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diff --git a/1621-h/1621-h.htm b/1621-h/1621-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0373807 --- /dev/null +++ b/1621-h/1621-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4754 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Miss Or Mrs.?, by Wilkie Collins + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss or Mrs.?, by Wilkie Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Miss or Mrs.? + +Author: Wilkie Collins + +Release Date: March 21, 2006 [EBook #1621] +Last Updated: September 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS OR MRS.? *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MISS OR MRS.? + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Wilkie Collins + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> FIRST SCENE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> SECOND SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> THIRD SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> FOURTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> FIFTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> SIXTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> SEVENTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> EIGHTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> NINTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> TENTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> ELEVENTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> TWELFTH SCENE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> DOCUMENTARY HINTS, IN CONCLUSION. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PERSONS OF THE STORY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sir Joseph Graybrooke. . . . . . . . . .(Knight) + Richard Turlington . . . . (Of the Levant Trade) + Launcelot Linzie . .(Of the College of Surgeons) + James Dicas. . . . . .(Of the Roll of Attorneys) + Thomas Wildfang. . . . . .(Superannuated Seaman) + Miss Graybrooke. . . . . . (Sir Joseph’s Sister) + Natalie. . . . . . . . . (Sir Joseph’s Daughter) + Lady Winwood . . . . . . . .(Sir Joseph’s Niece) + Amelia} Sophia}. (Lady Winwood’s Stepdaughter’s) + and Dorothea} + </pre> + <h4> + Period: THE PRESENT TIME. Place: ENGLAND. + </h4> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIRST SCENE + </h2> + <h3> + At Sea. + </h3> + <p> + The night had come to an end. The new-born day waited for its quickening + light in the silence that is never known on land—the silence before + sunrise, in a calm at sea. + </p> + <p> + Not a breath came from the dead air. Not a ripple stirred on the + motionless water. Nothing changed but the softly-growing light; nothing + moved but the lazy mist, curling up to meet the sun, its master, on the + eastward sea. By fine gradations, the airy veil of morning thinned in + substance as it rose—thinned, till there dawned through it in the + first rays of sunlight the tall white sails of a Schooner Yacht. + </p> + <p> + From stem to stern silence possessed the vessel—as silence possessed + the sea. + </p> + <p> + But one living creature was on deck—the man at the helm, dozing + peaceably with his arm over the useless tiller. Minute by minute the light + grew, and the heat grew with it; and still the helmsman slumbered, the + heavy sails hung noiseless, the quiet water lay sleeping against the + vessel’s sides. The whole orb of the sun was visible above the water-line, + when the first sound pierced its way through the morning silence. From far + off over the shining white ocean, the cry of a sea-bird reached the yacht + on a sudden out of the last airy circles of the waning mist. + </p> + <p> + The sleeper at the helm woke; looked up at the idle sails, and yawned in + sympathy with them; looked out at the sea on either side of him, and shook + his head obstinately at the superior obstinacy of the calm. + </p> + <p> + “Blow, my little breeze!” said the man, whistling the sailor’s invocation + to the wind softly between his teeth. “Blow, my little breeze!” + </p> + <p> + “How’s her head?” cried a bold and brassy voice, hailing the deck from the + cabin staircase. + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere you like, master; all round the compass.” + </p> + <p> + The voice was followed by the man. The owner of the yacht appeared on + deck. + </p> + <p> + Behold Richard Turlington, Esq., of the great Levant firm of Pizzituti, + Turlington & Branca! Aged eight-and-thirty; standing stiffly and + sturdily at a height of not more than five feet six—Mr. Turlington + presented to the view of his fellow-creatures a face of the perpendicular + order of human architecture. His forehead was a straight line, his upper + lip was another, his chin was the straightest and the longest line of all. + As he turned his swarthy countenance eastward, and shaded his light gray + eyes from the sun, his knotty hand plainly revealed that it had got him + his living by its own labor at one time or another in his life. Taken on + the whole, this was a man whom it might be easy to respect, but whom it + would be hard to love. Better company at the official desk than at the + social table. Morally and physically—if the expression may be + permitted—a man without a bend in him. + </p> + <p> + “A calm yesterday,” grumbled Richard Turlington, looking with stubborn + deliberation all round him. “And a calm to-day. Ha! next season I’ll have + the vessel fitted with engines. I hate this!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of the filthy coals, and the infernal vibration, and leave your + beautiful schooner as she is. We are out for a holiday. Let the wind and + the sea take a holiday too.” + </p> + <p> + Pronouncing those words of remonstrance, a slim, nimble, curly-headed + young gentleman joined Richard Turlington on deck, with his clothes under + his arm, his towels in his hand, and nothing on him but the night-gown in + which he had stepped out of his bed. + </p> + <p> + “Launcelot Linzie, you have been received on board my vessel in the + capacity of medical attendant on Miss Natalie Graybrooke, at her father’s + request. Keep your place, if you please. When I want your advice, I’ll ask + you for it.” Answering in those terms, the elder man fixed his colorless + gray eyes on the younger with an expression which added plainly, “There + won’t be room enough in this schooner much longer for me and for you.” + </p> + <p> + Launcelot Linzie had his reasons (apparently) for declining to let his + host offend him on any terms whatever. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” he rejoined, in a tone of satirical good humor. “It isn’t + easy to keep my place on board your vessel. I can’t help presuming to + enjoy myself as if I was the owner. The life is such a new one—to <i>me!</i> + It’s so delightfully easy, for instance, to wash yourself here. On shore + it’s a complicated question of jugs and basins and tubs; one is always in + danger of breaking something, or spoiling something. Here you have only to + jump out of bed, to run up on deck, and to do this!” + </p> + <p> + He turned, and scampered to the bows of the vessel. In one instant he was + out of his night-gown, in another he was on the bulwark, in a third he was + gamboling luxuriously in sixty fathoms of salt-water. + </p> + <p> + Turlington’s eyes followed him with a reluctant, uneasy attention as he + swam round the vessel, the only moving object in view. Turlington’s mind, + steady and slow in all its operations, set him a problem to be solved, on + given conditions, as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Launcelot Linzie is fifteen years younger than I am. Add to that, + Launcelot Linzie is Natalie Graybrooke’s cousin. Given those two + advantages—Query: Has he taken Natalie’s fancy?” + </p> + <p> + Turning that question slowly over and over in his mind, Richard Turlington + seated himself in a corner at the stern of the vessel. He was still at + work on the problem, when the young surgeon returned to his cabin to put + the finishing touches to his toilet. He had not reached the solution when + the steward appeared an hour later and said, “Breakfast is ready, sir!” + </p> + <p> + They were a party of five round the cabin table. + </p> + <p> + First, Sir Joseph Graybrooke. Inheritor of a handsome fortune made by his + father and his grandfather in trade. Mayor, twice elected, of a thriving + provincial town. Officially privileged, while holding that dignity, to + hand a silver trowel to a royal personage condescending to lay a first + stone of a charitable edifice. Knighted, accordingly, in honor of the + occasion. Worthy of the honor and worthy of the occasion. A type of his + eminently respectable class. Possessed of an amiable, rosy face, and soft, + silky white hair. Sound in his principles; tidy in his dress; blessed with + moderate politics and a good digestion—a harmless, healthy, spruce, + speckless, weak-minded old man. + </p> + <p> + Secondly, Miss Lavinia Graybrooke, Sir Joseph’s maiden sister. Personally, + Sir Joseph in petticoats. If you knew one you knew the other. + </p> + <p> + Thirdly, Miss Natalie Graybrooke—Sir Joseph’s only child. + </p> + <p> + She had inherited the personal appearance and the temperament of her + mother—dead many years since. There had been a mixture of Negro + blood and French blood in the late Lady Graybrooke’s family, settled + originally in Martinique. Natalie had her mother’s warm dusky color, her + mother’s superb black hair, and her mother’s melting, lazy, lovely brown + eyes. At fifteen years of age (dating from her last birthday) she + possessed the development of the bosom and limbs which in England is + rarely attained before twenty. Everything about the girl—except her + little rosy ears—was on a grand Amazonian scale. Her shapely hand + was long and large; her supple waist was the waist of a woman. The + indolent grace of all her movements had its motive power in an almost + masculine firmness of action and profusion of physical resource. This + remarkable bodily development was far from being accompanied by any + corresponding development of character. Natalie’s manner was the gentle, + innocent manner of a young girl. She had her father’s sweet temper + ingrafted on her mother’s variable Southern nature. She moved like a + goddess, and she laughed like a child. Signs of maturing too rapidly—of + outgrowing her strength, as the phrase went—had made their + appearance in Sir Joseph’s daughter during the spring. The family doctor + had suggested a sea-voyage, as a wise manner of employing the fine summer + months. Richard Turlington’s yacht was placed at her disposal, with + Richard Turlington himself included as one of the fixtures of the vessel. + With her father and her aunt to keep up round her the atmosphere of home—with + Cousin Launcelot (more commonly known as “Launce”) to carry out, if + necessary, the medical treatment prescribed by superior authority on shore—the + lovely invalid embarked on her summer cruise, and sprang up into a new + existence in the life-giving breezes of the sea. After two happy months of + lazy coasting round the shores of England, all that remained of Natalie’s + illness was represented by a delicious languor in her eyes, and an utter + inability to devote herself to anything which took the shape of a serious + occupation. As she sat at the cabin breakfast-table that morning, in her + quaintly-made sailing dress of old-fashioned nankeen—her inbred + childishness of manner contrasting delightfully with the blooming maturity + of her form—the man must have been trebly armed indeed in the modern + philosophy who could have denied that the first of a woman’s rights is the + right of being beautiful; and the foremost of a woman’s merits, the merit + of being young! + </p> + <p> + The other two persons present at the table were the two gentlemen who have + already appeared on the deck of the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “Not a breath of wind stirring!” said Richard Turlington. “The weather has + got a grudge against us. We have drifted about four or five miles in the + last eight-and-forty hours. You will never take another cruise with me—you + must be longing to get on shore.” + </p> + <p> + He addressed himself to Natalie; plainly eager to make himself agreeable + to the young lady—and plainly unsuccessful in producing any + impression on her. She made a civil answer; and looked at her tea-cup, + instead of looking at Richard Turlington. + </p> + <p> + “You might fancy yourself on shore at this moment,” said Launce. “The + vessel is as steady as a house, and the swing-table we are eating our + breakfast on is as even as your dining-room table at home.” + </p> + <p> + He too addressed himself to Natalie, but without betraying the anxiety to + please her which had been shown by the other. For all that, <i>he</i> + diverted the girl’s attention from her tea-cup; and <i>his</i> idea + instantly awakened a responsive idea in Natalie’s mind. + </p> + <p> + “It will be so strange on shore,” she said, “to find myself in a room that + never turns on one side, and to sit at a table that never tilts down to my + knees at one time, or rises up to my chin at another. How I shall miss the + wash of the water at my ear, and the ring of the bell on deck when I am + awake at night on land! No interest there in how the wind blows, or how + the sails are set. No asking your way of the sun, when you are lost, with + a little brass instrument and a morsel of pencil and paper. No delightful + wandering wherever the wind takes you, without the worry of planning + beforehand where you are to go. Oh how I shall miss the dear, changeable, + inconstant sea! And how sorry I am I’m not a man and a sailor!” + </p> + <p> + This to the guest admitted on board on sufferance, and not one word of it + addressed, even by chance, to the owner of the yacht! + </p> + <p> + Richard Turlington’s heavy eyebrows contracted with an unmistakable + expression of pain. + </p> + <p> + “If this calm weather holds,” he went on, addressing himself to Sir + Joseph, “I am afraid, Graybrooke, I shall not be able to bring you back to + the port we sailed from by the end of the week.” + </p> + <p> + “Whenever you like, Richard,” answered the old gentleman, resignedly. “Any + time will do for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Any time within reasonable limits, Joseph,” said Miss Lavinia, evidently + feeling that her brother was conceding too much. She spoke with Sir + Joseph’s amiable smile and Sir Joseph’s softly-pitched voice. Two twin + babies could hardly have been more like one another. + </p> + <p> + While these few words were being exchanged among the elders, a private + communication was in course of progress between the two young people under + the cabin table. Natalie’s smartly-slippered foot felt its way cautiously + inch by inch over the carpet till it touched Launce’s boot. Launce, + devouring his breakfast, instantly looked up from his plate, and then, at + a second touch from Natalie, looked down again in a violent hurry. After + pausing to make sure that she was not noticed, Natalie took up her knife. + Under a perfectly-acted pretense of toying with it absently, in the + character of a young lady absorbed in thought, she began dividing a morsel + of ham left on the edge of her plate, into six tiny pieces. Launce’s eye + looked in sidelong expectation at the divided and subdivided ham. He was + evidently waiting to see the collection of morsels put to some telegraphic + use, previously determined on between his neighbor and himself. + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile the talk proceeded among the other persons at the + breakfast-table. Miss Lavinia addressed herself to Launce. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, you careless boy, you gave me a fright this morning? I was + sleeping with my cabin window open, and I was awoke by an awful splash in + the water. I called for the stewardess. I declare I thought somebody had + fallen overboard!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph looked up briskly; his sister had accidentally touched on an + old association. + </p> + <p> + “Talk of falling overboard,” he began, “reminds me of an extraordinary + adventure—” + </p> + <p> + There Launce broke in, making his apologies. + </p> + <p> + “It shan’t occur again, Miss Lavinia,” he said. “To-morrow morning I’ll + oil myself all over, and slip into the water as silently as a seal.” + </p> + <p> + “Of an extraordinary adventure,” persisted Sir Joseph, “which happened to + me many years ago, when I was a young man. Lavinia?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and looked interrogatively at his sister. Miss Graybrooke + nodded her head responsively, and settled herself in her chair, as if + summoning her attention in anticipation of a coming demand on it. To + persons well acquainted with the brother and sister these proceedings were + ominous of an impending narrative, protracted to a formidable length. The + two always told a story in couples, and always differed with each other + about the facts, the sister politely contradicting the brother when it was + Sir Joseph’s story, and the brother politely contradicting the sister when + it was Miss Lavinia’s story. Separated one from the other, and thus + relieved of their own habitual interchange of contradiction, neither of + them had ever been known to attempt the relation of the simplest series of + events without breaking down. + </p> + <p> + “It was five years before I knew you, Richard,” proceeded Sir Joseph. + </p> + <p> + “Six years,” said Miss Graybrooke. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Lavinia.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Joseph, I have it down in my diary.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us waive the point.” (Sir Joseph invariably used this formula as a + means of at once conciliating his sister, and getting a fresh start for + his story.) “I was cruising off the Mersey in a Liverpool pilot-boat. I + had hired the boat in company with a friend of mine, formerly notorious in + London society, under the nickname (derived from the peculiar brown color + of his whiskers) of ‘Mahogany Dobbs.’” + </p> + <p> + “The color of his liveries, Joseph, not the color of his whiskers.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lavinia, you are thinking of ‘Sea-green Shaw,’ so called from the + extraordinary liveries he adopted for his servants in the year when he was + sheriff.” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Lavinia.” + </p> + <p> + Richard Turlington’s knotty fingers drummed impatiently on the table. He + looked toward Natalie. She was idly arranging her little morsels of ham in + a pattern on her plate. Launcelot Linzie, still more idly, was looking at + the pattern. Seeing what he saw now, Richard solved the problem which had + puzzled him on deck. It was simply impossible that Natalie’s fancy could + be really taken by such an empty-headed fool as that! + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph went on with his story: + </p> + <p> + “We were some ten or a dozen miles off the mouth of the Mersey—” + </p> + <p> + “Nautical miles, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn’t matter, Lavinia.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, brother, the late great and good Doctor Johnson said accuracy + ought always to be studied even in the most trifling things.” + </p> + <p> + “They were common miles, Lavinia.” + </p> + <p> + “They were nautical miles, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us waive the point. Mahogany Dobbs and I happened to be below in the + cabin, occupied—” + </p> + <p> + Here Sir Joseph paused (with his amiable smile) to consult his memory. + Miss Lavinia waited (with <i>her</i> amiable smile) for the coming + opportunity of setting her brother right. At the same moment Natalie laid + down her knife and softly touched Launce under the table. When she thus + claimed his attention the six pieces of ham were arranged as follows in + her plate: Two pieces were placed opposite each other, and four pieces + were ranged perpendicularly under them. Launce looked, and twice touched + Natalie under the table. Interpreted by the Code agreed on between the + two, the signal in the plate meant, “I must see you in private.” And + Launce’s double touch answered, “After breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph proceeded with his story. Natalie took up her knife again. + Another signal coming! + </p> + <p> + “We were both down in the cabin, occupied in finishing our dinner—” + </p> + <p> + “Just sitting down to lunch, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear! I ought to know.” + </p> + <p> + “I only repeat what I heard, brother. The last time you told the story, + you and your friend were sitting down to lunch.” + </p> + <p> + “We won’t particularize, Lavinia. Suppose we say occupied over a meal?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is of no more importance than that, Joseph, it would be surely + better to leave it out altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us waive the point. Well, we were suddenly alarmed by a shout on + deck, ‘Man over-board!’ We both rushed up the cabin stairs, naturally + under the impression that one of our crew had fallen into the sea: an + impression shared, I ought to add, by the man at the helm, who had given + the alarm.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph paused again. He was approaching one of the great dramatic + points in his story, and was naturally anxious to present it as + impressively as possible. He considered with himself, with his head a + little on one side. Miss Lavinia considered with <i>herself</i>, with <i>her</i> + head a little on one side. Natalie laid down her knife again, and again + touched Launce under the table. This time there were five pieces of ham + ranged longitudinally on the plate, with one piece immediately under them + at the center of the line. Interpreted by the Code, this signal indicated + two ominous words, “Bad news.” Launce looked significantly at the owner of + the yacht (meaning of the look, “Is he at the bottom of it?”). Natalie + frowned in reply (meaning of the frown, “Yes, he is”). Launce looked down + again into the plate. Natalie instantly pushed all the pieces of ham + together in a little heap (meaning of the heap, “No more to say”). + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Richard Turlington, turning sharply on Sir Joseph. “Get on + with your story. What next?” + </p> + <p> + Thus far he had not troubled himself to show even a decent pretense of + interest in his old friend’s perpetually-interrupted narrative. It was + only when Sir Joseph had reached his last sentence—intimating that + the man overboard might turn out in course of time not to be a man of the + pilot-boat’s crew—it was only then that Turlington sat up in his + chair, and showed signs of suddenly feeling a strong interest in the + progress of the story. + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph went on: + </p> + <p> + “As soon as we got on deck, we saw the man in the water, astern. Our + vessel was hove up in the wind, and the boat was lowered. The master and + one of the men took the oars. All told, our crew were seven in number. Two + away in the boat, a third at the helm, and, to my amazement, when I looked + round, the other four behind me making our number complete. At the same + moment Mahogany Dobbs, who was looking through a telescope, called out, + ‘Who the devil can he be? The man is floating on a hen-coop, and we have + got nothing of the sort on board this pilot-boat.’” + </p> + <p> + The one person present who happened to notice Richard Turlington’s face + when those words were pronounced was Launcelot Linzie. He—and he + alone—saw the Levant trader’s swarthy complexion fade slowly to a + livid ashen gray; his eyes the while fixing themselves on Sir Joseph + Graybrooke with a furtive glare in them like the glare in the eyes of a + wild beast. Apparently conscious that Launce was looking at him—though + he never turned his head Launce’s way—he laid his elbow on the + table, lifted his arm, and so rested his face on his hand, while the story + went on, as to screen it effectually from the young surgeon’s view. + </p> + <p> + “The man was brought on board,” proceeded Sir Joseph, “sure enough, with a + hen-coop—on which he had been found floating. The poor wretch was + blue with terror and exposure in the water; he fainted when we lifted him + on deck. When he came to himself he told us a horrible story. He was a + sick and destitute foreign seaman, and he had hidden himself in the hold + of an English vessel (bound to a port in his native country) which had + sailed from Liverpool that morning. He had been discovered, and brought + before the captain. The captain, a monster in human form, if ever there + was one yet—” + </p> + <p> + Before the next word of the sentence could pass Sir Joseph’s lips, + Turlington startled the little party in the cabin by springing suddenly to + his feet. + </p> + <p> + “The breeze!” he cried; “the breeze at last!