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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: Mark Hurdlestone + Or, The Two Brothers + +Author: Susanna Moodie + +Release Date: October 9, 2005 [EBook #16836] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK HURDLESTONE *** + + + + +Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, +Stacy Brown Thellend and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<p><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a></p> + +<h1>MARK HURDLESTONE:</h1> + +<h3>OR,</h3> + +<h2>THE TWO BROTHERS.</h2> + +<h3>BY MRS. MOODIE,</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Sister of Agnes Strickland.</i>)</p> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH," "ENTHUSIASM," ETC</h4> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fire burns low, these winter nights are cold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'd fain to bed, and take my usual rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But duty cries, "There's work for thee to do;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stir up the embers, fetch another log,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheer the empty hearth. This is the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When fancy calls to life her busy train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou must note the vision ere it flies."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center">COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class="center">THIRD EDITION.</p> + +<p class="center">NEW YORK:</p> + +<p class="center">DE WITT & DAVENPORT, PUBLISHERS,</p> + +<p class="center">162 NASSAU STREET.</p><p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></p><p><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="MARK_HURDLESTONE" id="MARK_HURDLESTONE"></a>MARK HURDLESTONE;</h3> + +<p class="center">OR,</p> + +<h2>THE TWO BROTHERS.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, who art thou—thou lean and haggard wretch!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou living satire on the name of man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou that hast made a god of sordid gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to thine idol offered up thy soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, how I pity thee thy wasted years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age without comfort—youth that had no prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thy dull gaze the earth was never green;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of nature wore no cheering smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever groping, groping in the dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making the soulless object of thy search<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grave of all enjoyment.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="padtop">Towards the close of the last century, there lived in the extensive +parish of Ashton, in the county of ——, a hard-hearted, eccentric old +man, called Mark Hurdlestone, the lord of the manor, the wealthy owner +of Oak Hall and its wide demesne, the richest commoner in England, the +celebrated miser.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone was the wonder of the place; people were never tired of +talking about him—of describing his strange appearance, his odd ways +and penurious habits. He formed a lasting theme of conversation to the +gossips of the village, with whom the great man at the Hall enjoyed no +enviable notoriety.<a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a> That Mark Hurdlestone was an object of curiosity, +fear, and hatred, to his humble dependents, created no feeling of +surprise in those who were acquainted with him, and had studied the +repulsive features of his singular character.</p> + +<p>There was not a drop of the milk of human kindness in his composition. +Regardless of his own physical wants, he despised the same wants in +others. Charity sued to him in vain, and the tear of sorrow made no +impression on his stony heart. Passion he had felt—cruel, ungovernable +passion. Tenderness was foreign to his nature—the sweet influences of +the social virtues he had never known.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone hated society, and never mingled in festive scenes. To +his neighbors he was a stranger; and he had no friends. With power to +command, and wealth to purchase enjoyment, he had never travelled a +hundred miles beyond the smoke of his own chimneys; and was as much a +stranger to the world and its usages as a savage, born and brought up in +the wilderness. There were very few persons in his native place with +whom he had exchanged a friendly greeting; and though his person was as +well known as the village spire or the town pump, no one could boast +that he had shaken hands with him.</p> + +<p>One passion, for the last fifty years of his unhonored life, had +absorbed every faculty of his mind, and, like Aaron's serpent, had +swallowed all the rest. His money-chest was his world; there the gold he +worshipped so devoutly was enshrined; and his heart, if ever he +possessed one, was buried with it: waking or sleeping, his spirit for +ever hovered around this mysterious spot. There nightly he knelt, but +not to pray: prayer had never enlightened the darkened soul of the +gold-worshipper. Favored by the solitude and <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>silence of the night, he +stole thither, to gloat over his hidden treasure. There, during the day, +he sat for hours entranced, gazing upon the enormous mass of useless +metal, which he had accumulated through a long worthless life, to wish +it more, and to lay fresh schemes for its increase. "Vanity of vanities, +all is vanity," saith the preacher; but this hoarding of money is the +very madness of vanity.