THE DISCOVERY.
A little while before Florine made up her mind to atone for her shameful breach of confidence, Mother Bunch had returned from the factory, after accomplishing to the end her painful task.After a long interview with Angela, struck, like Agricola, with the ingenuous grace, sense, and goodness, with which the young girl was endowed, Mother Bunch had the courageous frankness to advise the smith to enter into this marriage.
The following scene took place whilst Florine, still occupied in reading the journal, had not yet taken the praiseworthy resolution of replacing it.It was ten o'clock at night.The workgirl, returned to Cardoville House, had just entered her chamber.Worn out by so many emotions, she had thrown herself into a chair.The deepest silence reigned in the house.It was now and then interrupted by the soughing of a high wind, which raged without and shook the trees in the garden.A single candle lighted the room, which was papered with dark green.That peculiar tint, and the hunchback's black dress, increased her apparent paleness.Seated in an arm-chair by the side of the fire, with her head resting upon her bosom, her hands crossed upon her knees, the work-girl's countenance was melancholy and resigned; on it was visible the austere satisfaction which is felt by the consciousness of a duty well performed.
Like all those who, brought up in the merciless school of misfortune, no longer exaggerate the sentiment of sorrow, too familiar and assiduous a guest to be treated as a stranger, Mother Bunch was incapable of long yielding to idle regrets and vain despair, with regard to what was already past.Beyond doubt, the blow had been sudden, dreadful;
doubtless it must leave a long and painful remembrance in the sufferer's soul; but it was soon to pass, as it were, into that chronic state of pain-durance, which had become almost an integral part of her life.And then this noble creature, so indulgent to fate, found still some consolations in the intensity of her bitter pain.She had been deeply touched by the marks of affection shown her by Angela, Agricola's intended: and she had felt a species of pride of the heart, in perceiving with what blind confidence, with what ineffable joy, the smith accepted the favorable presentiments which seemed to consecrate his happiness.
Mother Bunch also said to herself: "At least, henceforth I shall not be agitated by hopes, or rather by suppositions as ridiculous as they were senseless.Agricola's marriage puts a term to all the miserable reveries of my poor head."
Finally, she found a real and deep consolation in the certainty that she had been able to go through this terrible trial, and conceal from Agricola the love she felt for him.We know how formidable to this unfortunate being were those ideas of ridicule and shame, which she believed would attach to the discovery of her mad passion.After having remained for some time absorbed in thought, Mother Bunch rose, and advanced slowly towards the desk.
"My only recompense," said she, as she prepared the materials for writing, "will be to entrust the mute witness of my pains with this new grief.I shall at least have kept the promise that I made to myself.
Believing, from the bottom of my soul, that this girl is able to make Agricola happy, I told him so with the utmost sincerity.One day, a long time hence, when I shall read over these pages, I shall perhaps find in that a compensation for all that I now suffer."
So saying, she drew the box from the pigeon-hole.Not finding her manuscript, she uttered a cry of surprise; but, what was her alarm, when she perceived a letter to her address in the place of the journal! She became deadly pale; her knees trembled; she almost fainted away.But her increasing terror gave her a fictitious energy, and she had the strength to break the seal.A bank-note for five hundred francs fell from the letter on the table, and Mother Bunch read as follows:
"Mademoiselle,--There is something so original and amusing in reading in your memoirs the story of your love for Agricola, that it is impossible to resist the pleasure of acquainting him with the extent of it, of which he is doubtless ignorant, but to which he cannot fail to show himself sensible.Advantage will be taken to forward it to a multitude of other persons, who might, perhaps, otherwise be unfortunately deprived of the amusing contents of your diary.Should copies and extracts not be sufficient, we will have it printed, as one cannot too much diffuse such things.Some will weep--others will laugh--what appears superb to one set of people, will seem ridiculous to another, such is life--but your journal will surely make a great sensation.As you are capable of wishing to avoid your triumph, and as you were only covered with rags when you were received, out of charity into this house, where you wish to figure as the great lady, which does not suit your shape for more reasons than one, we enclose in the present five hundred francs to pay for your day-book, and prevent your being without resources, in case you should be modest enough to shrink from the congratulations which await you, certain to overwhelm you by to-morrow, for, at this hour, your journal is already in circulation.
"One of your brethren, "A REAL MOTHER BUNCH."
The vulgar, mocking, and insolent tone of this letter, which was purposely written in the character of a jealous lackey, dissatisfied with the admission of the unfortunate creature into the house, had been calculated with infernal skill and was sure to produce the effect intended.
"Oh, good heaven!" were the only words the unfortunate girl could pronounce, in her stupor and alarm.