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he wheeled round to the cabin door so as to turn his back on + his guests, and hailed the deck. + </p> + <p> + “Which way is the wind?” + </p> + <p> + “There is not a breath of wind, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Not the slightest movement in the vessel had been perceptible in the + cabin; not a sound had been audible indicating the rising of the breeze. + The owner of the yacht—accustomed to the sea, capable, if necessary, + of sailing his own vessel—had surely committed a strange mistake! He + turned again to his friends, and made his apologies with an excess of + polite regret far from characteristic of him at other times and under + other circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said to Sir Joseph, when he had got to the end of his excuses; + “I never heard such an interesting story in my life. Pray go on!” + </p> + <p> + The request was not an easy one to comply with. Sir Joseph’s ideas had + been thrown into confusion. Miss Lavinia’s contradictions (held in + reserve) had been scattered beyond recall. Both brother and sister were, + moreover, additionally hindered in recovering the control of their own + resources by the look and manner of their host. He alarmed, instead of + encouraging the two harmless old people, by fronting them almost fiercely, + with his elbows squared on the table, and his face expressive of a dogged + resolution to sit there and listen, if need be, for the rest of his life. + Launce was the person who set Sir Joseph going again. After first looking + attentively at Richard, he took his uncle straight back to the story by + means of a question, thus: + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say that the captain of the ship threw the man + overboard?” + </p> + <p> + “That is just what he did, Launce. The poor wretch was too ill to work his + passage. The captain declared he would have no idle foreign vagabond in + his ship to eat up the provisions of Englishmen who worked. With his own + hands he cast the hen-coop into the water, and (assisted by one of his + sailors) he threw the man after it, and told him to float back to + Liverpool with the evening tide.” + </p> + <p> + “A lie!” cried Turlington, addressing himself, not to Sir Joseph, but to + Launce. + </p> + <p> + “Are you acquainted with the circumstances?” asked Launce, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about the circumstances. I say, from my own experience, + that foreign sailors are even greater blackguards than English sailors. + The man had met with an accident, no doubt. The rest of his story was a + lie, and the object of it was to open Sir Joseph’s purse.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph mildly shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No lie, Richard. Witnesses proved that the man had spoken the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Witnesses? Pooh! More liars, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I went to the owners of the vessel,” pursued Sir Joseph. “I got from them + the names of the officers and the crew, and I waited, leaving the case in + the hands of the Liverpool police. The ship was wrecked at the mouth of + the Amazon, but the crew and the cargo were saved. The men belonging to + Liverpool came back. They were a bad set, I grant you. But they were + examined separately about the treatment of the foreign sailor, and they + all told the same story. They could give no account of their captain, nor + of the sailor who had been his accomplice in the crime, except that they + had not embarked in the ship which brought the rest of the crew to + England. Whatever may have become of the captain since, he certainly never + returned to Liverpool.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find out his name?” + </p> + <p> + The question was asked by Turlington. Even Sir Joseph, the least observant + of men, noticed that it was put with a perfectly unaccountable + irritability of manner. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry, Richard.” said the old gentleman. “What is there to be + angry about?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not angry—I’m only curious. <i>Did</i> + you find out who he was?” + </p> + <p> + “I did. His name was Goward. He was well known at Liverpool as a very + clever and a very dangerous man. Quite young at the time I am speaking of, + and a first-rate sailor; famous for taking command of unseaworthy ships + and vagabond crews. Report described him to me as having made considerable + sums of money in that way, for a man in his position; serving firms, you + know, with a bad name, and running all sorts of desperate risks. A sad + ruffian, Richard! More than once in trouble, on both sides of the + Atlantic, for acts of violence and cruelty. Dead, I dare say, long since.” + </p> + <p> + “Or possibly,” said Launce, “alive, under another name, and thriving in a + new way of life, with more desperate risks in it, of some other sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Are <i>you</i> acquainted with the circumstances?” asked Turlington, + retorting Launce’s question on him, with a harsh ring of defiance in his + brassy voice. + </p> + <p> + “What became of the poor foreign sailor, papa?” said Natalie, purposely + interrupting Launce before he could meet the question angrily asked of + him, by an angry reply. + </p> + <p> + “We made a subscription, and spoke to his consul, my dear. He went back to + his country, poor fellow, comfortably enough.” + </p> + <p> + “And there is an end of Sir Joseph’s story,” said Turlington, rising + noisily from his chair. “It’s a pity we haven’t got a literary man on + board—he would make a novel of it.” He looked up at the skylight as + he got on his feet. “Here is the breeze, this time,” he exclaimed, “and no + mistake!” + </p> + <p> + It was true. At last the breeze had come. The sails flapped, the main boom + swung over with a thump, and the stagnant water, stirred at last, bubbled + merrily past the vessel’s sides. + </p> + <p> + “Come on deck, Natalie, and get some fresh air,” said Miss Lavinia, + leading the way to the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + Natalie held up the skirt of her nankeen dress, and exhibited the purple + trimming torn away over an extent of some yards. + </p> + <p> + “Give me half an hour first, aunt, in my cabin,” she said, “to mend this.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia elevated her venerable eyebrows in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “You have done nothing but tear your dresses, my dear, since you have been + in Mr. Turlington’s yacht. Most extraordinary! I have torn none of mine + during the whole cruise.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie’s dark color deepened a shade. She laughed, a little uneasily. “I + am so awkward on board ship,” she replied, and turned away and shut + herself up in her cabin. + </p> + <p> + Richard Turlington produced his case of cigars. + </p> + <p> + “Now is the time,” he said to Sir Joseph, “for the best cigar of the day—the + cigar after breakfast. Come on deck.” + </p> + <p> + “You will join us, Launce?” said Sir Joseph. + </p> + <p> + “Give me half an hour first over my books,” Launce replied. “I mustn’t let + my medical knowledge get musty at sea, and I might not feel inclined to + study later in the day.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, my dear boy, quite right.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph patted his nephew approvingly on the shoulder. Launce turned + away on <i>his</i> side, and shut himself up in his cabin. + </p> + <p> + The other three ascended together to the deck. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Store-Room. + </h3> + <p> + Persons possessed of sluggish livers and tender hearts find two serious + drawbacks to the enjoyment of a cruise at sea. It is exceedingly difficult + to get enough walking exercise; and it is next to impossible (where + secrecy is an object) to make love without being found out. Reverting for + the moment to the latter difficulty only, life within the narrow and + populous limits of a vessel may be defined as essentially life in public. + From morning to night you are in your neighbor’s way, or your neighbor is + in your way. As a necessary result of these conditions, the rarest of + existing men may be defined as the man who is capable of stealing a kiss + at sea without discovery. An inbred capacity for stratagem of the finest + sort; inexhaustible inventive resources; patience which can flourish under + superhuman trials; presence of mind which can keep its balance + victoriously under every possible stress of emergency—these are some + of the qualifications which must accompany Love on a cruise, when Love + embarks in the character of a contraband commodity not duly entered on the + papers of the ship. + </p> + <p> + Having established a Code of Signals which enabled them to communicate + privately, while the eyes and ears of others were wide open on every side + of them, Natalie and Launce were next confronted by the more serious + difficulty of finding a means of meeting together at stolen interviews on + board the yacht. Possessing none of those precious moral qualifications + already enumerated as the qualifications of an accomplished lover at sea, + Launce had proved unequal to grapple with the obstacles in his way. Left + to her own inventive resources, Natalie had first suggested the young + surgeon’s medical studies as Launce’s unanswerable excuse for shutting + himself up at intervals in the lower regions, and had then hit on the + happy idea of tearing her trimmings, and condemning herself to repair her + own carelessness, as the all-sufficient reason for similar acts of + self-seclusion on her side. In this way the lovers contrived, while the + innocent ruling authorities were on deck, to meet privately below them, on + the neutral ground of the main cabin; and there, by previous arrangement + at the breakfast-table, they were about to meet privately now. + </p> + <p> + Natalie’s door was, as usual on these occasions, the first that opened; + for this sound reason, that Natalie’s quickness was the quickness to be + depended on in case of accident. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at the sky-light. There were the legs of the two gentlemen + and the skirts of her aunt visible (and stationary) on the lee side of the + deck. She advanced a few steps and listened. There was a pause in the + murmur of the voices above. She looked up again. One pair of legs (not her + father’s) had disappeared. Without an instant’s hesitation, Natalie darted + back to her own door, just in time to escape Richard Turlington descending + the cabin stairs. All he did was to go to one of the drawers under the + main-cabin book-case and to take out a map, ascending again immediately to + the deck. Natalie’s guilty conscience rushed instantly, nevertheless, to + the conclusion that Richard suspected her. When she showed herself for the + second time, instead of venturing into the cabin, she called across it in + a whisper, + </p> + <p> + “Launce!” + </p> + <p> + Launce appeared at his door. He was peremptorily checked before he could + cross the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t stir a step! Richard has been down in the cabin! Richard suspects + us!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Come out.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing will induce me, unless you can find some other place than the + cabin.” + </p> + <p> + Some other place? How easy to find it on land! How apparently impossible + at sea! There was the forecastle (full of men) at one end of the vessel. + There was the sail room (full of sails) at the other. There was the + ladies’ cabin (used as the ladies’ dressing-room; inaccessible, in that + capacity, to every male human being on board). Was there any disposable + inclosed space to be found amidships? On one side there were the sleeping + berths of the sailing-master and his mate (impossible to borrow <i>them</i>). + On the other side was the steward’s store-room. Launce considered for a + moment. The steward’s store-room was just the thing! + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked Natalie, as her lover made straight for a + closed door at the lower extremity of the main cabin. + </p> + <p> + “To speak to the steward, darling. Wait one moment, and you will see me + again.” + </p> + <p> + Launce opened the store-room door, and discovered, not the steward, but + his wife, who occupied the situation of stewardess on board the vessel. + The accident was, in this case, a lucky one. Having stolen several kisses + at sea, and having been discovered (in every case) either by the steward + or his wife, Launce felt no difficulty in prefacing his request to be + allowed the use of the room by the plainest allusion to his relations with + Natalie. He could count on the silence of the sympathizing authorities in + this region of the vessel, having wisely secured them as accomplices by + the usual persuasion of the pecuniary sort. Of the two, however, the + stewardess, as a woman, was the more likely to lend a ready ear to + Launce’s entreaties in his present emergency. After a faint show of + resistance, she consented, not only to leave the room, but to keep her + husband out of it, on the understanding that it was not to be occupied for + more than ten minutes. Launce made the signal to Natalie at one door, + while the stewardess went out by the other. In a moment more the lovers + were united in a private room. Is it necessary to say in what language the + proceedings were opened? Surely not! There is an inarticulate language of + the lips in use on these occasions in which we are all proficient, though + we sometimes forget it in later life. Natalie seated herself on a locker. + The tea, sugar, and spices were at her back, a side of bacon swung over + her head, and a net full of lemons dangled before her face. It might not + be roomy, but it was snug and comfortable. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose they call for the steward?” she suggested. (“Don’t, Launce!”) + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. We shall be safe enough if they do. The steward has only to + show himself on deck, and they will suspect nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Do be quiet, Launce! I have got dreadful news to tell you. And, besides, + my aunt will expect to see me with my braid sewn on again.” + </p> + <p> + She had brought her needle and thread with her. Whipping up the skirt of + her dress on her knee, she bent forward over it, and set herself + industriously to the repair of the torn trimming. In this position her + lithe figure showed charmingly its firm yet easy line. The needle, in her + dexterous brown fingers, flew through its work. The locker was a broad + one; Launce was able to seat himself partially behind her. In this + position who could have resisted the temptation to lift up her great knot + of broadly-plaited black hair, and to let the warm, dusky nape of her neck + disclose itself to view? Who, looking at it, could fail to revile the + senseless modern fashion of dressing the hair, which hides the double + beauty of form and color that nestles at the back of a woman’s neck? From + time to time, as the interview proceeded, Launce’s lips emphasized the + more important words occurring in his share of the conversation on the + soft, fragrant skin which the lifted hair let him see at intervals. In + Launce’s place, sir, you would have done it too. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Natalie, what is the news?” + </p> + <p> + “He has spoken to papa, Launce.” + </p> + <p> + “Richard Turlington?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “D—n him!” + </p> + <p> + Natalie started. A curse addressed to the back of your neck, instantly + followed by a blessing in the shape of a kiss, is a little trying when you + are not prepared for it. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t do that again, Launce! It was while you were on deck smoking, and + when I was supposed to be fast asleep. I opened the ventilator in my cabin + door, dear, and I heard every word they said. He waited till my aunt was + out of the way, and he had got papa all to himself, and then he began it + in that horrible, downright voice of his—‘Graybrooke! how much + longer am I to wait?’” + </p> + <p> + “Did he say that?” + </p> + <p> + “No more swearing, Launce! Those were the words. Papa didn’t understand + them. He only said (poor dear!)—‘Bless my soul, Richard, what do you + want?’ Richard soon explained himself. ‘Who could he be waiting for—but + Me?’ Papa said something about my being so young. Richard stopped his + mouth directly. ‘Girls were like fruit; some ripened soon, and some + ripened late. Some were women at twenty, and some were women at sixteen. + It was impossible to look at me, and not see that I was like a new being + after my two months at sea,’ and so on and so on. Papa behaved like an + angel. He still tried to put it off. ‘Plenty of time, Richard, plenty of + time.’ ‘Plenty of time for <i>her</i>’ (was the wretch’s answer to that); + ‘but not for <i>me</i>. Think of all I have to offer her’ (as if I cared + for his money!); ‘think how long I have looked upon her as growing up to + be my wife’ (growing up for <i>him</i>—monstrous!), ‘and don’t keep + me in a state of uncertainty, which it gets harder and harder for a man in + my position to endure!’ He was really quite eloquent. His voice trembled. + There is no doubt, dear, that he is very, very fond of me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you feel flattered by it, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense. I feel a little frightened at it, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Frightened? Did <i>you</i> notice him this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I? When?” + </p> + <p> + “When your father was telling that story about the man overboard.” + </p> + <p> + “No. What did he do? Tell me, Launce.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you directly. How did it all end last night? Did your father + make any sort of promise?” + </p> + <p> + “You know Richard’s way; Richard left him no other choice. Papa had to + promise before he was allowed to go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “To let Turlington marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the week after my next birthday.” + </p> + <p> + “The week after next Christmas-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Papa is to speak to me as soon as we are at home again, and my + married life is to begin with the New Year.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest, Natalie? Do you really mean to say it has gone as far + as that?” + </p> + <p> + “They have settled everything. The splendid establishment we are to set + up, the great income we are to have. I heard papa tell Richard that half + his fortune should go to me on my wedding-day. It was sickening to hear + how much they made of Money, and how little they thought of Love. What am + I to do, Launce?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s easily answered, my darling. In the first place, you are to make + up your mind not to marry Richard Turlington—” + </p> + <p> + “Do talk reasonably. You know I have done all I could. I have told papa + that I can think of Richard as a friend, but not as a husband. He only + laughs at me, and says, ‘Wait a little, and you will alter your opinion, + my dear.’ You see Richard is everything to him; Richard has always managed + his affairs, and has saved him from losing by bad speculations; Richard + has known me from the time when I was a child; Richard has a splendid + business, and quantities of money. Papa can’t even imagine that I can + resist Richard. I have tried my aunt; I have told her he is too old for + me. All she says is, ‘Look at your father; he was much older than your + mother, and what a happy marriage theirs was.’ Even if I said in so many + words, ‘I won’t marry Richard,’ what good would it do to us? Papa is the + best and dearest old man in the world; but oh, he is so fond of money! He + believes in nothing else. He would be furious—yes, kind as he is, he + would be furious—if I even hinted that I was fond of <i>you</i>. Any + man who proposed to marry me—if he couldn’t match the fortune that I + should bring him by a fortune of his own—would be a lunatic in + papa’s eyes. He wouldn’t think it necessary to answer him; he would ring + the bell, and have him shown out of the house. I am exaggerating nothing, + Launce; you know I am speaking the truth. There is no hope in the future—that + I can see—for either of us. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done, Natalie? I have something to say on my side if you have.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “If things go on as they are going on now, shall I tell you how it will + end? It will end in your being Turlington’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “So you say now; but you don’t know what may happen between this and + Christmas-day. Natalie, there is only one way of making sure that you will + never marry Richard. Marry <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Without papa’s consent?” + </p> + <p> + “Without saying a word to anybody till it’s done.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Launce! Launce!” + </p> + <p> + “My darling, every word you have said proves there is no other way. Think + of it, Natalie, think of it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Natalie dropped her needle and thread, and hid her face + in her hands. “If my poor mother was only alive,” she said; “if I only had + an elder sister to advise me, and to take my part.” + </p> + <p> + She was evidently hesitating. Launce took a man’s advantage of her + indecision. He pressed her without mercy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love me?” he whispered, with his lips close to her ear. + </p> + <p> + “You know I do, dearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Put it out of Richard’s power to part us, Natalie.” + </p> + <p> + “Part us? We are cousins: we have known each other since we were both + children. Even if he proposed parting us, papa wouldn’t allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mark my words, he <i>will</i> propose it. As for your father, Richard has + only to lift his finger and your father obeys him. My love, the happiness + of both our lives is at stake.” He wound his arm round her, and gently + drew her head back on his bosom, “Other girls have done it, darling,” he + pleaded, “why shouldn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + The effort to answer him was too much for her. She gave it up. A low sigh + fluttered through her lips. She nestled closer to him, and faintly closed + her eyes. The next instant she started up, trembling from head to foot, + and looked at the sky-light. Richard Turlington’s voice was suddenly + audible on deck exactly above them. + </p> + <p> + “Graybrooke, I want to say a word to you about Launcelot Linzie.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie’s first impulse was to fly to the door. Hearing Launce’s name on + Richard’s lips, she checked herself. Something in Richard’s tone roused in + her the curiosity which suspends fear. She waited, with her hand in + Launce’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “If you remember,” the brassy voice went on, “I doubted the wisdom of + taking him with us on this cruise. You didn’t agree with me, and, at your + express request, I gave way. I did wrong. Launcelot Linzie is a very + presuming young man.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph’s answer was accompanied by Sir Joseph’s mellow laugh. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Richard! Surely you are a little hard on Launce?