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone's remarkable person would have formed a good subject +for a painter—it was both singular and striking.</p> + +<p>His features in youth had been handsome, but of that peculiar Jewish +cast which age renders harsh and prominent. The high narrow wrinkled +forehead, the small deep-set jet-black eyes, gleaming like living coals +from beneath straight shaggy eyebrows, the thin aquiline nose, the long +upper lip, the small fleshless mouth and projecting chin, the expression +of habitual cunning and mental reservation, mingled with sullen pride +and morose ill-humor, gave to his marked countenance a repulsive and +sinister character. Those who looked upon him once involuntarily turned +to look upon him again, and marvelled and speculated upon the +disposition and calling of the stranger.</p> + +<p>His dress, composed of the coarsest materials, generally hung in tatters +about his tall spare figure, and he had been known to wear the cast-off +shoes of a beggar; yet, in spite of such absurd acts, he maintained a +proud and upright carriage, and never, by his speech or manners, seemed +to forget for one moment that he held the rank of a gentleman. His hands +and face were always scrupulously clean, for water costs nothing, and +time, to him, was an object of little value. The frequency of these +ablutions he considered conducive to health. Cold water was his only +beverage—the only medicine he ever condescended to use.</p><p><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></p> + +<p>The stranger who encountered Mark Hurdlestone, wandering barefooted on +the heath or along the dusty road, marvelled that a creature so wretched +did not stop him to solicit charity; and, struck with the haughty +bearing which his squalid dress could not wholly disguise, naturally +imagined that he had seen better days, and was too proud to beg; +influenced by this supposition, he had offered the lord of many manors +the relief which his miserable condition seemed to demand; and such was +the powerful effect of the ruling passion, that the man of gold, the +possessor of millions, the sordid wretch who, in after years, wept at +having to pay four thousand a year to the property tax, calmly pocketed +the affront.</p> + +<p>The history of Mark Hurdlestone, up to the present period, had been +marked by few, but they were striking incidents. Those bright links, +interwoven in the rusty chain of his existence, which might have +rendered him a wiser and a better man, had conduced very little to his +own happiness, but they had influenced, in a remarkable degree, the +happiness and misery of others, and form another melancholy proof of the +mysterious manner in which the crimes of some men act, like fate, upon +the destinies of others.</p> + +<p>Avarice palsies mental exertion. The tide of generous feeling, the holy +sympathies, still common to our fallen nature, freeze beneath its torpid +influence. The heart becomes stone—the eyes blinded to all that once +awakened the soul to admiration and delight. He that has placed the idol +of gold upon the pure altar of nature has debased his own, and sinks +below the brute, whose actions are guided by a higher instinct, the +simple law of necessity.</p> + +<p>The love of accumulating had been a prominent feature of Mark's +character from his earliest years; but there was a time when it had not +been his ruling passion. Love, <a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>hatred, and revenge, had alternately +swayed his breast, and formed the main-spring of his actions. He had +loved and mistrusted, had betrayed and destroyed the victim of his +jealous regard; yet his hatred remained unextinguished—his revenge +ungratified. The malice of envy and the gnawings of disappointed vanity +were now concealed beneath the sullen apathy of age; but the spark +slumbered in the grey ashes, although the heart had out-lived its fires. +To make his character more intelligible it will be necessary to trace +his history from the first page of his life.</p> + +<p>Born heir to a vast inheritance, Mark Hurdlestone had not a solitary +excuse to offer for his avarice. His father had improved the old +paternal estate, and trebled its original value; and shared, in no +common degree, the parsimonious disposition of his son. From the time of +the Norman Conquest his ancestors had inherited this tract of country; +and as they were not famous for any particular talents or virtues, had +passed into dust and oblivion in the vault of the old gothic church, +which lifted its ivy-covered tower above the venerable oaks and yews +that were coeval with its existence.</p> + +<p>In proportion to their valueless existence was the pride of the +Hurdlestone family. Their wealth gained for them the respect of the +world; their ancient name the respect of those who place an undue +importance on such things; and their own vanity and self-importance +maintained the rank and consequence which they derived from these +adventitious claims.</p> + +<p>Squire Hurdlestone the elder was a shrewd worldly minded man, whose +natural <i>hauteur</i> concealed from common observers the paucity of his +intellect. His good qualities were confined to his love of Church and +State; <a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>and to do him justice, in this respect he was a loyal man and +true—the dread of every hapless Jacobite in the country. In his early +days he had fought under the banners of the Duke of Cumberland as a +gentleman volunteer; and had received the public thanks of that worthy +for the courage he displayed at the memorable battle of Culloden, and +for the activity and zeal with which he afterwards assisted in +apprehending certain gentlemen in his own neighborhood, who were +suspected of secretly befriending the unfortunate cause. At every public +meeting the Squire was eloquent in his own praise.