour of speaking to you Mademoiselle' said the Lady; and taking her seat, 'I find I am to thank you for presuming to propagate reports to the disadvantage of my relation: you would do well to recollect, Mademoiselle there is no character so truly despicable as the slanderer and tale bearer; you should also be well informed of the facts you relate, and of their origin in truth, before you asperse characters, or subject yourself to the mortification of being disappointed in your views, and of having the calumny retorted on yourself.' 'What views do you mean, madam, - what is it to me whether Miss Weimar is the runway niece of Mr Weimar, or not?' 'Your views,' answered the Marchioness, 'are pretty evident; but permit me to observe the Count De Bouville's esteem will never be obtained at the expence of veracity and generosity, and it would have been more becoming a young lady of liberal sentiments, in at least a doubtful case, to have suspended her judgement and have inclined to the good-natured side of the question; but I am now to inform you the whole tale you have, with so much avidity, related, is false; that Miss Weimar is as irreproachable as she is beautiful, and in a short time the Marquis will severely punish and expose those who dare assert any thing to the prejudice of that young lady you will do well, Mademoiselle, to profit by the information.' Saying this, she arose, with a look of contempt, and returned to her carriage.
When she met the Marquis at dinner she repeated what she had heard, and her behaviour in consequence. The Marquis applauded her proceedings.
'When I left you this morning,' said he, 'crossing the street St Honore, I met Monsieur Du Versac, with another gentleman. "This is the Marquis De Melfort," said he, and immediately added, "permit me to introduce to your Lordship, Mr Weimar; we were going to your hotel." "Has Mr Weimar any business, Sir, with me." "I have, Sir," he replied, in a very calm tone of voice; "I had the pleasure to wait on the Marchioness, but there was a misunderstanding took place." "Suppose we step home to my house," said Du Versac. We agreed so to do. When seated, "Now, Sir," addressing Mr Weimar, "I am prepared to hear whatever you please to say." He then began a long story of taking Matilda from her infancy, after the death of her father and mother; the tenderness he had treated her with, the education he had given her, his design of giving her his moderate fortune; mentioned a variety of circumstances to prove his affection, and her subsequent flight with Albert, taking a horse from his stable, and deceiving him with false pretences. As her uncle, he had a right to claim her: her behaviour to him made her undeserving protection, but duty to his deceased brother called upon him to protect his child; and he would therefore forgive the error she had been drawn into, and receive her as kindly as ever. When he stopt, I replied, "Sir, there is much plausibility, also, I believe, great truth in what you have related: you must not be offended if I also state facts exactly as Miss Weimar has related them to us." I repeated her story; when I came to the circumstance of the conversation between him and Agatha in the summer-house, he started and turned pale, but quickly recovered. I added, that meeting accidentally with a relation of mine, she was recommended to our house as an asylum, which it was my determination to afford her, and I should suppose no uncle of hers could object to her situation with the Marchioness, who was desirous of considering her as an adopted daughter. "I am no longer at a loss to account for her conduct," replied he; "and so far from blaming, I must applaud her adherence to those ideas of virtue and propriety I had always inculcated in her mind; but she ought not to have taken up things lightly, nor have proceeded to such lengths upon hearing imperfectly a desultory conversation which, if she had heard the whole, and its true meaning, she would have formed a very different judgement of; therefore, at the same time I applaud her discretion, I blame her precipitant decision: however, my Lord, I beg the favor of seeing my niece alone for an hour in your house, before I take any steps equally as disagreeable to myself as to her and your family. I told him I would consult Miss Weimar, without the least interference on my part, and transmit to him this evening her answer.'
'This is indeed a very complex piece of business,' replied the Marchioness, 'but I really think she ought to see him, and I shall conceive it no breach of honor to be within hearing of their conversation; for although not a shadow of a doubt remains with me concerning her truth and innocence, yet I wish to have an investigation of the affair, that I may openly assert both, from a thorough conviction of it.'
When dinner was over she went to Matilda's apartment. She was infinitely better, and proposed getting up in the evening. After a thousand expressions of kindness and assurances of protection, she mentioned the meeting between Mr Weimar and the Marquis, related the conversation that took place, and his wish to see her.
Matilda clasped her hands, 'Oh! I cannot, cannot see him! I could not be mistaken. His words, - his actions previous to the scene I overheard in the summer-house, leaves no doubts upon my mind; yet I ought not, I cannot involve my benefactors in trouble: instruct me, tell me, dearest madam, what I ought to do, and that I will do, - your opinion shall decide for me.' 'Why then, my dear Miss Weimar, I think you had best hear what he has to say.' 'Not alone, madam.' 'Mr Weimar is desirous of being alone with you.' 'No, my dearest lady, that cannot be; let me entreat the favor of your supporting presence.' 'Since you are so desirous of it,' said the Marchioness, 'and think you can see him to-morrow, I will appoint him to attend you in the library, the closet adjoining having a very thin partition, I can distinctly hear your conversation, and he will then have no restraint on his words or behaviour.'
This plan being adopted, a note was dispatched by the Marquis to Mr Weimar, signifying that the young lady would be glad to see him the next day, at twelve, if her health would permit.
Poor Matilda dreaded the interview, and the power he might exert over her, yet it was a justice due to her character and friends, that she should confront him; she therefore endeavoured to reconcile herself to the meeting, though she knew it would be extremely painful to her.
Mademoiselle De Bouville payed her a visit in the evening: she was sitting up, and, from the quantity of blood taken from her in the morning, and the little hectic which the fever occasioned, she looked uncommonly delicate and beautiful. After saluting her in the most affectionate manner, she said, 'I am charged with a thousand compliments from my brother; he has been extremely uneasy but if he was to see you this evening, I think he would have but little cause for it; - without any flattery, my dear Miss Weimar, you look quite enchanting.'
Matilda smiled, but it was not a smile of pleasure. Ah! thought she, if the Count, if Mademoiselle De Bouville knew me, for what I am, a poor dependant, without friends of family - I should have few pretensions to their notice.
Adelaide took notice of her dejection, - 'Come, my sweet friend, recover your spirits. My brother will be anxious for my return; you must enable me to give a good report, if you are desirous he should have rest to-night.' 'If I am desirous,' replied poor Matilda; 'is there any thing I more sincerely wish than happiness to you and your amiable brother?' 'Well then,' answered Adelaide, 'you must make haste to be well.' 'You are very obliging,' returned Matilda; 'I am much better, and should be very ungrateful to my friends if I did not exert myself against trifling indispositions.'
Adelaide surveyed her with admiration and compassion, her generosity felt an increase of affection from the knowledge of her misfortunes, though she was cautious not to drop a word that might give the other any suspicion that she was acquainted with them.
They parted at night with mutual reluctance, and Matilda endeavoured to compose her spirits for the dreaded interview that was to take place the following day.
When the Marchioness entered her apartment next morning she found her dressing, and much better, which gave her great satisfaction: she encouraged and applauded the resolution she had assumed; but when the time came, and the name of Mr Weimar was brought in, she could scarcely keep from fainting. The Marchioness retired