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not an observant man, Graybrooke. I am. I see signs of his + presuming with all of us, and especially with Natalie. I don’t like the + manner in which he speaks to her and looks at her. He is unduly familiar; + he is insolently confidential. There must be a stop put to it. In my + position, my feelings ought to be regarded. I request you to check the + intimacy when we get on shore.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph’s next words were spoken more seriously. He expressed his + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Richard, they are cousins, they have been playmates from + childhood. How <i>can</i> you think of attaching the slightest importance + to anything that is said or done by poor Launce?” + </p> + <p> + There was a good-humored contempt in Sir Joseph’s reference to “poor + Launce” which jarred on his daughter. He might almost have been alluding + to some harmless domestic animal. Natalie’s color deepened. Her hand + pressed Launce’s hand gently. + </p> + <p> + Turlington still persisted. + </p> + <p> + “I must once more request—seriously request—that you will + check this growing intimacy. I don’t object to your asking him to the + house when you ask other friends. I only wish you (and expect you) to stop + his ‘dropping in,’ as it is called, any hour of the day or evening when he + may have nothing to do. Is that understood between us?” + </p> + <p> + “If you make a point of it, Richard, of course it’s understood between + us.” + </p> + <p> + Launce looked at Natalie, as weak Sir Joseph consented in those words. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + Natalie hung her head in silence. There was a pause in the conversation on + deck. The two gentlemen walked away slowly toward the forward part of the + vessel. + </p> + <p> + Launce pursued his advantage. + </p> + <p> + “Your father leaves us no alternative,” he said. “The door will be closed + against me as soon as we get on shore. If I lose you, Natalie, I don’t + care what becomes of me. My profession may go to the devil. I have nothing + left worth living for.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! don’t talk in that way!” + </p> + <p> + Launce tried the soothing influence of persuasion once more. + </p> + <p> + “Hundreds and hundreds of people in our situation have married privately—and + have been forgiven afterward,” he went on. “I won’t ask you to do anything + in a hurry. I will be guided entirely by your wishes. All I want to quiet + my mind is to know that you are mine. Do, do, do make me feel sure that + Richard Turlington can’t take you away from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t press me, Launce.” She dropped on the locker. “See!” she said. “It + makes me tremble only to think of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you afraid of, darling? Not your father, surely?” + </p> + <p> + “Poor papa! I wonder whether he would be hard on me for the first time in + his life?” She stopped; her moistening eyes looked up imploringly in + Launce’s face. “Don’t press me!” she repeated faintly. “You know it’s + wrong. We should have to confess it—and then what would happen?” She + paused again. Her eyes wandered nervously to the deck. Her voice dropped + to its lowest tones. “Think of Richard!” she said, and shuddered at the + terrors which that name conjured up. Before it was possible to say a + quieting word to her, she was again on her feet. Richard’s name had + suddenly recalled to her memory Launce’s mysterious allusion, at the + outset of the interview, to the owner of the yacht. “What was that you + said about Richard just now?” she asked. “You saw something (or heard + something) strange while papa was telling his story. What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed Richard’s face, Natalie, when your father told us that the man + overboard was not one of the pilot-boat’s crew. He turned ghastly pale. He + looked guilty—” + </p> + <p> + “Guilty? Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “He was present—I am certain of it—when the sailor was thrown + into the sea. For all I know, he may have been the man who did it.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie started back in horror. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Launce! Launce! that is too bad. You may not like Richard—you + may treat Richard as your enemy. But to say such a horrible thing of him + as that—It’s not generous. It’s not like <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had seen him, you would have said it too. I mean to make inquiries—in + your father’s interests as well as in ours. My brother knows one of the + Commissioners of Police, and my brother can get it done for me. Turlington + has not always been in the Levant trade—I know that already.” + </p> + <p> + “For shame, Launce! for shame!” + </p> + <p> + The footsteps on deck were audible coming back. Natalie sprang to the door + leading into the cabin. Launce stopped her, as she laid her hand on the + lock. The footsteps went straight on toward the stern of the vessel. + Launce clasped both arms round her. Natalie gave way. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t drive me to despair!” he said. “This is my last opportunity. I + don’t ask you to say at once that you will marry me, I only ask you to + think of it. My darling! my angel! will you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + As he put the question, they might have heard (if they had not been too + completely engrossed in each other to listen) the footsteps returning—one + pair of footsteps only this time. Natalie’s prolonged absence had begun to + surprise her aunt, and had roused a certain vague distrust in Richard’s + mind. He walked back again along the deck by himself. He looked absently + in the main cabin as he passed it. The store-room skylight came next. In + his present frame of mind, would he look absently into the store-room too? + </p> + <p> + “Let me go!” said Natalie. + </p> + <p> + Launce only answered, “Say yes,” and held her as if he would never let her + go again. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment Miss Lavinia’s voice rose shrill from the deck calling + for Natalie. There was but one way of getting free from him. She said, + “I’ll think of it.” Upon that, he kissed her and let her go. + </p> + <p> + The door had barely closed on her when the lowering face of Richard + Turlington appeared on a level with the side of the sky-light, looking + down into the store-room at Launce. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo!” he called out roughly. “What are you doing in the steward’s + room?” + </p> + <p> + Launce took up a box of matches on the dresser. “I’m getting a light,” he + answered readily. + </p> + <p> + “I allow nobody below, forward of the main cabin, without my leave. The + steward has permitted a breach of discipline on board my vessel. The + steward will leave my service.” + </p> + <p> + “The steward is not to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the judge of that. Not you.” + </p> + <p> + Launce opened his lips to reply. An outbreak between the two men appeared + to be inevitable, when the sailing-master of the yacht joined his employer + on deck, and directed Turlington’s attention to a question which is never + to be trifled with at sea, the question of wind and tide. + </p> + <p> + The yacht was then in the Bristol Channel, at the entrance to Bideford + Bay. The breeze, fast freshening, was also fast changing the direction + from which it blew. The favorable tide had barely three hours more to run. + </p> + <p> + “The wind’s shifting, sir,” said the sailing-master. “I’m afraid we shan’t + get round the point this tide, unless we lay her off on the other tack.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “There are letters waiting for me at Bideford,” he said. “We have lost two + days in the calm. I must send ashore to the post-office, whether we lose + the tide or not.” + </p> + <p> + The vessel held on her course. Off the port of Bideford, the boat was sent + ashore to the post-office, the yacht standing off and on, waiting the + appearance of the letters. In the shortest time in which it was possible + to bring them on board the letters were in Turlington’s hands. + </p> + <p> + The men were hauling the boat up to the davits, the yacht was already + heading off from the land, when Turlington startled everybody by one + peremptory word—“Stop!” + </p> + <p> + He had thrust all his letters but one into the pocket of his sailing + jacket, without reading them. The one letter which he had opened he held + in his closed hand. Rage was in his staring eyes, consternation was on his + pale lips. + </p> + <p> + “Lower the boat!” he shouted; “I must get to London to-night.” He stopped + Sir Joseph, approaching him with opened mouth. “There’s no time for + questions and answers. I must get back.” He swung himself over the side of + the yacht, and addressed the sailing-master from the boat. “Save the tide + if you can; if you can’t, put them ashore to-morrow at Minehead or Watchet—wherever + they like.” He beckoned to Sir Joseph to lean over the bulwark, and hear + something he had to say in private. “Remember what I told you about + Launcelot Linzie!” he whispered fiercely. His parting look was for + Natalie. He spoke to her with a strong constraint on himself, as gently as + he could. “Don’t be alarmed; I shall see you in London.” He seated himself + in the boat and took the tiller. The last words they heard him say were + words urging the men at the oars to lose no time. He was invariably brutal + with the men. “Pull, you lazy beggars!” he exclaimed, with an oath. “Pull + for your lives!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Money Market. + </h3> + <p> + Let us be serious.—Business! + </p> + <p> + The new scene plunges us head foremost into the affairs of the Levant + trading-house of Pizzituti, Turlington & Branca. What on earth do we + know about the Levant Trade? Courage! If we have ever known what it is to + want money we are perfectly familiar with the subject at starting. The + Levant Trade does occasionally get into difficulties.—Turlington + wanted money. + </p> + <p> + The letter which had been handed to him on board the yacht was from his + third partner, Mr. Branca, and was thus expressed: + </p> + <p> + “A crisis in the trade. All right, so far—except our business with + the small foreign firms. Bills to meet from those quarters, (say) forty + thousand pounds—and, I fear, no remittances to cover them. + Particulars stated in another letter addressed to you at Post-office, + Ilfracombe. I am quite broken down with anxiety, and confined to my bed. + Pizzituti is still detained at Smyrna. Come back at once.” + </p> + <p> + The same evening Turlington was at his office in Austin Friars, + investigating the state of affairs, with his head clerk to help him. + </p> + <p> + Stated briefly, the business of the firm was of the widely miscellaneous + sort. They plied a brisk trade in a vast variety of commodities. Nothing + came amiss to them, from Manchester cotton manufactures to Smyrna figs. + They had branch houses at Alexandria and Odessa, and correspondents here, + there, and everywhere, along the shores of the Mediterranean, and in the + ports of the East. These correspondents were the persons alluded to in Mr. + Branca’s letter as “small foreign firms;” and they had produced the + serious financial crisis in the affairs of the great house in Austin + Friars, which had hurried Turlington up to London. + </p> + <p> + Every one of these minor firms claimed and received the privilege of + drawing bills on Pizzituti, Turlington & Branca for amounts varying + from four to six thousand pounds—on no better security than a verbal + understanding that the money to pay the bills should be forwarded before + they fell due. Competition, it is needless to say, was at the bottom of + this insanely reckless system of trading. The native firms laid it down as + a rule that they would decline to transact business with any house in the + trade which refused to grant them their privilege. In the ease of + Turlington’s house, the foreign merchants had drawn their bills on him for + sums large in the aggregate, if not large in themselves; had long since + turned those bills into cash in their own markets, for their own + necessities; and had now left the money which their paper represented to + be paid by their London correspondents as it fell due. In some instances, + they had sent nothing but promises and excuses. In others, they had + forwarded drafts on firms which had failed already, or which were about to + fail, in the crisis. After first exhausting his resources in ready money, + Mr. Branca had provided for the more pressing necessities by pledging the + credit of the house, so far as he <i>could</i> pledge it without exciting + suspicion of the truth. This done, there were actually left, between that + time and Christmas, liabilities to be met to the extent of forty thousand + pounds, without a farthing in hand to pay that formidable debt. + </p> + <p> + After working through the night, this was the conclusion at which Richard + Turlington arrived, when the rising sun looked in at him through the + windows of his private room. + </p> + <p> + The whole force of the blow had fallen on <i>him</i>. The share of his + partners in the business was of the most trifling nature. The capital was + his, the risk was his. Personally and privately, <i>he</i> had to find the + money, or to confront the one other alternative—ruin. + </p> + <p> + How was the money to be found? + </p> + <p> + With his position in the City, he had only to go to the famous + money-lending and discounting house of Bulpit Brothers—reported to + “turn over” millions in their business every year—and to supply + himself at once with the necessary funds. Forty thousand pounds was a + trifling transaction to Bulpit Brothers. + </p> + <p> + Having got the money, how, in the present state of his trade, was the loan + to be paid back? + </p> + <p> + His thoughts reverted to his marriage with Natalie. + </p> + <p> + “Curious!” he said to himself, recalling his conversation with Sir Joseph + on board the yacht. “Graybrooke told me he would give his daughter half + his fortune on her marriage. Half Graybrooke’s fortune happens to be just + forty thousand pounds!” He took a turn in the room. No! It was impossible + to apply to Sir Joseph. Once shake Sir Joseph’s conviction of his + commercial solidity, and the marriage would be certainly deferred—if + not absolutely broken off. Sir Joseph’s fortune could be made available, + in the present emergency, in but one way—he might use it to repay + his debt. He had only to make the date at which the loan expired coincide + with the date of his marriage, and there was his father-in-law’s money at + his disposal, or at his wife’s disposal—which meant the same thing. + “It’s well I pressed Graybrooke about the marriage when I did!” he + thought. “I can borrow the money at a short date. In three months from + this Natalie will be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + He drove to his club to get breakfast, with his mind cleared, for the time + being, of all its anxieties but one. + </p> + <p> + Knowing where he could procure the loan, he was by no means equally sure + of being able to find the security on which he could borrow the money. + Living up to his income; having no expectations from any living creature; + possessing in landed property only some thirty or forty acres in + Somersetshire, with a quaint little dwelling, half farm house, + half-cottage, attached—he was incapable of providing the needful + security from his own personal resources. To appeal to wealthy friends in + the City would be to let those friends into the secret of his + embarrassments, and to put his credit in peril. He finished his breakfast, + and went back to Austin Friars—failing entirely, so far, to see how + he was to remove the last obstacle now left in his way. + </p> + <p> + The doors were open to the public; business had begun. He had not been ten + minutes in his room before the shipping-clerk knocked at the door and + interrupted him, still absorbed in his own anxious thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” he asked, irritably. + </p> + <p> + “Duplicate Bills of Lading, sir,” answered the clerk, placing the + documents on his ma ster’s table. + </p> + <p> + Found! There was the security on his writing-desk, staring him in the + face! He dismissed the clerk and examined the papers. + </p> + <p> + They contained an account of goods shipped to the London house on board + vessels sailing from Smyrna and Odessa, and they were signed by the + masters of the ships, who thereby acknowledged the receipt of the goods, + and undertook to deliver them safely to the persons owning them, as + directed. First copies of these papers had already been placed in the + possession of the London house. The duplicates had now followed, in case + of accident. Richard Turlington instantly determined to make the + duplicates serve as his security, keeping the first copies privately under + lock and key, to be used in obtaining possession of the goods at the + customary time. The fraud was a fraud in appearance only. The security was + a pure formality. His marriage would supply him with the funds needed for + repaying the money, and the profits of his business would provide, in + course of time, for restoring the dowry of his wife. It was simply a + question of preserving his credit by means which were legitimately at his + disposal. Within the lax limits of mercantile morality, Richard Turlington + had a conscience. He put on his hat and took his false security to the + money-lenders, without feeling at all lowered in his own estimation as an + honest man. + </p> + <p> + Bulpit Brothers, long desirous of having such a name as his on their + books, received him with open arms. The security (covering the amount + borrowed) was accepted as a matter of course. The money was lent, for + three months, with a stroke of the pen. Turlington stepped out again into + the street, and confronted the City of London in the character of the + noblest work of mercantile creation—a solvent man.* + </p> + <p> + The Fallen Angel, walking invisibly behind, in Richard’s shadow, flapped + his crippled wings in triumph. From that moment the Fallen Angel had got + him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It may not be amiss to remind the incredulous reader that + a famous firm in the City accepted precisely the same + security as that here accepted by Bulpit Brothers, with the + same sublime indifference to troubling themselves by making + any inquiry about it. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOURTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + Muswell Hill. + </h3> + <p> + The next day Turlington drove to the suburbs, on the chance of finding the + Graybrookes at home again. Sir Joseph disliked London, and could not + prevail on himself to live any nearer to the metropolis than Muswell Hill. + When Natalie wanted a change, and languished for balls, theaters, + flower-shows, and the like, she had a room especially reserved for her in + the house of Sir Joseph’s married sister, Mrs. Sancroft, living in that + central deep of the fashionable whirlpool known among mortals as Berkeley + Square. + </p> + <p> + On his way through the streets, Turlington encountered a plain proof that + the Graybrookes must have returned. He was passed by Launce, driving, in + company with a gentleman, in a cab. The gentleman was Launce’s brother, + and the two were on their way to the Commissioners of Police to make the + necessary arrangements for instituting an inquiry into Turlington’s early + life. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the gate of the villa, the information received only partially + fulfilled the visitor’s expectations. The family had returned on the + previous evening. Sir Joseph and his sister were at home, but Natalie was + away again already. She had driven into town to lunch with her aunt. + Turlington went into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Have you lost any money?” Those were the first words uttered by Sir + Joseph when he and Richard met again, after the parting on board the + yacht. + </p> + <p> + “Not a farthing. I might have lost seriously, if I had not got back in + time to set things straight. Stupidity on the part of my people left in + charge—nothing more. It’s all right now.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph lifted his eyes, with heartfelt devotion, to the ceiling. + “Thank God, Richard!” he said, in tones of the deepest feeling. He rang + the bell. “Tell Miss Graybrooke Mr. Turlington is here.” He turned again + to Richard. “Lavinia is like me—Lavinia has been so anxious about + you. We have both of us passed a sleepless night.” Miss Lavinia came in. + Sir Joseph hurried to meet her, and took her affectionately by both hands. + “My dear! the best of all good news, Richard has not lost a farthing.” + Miss Lavinia lifted <i>her</i> eyes to the ceiling with heartfelt + devotion, and said, “Thank God, Richard!”—like the echo of her + brother’s voice; a little late, perhaps, for its reputation as an echo, + but accurate to half a note in its perfect repetition of sound. + </p> + <p> + Turlington asked the question which it had been his one object to put in + paying his visit to Muswell Hill. + </p> + <p> + “Have you spoken to Natalie?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” replied Sir Joseph. “An opportunity offered itself after + breakfast. I took advantage of it, Richard—you shall hear how.” + </p> + <p> + He settled himself in his chair for one of his interminable stories; he + began his opening sentence—and stopped, struck dumb at the first + word. There was an unexpected obstacle in the way—his sister was not + attending to him; his sister had silenced him at starting. The story + touching, this time, on the question of marriage, Miss Lavinia had her + woman’s interest in seeing full justice done to the subject. She seized on + her brother’s narrative as on property in her own right. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph should have told you,” she began, addressing herself to + Turlington, “that our dear girl was unusually depressed in spirits this + morning. Quite in the right frame of mind for a little serious talk about + her future life. She ate nothing at breakfast, poor child, but a morsel of + dry toast.” + </p> + <p> + “And marmalade,” said Sir Joseph, striking in at the first opportunity. + The story, on this occasion, being Miss Lavinia’s story, the polite + contradictions necessary to its successful progress were naturally + transferred from the sister to the brother, and became contradictions on + Sir Joseph’s side. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Lavinia, gently, “if you <i>will</i> have it, Joseph—jam.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” persisted Sir Joseph; “marmalade.” + </p> + <p> + “What <i>does</i> it matter, brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Sister! the late great and good Doctor Johnson said accuracy ought always + to be studied even in the most trifling things.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>will</i> have your way, Joseph—“(this was the formula—answering + to Sir Joseph’s ‘Let us waive the point’—which Miss Lavinia used, as + a means of conciliating her brother, and getting a fresh start for her + story). “Well, we took dear Natalie out between us, after breakfast, for a + little walk in the grounds. My brother opened the subject with infinite + delicacy and tact. ‘Circumstances,’ he said, ‘into which it was not then + necessary to enter, made it very desirable, young as she was, to begin to + think of her establishment in life.’ And then he referred, Richard (so + nicely), to your faithful and devoted attachment—” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Lavinia. I began with Richard’s attachment, and then I got on + to her establishment in life.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse <i>me</i>, Joseph. You managed it much more delicately than you + suppose. You didn’t drag Richard in by the head and shoulders in that + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Lavinia! I began with Richard.” + </p> + <p> + “Joseph! your memory deceives you.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington’s impatience broke through all restraint. + </p> + <p> + “How did it end?” he asked. “Did you propose to her that we should be + married in the first week of the New Year?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said Miss Lavinia. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Sir Joseph. + </p> + <p> + The sister looked at the brother with an expression of affectionate + surprise. The brother looked at the sister with a fund of amiable + contradiction, expressed in a low bow. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean to deny, Joseph, that you told Natalie we had decided + on the first week in the New Year?” + </p> + <p> + “I deny the New Year, Lavinia. I said early in January.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>will</i> have your way, Joseph! We were walking in the shrubbery + at the time. I had our dear girl’s arm in mine, and I felt it tremble. She + suddenly stopped. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘not so soon!’ I said, ‘My dear, + consider Richard!’ She turned to her father. She said, ‘Don’t, pray don’t + press it so soon, papa! I respect Richard; I like Richard as your true and + faithful friend; but I don’t love him as I ought to love him if I am to be + his wife.’ Imagine her talking in that way! What could she possibly know + about it? Of course we both laughed—” + </p> + <p> + “<i>you</i> laughed, Lavinia.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>you</i> laughed, Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “Get on, for God’s sake!” cried Turlington, striking his hand passionately + on the table by which he was sitting. “Don’t madden me by contradicting + each other! Did she give way or not?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia turned to her brother. “Contradicting each other, Joseph!” + she exclaimed, lifting her hands in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Contradicting each other!” repeated Sir Joseph, equally astonished on his + side. “My dear Richard, what can you be thinking of? I contradict my + sister! We never disagreed in our lives.” + </p> + <p> + “I contradict my brother! We have never had a cross word between us from + the time when we were children.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington internally cursed his own irritable temper. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon—both of you,” he said. “I didn’t know what I was + saying. Make some allowance for me. All my hopes in life are centered in + Natalie; and you have just told me (in her own words, Miss Lavinia) that + she doesn’t love. You don’t mean any harm, I dare say; but you cut me to + the heart.” + </p> + <p> + This confession, and the look that accompanied it, touched the ready + sympathies of the two old people in the right place. The remainder of the + story dropped between them by common consent. They vied with each other in + saying the comforting words which would allay their dear Richard’s + anxiety. How little he knew of young girls. How could he be so foolish, + poor fellow! as to attach any serious importance to what Natalie had said? + As if a young creature in her teens knew the state of her own heart! + Protestations and entreaties were matters of course, in such cases. Tears + even might be confidently expected from a right-minded girl. It had all + ended exactly as Richard would have wished it to end. Sir Joseph had said, + “My child! this is a matter of experience; love will come when you are + married.” And Miss Lavinia had added, “Dear Natalie, if you remembered + your poor mother as I remember her, you would know that your father’s + experience is to be relied on.” In that way they had put it to her; and + she had hung her head and had given—all that maiden modesty could be + expected to give—a silent consent. “The wedding-day was fixed for + the first week in the New Year.” (“No, Joseph; not January—the New + Year.”) “And God bless you, Richard! and may your married life be a long + and happy one.” + </p> + <p> + So the average ignorance of human nature, and the average belief in + conventional sentiment, complacently contemplated the sacrifice of one + more victim on the all-devouring altar of Marriage! So Sir Joseph and his + sister provided Launcelot Linzie with the one argument which he wanted to + convince Natalie: “Choose between making the misery of your life by + marrying <i>him</i>, and making the happiness of your life by marrying <i>me.</i>” + </p> + <p> + “When shall I see her?” asked Turlington, with Miss Lavinia (in tears + which did <i>her</i> credit) in possession of one of his hands, and Sir + Joseph (in tears which did <i>him</i> credit) in possession of the other. + </p> + <p> + “She will be back to dinner, dear Richard. Stay and dine.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I must go into the City first. I will come back and dine.” + </p> + <p> + With that arrangement in prospect, he left them. + </p> + <p> + An hour later a telegram arrived from Natalie. She had consented to dine, + as well as lunch, in Berkeley Square—sleeping there that night, and + returning the next morning. Her father instantly telegraphed back by the + messenger, insisting on Natalie’s return to Muswell Hill that evening, in + time to meet Richard Turlington at dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right. Joseph,” said Miss Lavinia, looking over her brother’s + shoulder, while he wrote the telegram. + </p> + <p> + “She is showing a disposition to coquet with Richard,” rejoined Sir + Joseph, with the air of a man who knew female human nature in its remotest + corners. “My telegram, Lavinia, will have its effect.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph was quite right. His telegram <i>had</i> its effect. It not + only brought his daughter back to dinner—it produced another result + which his prophetic faculty had altogether failed to foresee. + </p> + <p> + The message reached Berkeley Square at five o’clock in the afternoon. Let + us follow the message. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIFTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Square. + </h3> + <p> + Between four and five in the afternoon—when the women of the Western + regions are in their carriages, and the men are at their clubs—London + presents few places more conveniently adapted for purposes of private talk + than the solitary garden inclosure of a square. + </p> + <p> + On the day when Richard Turlington paid his visit to Muswell Hill, two + ladies (with a secret between them) unlocked the gate of the railed garden + in Berkeley Square. They shut the gate after entering the inclosure, but + carefully forbore to lock it as well, and carefully restricted their walk + to the westward side of the garden. One of them was Natalie Graybrooke. + The other was Mrs. Sancroft’s eldest daughter. A certain temporary + interest attached, in the estimation of society, to this young lady. She + had sold well in the marriage market. In other words, she had recently + been raised to the position of Lord Winwood’s second wife; his lordship + conferring on the bride not only the honors of the peerage, but the + additional distinction of being stepmother to his three single daughters, + all older than herself. In person, Lady Winwood was little and fair. In + character, she was dashing and resolute—a complete contrast to + Natalie, and (on that very account) Natalie’s bosom friend. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, one ambitious marriage in the family is quite enough! I have + made up my mind that <i>you</i> shall marry the man you love. Don’t tell + me your courage is failing you—the excuse is contemptible; I decline + to receive it. Natalie! the men have a phrase which exactly describes your + character. You want back-bone!” + </p> + <p> + The bonnet of the lady who expressed herself in these peremptory terms + barely reached the height of Natalie’s shoulder. Natalie might have blown + the little airy, light-haired, unsubstantial creature over the railings of + the garden if she had taken a good long breath and stooped low enough. But + who ever met with a tall woman who had a will of her own? Natalie’s + languid brown eyes looked softly down in submissive attention from an + elevation of five feet seven. Lady Winwood’s brisk blue eyes looked + brightly up in despotic command from an elevation of four feet eleven (in + her shoes). + </p> + <p> + “You are trifling with Mr. Linzie, my dear. Mr. Linzie is a nice fellow. I + like him. I won’t have that.” + </p> + <p> + “Louisa!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Turlington has nothing to recommend him. He is not a well-bred old + gentleman of exalted rank. He is only an odious brute who happens to have + made money. You shall <i>not</i> marry Mr. Turlington. And you <i>shall</i> + marry Launcelot Linzie.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me speak, Louisa?” + </p> + <p> + “I will let you answer—nothing more. Didn’t you come crying to me + this morning? Didn’t you say, ‘Louisa, they have pronounced sentence on + me! I am to be married in the first week of the New Year. Help me out of + it, for Heaven’s sake!’ You said all that, and more. And what did I do + when I heard your story?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were so kind—” + </p> + <p> + “Kind doesn’t half express it. I have committed crimes on your account. I + have deceived my husband and my mother. For your sake I got mamma to ask + Mr. Linzie to lunch (as <i>my</i> friend!). For your sake I have banished + my unoffending husband, not an hour since, to his club. You wretched girl, + who arranged a private conference in the library? Who sent Mr. Linzie off + to consult his friend in the Temple on the law of clandestine marriage? + Who suggested your telegraphing home, and stopping here for the night? Who + made an appointment to meet your young man privately in this detestable + place in ten minutes’ time? I did! I did! I did! All in your interests. + All to prevent you from doing what I have done—marrying to please + your family instead of to please yourself. (I don’t complain, mind, of + Lord Winwood, or of his daughters. <i>He</i> is charming; his daughters I + shall tame in course of time. You are different. And Mr. Turlington, as I + observed before, is a brute.) Very well. Now what do you owe me on your + side? You owe it to me at least to know your own mind. You don’t know it. + You coolly inform me that you daren’t run the risk after all, and that you + can’t face the consequences on second thoughts. I’ll tell you what! You + don’t deserve that nice fellow, who worships the very ground you tread on. + You are a bread-and-butter miss. I don’t believe you are fond of him!” + </p> + <p> + “Not fond of him!” Natalie stopped, and clasped her hands in despair of + finding language strong enough for the occasion. At the same moment the + sound of a closing gate caught her ear. She looked round. Launce had kept + his appointment before his time. Launce was in the garden, rapidly + approaching them. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the Law of Clandestine Marriage!” said Lady Winwood. “Mr. Linzie, + we will take it sitting.” She led the way to one of the benches in the + garden, and placed Launce between Natalie and herself. “Well, Chief + Conspirator, have you got the License? No? Does it cost too much? Can I + lend you the money?” + </p> + <p> + “It costs perjury, Lady Winwood, in my case,” said Launce. “Natalie is not + of age. I can only get a License by taking my oath that I marry her with + her father’s consent.” He turned piteously to Natalie. “I couldn’t very + well do that,” he said, in the tone of a man who feels bound to make an + apology, “could I?” Natalie shuddered; Lady Winwood shrugged her + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “In your place a woman wouldn’t have hesitated,” her ladyship remarked. + “But men are so selfish. Well! I suppose there is some other way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, there is another way,” said Launce. “But there is a horrid condition + attached to it—” + </p> + <p> + “Something worse than perjury, Mr. Linzie? Murder?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you directly, Lady Winwood. The marriage comes first. The + condition follows. There is only one chance for us. We must be married by + banns.” + </p> + <p> + “Banns!” cried Natalie. “Why, banns are publicly proclaimed in church!” + </p> + <p> + “They needn’t be proclaimed in <i>your</i> church, you goose,” said Lady + Winwood. “And, even if they were, nobody would be the wiser. You may trust + implicitly, my dear, in the elocution of an English clergyman!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what my friend said,” cried Launce. “‘Take a lodging near a + large parish church, in a remote part of London’—(this is my + friend’s advice)—‘go to the clerk, tell him you want to be married + by banns, and say you belong to that parish. As for the lady, in your + place I should simplify it. I should say she belonged to the parish too. + Give an address, and have some one there to answer questions. How is the + clerk to know? He isn’t likely to be over-anxious about it—his fee + is eighteen-pence. The clerk makes his profit out of you, after you are + married. The same rule applies to the parson. He will have your names + supplied to him on a strip of paper, with dozens of other names; and he + will read them out all together in one inarticulate jumble in church. You + will stand at the altar when your time comes, with Brown and Jones, Nokes + and Styles, Jack and Gill. All that you will have to do is, to take care + that your young lady doesn’t fall to Jack, and you to Gill, by mistake—and + there you are, married by banns.’ My friend’s opinion, stated in his own + words.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie sighed, and wrung her hands in her lap. “We shall never get + through it,” she said, despondingly. + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood took a more cheerful view. + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing very formidable as yet, my dear. But we have still to hear + the end of it. You mentioned a condition just now, Mr. Linzie. + </p> + <p> + “I am coming to the condition, Lady Winwood. You naturally suppose, as I + did, that I put Natalie into a cab, and run away with her from the church + door?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. And I throw an old shoe after you for luck, and go home + again.” + </p> + <p> + Launce shook his head ominously. + </p> + <p> + “Natalie must go home again as well as you!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood started. “Is that the condition you mentioned just now?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “That is the condition. I may marry her without anything serious coming of + it. But, if I run away with her afterward, and if you are there, aiding + and abetting me, we are guilty of Abduction, and we may stand, side by + side, at the bar of the Old Bailey to answer for it!” + </p> + <p> + Natalie sprang to her feet in horror. Lady Winwood held up one finger + warningly, signing to her to let Launce go on. + </p> + <p> + “Natalie is not yet sixteen years old,” Launce proceeded. “She must go + straight back to her father’s house from the church, and I must wait to + run away with her till her next birthday. When she’s turned sixteen, she’s + ripe for elopement—not an hour before. There is the law of + Abduction! Despotism in a free country—that’s what I call it!” + </p> + <p> + Natalie sat down again, with an air of relief. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a very comforting law, I think,” she said. “It doesn’t force one to + take the dreadful step of running away from home all at once. It gives one + time to consider, and plan, and make up one’s mind. I can tell you this, + Launce, if I am to be persuaded into marrying you, the law of Abduction is + the only thing that will induce me to do it. You ought to thank the law, + instead of abusing it.” + </p> + <p> + Launce listened—without conviction. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pleasant prospect,” he said, “to part at the church door, and to + treat my own wife on the footing of a young lady who is engaged to marry + another gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it any pleasanter for <i>me</i>,” retorted Natalie, “to have Richard + Turlington courting me, when I am all the time your wife? I shall never be + able to do it. I wish I was dead!” + </p> + <p> + “Come! come!” interposed Lady Winwood. “It’s time to be serious. Natalie’s + birthday, Mr. Linzie, is next Christmas-day. She will be sixteen—” + </p> + <p> + “At seven in the morning,” said Launce; “I got that out of Sir Joseph. At + one minute past seven, Greenwich mean time, we may be off together. I got + <i>that</i> out of the lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + “And it isn’t an eternity to wait from now till Christmas-day. You get + that, by way of completing the list of your acquisitions, out of <i>me</i>. + In the mean time, can you, or can you not, manage to meet the difficulties + in the way of the marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “I have settled everything,” Launce answered, confidently. “There is not a + single difficulty left.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Natalie, listening to him in amazement, and explained + himself. It had struck him that he might appeal—with his purse in + his hand, of course—to the interest felt in his affairs by the late + stewardess of the yacht. That excellent woman had volunteered to do all + that she could to help him. Her husband had obtained situations for his + wife and himself on board another yacht—and they were both eager to + assist in any conspiracy in which their late merciless master was destined + to play the part of victim. When on shore, they lived in a populous London + parish, far away from the fashionable district of Berkeley Square, and + further yet from the respectable suburb of Muswell Hill. A room in the + house could be nominally engaged for Natalie, in the assumed character of + the stewardess’s niece—the stewardess undertaking to answer any + purely formal questions which might be put by the church authorities, and + to be present at the marriage ceremony. As for Launce, he would actually, + as well as nominally, live in the district close by; and the steward, if + needful, would answer for <i>him</i>. Natalie might call at her parochial + residence occasionally, under the wing of Lady Winwood; gaining leave of + absence from Muswell Hill, on the plea of paying one of her customary + visits at her aunt’s house. The conspiracy, in brief, was arranged in all + its details. Nothing was now wanting but the consent of the young lady; + obtaining which, Launce would go to the parish church and give the + necessary notice of a marriage by banns on the next day. There was the + plot. What did the ladies think of it? + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood thought it perfect. + </p> + <p> + Natalie was not so easily satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “My father has always been so kind to me!” she said. “The one thing I + can’t get over, Launce, is distressing papa. If he had been hard on me—as + some fathers are—I shouldn’t mind.” She suddenly brightened, as if + she saw her position in a new light. “Why should you hurry me?” she asked. + “I am going to dine at my aunt’s to-day, and you are coming in the + evening. Give me time! Wait till to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Launce instantly entered his protest against wasting a moment longer. Lady + Winwood opened her lips to support him. They were both silenced at the + same moment by the appearance of one of Mrs. Sancroft’s servants, opening + the gate of the square. + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood went forward to meet the man. A suspicion crossed her mind + that he might be bringing bad news. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, my lady—the housekeeper said you were walking + here with Miss Graybrooke. A telegram for Miss Graybrooke.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood took the telegram from the man’s hand; dismissed him, and + went back with it to Natalie. Natalie opened it nervously. She read the + message—and instantly changed. Her cheeks flushed deep; her eyes + flashed with indignation. “Even papa can be hard on me, it seems, when + Richard asks him!” she exclaimed. She handed the telegram to Launce. Her + eyes suddenly filled with tears. “<i>You</i> love me,” she said, gently—and + stopped. “Marry me!” she added, with a sudden burst of resolution. “I’ll + risk it!” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke those words, Lady Winwood read the telegram. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Muswell Hill. To Miss Natalie Graybrooke; Berkeley + Square. Come back immediately. You are engaged to dine here with Richard + Turlington.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood folded up the telegram with a malicious smile. “Well done, + Sir Joseph!” thought her ladyship. “We might never have persuaded Natalie—but + for You!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIXTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Church. + </h3> + <p> + The time is morning; the date is early in the month of November. The place + is a church, in a poor and populous parish in the undiscovered regions of + London, eastward of the Tower, and hard by the river-side. + </p> + <p> + A marriage procession of five approaches the altar The bridegroom is pale, + and the bride is frightened. The bride’s friend (a resolute-looking little + lady) encourages her in whispers. The two respectable persons, apparently + man and wife, who complete the procession, seem to be not quite clear as + to the position which they occupy at the ceremony. The beadle, as he + marshals them before the altar, sees something under the surface in this + wedding-party. Marriages in the lower ranks of life are the only marriages + celebrated here. Is this a runaway match? The beadle anticipates something + out of the common in the shape of a fee. + </p> + <p> + The clergyman (the junior curate) appears from the vestry in his robes. + The clerk takes his place. The clergyman’s eye rests with a sudden + interest and curiosity on the bride and bridegroom, and on the bride’s + friend; notices the absence of elderly relatives; remarks, in the two + ladies especially, evidences of refinement and breeding entirely + unparalleled in his professional experience of brides and brides’ friends + standing before the altar of that church; questions, silently and quickly, + the eye of the clerk, occupied also in observing the strangers with + interest “Jenkinson” (the clergyman’s look asks), “is this all right?” + “Sir” (the clerk’s look answers), “a marriage by banns; all the + formalities have been observed.” The clergyman opens his book. The + formalities have been observed; his duty lies plainly before him. + Attention, Launcelot! Courage, Natalie! The service begins. + </p> + <p> + Launce casts a last furtive look round the church. Will Sir Joseph + Graybrooke start up and stop it from one of the empty pews? Is Richard + Turlington lurking in the organ-loft, and only waiting till the words of + the service appeal to him to prohibit the marriage, or “else hereafter + forever to hold his peace?” No. The clergyman proceeds steadily, and + nothing happens. Natalie’s charming face grows paler and paler, Natalie’s + heart throbs faster and faster, as the time comes nearer for reading the + words which unite them for life. Lady Winwood herself feels an + unaccustomed fluttering in the region of the bosom. Her ladyship’s + thoughts revert, not altogether pleasantly, to her own marriage: “Ah me! + what was I thinking of when I was in this position? Of the bride’s + beautiful dress, and of Lady Winwood’s coming presentation at court!” + </p> + <p> + The service advances to the words in which they plight their troth. Launce + has put the ring on her finger. Launce has repeated the words after the + clergyman. Launce has married her! Done! Come what may of it, done! + </p> + <p> + The service ends. Bridegroom, bride, and witnesses go into the vestry to + sign the book. The signing, like the service, is serious. No trifling with + the truth is possible here. When it comes to Lady Winwood’s turn, Lady + Winwood must write her name. She does it, but without her usual grace and + decision. She drops her handkerchief. The clerk picks it up for her, and + notices that a coronet is embroidered in one corner. + </p> + <p> + The fees are paid. They leave the vestry. Other couples, when it is over, + are talkative and happy. These two are more silent and more embarrassed + than ever. Stranger still, while other couples go off with relatives and + friends, all socially united in honor of the occasion, these two and their + friends part at the church door. The respectable man and his wife go their + way on foot. The little lady with the coronet on her handkerchief puts the + bride into a cab, gets in herself, and directs the driver to close the + door, while the bridegroom is standing on the church steps! The + bridegroom’s face is clouded, as well it may be. He puts his head in at + the window of the cab; he possesses himself of the bride’s hand; he speaks + in a whisper; he is apparently not to be shaken off. The little lady + exerts her authority, separates the clasped hands, pushes the bridegroom + away, and cries peremptorily to the driver to go on. The cab starts; the + deserted husband drifts desolately anyhow down the street. The clerk, who + has seen it all, goes back to the vestry and reports what has happened. + </p> + <p> + The rector (with his wife on his arm) has just dropped into the vestry on + business in passing. He and the curate are talking about the strange + marriage. The rector, gravely bent on ascertaining that no blame rests + with the church, interrogates, and is satisfied. The rector’s wife is not + so easy to deal with. She has looked at the signatures in the book. One of + the names is familiar to her. She cross-examines the clerk as soon as her + husband is done with him. When she hears of the coronet on the + handkerchief she points to the signature of “Louisa Winwood,” and says to + the rector, “I know who it is! Lord Winwood’s second wife. I went to + school with his lordship’s daughters by his first marriage. We + occasionally meet at the Sacred Concerts (on the ‘Ladies’ Committee’); I + shall find an opportunity of speaking to them. One moment, Mr. Jenkinson, + I will write down the names before you put away the book. ‘Launcelot + Linzie,’ ‘Natalie Graybrooke.’ Very pretty names; quite romantic. I do + delight in a romance. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + She gives the curate a parting smile, and the clerk a parting nod, and + sails out of the vestry. Natalie, silently returning in Lady Winwood’s + company to Muswell Hill; and Launce, cursing the law of Abduction as he + roams the streets—little think that the ground is already mined + under their feet. Richard Turlington may hear of it now, or may hear of it + later. The discovery of the marriage depends entirely on a chance meeting + between the lord’s daughters and the rector’s wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEVENTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Evening Party. + </h3> + <p> + —————————————————————————— + MR. TURLINGTON, + </p> + <p> + LADY WINWOOD At Home. + </p> + <p> + Wednesday, December 15th.—Ten o’clock. —————————————————————————— + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Natalie—As the brute insists, the brute must have the + invitation which I inclose. Never mind, my child. You and Launce are + coming to dinner, and I will see that you have your little private + opportunities of retirement afterward. All I expect of you in return is, + <i>not</i> to look (when you come back) as if your husband had been + kissing you. You will certainly let out the secret of those stolen kisses, + if you don’t take care. At mamma’s dinner yesterday, your color (when you + came out of the conservatory) was a sight to see. Even your shoulders were + red! They are charming shoulders, I know, and men take the strangest + fancies sometimes. But, my dear, suppose you wear a chemisette next time, + if you haven’t authority enough over him to prevent his doing it again! + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate LOUISA.” + </p> + <p> + The private history of the days that had passed since the marriage was + written in that letter. An additional chapter—of some importance in + its bearing on the future—was contributed by the progress of events + at Lady Winwood’s party. + </p> + <p> + By previous arrangement with Natalie, the Graybrookes (invited to dinner) + arrived early. Leaving her husband and her stepdaughters to entertain Sir + Joseph and Miss Lavinia, Lady Winwood took Natalie into her own boudoir, + which communicated by a curtained opening with the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, you are looking positively haggard this evening. Has anything + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I am nearly worn out, Louisa. The life I am leading is so unendurable + that, if Launce pressed me, I believe I should consent to run away with + him when we leave your house tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the sort, if you please. Wait till you are + sixteen. I delight in novelty, but the novelty of appearing at the Old + Bailey is beyond my ambition. Is the brute coming to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. He insists on following me wherever I go. He lunched at + Muswell Hill today. More complaints of my incomprehensible coldness to + him. Another scolding from papa. A furious letter from Launce. If I let + Richard kiss my hand again in his presence, Launce warns me he will knock + him down. Oh, the meanness and the guiltiness of the life I am leading + now! I am in the falsest of all false positions, Louisa, and you + encouraged me to do it. I believe Richard Turlington suspects us. The last + two times Launce and I tried to get a minute together at my aunt’s, he + contrived to put himself in our way. There he was, my dear, with his + scowling face, looking as if he longed to kill Launce. Can you do anything + for us tonight? Not on my account. But Launce is so impatient. If he can’t + say two words to me alone this evening, he declares he will come to + Muswell Hill, and catch me in the garden tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Compose yourself, my dear; he shall say his two words to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood pointed through the curtained entrance of the boudoir to the + door of the drawing-room. Beyond the door was the staircase landing. And + beyond the landing was a second drawing-room, the smaller of the two. + </p> + <p> + “There are only three or four people coming to dinner,” her ladyship + proceeded; “and a few more in the evening. Being a small party, the small + drawing-room will do for us. This drawing-room will not be lighted, and + there will be only my reading-lamp here in the boudoir. I shall give the + signal for leaving the dining-room earlier than usual. Launce will join us + before the evening party begins. The moment he appears, send him in here—boldly + before your aunt and all of us.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “For your fan. Leave it there under the sofa-cushion before we go down to + dinner. You will sit next to Launce, and you will give him private + instructions not to find the fan. You will get impatient—you will go + to find it yourself—and there you are. Take care of your shoulders, + Mrs. Linzie! I have nothing more to say.” + </p> + <p> + The guests asked to dinner began to arrive. Lady Winwood was recalled to + her duties as mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + It was a pleasant little dinner—with one drawback. It began too + late. The ladies only reached the small drawing-room at ten minutes to + ten. Launce was only able to join them as the clock struck. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” whispered Natalie. “He will be here directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody comes punctually to an evening party,” said Launce. “Don’t let us + lose a moment. Send me for your fan.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie opened her lips to say the necessary words. Before she could + speak, the servant announced—“Mr. Turlington.” + </p> + <p> + He came in, with his stiffly-upright shirt collar and his loosely-fitting + glossy black clothes. He made his sullen and clumsy bow to Lady Winwood. + And then he did, what he had done dozens of times already—he caught + Natalie, with her eyes still bright and her face still animated (after + talking to Launce)—a striking contrast to the cold and unimpulsive + young lady whom he was accustomed to see while Natalie was talking to <i>him</i>. + </p> + <p> + Lord Winwood’s daughters were persons of some celebrity in the world of + amateur music. Noticing the look that Turlington cast at Launce, Lady + Winwood whispered to Miss Lavinia—who instantly asked the young + ladies to sing. Launce, in obedience to a sign from Natalie, volunteered + to find the music-books. It is needless to add that he pitched on the + wrong volume at starting. As he lifted it from the piano to take it back + to the stand, there dropped out from between the leaves a printed letter, + looking like a circular. One of the young ladies took it up, and ran her + eye over it, with a start. + </p> + <p> + “The Sacred Concerts!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Her two sisters, standing by, looked at each other guiltily: “What will + the Committee say to us? We entirely forgot the meeting last month.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a meeting this month?” + </p> + <p> + They all looked anxiously at the printed letter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! The twenty-third of December. Put it down in your book, Amelia.” + Amelia, then and there, put it down among the engagements for the latter + end of the month. And Natalie’s unacknowledged husband placidly looked on. + </p> + <p> + So did the merciless irony of circumstances make Launce the innocent means + of exposing his own secret to discovery. Thanks to his success in laying + his hand on the wrong music-book, there would now be a meeting—two + good days before the elopement could take place—between the lord’s + daughters and the rector’s wife! + </p> + <p> + The guests of the evening began to appear by twos and threes. The + gentlemen below stairs left the dinner-table, and joined them. + </p> + <p> + The small drawing-room was pleasantly filled, and no more. Sir Joseph + Graybrooke, taking Turlington’s hand, led him eagerly to their host. The + talk in the dining-room had turned on finance. Lord Winwood was not quite + satisfied with some of his foreign investments; and Sir Joseph’s “dear + Richard” was the very man to give him a little sound advice. The three + laid their heads together in a corner. Launce (watching them) slyly + pressed Natalie’s hand. A renowned “virtuoso” had arrived, and was + thundering on the piano. The attention of the guests generally was + absorbed in the performance. A fairer chance of sending Launce for the fan + could not possibly have offered itself. While the financial discussion was + still proceeding, the married lovers were ensconced together alone in the + boudoir. + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood (privately observant of their absence) kept her eye on the + corner, watching Richard Turlington. + </p> + <p> + He was talking earnestly—with his back toward the company. He + neither moved nor looked round. It came to Lord Winwood’s turn to speak. + He preserved the same position, listening. Sir Joseph took up the + conversation next. Then his attention wandered—he knew beforehand + what Sir Joseph would say. His eyes turned anxiously toward the place in + which he had left Natalie. Lord Winwood said a word. His head turned back + again toward the corner. Sir Joseph put an objection. He glanced once more + over his shoulder—this time at the place in which Launce had been + standing. The next moment his host recalled his attention, and made it + impossible for him to continue his scrutiny of the room. At the same times + two among the evening guests, bound for another party, approached to take + leave of the lady of the house. Lady Winwood was obliged to rise, and + attend to them. They had something to say to her before they left, and + they said it at terrible length, standing so as to intercept her view of + the proceedings of the enemy. When she had got rid of them at last, she + looked—and behold Lord Winwood and Sir Joseph were the only + occupants of the corner! + </p> + <p> + Delaying one moment, to set the “virtuoso” thundering once more, Lady + Winwood slipped out of the room and crossed the landing. At the entrance + to the empty drawing-room she heard Turlington’s voice, low and + threatening, in the boudoir. Jealousy has a Second Sight of its own. He + had looked in the right place at starting—and, oh heavens! he had + caught them. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship’s courage was beyond dispute; but she turned pale as she + approached the entrance to the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + There stood Natalie—at once angry and afraid—between the man + to whom she was ostensibly engaged, and the man to whom she was actually + married. Turlington’s rugged face expressed a martyrdom of suppressed + fury. Launce—in the act of offering Natalie her fan—smiled, + with the cool superiority of a man who knew that he had won his advantage, + and who triumphed in knowing it. + </p> + <p> + “I forbid you to take your fan from that man’s hands,” said Turlington, + speaking to Natalie, and pointing to Launce. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it rather too soon to begin ‘forbidding’?” asked Lady Winwood, + good-humoredly. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly what I say!” exclaimed Launce. “It seems necessary to remind Mr. + Turlington that he is not married to Natalie yet!” + </p> + <p> + Those last words were spoken in a tone which made both the women tremble + inwardly for results. Lady Winwood took the fan from Launce with one hand, + and took Natalie’s arm with the other. + </p> + <p> + “There is your fan, my dear,” she said, in her easy off-hand manner. “Why + do you allow these two barbarous men to keep you here while the great + Bootmann is playing the Nightmare Sonata in the next room? Launce! Mr. + Turlington! follow me, and learn to be musical directly! You have only to + shut your eyes, and you will fancy you hear four modern German composers + playing, instead of one, and not the ghost of a melody among all the + four.” She led the way out with Natalie, and whispered, “Did he catch + you?” Natalie whispered back, “I heard him in time. He only caught us + looking for the fan.” The two men waited behind to have two words together + alone in the boudoir. + </p> + <p> + “This doesn’t end here, Mr. Linzie!” + </p> + <p> + Launce smiled satirically. “For once I agree with you,” he answered. “It + doesn’t end here, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood stopped, and looked back at them from the drawing-room door. + They were keeping her waiting—they had no choice but to follow the + mistress of the house. + </p> + <p> + Arrived in the next room, both Turlington and Launce resumed their places + among the guests with the same object in view. As a necessary result of + the scene in the boudoir, each had his own special remonstrance to address + to Sir Joseph. Even here, Launce was beforehand with Turlington. He was + the first to get possession of Sir Joseph’s private ear. His complaint + took the form of a protest against Turlington’s jealousy, and an appeal + for a reconsideration of the sentence which excluded him from Muswell + Hill. Watching them from a distance, Turlington’s suspicious eye detected + the appearance of something unduly confidential in the colloquy between + the two. Under cover of the company, he stole behind them and listened. + </p> + <p> + The great Bootmann had arrived at that part of the Nightmare Sonata in + which musical sound, produced principally with the left hand, is made to + describe, beyond all possibility of mistake, the rising of the moon in a + country church-yard and a dance of Vampires round a maiden’s grave. Sir + Joseph, having no chance against the Vampires in a whisper, was obliged to + raise his voice to make himself audible in answering and comforting + Launce. “I sincerely sympathize with you,” Turlington heard him say; “and + Natalie feels about it as I do. But Richard is an obstacle in our way. We + must look to the consequences, my dear boy, supposing Richard found us + out.” He nodded kindly to his nephew; and, declining to pursue the + subject, moved away to another part of the room. + </p> + <p> + Turlington’s jealous distrust, wrought to the highest pitch of + irritability for weeks past, instantly associated the words he had just + heard with the words spoken by Launce in the boudoir, which had reminded + him that he was not married to Natalie yet. Was there treachery at work + under the surface? and was the object to persuade weak Sir Joseph to + reconsider his daughter’s contemplated marriage in a sense favorable to + Launce? Turlington’s blind suspicion overleaped at a bound all the + manifest improbabilities which forbade such a conclusion as this. After an + instant’s consideration with himself, he decided on keeping his own + counsel, and on putting Sir Joseph’s good faith then and there to a test + which he could rely on as certain to take Natalie’s father by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Graybrooke!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph started at the sight of his future son-in-law’s face. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Richard, you are looking very strangely! Is the heat of the room + too much for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the heat! I have seen enough to-night to justify me in + insisting that your daughter and Launcelot Linzie shall meet no more + between this and the day of my marriage.” Sir Joseph attempted to speak. + Turlington declined to give him the opportunity. “Yes! yes! your opinion + of Linzie isn’t mine, I know. I saw you as thick as thieves together just + now.” Sir Joseph once more attempted to make himself heard. Wearied by + Turlington’s perpetual complaints of his daughter and his nephew, he was + sufficiently irritated by this time to have reported what Launce had + actually said to him if he had been allowed the chance. But Turlington + persisted in going on. “I cannot prevent Linzie from being received in + this house, and at your sister’s,” he said; “but I can keep him out of <i>my</i> + house in the country, and to the country let us go. I propose a change in + the arrangements. Have you any engagement for the Christmas holidays?” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and fixed his eyes attentively on Sir Joseph. Sir Joseph, + looking a little surprised, replied briefly that he had no engagement. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” resumed Turlington, “I invite you all to Somersetshire, + and I propose that the marriage shall take place from my house, and not + from yours. Do you refuse?” + </p> + <p> + “It is contrary to the usual course of proceeding in such cases, Richard,” + Sir Joseph began. + </p> + <p> + “Do you refuse?” reiterated Turlington. “I tell you plainly, I shall place + a construction of my own upon your motive if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Richard,” said Sir Joseph, quietly, “I accept.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington drew back a step in silence. Sir Joseph had turned the tables + on him, and had taken <i>him</i> by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “It will upset several plans, and be strongly objected to by the ladies,” + proceeded the old gentleman. “But if nothing less will satisfy you, I say, + Yes! I shall have occasion, when we meet to-morrow at Muswell Hill, to + appeal to your indulgence under circumstances which may greatly astonish + you. The least I can do, in the meantime, is to set an example of friendly + sympathy and forbearance on my side. No more now, Richard. Hush! the + music!” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to make him explain himself further that night. + Turlington was left to interpret Sir Joseph’s mysterious communication + with such doubtful aid to success as his own unassisted ingenuity might + afford. + </p> + <p> + The meeting of the next day at Muswell Hill had for its object—as + Turlington had already been informed—the drawing of Natalie’s + marriage-settlement. Was the question of money at the bottom of Sir + Joseph’s contemplated appeal to his indulgence? He thought of his + commercial position. The depression in the Levant trade still continued. + Never had his business at any previous time required such constant + attention, and repaid that attention with so little profit. The Bills of + Lading had been already used by the firm, in the ordinary course of trade, + to obtain possession of the goods. The duplicates in the hands of Bulpit + Brothers were literally waste paper. Repayment of the loan of forty + thousand pounds (with interest) was due in less than a month’s time. There + was his commercial position! Was it possible that money-loving Sir Joseph + had any modification to propose in the matter of his daughter’s dowry? The + bare dread that it might be so struck him cold. He quitted the house—and + forgot to wish Natalie goodnight. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Launce had left the evening party before him—and Launce + also found matter for serious reflection presented to his mind before he + slept that night. In other words, he found, on reaching his lodgings, a + letter from his brother marked “private.” Had the inquiry into the secrets + of Turlington’s early life—now prolonged over some weeks—led + to positive results at last? Launce eagerly opened the letter. It + contained a Report and a Summary. He passed at once to the Summary, and + read these words: + </p> + <p> + “If you only want moral evidence to satisfy your own mind, your end is + gained. There is, morally, no doubt that Turlington and the sea-captain + who cast the foreign sailor overboard to drown are on e and the same man. + Legally, the matter is beset by difficulties, Turlington having destroyed + all provable connection between his present self and his past life. There + is only one chance for us. A sailor on board the ship (who was in his + master’s secrets) is supposed to be still living (under his master’s + protection). All the black deeds of Turlington’s early life are known to + this man. He can prove the facts, if we can find him, and make it worth + his while to speak. Under what alias he is hidden we do not know. His own + name is Thomas Wildfang. If we are to make the attempt to find him, not a + moment is to be lost. The expenses may be serious. Let me know whether we + are to go on, or whether enough has been done to attain the end you have + in view.” + </p> + <p> + Enough had been done—not only to satisfy Launce, but to produce the + right effect on Sir Joseph’s mind if Sir Joseph proved obdurate when the + secret of the marriage was revealed. Launce wrote a line directing the + stoppage of the proceedings at the point which they had now reached. “Here + is a reason for her not marrying Turlington,” he said to himself, as he + placed the papers under lock and key. “And if she doesn’t marry + Turlington,” he added, with a lover’s logic, “why shouldn’t she marry Me?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EIGHTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Library. + </h3> + <p> + The next day Sir Joseph Graybrooke, Sir Joseph’s lawyer, Mr. Dicas (highly + respectable and immensely rich), and Richard Turlington were assembled in + the library at Muswell Hill, to discuss the question of Natalie’s marriage + settlement. + </p> + <p> + After the usual preliminary phrases had been exchanged, Sir Joseph showed + some hesitation in openly approaching the question which the little party + of three had met to debate. He avoided his lawyer’s eye; and he looked at + Turlington rather uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” he began at last, “when I spoke to you about your marriage, on + board the yacht, I said I would give my daughter—” Either his + courage or his breath failed him at that point. He was obliged to wait a + moment before he could go on. + </p> + <p> + “I said I would give my daughter half my fortune on her marriage,” he + resumed. “Forgive me, Richard. I can’t do it!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dicas, waiting for his instructions, laid down his pen and looked at + Sir Joseph’s son-in-law elect. What would Mr. Turlington say? + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. Sitting opposite the window, he rose when Sir Joseph + spoke, and placed himself at the other side of the table, with his back to + the light. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes are weak this morning,” he said, in an unnaturally low tone of + voice. “The light hurts them.” + </p> + <p> + He could find no more plausible excuse than that for concealing his face + in shadow from the scrutiny of the two men on either side of him. The + continuous moral irritation of his unhappy courtship—a courtship + which had never advanced beyond the frigid familiarity of kissing + Natalie’s hand in the presence of others—had physically deteriorated + him. Even <i>his</i> hardy nerves began to feel the long strain of + suspicion that had been laid unremittingly on them for weeks past. His + power of self-control—he knew it himself—was not to be relied + on. He could hide his face: he could no longer command it. + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear what I said, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph proceeded, gathering confidence as he advanced. + </p> + <p> + “Half my fortune!” he repeated. “It’s parting with half my life; it’s + saying good-by forever to my dearest friend! My money has been such a + comfort to me, Richard; such a pleasant occupation for my mind. I know no + reading so interesting and so instructive as the reading of one’s Banker’s + Book. To watch the outgoings on one side,” said Sir Joseph, with a gentle + and pathetic solemnity, “and the incomings on the other—the sad + lessening of the balance at one time, and the cheering and delightful + growth of it at another—what absorbing reading! The best novel that + ever was written isn’t to be mentioned in a breath with it. I can not, + Richard, I really can <i>not</i>, see my nice round balance shrink up to + half the figure that I have been used to for a lifetime. It may be weak of + me,” proceeded Sir Joseph, evidently feeling that it was not weak of him + at all, “but we all have our tender place, and my Banker’s Book is mine. + Besides, it isn’t as if you wanted it. If you wanted it, of course—but + you don’t want it. You are a rich man; you are marrying my dear Natalie + for love, not for money. You and she and my grandchildren will have it all + at my death. It <i>can</i> make no difference to you to wait a few years + till the old man’s chair at the fireside is empty. Will you say the fourth + part, Richard, instead of the half? Twenty thousand,” pleaded Sir Joseph, + piteously. “I can bear twenty thousand off. For God’s sake don’t ask me + for more!” + </p> + <p> + The lips of the lawyer twisted themselves sourly into an ironical smile. + He was quite as fond of his money as Sir Joseph. He ought to have felt for + his client; but rich men have no sympathy with one another. Mr. Dicas + openly despised Sir Joseph. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. The robin-redbreasts in the shrubbery outside must have + had prodigious balances at their bankers; they hopped up on the + window-sill so fearlessly; they looked in with so little respect at the + two rich men. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t keep me in suspense, Richard,” proceeded Sir Joseph. “Speak out. Is + it yes or no?” + </p> + <p> + Turlington struck his hand excitedly on the table, and burst out on a + sudden with the answer which had been so strangely delayed. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand with all my heart!” he said. “On this condition, + Graybrooke, that every farthing of it is settled on Natalie, and on her + children after her. Not a half-penny to me!” he cried magnanimously, in + his brassiest tones. “Not a half-penny to me!” + </p> + <p> + Let no man say the rich are heartless. Sir Joseph seized his son-in-law’s + hand in silence, and burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dicas, habitually a silent man, uttered the first two words that had + escaped him since the business began. “Highly creditable,” he said, and + took a note of his instructions on the spot. + </p> + <p> + From that point the business of the settlement flowed smoothly on to its + destined end. Sir Joseph explained his views at the fullest length, and + the lawyer’s pen kept pace with him. Turlington, remaining in his place at + the table, restricted himself to a purely passive part in the proceedings. + He answered briefly when it was absolutely necessary to speak, and he + agreed with the two elders in everything. A man has no attention to place + at the disposal of other people when he stands at a crisis in his life. + Turlington stood at that crisis, at the trying moment when Sir Joseph’s + unexpected proposal pressed instantly for a reply. Two merciless + alternatives confronted him. Either he must repay the borrowed forty + thousand pounds on the day when repayment was due, or he must ask Bulpit + Brothers to grant him an extension of time, and so inevitably provoke an + examination into the fraudulent security deposited with the firm, which + could end in but one way. His last, literally his last chance, after Sir + Joseph had diminished the promised dowry by one half, was to adopt the + high-minded tone which became his position, and to conceal the truth until + he could reveal it to his father-in-law in the privileged character of + Natalie’s husband. “I owe forty thousand pounds, sir, in a fortnight’s + time, and I have not got a farthing of my own. Pay for me, or you will see + your son-in-law’s name in the Bankrupt’s List.” For his daughter’s sake—who + could doubt it?—Sir Joseph would produce the money. The one thing + needful was to be married in time. If either by accident or treachery Sir + Joseph was led into deferring the appointed day, by so much as a fortnight + only, the fatal “call” would come, and the firm of Pizzituti, Turlington + & Branca would appear in the Gazette. + </p> + <p> + So he reasoned, standing on the brink of the terrible discovery which was + soon to reveal to him that Natalie was the wife of another man. + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Turlington!” + </p> + <p> + He started, and roused his attention to present things. Sir Joseph on one + side, and the lawyer on the other, were both appealing to him, and both + regarding him with looks of amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done with the settlement?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Richard, we have done with it long since,” replied Sir Joseph. + “Have you really not heard what I have been saying for the last quarter of + an hour to good Mr. Dicas here? What <i>can</i> you have been thinking + of?” + </p> + <p> + Turlington did not attempt to answer the question. “Am I interested,” he + asked, “in what you have been saying to Mr. Dicas?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall judge for yourself,” answered Sir Joseph, mysteriously; “I have + been giving Mr. Dicas his instructions for making my Will. I wish the Will + and the Marriage-Settlement to be executed at the same time. Read the + instructions, Mr. Dicas.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph’s contemplated Will proved to have two merits—it was + simple and it was short. Excepting one or two trifling legacies to distant + relatives, he had no one to think of (Miss Lavinia being already provided + for) but his daughter and the children who might be born of her marriage. + In its various provisions, made with these two main objects in view, the + Will followed the precedents established in such cases. It differed in no + important respect from the tens of thousands of other wills made under + similar circumstances. Sir Joseph’s motive in claiming special attention + for it still remained unexplained, when Mr. Dicas reached the clause + devoted to the appointment of executors and trustees; and announced that + this portion of the document was left in blank. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Joseph Graybrooke, are you prepared to name the persons whom you + appoint?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph rose, apparently for the purpose of giving special importance + to the terms in which he answered his lawyer’s question. + </p> + <p> + “I appoint,” he said, “as sole executor and trustee—Richard + Turlington.” + </p> + <p> + It was no easy matter to astonish Mr. Dicas. Sir Joseph’s reply absolutely + confounded him. He looked across the table at his client and delivered + himself on this special occasion of as many as three words. + </p> + <p> + “Are you mad?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph’s healthy complexion slightly reddened. “I never was in more + complete possession of myself, Mr. Dicas, than at this moment.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dicas was not to be silenced in that way. + </p> + <p> + “Are you aware of what you do,” persisted the lawyer, “if you appoint Mr. + Turlington as sole executor and trustee? You put it in the power of your + daughter’s husband, sir, to make away with every farthing of your money + after your death.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington had hitherto listened with an appearance of interest in the + proceedings, which he assumed as an act of politeness. To his view, the + future was limited to the date at which Bulpit Brothers had a right to + claim the repayment of their loan. The Will was a matter of no earthly + importance to him, by comparison with the infinitely superior interest of + the Marriage. It was only when the lawyer’s brutally plain language forced + his attention to it that the question of his pecuniary interest in his + father-in-law’s death assumed its fit position in his mind. + </p> + <p> + <i>His</i> color rose; and <i>he</i> too showed that he was offended by + what Mr. Dicas had just said. + </p> + <p> + “Not a word, Richard! Let me speak for you as well as for myself,” said + Sir Joseph. “For seven years past,” he continued, turning to the lawyer, + “I have been accustomed to place the most unlimited trust in Richard + Turlington. His disinterested advice has enabled me largely to increase my + income, without placing a farthing of the principal in jeopardy. On more + than one occasion, I have entreated him to make use of my money in his + business. He has invariably refused to do so. Even his bitterest enemies, + sir, have been obliged to acknowledge that my interests were safe when + committed to his care. Am I to begin distrusting him, now that I am about + to give him my daughter in marriage? Am I to leave it on record that I + doubt him for the first time—when my Will is opened after my death? + No! I can confide the management of the fortune which my child will + inherit after me to no more competent or more honorable hands than the + hands of the man who is to marry her. I maintain my appointment, Mr. + Dicas! I persist in placing the whole responsibility under my Will in my + son-in-law’s care.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington attempted to speak. The lawyer attempted to speak. Sir Joseph—with + a certain simple dignity which had its effect on both of them—declined + to hear a word on either side. “No, Richard! as long as I am alive this is + my business, not yours. No, Mr. Dicas! I understand that it is your + business to protest professionally. You have protested. Fill in the blank + space as I have told you. Or leave the instructions on the table, and I + will send for the nearest solicitor to complete them in your place.” + </p> + <p> + Those words placed the lawyer’s position plainly before him. He had no + choice but to do as he was bid, or to lose a good client. He did as he was + bid, and grimly left the room. + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph, with old-fashioned politeness, followed him as far as the + hall. Returning to the library to say a few friendly words before finally + dismissing the subject of the Will, he found himself seized by the arm, + and dragged without ceremony, in Turlington’s powerful grasp, to the + window. + </p> + <p> + “Richard!” he exclaimed, “what does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Look!” cried the other, pointing through the window to a grassy walk in + the grounds, bounded on either side by shrubberies, and situated at a + little distance from the house. “Who is that man?—quick! before we + lose sight of him—the man crossing there from one shrubbery to the + other?” Sir Joseph failed to recognize the figure before it disappeared. + Turlington whispered fiercely, close to his ear—“Launcelot Linzie!” + </p> + <p> + In perfect good faith Sir Joseph declared that the man could not possibly + have been Launce. Turlington’s frenzy of jealous suspicion was not to be + so easily calmed. He asked significantly for Natalie. She was reported to + be walking in the grounds. “I knew it!” he said, with an oath—and + hurried out into the grounds to discover the truth for himself. + </p> + <p> + Some little time elapsed before he came back to the house. He had + discovered Natalie—alone. Not a sign of Launce had rewarded his + search. For the hundredth time he had offended Natalie. For the hundredth + time he was compelled to appeal to the indulgence of her father and her + aunt. “It won’t happen again,” he said, sullenly penitent. “You will find + me quite another man when I have got you all at my house in the country. + Mind!” he burst out, with a furtive look, which expressed his inveterate + distrust of Natalie and of every one about her. “Mind! it’s settled that + you all come to me in Somersetshire, on Monday next.” Sir Joseph answered + rather dryly that it was settled. Turlington turned to leave the room—and + suddenly came back. “It’s understood,” he went on, addressing Miss + Lavinia, “that the seventh of next month is the date fixed for the + marriage. Not a day later!” Miss Lavinia replied, rather dryly on her + side, “Of course, Richard; not a day later.” He muttered, “All right” and + hurriedly left them. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour afterward Natalie came in, looking a little confused. + </p> + <p> + “Has he gone?” she asked, whispering to her aunt. + </p> + <p> + Relieved on this point, she made straight for the library—a room + which she rarely entered at that or any other period of the day. Miss + Lavinia followed her, curious to know what it meant. Natalie hurried to + the window, and waved her handkerchief—evidently making a signal to + some one outside. Miss Lavinia instantly joined her, and took her sharply + by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, Natalie?” she asked. “Has Launcelot Linzie really been + here, unknown to your father or to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the harm if he has?” answered Natalie, with a sudden outbreak of + temper. “Am I never to see my cousin again, because Mr. Turlington happens + to be jealous of him?” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly turned away her head. The rich color flowed over her face and + neck. Miss Lavinia, proceeding sternly with the administration of the + necessary reproof, was silenced midway by a new change in her niece’s + variable temper. Natalie burst into tears. Satisfied with this appearance + of sincere contrition, the old lady consented to overlook what had + happened; and, for this occasion only, to keep her niece’s secret. They + would all be in Somersetshire, she remarked, before any more breaches of + discipline could be committed. Richard had fortunately made no + discoveries; and the matter might safely be trusted, all things + considered, to rest where it was. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia might possibly have taken a less hopeful view of the + circumstances, if she had known that one of the men-servants at Muswell + Hill was in Richard Turlington’s pay, and that this servant had seen + Launce leave the grounds by the back-garden gate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NINTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + The Drawing-Room. + </h3> + <p> + “Amelia!” + </p> + <p> + “Say something.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Thus addressing one another in whispers, the three stepdaughters of Lady + Winwood stood bewildered in their own drawing-room, helplessly confronting + an object which appeared before them on the threshold of the door. + </p> + <p> + The date was the 23d of December. The time was between two and three in + the afternoon. The occasion was the return of the three sisters from the + Committee meeting of the Sacred Concerts’ Society. And the object was + Richard Turlington. + </p> + <p> + He stood hat in hand at the door, amazed by his reception. “I have come up + this morning from Somersetshire,” he said. “Haven’t you heard? A matter of + business at the office has forced me to leave my guests at my house in the + country. I return to them to-morrow. When I say my guests, I mean the + Graybrookes. Don’t you know they are staying with me? Sir Joseph and Miss + Lavinia and Natalie?” On the utterance of Natalie’s name, the sisters + roused themselves. They turned about and regarded each other with looks of + dismay. Turlington’s patience began to fail him. “Will you be so good as + to tell me what all this means?” he said, a little sharply. “Miss Lavinia + asked me to call here when she heard I was coming to town. I was to take + charge of a pattern for a dress, which she said you would give me. You + ought to have received a telegram explaining it all, hours since. Has the + message not reached you?” + </p> + <p> + The leading spirit of the three sisters was Miss Amelia. She was the first + who summoned presence of mind enough to give a plain answer to + Turlington’s plain question. + </p> + <p> + “We received the telegram this morning,” she said. “Something has happened + since which has shocked and surprised us. We beg your pardon.” She turned + to one of her sisters. “Sophia, the pattern is ready in the drawer of that + table behind you. Give it to Mr. Turlington.” + </p> + <p> + Sophia produced the packet. Before she handed it to the visitor, she + looked at her sister. “Ought we to let Mr. Turlington go,” she asked, “as + if nothing had happened?” + </p> + <p> + Amelia considered silently with herself. Dorothea, the third sister (who + had not spoken yet), came forward with a suggestion. She proposed, before + proceeding further, to inquire whether Lady Winwood was in the house. The + idea was instantly adopted. Sophia rang the bell. Amelia put the questions + when the servant appeared. + </p> + <p> + Lady Winwood had left the house for a drive immediately after luncheon. + Lord Winwood—inquired for next—had accompanied her ladyship. + No message had been left indicating the hour of their return. + </p> + <p> + The sisters looked at Turlington, uncertain what to say or do next. Miss + Amelia addressed him as soon as the servant had left the room. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible for you to remain here until either my father or Lady + Winwood return?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite impossible. Minutes are of importance to me to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you give us one of your minutes? We want to consider something which + we may have to say to you before you go.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington, wondering, took a chair. Miss Amelia put the case before her + sisters from the sternly conscientious point of view, at the opposite end + of the room. + </p> + <p> + “We have not found out this abominable deception by any underhand means,” + she said. “The discovery has been forced upon us, and we stand pledged to + nobody to keep the secret. Knowing as we do how cruelly this gentleman has + been used, it seems to me that we are bound in honor to open his eyes to + the truth. If we remain silent we make ourselves Lady Winwood’s + accomplices. I, for one—I don’t care what may come of it—refuse + to do that.” + </p> + <p> + Her sisters agreed with her. The first chance their clever stepmother had + given them of asserting their importance against hers was now in their + hands. Their jealous hatred of Lady Winwood assumed the mask of Duty—duty + toward an outraged and deceived fellow-creature. Could any earthly motive + be purer than that? “Tell him, Amelia!” cried the two young ladies, with + the headlong recklessness of the sex which only stops to think when the + time for reflection has gone by. + </p> + <p> + A vague sense of something wrong began to stir uneasily in Turlington’s + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let me hurry you,” he said, “but if you really have anything to + tell me—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Amelia summoned her courage, and began. + </p> + <p> + “We have something very dreadful to tell you,” she said, interrupting him. + “You have been presented in this house, Mr. Turlington, as a gentleman + engaged to marry Lady Winwood’s cousin. Miss Natalie Graybrooke.” She + paused there—at the outset of the disclosure. A sudden change of + expression passed over Turlington’s face, which daunted her for the + moment. “We have hitherto understood,” she went on, “that you were to be + married to that young lady early in next month.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + He could say that one word. Looking at their pale faces, and their eager + eyes, he could say no more. + </p> + <p> + “Take care!” whispered Dorothea, in her sister’s ear. “Look at him, + Amelia! Not too soon.” + </p> + <p> + Amelia went on more carefully. + </p> + <p> + “We have just returned from a musical meeting,” she said. “One of the + ladies there was an acquaintance, a former school-fellow of ours. She is + the wife of the rector of St. Columb Major—a large church, far from + this—at the East End of London.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about the woman or the church,” interposed Turlington, + sternly. + </p> + <p> + “I must beg you to wait a little. I can’t tell you what I want to tell you + unless I refer to the rector’s wife. She knows Lady Winwood by name. And + she heard of Lady Winwood recently under very strange circumstances—circumstances + connected with a signature in one of the books of the church.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington lost his self-control. “You have got something against my + Natalie,” he burst out; “I know it by your whispering, I see it in your + looks! Say it at once in plain words.” + </p> + <p> + There was no trifling with him now. In plain words Amelia said it. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + There was silence in the room. They could hear the sound of passing + footsteps in the street. He stood perfectly still on the spot where they + had struck him dumb by the disclosure, supporting himself with his right + hand laid on the head of a sofa near him. The sisters drew back + horror-struck into the furthest corner of the room. His face turned them + cold. Through the mute misery which it had expressed at first, there + appeared, slowly forcing its way to view, a look of deadly vengeance which + froze them to the soul. They whispered feverishly one to the other, + without knowing what they were talking of, without hearing their own + voices. One of them said, “Ring the bell!” Another said, “Offer him + something, he will faint.” The third shuddered, and repeated, over and + over again, “Why did we do it? Why did we do it?” + </p> + <p> + He silenced them on the instant by speaking on his side. He came on + slowly, by a step at a time, with the big drops of agony falling slowly + over his rugged face. He said, in a hoarse whisper, “Write me down the + name of the church—there.” He held out his open pocketbook to Amelia + while he spoke. She steadied herself, and wrote the address. She tried to + say a word to soften him. The word died on her lips. There was a light in + his eyes as they looked at her which transfigured his face to something + superhuman and devilish. She turned away from him, shuddering. + </p> + <p> + He put the book back in his pocket, and passed his handkerchief over his + face. After a moment of indecision, he suddenly and swiftly stole out of + the room, as if he was afraid of their calling somebody in, and stopping + him. At the door he turned round for a moment, and said, “You will hear + how this ends. I wish you good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + The door closed on him. Left by themselves, they began to realize it. They + thought of the consequences when his back was turned and it was too late. + </p> + <p> + The Graybrookes! Now he knew it, what would become of the Graybrookes? + What would he do when he got back? Even at ordinary times—when he + was on his best behavior—he was a rough man. What would happen? Oh, + good God! what would happen when he and Natalie next stood face to face? + It was a lonely house—Natalie had told them about it—no + neighbors near; nobody by to interfere but the weak old father and the + maiden aunt. Something ought to be done. Some steps ought to be taken to + warn them. Advice—who could give advice? Who was the first person + who ought to be told of what had happened? Lady Winwood? No! even at that + crisis the sisters still shrank from their stepmother—still hated + her with the old hatred! Not a word to <i>her!</i> They owed no duty to <i>her!</i> + Who else could they appeal to? To their father? Yes! There was the person + to advise them. In the meanwhile, silence toward their stepmother—silence + toward every one till their father came back! + </p> + <p> + They waited and waited. One after another the precious hours, pregnant + with the issues of life and death, followed each other on the dial. Lady + Winwood returned alone. She had left her husband at the House of Lords. + Dinner-time came, and brought with it a note from his lordship. There was + a debate at the House. Lady Winwood and his daughters were not to wait + dinner for him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TENTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + Green Anchor Lane. + </h3> + <p> + An hour later than the time at which he had been expected, Richard + Turlington appeared at his office in the city. + </p> + <p> + He met beforehand all the inquiries which the marked change in him must + otherwise have provoked, by announcing that he was ill. Before he + proceeded to business, he asked if anybody was waiting to see him. One of + the servants from Muswell Hill was waiting with another parcel for Miss + Lavinia, ordered by telegram from the country that morning. Turlington + (after ascertaining the servant’s name) received the man in his private + room. He there heard, for the first time, that Launcelot Linzie had been + lurking in the grounds (exactly as he had supposed) on the day when the + lawyer took his instructions for the Settlement and the Will. + </p> + <p> + In two hours more Turlington’s work was completed. On leaving the office—as + soon as he was out of sight of the door—he turned eastward, instead + of taking the way that led to his own house in town. Pursuing his course, + he entered the labyrinth of streets which led, in that quarter of East + London, to the unsavory neighborhood of the river-side. + </p> + <p> + By this time his mind was made up. The forecast shadow of meditated crime + traveled before him already, as he threaded his way among his fellow-men. + </p> + <p> + He had been to the vestry of St. Columb Major, and had satisfied himself + that he was misled by no false report. There was the entry in the Marriage + Register. The one unexplained mystery was the mystery of Launce’s conduct + in permitting his wife to return to her father’s house. Utterly unable to + account for this proceeding, Turlington could only accept facts as they + were, and determine to make the most of his time, while the woman who had + deceived him was still under his roof. A hideous expression crossed his + face as he realized the idea that he had got her (unprotected by her + husband) in his house. “When Launcelot Linzie <i>does</i> come to claim + her,” he said to himself, “he shall find I have been even with him.” He + looked at his watch. Was it possible to save the last train and get back + that night? No—the last train had gone. Would she take advantage of + his absence to escape? He had little fear of it. She would never have + allowed her aunt to send him to Lord Winwood’s house, if she had felt the + slightest suspicion of his discovering the truth in that quarter. + Returning by the first train the next morning, he might feel sure of + getting back in time. Meanwhile he had the hours of the night before him. + He could give his mind to the serious question that must be settled before + he left London—the question of repaying the forty thousand pounds. + There was but one way of getting the money now. Sir Joseph had executed + his Will; Sir Joseph’s death would leave his sole executor and trustee + (the lawyer had said it!) master of his fortune. Turlington determined to + be master of it in four-and-twenty hours—striking the blow, without + risk to himself, by means of another hand. In the face of the + probabilities, in the face of the facts, he had now firmly persuaded + himself that Sir Joseph was privy to the fraud that had been practiced on + him. The Marriage-Settlement, the Will, the presence of the family at his + country house—all these he believed to be so many stratagems + invented to keep him deceived until the last moment. The truth was in + those words which he had overheard between Sir Joseph and Launce—and + in Launce’s presence (privately encouraged, no doubt) at Muswell Hill. + “Her father shall pay me for it doubly: with his purse and with his life.” + With that thought in his heart, Richard Turlington wound his way through + the streets by the river-side, and stopped at a blind alley called Green + Anchor Lane, infamous to this day as the chosen resort of the most + abandoned wretches whom London can produce. + </p> + <p> + The policeman at the corner cautioned him as he turned into the alley. + “They won’t hurt <i>me!</i>” he answered, and walked on to a public-house + at the bottom of the lane. + </p> + <p> + The landlord at the door silently recognized him, and led the way in. They + crossed a room filled with sailors of all nations drinking; ascended a + staircase at the back of the house, and stopped at the door of the room on + the second floor. There the landlord spoke for the first time. “He has + outrun his allowance, sir, as usual. You will find him with hardly a rag + on his back. I doubt if he will last much longer. He had another fit of + the horrors last night, and the doctor thinks badly of him.” With that + introduction he opened the door, and Turlington entered the room. + </p> + <p> + On the miserable bed lay a gray-headed old man of gigantic stature, with + nothing on him but a ragged shirt and a pair of patched, filthy trousers. + At the side of the bed, with a bottle of gin on the rickety table between + them, sat two hideous leering, painted monsters, wearing the dress of + women. The smell of opium was in the room, as well as the smell of + spirits. At Turlington’s appearance, the old man rose on the bed and + welcomed him with greedy eyes and outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “Money, master!” he called out hoarsely. “A crown piece in advance, for + the sake of old times!” + </p> + <p> + Turlington turned to the women without answering, purse in hand. + </p> + <p> + “His clothes are at the pawnbroker’s, of course. How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty shillings.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring them here, and be quick about it. You will find it worth your while + when you come back.” + </p> + <p> + The women took the pawnbroker’s tickets from the pockets of the man’s + trousers and hurried out. + </p> + <p> + Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by the bedside. He laid his + hand familiarly on the giant’s mighty shoulder, looked him full in the + face, and said, in a whisper, + </p> + <p> + “Thomas Wildfang!” + </p> + <p> + The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand across his eyes, as if in + doubt whether he was waking or sleeping. “It’s better than ten years, + master, since you called me by my name. If I am Thomas Wildfang, what are + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Your captain, once more.” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, and spoke his next words + cautiously in Turlington’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Another man in the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The giant shook his bald, bestial head dolefully. “Too late. I’m past the + job. Look here.” + </p> + <p> + He held up his hand, and showed it trembling incessantly. “I’m an old + man,” he said, and let his hand drop heavily again on the bed beside him. + </p> + <p> + Turlington looked at the door, and whispered back, + </p> + <p> + “The man is as old as you are. And the money is worth having.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of Thomas Wildfang fastened greedily on Turlington’s face. “Let’s + hear,” he said. “Softly, captain. Let’s hear.” + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + When the women came back with the clothes, Turlington had left the room. + Their promised reward lay waiting for them on the table, and Thomas + Wildfang was eager to dress himself and be gone. They could get but one + answer from him to every question they put. He had business in hand, which + was not to be delayed. They would see him again in a day or two, with + money in his purse. With that assurance he took his cudgel from the corner + of the room, and stalked out swiftly by the back door of the house into + the night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ELEVENTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + Outside the House + </h3> + <p> + The evening was chilly, but not cold for the time of year. There was no + moon. The stars were out, and the wind was quiet. Upon the whole, the + inhabitants of the little Somersetshire village of Baxdale agreed that it + was as fine a Christmas-eve as they could remember for some years past. + </p> + <p> + Toward eight in the evening the one small street of the village was empty, + except at that part of it which was occupied by the public-house. For the + most part, people gathered round their firesides, with an eye to their + suppers, and watched the process of cooking comfortably indoors. The old + bare, gray church, situated at some little distance from the village, + looked a lonelier object than usual in the dim starlight. The vicarage, + nestling close under the shadow of the church-tower, threw no illumination + of fire-light or candle-light on the dreary scene. The clergyman’s + shutters fitted well, and the clergyman’s curtains were closely drawn. The + one ray of light that cheered the wintry darkness streamed from the + unguarded window of a lonely house, separated from the vicarage by the + whole length of the church-yard. A man stood at the window, holding back + the shutter, and looking out attentively over the dim void of the + burial-ground. The man was Richard Turlington. The room in which he was + watching was a room in his own house. + </p> + <p> + A momentary spark of light flashed up, as from a kindled match, in the + burial-ground. Turlington instantly left the empty room in which he had + been watching. Passing down the back garden of the house, and crossing a + narrow lane at the bottom of it, he opened a gate in a low stone wall + beyond, and entered the church-yard. The shadowy figure of a man of great + stature, lurking among the graves, advanced to meet him. Midway in the + dark and lonely place the two stopped and consulted together in whispers. + Turlington spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “Have you taken up your quarters at the public-house in the village?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find your way, while the daylight lasted, to the deserted + malt-house behind my orchard wall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master.” + </p> + <p> + “Now listen—we have no time to lose. Hide there, behind that + monument. Before nine o’clock to-night you will see me cross the + churchyard, as far as this place, with the man you are to wait for. He is + going to spend an hour with the vicar, at the house yonder. I shall stop + short here, and say to him, ‘You can’t miss your way in the dark now—I + will go back.’ When I am far enough away from him, I shall blow a call on + my whistle. The moment you hear the call, follow the man, and drop him + before he gets out of the church-yard. Have you got your cudgel?” + </p> + <p> + Thomas Wildfang held up his cudgel. Turlington took him by the arm, and + felt it suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “You have had an attack of the horrors already,” he said. “What does this + trembling mean?” + </p> + <p> + He took a spirit-flask from his pocket as he spoke. Thomas Wildfang + snatched it out of his hand, and emptied it at a draught. “All right now, + master,” he said. Turlington felt his arm once more. It was steadier + already. Wildfang brandished his cudgel, and struck a heavy blow with it + on one of the turf mounds near them. “Will that drop him, captain?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + Turlington went on with his instructions. + </p> + <p> + “Rob him when you have dropped him. Take his money and his jewelry. I want + to have the killing of him attributed to robbery as the motive. Make sure + before you leave him that he is dead. Then go to the malt-house. There is + no fear of your being seen; all the people will be indoors, keeping + Christmas-eve. You will find a change of clothes hidden in the malt-house, + and an old caldron full of quicklime. Destroy the clothes you have got on, + and dress yourself in the other clothes that you find. Follow the + cross-road, and when it brings you into the highroad, turn to the left; a + four-mile walk will take you to the town of Harminster. Sleep there + to-night, and travel to London by the train in the morning. The next day + go to my office, see the head clerk, and say, ‘I have come to sign my + receipt.’ Sign it in your own name, and you will receive your hundred + pounds. There are your instructions. Do you understand them?” + </p> + <p> + Wildfang nodded his head in silent token that he understood, and + disappeared again among the graves. Turlington went back to the house. + </p> + <p> + He had advanced midway across the garden, when he was startled by the + sound of footsteps in the lane—at that part of it which skirted one + of the corners of the house. Hastening forward, he placed himself behind a + projection in the wall, so as to see the person pass across the stream of + light from the uncovered window of the room that he had left. The stranger + was walking rapidly. All Turlington could see as he crossed the field of + light was, that his hat was pulled over his eyes, and that he had a thick + beard and mustache. Describing the man to the servant on entering the + house, he was informed that a stranger with a large beard had been seen + about the neighborhood for some days past. The account he had given of + himself stated that he was a surveyor, engaged in taking measurements for + a new map of that part of the country, shortly to be published. + </p> + <p> + The guilty mind of Turlington was far from feeling satisfied with the + meager description of the stranger thus rendered. He could not be engaged + in surveying in the dark. What could he want in the desolate neighborhood + of the house and church-yard at that time of night? + </p> + <p> + The man wanted—what the man found a little lower down the lane, + hidden in a dismantled part of the church-yard wall—a letter from a + young lady. Read by the light of the pocket-lantern which he carried with + him, the letter first congratulated this person on the complete success of + his disguise—and then promised that the writer would be ready at her + bedroom window for flight the next morning, before the house was astir. + The signature was “Natalie,” and the person addressed was “Dearest + Launce.” + </p> + <p> + In the meanwhile, Turlington barred the window shutters of the room, and + looked at his watch. It wanted only a quarter to nine o’clock. He took his + dog-whistle from the chimney-piece, and turned his steps at once in the + direction of the drawing-room, in which his guests were passing the + evening. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TWELFTH SCENE. + </h2> + <h3> + Inside the House. + </h3> + <p> + The scene in the drawing-room represented the ideal of domestic comfort. + The fire of wood and coal mixed burned brightly; the lamps shed a soft + glow of light; the solid shutters and the thick red curtains kept the cold + night air on the outer side of two long windows, which opened on the back + garden. Snug arm-chairs were placed in every part of the room. In one of + them Sir Joseph reclined, fast asleep; in another, Miss Lavinia sat + knitting; a third chair, apart from the rest, near a round table in one + corner of the room, was occupied by Natalie. Her head was resting on her + hand, an unread book lay open on her lap. She looked pale and harassed; + anxiety and suspense had worn her down to the shadow of her former self. + On entering the room, Turlington purposely closed the door with a bang. + Natalie started. Miss Lavinia looked up reproachfully. The object was + achieved—Sir Joseph was roused from his sleep. + </p> + <p> + “If you are going to the vicar’s to-night. Graybrooke,” said Turlington, + “it’s time you were off, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock on the mantel-piece. + “Yes, yes, Richard,” he answered, drowsily, “I suppose I must go. Where is + my hat?” + </p> + <p> + His sister and his daughter both joined in trying to persuade him to send + an excuse instead of groping his way to the vicarage in the dark. Sir + Joseph hesitated, as usual. He and the vicar had run up a sudden + friendship, on the strength of their common enthusiasm for the + old-fashioned game of backgammon. Victorious over his opponent on the + previous evening at Turlington’s house, Sir Joseph had promised to pass + that evening at the vicarage, and give the vicar his revenge. Observing + his indecision, Turlington cunningly irritated him by affecting to believe + that he was really unwilling to venture out in the dark. “I’ll see you + safe across the churchyard,” he said; “and the vicar’s servant will see + you safe back.” The tone in which he spoke instantly roused Sir Joseph. “I + am not in my second childhood yet, Richard,” he replied, testily. “I can + find my way by myself.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead. “No fear, + Natalie. I shall be back in time for the mulled claret. No, Richard, I + won’t trouble you.” He kissed his hand to his sister and went out into the + hall for his hat: Turlington following him with a rough apology, and + asking as a favor to be permitted to accompany him part of the way only. + The ladies, left behind in the drawing-room, heard the apology accepted by + kind-hearted Sir Joseph. The two went out together. + </p> + <p> + “Have you noticed Richard since his return?” asked Miss Lavinia. “I fancy + he must have heard bad news in London. He looks as if he had something on + his mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t remarked it, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + For the time, no more was said. Miss Lavinia went monotonously on with her + knitting. Natalie pursued her own anxious thoughts over the unread pages + of the book in her lap. Suddenly the deep silence out of doors and in was + broken by a shrill whistle, sounding from the direction of the + church-yard. Natalie started with a faint cry of alarm. Miss Lavinia + looked up from her knitting. + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, your nerves must be sadly out of order. What is there to + be frightened at?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not very well, aunt. It is so still here at night, the slightest + noises startle me.” + </p> + <p> + There was another interval of silence. It was past nine o’clock when they + heard the back door opened and closed again. Turlington came hurriedly + into the drawing-room, as if he had some reason for wishing to rejoin the + ladies as soon as possible. To the surprise of both of them, he sat down + abruptly in the corner, with his face to the wall, and took up the + newspaper, without casting a look at them or uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Is Joseph safe at the vicarage?” asked Miss Lavinia. + </p> + <p> + “All right.” He gave the answer in a short, surly tone, still without + looking round. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia tried him again. “Did you hear a whistle while you were out? + It quite startled Natalie in the stillness of this place.” + </p> + <p> + He turned half-way round. “My shepherd, I suppose,” he said after a pause—“whistling + for his dog.” He turned back again and immersed himself in his newspaper. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia beckoned to her niece and pointed significantly to + Turlington. After one reluctant look at him, Natalie laid her head wearily + on her aunt’s shoulder. “Sleepy, my dear?” whispered the old lady. + “Uneasy, aunt—I don’t know why,” Natalie whispered back. “I would + give the world to be in London, and to hear the carriages going by, and + the people talking in the street.” + </p> + <p> + Turlington suddenly dropped his newspaper. “What’s the secret between you + two?” he called out roughly. “What are you whispering about?” + </p> + <p> + “We wish not to disturb you over your reading, that is all,” said Miss + Lavinia, coldly. “Has anything happened to vex you, Richard?” + </p> + <p> + “What the devil makes you think that?” + </p> + <p> + The old lady was offended, and showed it by saying nothing more. Natalie + nestled closer to her aunt. One after another the clock ticked off the + minutes with painful distinctness in the stillness of the room. Turlington + suddenly threw aside the newspaper and left his corner. “Let’s be good + friends!” he burst out, with a clumsy assumption of gayety. “This isn’t + keeping Christmas-eve. Let’s talk and be sociable. Dearest Natalie!” He + threw his arm roughly round Natalie, and drew her by main force away from + her aunt. She turned deadly pale, and struggled to release herself. “I am + suffering—I am ill—let me go!” He was deaf to her entreaties. + “What! your husband that is to be, treated in this way? Mustn’t I have a + kiss?—I will!” He held her closer with one hand, and, seizing her + head with the other, tried to turn her lips to him. She resisted with the + inbred nervous strength which the weakest woman living has in reserve when + she is outraged. Half indignant, half terrified, at Turlington’s + roughness, Miss Lavinia rose to interfere. In a moment more he would have + had two women to overpower instead of one, when a noise outside the window + suddenly suspended the ignoble struggle. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound of footsteps on the gravel-walk which ran between the + house wall and the garden lawn. It was followed by a tap—a single + faint tap, no more—on one of the panes of glass. + </p> + <p> + They all three stood still. For a moment more nothing was audible. Then + there was a heavy shock, as of something falling outside. Then a groan, + then another interval of silence—a long silence, interrupted no + more. + </p> + <p> + Turlington’s arm dropped from Natalie. She drew back to her aunt. Looking + at him instinctively, in the natural expectation that he would take the + lead in penetrating the mystery of what had happened outside the window, + the two women were thunderstruck to see that he was, to all appearance, + even more startled and more helpless than they were. “Richard,” said Miss + Lavinia, pointing to the window, “there is something wrong out there. See + what it is.” He stood motionless, as if he had not heard her, his eyes + fixed on the window, his face livid with terror. + </p> + <p> + The silence outside was broken once more; this time by a call for help. + </p> + <p> + A cry of horror burst from Natalie. The voice outside—rising wildly, + then suddenly dying away again—was not entirely strange to <i>her</i> + ears. She tore aside the curtain. With voice and hand she roused her aunt + to help her. The two lifted the heavy bar from its socket; they opened the + shutters and the window. The cheerful light of the room flowed out over + the body of a prostrate man, lying on his face. They turned the man over. + Natalie lifted his head. + </p> + <p> + Her father! + </p> + <p> + His face was bedabbled with blood. A wound, a frightful wound, was visible + on the side of his bare head, high above the ear. He looked at her, his + eyes recognized her, before he fainted again in her arms. His hands and + his clothes were covered with earth stains. He must have traversed some + distance; in that dreadful condition he must have faltered and fallen more + than once before he reached the house. His sister wiped the blood from his + face. His daughter called on him frantically to forgive her before he died—the + harmless, gentle, kind-hearted father, who had never said a hard word to + her! The father whom she had deceived! + </p> + <p> + The terrified servants hurried into the room. Their appearance roused + their master from the extraordinary stupor that had seized him. He was at + the window before the footman could get there. The two lifted Sir Joseph + into the room, and laid him on the sofa. Natalie knelt by him, supporting + his head. Miss Lavinia stanched the flowing blood with her handkerchief. + The women-servants brought linen and cold water. The man hurried away for + the doctor, who lived on the other side of the village. Left alone again + with Turlington, Natalie noticed that his eyes were fixed in immovable + scrutiny on her father’s head. He never said a word. He looked, looked, + looked at the wound. + </p> + <p> + The doctor arrived. Before either the daughter or the sister of the + injured man could put the question, Turlington put it—“Will he live + or die?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s careful finger probed the wound. + </p> + <p> + “Make your minds easy. A little lower down, or in front, the blow might + have been serious. As it is, there is no harm done. Keep him quiet, and he + will be all right again in two or three days.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing those welcome words, Natalie and her aunt sank on their knees in + silent gratitude. After dressing the wound, the doctor looked round for + the master of the house. Turlington, who had been so breathlessly eager + but a few minutes since, seemed to have lost all interest in the case now. + He stood apart, at the window, looking out toward the church-yard, + thinking. The questions which it was the doctor’s duty to ask were + answered by the ladies. The servants assisted in examining the injured + man’s clothes: they discovered that his watch and purse were both missing. + When it became necessary to carry him upstairs, it was the footman who + assisted the doctor. The foot man’s master, without a word of explanation, + walked out bare headed into the back garden, on the search, as the doctor + and the servants supposed, for some trace of the robber who had attempted + Sir Joseph’s life. + </p> + <p> + His absence was hardly noticed at the time. The difficulty of conveying + the wounded man to his room absorbed the attention of all the persons + present. + </p> + <p> + Sir Joseph partially recovered his senses while they were taking him up + the steep and narrow stairs. Carefully as they carried the patient, the + motion wrung a groan from him before they reached the top. The bedroom + corridor, in the rambling, irregularly built house rose and fell on + different levels. At the door of the first bedchamber the doctor asked a + little anxiously if that was the room. No; there were three more stairs to + go down, and a corner to turn, before they could reach it. The first room + was Natalie’s. She instantly offered it for her father’s use. The doctor + (seeing that it was the airiest as well as the nearest room) accepted the + proposal. Sir Joseph had been laid comfortably in his daughter’s bed; the + doctor had just left them, with renewed assurances that they need feel no + anxiety, when they heard a heavy step below stairs. Turlington had + re-entered the house. + </p> + <p> + (He had been looking, as they had supposed, for the ruffian who had + attacked Sir Joseph; with a motive, however, for the search at which it + was impossible for other persons to guess. His own safety was now bound up + in the safety of Thomas Wildfang. As soon as he was out of sight in the + darkness, he made straight for the malt-house. The change of clothes was + there untouched; not a trace of his accomplice was to be seen. Where else + to look for him it was impossible to tell. Turlington had no alternative + but to go back to the house, and ascertain if suspicion had been aroused + in his absence.) + </p> + <p> + He had only to ascend the stairs, and to see, through the open door, that + Sir Joseph had been placed in his daughter’s room. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” he asked, roughly. + </p> + <p> + Before it was possible to answer him the footman appeared with a message. + The doctor had come back to the door to say that he would take on himself + the necessary duty of informing the constable of what had happened, on his + return to the village. Turlington started and changed color. If Wildfang + was found by others, and questioned in his employer’s absence, serious + consequences might follow. “The constable is my business,” said + Turlington, hurriedly descending the stairs; “I’ll go with the doctor.” + They heard him open the door below, then close it again (as if some sudden + thought had struck him), and call to the footman. The house was badly + provided with servants’ bedrooms. The women-servants only slept indoors. + The footman occupied a room over the stables. Natalie and her aunt heard + Turlington dismiss the man for the night, an hour earlier than usual at + least. His next proceeding was stranger still. Looking cautiously over the + stairs, Natalie saw him lock all the doors on the ground-floor and take + out the keys. When he went away, she heard him lock the front door behind + him. Incredible as it seemed, there could be no doubt of the fact—the + inmates of the house were imprisoned till he came back. What did it mean? + </p> + <p> + (It meant that Turlington’s vengeance still remained to be wreaked on the + woman who had deceived him. It meant that Sir Joseph’s life still stood + between the man who had compassed his death and the money which the man + was resolved to have. It meant that Richard Turlington was driven to bay, + and that the horror and the peril of the night were not at an end yet.) + </p> + <p> + Natalie and her aunt looked at each other across the bed on which Sir + Joseph lay. He had fallen into a kind of doze; no enlightenment could come + to them from <i>him</i>. They could only ask each other, with beating + hearts and baffled minds, what Richard’s conduct meant—they could + only feel instinctively that some dreadful discovery was hanging over + them. The aunt was the calmer of the two—there was no secret + weighing heavily on <i>her</i> conscience. <i>She</i> could feel the + consolations of religion. “Our dear one is spared to us, my love,” said + the old lady, gently. “God has been good to us. We are in his hands. If we + know that, we know enough.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke there was a loud ring at the doorbell. The women-servants + crowded into the bedroom in alarm. Strong in numbers, and encouraged by + Natalie—who roused herself and led the way—they confronted the + risk of opening the window and of venturing out on the balcony which + extended along that side of the house. A man was dimly visible below. He + called to them in thick, unsteady accents. The servants recognized him: he + was the telegraphic messenger from the railway. They went down to speak to + him—and returned with a telegram which had been pushed in under the + door. The distance from the station was considerable; the messenger had + been “keeping Christmas” in more than one beer-shop on his way to the + house; and the delivery of the telegram had been delayed for some hours. + It was addressed to Natalie. She opened it—looked at it—dropped + it—and stood speechless; her lips parted in horror, her eyes staring + vacantly straight before her. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia took the telegram from the floor, and read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “Lady Winwood, Hertford Street, London. To Natalie Graybrooke, Church + Meadows, Baxdale, Somersetshire. Dreadful news. R. T. has discovered your + marriage to Launce. The truth has been kept from me till to-day (24th). + Instant flight with your husband is your only chance. I would have + communicated with Launce, but I do not know his address. You will receive + this, I hope and believe, before R. T. can return to Somersetshire. + Telegraph back, I entreat you, to say that you are safe. I shall follow my + message if I do not hear from you in reasonable time.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia lifted her gray head, and looked at her niece. “Is this + true?” she said—and pointed to the venerable face laid back, white, + on the white pillow of the bed. Natalie sank forward as her eyes met the + eyes of her aunt. Miss Lavinia saved her from falling insensible on the + floor. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + The confession had been made. The words of penitence and the words of + pardon had been spoken. The peaceful face of the father still lay hushed + in rest. One by one the minutes succeeded each other uneventfully in the + deep tranquillity of the night. It was almost a relief when the silence + was disturbed once more by another sound outside the house. A pebble was + thrown up at the window, and a voice called out cautiously, “Miss + Lavinia!” + </p> + <p> + They recognized the voice of the man-servant, and at once opened the + window. + </p> + <p> + He had something to say to the ladies in private. How could he say it? A + domestic circumstance which had been marked by Launce, as favorable to the + contemplated elopement, was now noticed by the servant as lending itself + readily to effecting the necessary communication with the ladies. The lock + of the gardener’s tool-house (in the shrubbery close by) was under repair; + and the gardener’s ladder was accessible to any one who wanted it. At the + short height of the balcony from the ground, the ladder was more than long + enough for the purpose required. In a few minutes the servant had mounted + to the balcony, and could speak to Natalie and her aunt at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t rest quiet,” said the man, “I’m off on the sly to see what’s + going on down in the village. It’s hard on ladies like you to be locked in + here. Is there anything I can do for either of you?” + </p> + <p> + Natalie took up Lady Winwood’s telegram. “Launce ought to see this,” she + said to her aunt. “He will be here at daybreak,” she added, in a whisper, + “if I don’t tell him what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia turned pale. “If he and Richard meet—” she began. “Tell + him!” she added, hurriedly—“tell him before it is too late!” + </p> + <p> + Natalie wrote a few lines (addressed to Launce in his assumed name at his + lodgings in the village) inclosing Lady Winwood’s telegram, and entreating + him to do nothing rash. When the servant had disappeared with the letter, + there was one hope in her mind and in her aunt’s mind, which each was + ashamed to acknowledge to the other—the hope that Launce would face + the very danger that they dreaded for him, and come to the house. + </p> + <p> + They had not been long alone again, when Sir Joseph drowsily opened his + eyes and asked what they were doing in his room. They told him gently that + he was ill. He put his hand up to his head, and said they were right, and + so dropped off again into slumber. Worn out by the emotions through which + they had passed, the two women silently waited for the march of events. + The same stupor of resignation possessed them both. They had secured the + door and the window. They had prayed together. They had kissed the quiet + face on the pillow. They had said to each other, “We will live with him or + die with him as God pleases.” Miss Lavinia sat by the bedside. Natalie was + on a stool at her feet—with her eyes closed, and her head on her + aunt’s knee. + </p> + <p> + Time went on. The clock in the hall had struck—ten or eleven, they + were not sure which—when they heard the signal which warned them of + the servant’s return from the village. He brought news, and more than + news; he brought a letter from Launce. + </p> + <p> + Natalie read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “I shall be with you, dearest, almost as soon as you receive this. The + bearer will tell you what has happened in the village—your note + throws a new light on it all. I only remain behind to go to the vicar (who + is also the magistrate here), and declare myself your husband. All + disguise must be at an end now. My place is with you and yours. It is even + worse than your worst fears. Turlington was at the bottom of the attack on + your father. Judge if you have not need of your husband’s protection after + that!—L.” + </p> + <p> + Natalie handed the letter to her aunt, and pointed to the sentence which + asserted Turlington’s guilty knowledge of the attempt on Sir Joseph’s + life. In silent horror the two women looked at each other, recalling what + had happened earlier in the evening, and understanding it now. The servant + roused them to a sense of present things, by entering on the narrative of + his discoveries in the village. + </p> + <p> + The place was all astir when he reached it. An old man—a stranger in + Baxdale—had been found lying in the road, close to the church, in a + fit; and the person who had discovered him had been no other than Launce + himself. He had, literally, stumbled over the body of Thomas Wildfang in + the dark, on his way back to his lodgings in the village. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman gave the alarm, miss,” said the servant, describing the + event, as it had been related to him, “and the man—a huge, big old + man—was carried to the inn. The landlord identified him; he had + taken lodgings at the inn that day, and the constable found valuable + property on him—a purse of money and a gold watch and chain. There + was nothing to show who the money and the watch belonged to. It was only + when my master and the doctor got to the inn that it was known whom he had + robbed and tried to murder. All he let out in his wanderings before they + came was that some person had set him on to do it. He called the person + ‘Captain,’ and sometimes ‘Captain Goward.’ It was thought—if you + could trust the ravings of a madman—that the fit took him while he + was putting his hand on Sir Joseph’s heart to feel if it had stopped + beating. A sort of vision (as I understand it) must have overpowered him + at the moment. They tell me he raved about the sea bursting into the + church yard, and a drowning sailor floating by on a hen-coop; a sailor who + dragged him down to hell by the hair of his head, and such like horrible + nonsense, miss. He was still screeching, at the worst of the fit, when my + master and the doctor came into the room. At sight of one or other of them—it + is thought of Mr. Turlington, seeing that he came first—he held his + peace on a sudden, and then fell back in convulsions in the arms of the + men who were holding him. The doctor gave it a learned name, signifying + drink-madness, and said the case was hopeless. However, he ordered the + room to be cleared of the crowd to see what he could do. My master was + reported to be still with the doctor, waiting to see whether the man lived + or died, when I left the village, miss, with the gentleman’s answer to + your note. I didn’t dare stay to hear how it ended, for fear of Mr. + Turlington’s finding me out.” + </p> + <p> + Having reached the end of his narrative, the man looked round restlessly + toward the window. It was impossible to say when his master might not + return, and it might be as much as his life was worth to be caught in the + house after he had been locked out of it. He begged permission to open the + window, and make his escape back to the stables while there was still + time. As he unbarred the shutter they were startled by a voice hailing + them from below. It was Launce’s voice calling to Natalie. The servant + disappeared, and Natalie was in Launce’s arms before she could breathe + again. + </p> + <p> + For one delicious moment she let her head lie on his breast; then she + suddenly pushed him away from her. “Why do you come here? He will kill you + if he finds you in the house. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + Launce knew even less of Turlington’s movements than the servant. + “Wherever he is, thank God, I am here before him!” That was all the answer + he could give. + </p> + <p> + Natalie and her aunt heard him in silent dismay. Sir Joseph woke, and + recognized Launce before a word more could be said. “Ah, my dear boy!” he + murmured, faintly. “It’s pleasant to see you again. How do you come here?” + He was quite satisfied with the first excuse that suggested itself. “We’ll + talk about it to-morrow,” he said, and composed himself to rest again. + </p> + <p> + Natalie made a second attempt to persuade Launce to leave the house. + </p> + <p> + “We don’t know what may have happened,” she said. “He may have followed + you on your way here. He may have purposely let you enter his house. Leave + us while you have the chance.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia added her persuasions. They were useless. Launce quietly + closed the heavy window-shutters, lined with iron, and put up the bar. + Natalie wrung her hands in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been to the magistrate?” she asked. “Tell us, at least, are you + here by his advice? Is he coming to help us?” + </p> + <p> + Launce hesitated. If he had told the truth, he must have acknowledged that + he was there in direct opposition to the magistrate’s advice. He answered + evasively, “If the vicar doesn’t come, the doctor will. I have told him + Sir Joseph must be moved. Cheer up, Natalie! The doctor will be here as + soon as Turlington.” + </p> + <p> + As the name passed his lips—without a sound outside to prepare them + for what was coming—the voice of Turlington himself suddenly + penetrated into the room, speaking close behind the window, on the outer + side. + </p> + <p> + “You have broken into my house in the night,” said the voice. “And you + don’t escape <i>this</i> way.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lavinia sank on her knees. Natalie flew to her father. His eyes were + wide open in terror; he moaned, feebly recognizing the voice. The next + sound that was heard was the sound made by the removal of the ladder from + the balcony. Turlington, having descended by it, had taken it away. + Natalie had but too accurately guessed what would happen. The death of the + villain’s accomplice had freed him from all apprehension in that quarter. + He had deliberately dogged Launce’s steps, and had deliberately allowed + him to put himself in the wrong by effecting a secret entrance into the + house. + </p> + <p> + There was an interval—a horrible interval—and then they heard + the front door opened. Without stopping (judging by the absence of sound) + to close it again, Turlington rapidly ascended the stairs and tried the + locked door. + </p> + <p> + “Come out, and give yourself up!” he called through the door. “I have got + my revolver with me, and I have a right to fire on a man who has broken + into my house. If the door isn’t opened before I count three, your blood + be on your own head. One!” + </p> + <p> + Launce was armed with nothing but his stick. He advanced, without an + instant’s hesitation, to give himself up. Natalie threw her arms round him + and clasped him fast before he could reach the door. + </p> + <p> + “Two!” cried the voice outside, as Launce struggled to force her from him. + At the same moment his eye turned toward the bed. It was exactly opposite + the door—it was straight in the line of fire! Sir Joseph’ s life (as + Turlington had deliberately calculated) was actually in greater danger + than Launce’s life. He tore himself free, rushed to the bed, and took the + old man in his arms to lift him out. + </p> + <p> + “Three!” + </p> + <p> + The crash of the report sounded. The bullet came through the door, grazed + Launce’s left arm, and buried itself in the pillow, at the very place on + which Sir Joseph’s head had rested the moment before. Launce had saved his + father-in-law’s life. Turlington had fired his first shot for the money, + and had not got it yet. + </p> + <p> + They were safe in the corner of the room, on the same side as the door—Sir + Joseph, helpless as a child, in Launce’s arms; the women pale, but + admirably calm. They were safe for the moment, when the second bullet + (fired at an angle) tore its way through the wall on their right hand. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you,” cried the voice of the miscreant on the other side of the + door. “I’ll have you yet—through the wall.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. They heard his hand sounding the wall, to find out + where there was solid wood in the material of which it was built, and + where there was plaster only. At that dreadful moment Launce’s composure + never left him. He laid Sir Joseph softly on the floor, and signed to + Natalie and her aunt to lie down by him in silence. Their lives depended + now on neither their voices nor their movements telling the murderer where + to fire. He chose his place. The barrel of the revolver grated as he laid + it against the wall. He touched the hair trigger. A faint <i>click</i> was + the only sound that followed. The third barrel had missed fire. + </p> + <p> + They heard him ask himself, with an oath, “What’s wrong with it now?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause of silence. + </p> + <p> + Was he examining the weapon? + </p> + <p> + Before they could ask themselves the question, the report of the exploding + charge burst on their ears. It was instantly followed by a heavy fall. + They looked at the opposite wall of the room. No sign of a bullet there or + anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Launce signed to them not to move yet. They waited, and listened. Nothing + stirred on the landing outside. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was a disturbance of the silence in the lower regions—a + clamor of many voices at the open house door. Had the firing of the + revolver been heard at the vicarage? Yes! They recognized the vicar’s + voice among the others. A moment more, and they heard a general + exclamation of horror on the stairs. Launce opened the door of the room. + He instantly closed it again before Natalie could follow him. + </p> + <p> + The dead body of Turlington lay on the landing outside. The charge in the + fourth barrel of the revolver had exploded while he was looking at it. The + bullet had entered his mouth and killed him on the spot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DOCUMENTARY HINTS, IN CONCLUSION. + </h2> + <h3> + First Hint. + </h3> + <p> + (Derived from Lady Winwood’s Card-Rack.) + </p> + <p> + “Sir Joseph Graybrooke and Miss Graybrooke request the honor of Lord and + Lady Winwood’s company to dinner, on Wednesday, February 10, at half-past + seven o’clock. To meet Mr. and Mrs. Launcelot Linzie on their return.” + </p> + <p> + Second Hint. + </p> + <p> + (Derived from a recent Money Article in morning Newspaper.) + </p> + <p> + “We are requested to give the fullest contradiction to unfavorable rumors + lately in circulation respecting the firm of Pizzituti, Turlington, and + Branca. Some temporary derangement in the machinery of the business was + undoubtedly produced in consequence of the sudden death of the lamented + managing partner, Mr. Turlington, by the accidental discharge of a + revolver which he was examining. Whatever temporary obstacles may have + existed are now overcome. We are informed, on good authority, that the + well-known house of Messrs. Bulpit Brothers has an interest in the + business, and will carry it on until further notice.” + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Miss or Mrs.?, by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS OR MRS.? *** + +***** This file should be named 1621-h.htm or 1621-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/1621/ + +Produced by James Rusk and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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