</p> + +<p>"Who can doubt <i>my</i> patriotism, <i>my</i> loyalty?" he would exclaim. "I did +not confine my sentiments upon the subject to mere words. I showed by my +deeds, gentlemen, what those sentiments were. I took an active part in +suppressing the rebellion, and restoring peace to these realms. And what +did I obtain, gentlemen?—the thanks—yes, gentlemen, the public thanks +of the noble Duke!" He would then resume his seat, amidst the plaudits +of his time-serving friends, who, judging the rich man by his own +standard of excellence, declared that there was not his equal in the +county.</p> + +<p>Not content with an income far beyond his sordid powers of enjoyment, +Squire Hurdlestone the elder married, without any particular preference, +the daughter of a rich London merchant, whose fortune nearly doubled his +own. The fruits of this union were two sons, who happened in the economy +of nature to be twins. This double blessing rather alarmed the +parsimonious Squire; but as the act of maternal extravagance was never +again repeated on the part of Mrs. Hurdlestone, he used to rub his hands +and tell as a good joke, whenever his heart was warmed by an <a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>extra +glass of wine, that his wife was the best manager in the world, as the +same trouble and expense did for both.</p> + +<p>A greater difference did not exist between the celebrated sons of Isaac +than was discernible in these modern twins. Unlike in person, talents, +heart, and disposition, from their very birth, they formed a striking +contrast to each other. Mark, the elder by half-an-hour, was an +exaggeration of his father, inheriting in a stronger degree all his +narrow notions and chilling parsimony; but, unlike his progenitor in one +respect, he was a young man of excellent natural capacity. He possessed +strong passions, linked to a dogged obstinacy of purpose, which rendered +him at all times a dangerous and implacable enemy; while the stern +unyielding nature of his temper, and the habitual selfishness which +characterised all his dealings with others, excluded him from the +friendship and companionship of his kind.</p> + +<p>Tall and slightly made, with a proud and gentlemanly carriage, he looked +well though dressed in the most homely and unfashionable garb. Beyond +scrupulous cleanliness he paid little attention to the mysteries of the +toilet, for even in the bloom of youth, "Gallio cared for none of those +things." In spite of the disadvantages of dress, his bright brown +complexion, straight features, dark glancing eyes, and rich curling +hair, gave him a striking appearance. By many he was considered +eminently handsome; to those accustomed to read the mind in the face, +Mark Hurdlestone's countenance was everything but prepossessing.</p> + +<p>The sunshine of a smiling heart never illumined the dark depth of those +deep-seated cunning eyes; and those of his own kin, who most wished to +entertain a favorable opinion of the young heir of Oak Hall, agreed in +pronouncing him a very disagreeable selfish young man.</p> + +<p>He hated society, was shy and reserved in his manners, <a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>and never spoke +on any subject without his opinion was solicited. This extraordinary +taciturnity, in one who possessed no ordinary powers of mind, gave +double weight to all that he advanced, till what he said became a law in +the family. Even his mother, with whom he was no favorite, listened with +profound attention to his shrewd biting remarks. From his father, Mark +early imbibed a love of hoarding; and his favorite studies, those in +which he most excelled, and which appeared almost intuitive to him, were +those connected with figures. The old Squire, who idolised his handsome +sullen boy, was never weary of boasting of his abilities, and his great +knowledge in mathematics and algebra.</p> + +<p>"Aye," he would exclaim, "that lad was born to make a fortune; not +merely to keep one ready made. 'Tis a thousand pities that he is not a +poor man's son; I would bet half my estate, that if he lives to my age +he will be the richest man in England."</p> + +<p>Having settled this matter in his own way, the old Squire took much +pains to impress upon the boy's mind that <i>poverty</i> was the most +dreadful of all evils—that, if he wished to stand well with the world, +riches alone could effect that object, and ensure the respect and homage +of his fellow-men. "Wealth," he was wont jocosely to say, "would do all +but carry him to heaven,"—and how the journey thither was to be +accomplished, never disturbed the thoughts of the rich man.</p> + +<p>Courted and flattered by those beneath him, Mark found his father's +precepts borne out by experience, and he quickly adopted his advice, and +entered with alacrity into all his money-getting speculations.</p> + +<p>The handsome income allowed him by the Squire was never expended in the +pursuit of pleasures natural to his <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>rank and age, but carefully +invested in the funds, whilst the young miser relied upon the generosity +of his mother to find him in clothes and pocket-money. When Mrs. +Hurdlestone remonstrated with him on his meanness, his father would +laugh and bid her hold her tongue.</p> + +<p>"Let him alone, Lucy; the lad cannot help it; 'tis born in him. The +Hurdlestones are a money-making, money-loving race. Besides, what does +it matter? If he is saving a fortune at our expense, 'tis all in the +family. He knows how to take care of it better than we do. There will be +more for Algernon, you know!"</p> + +<p>And this saying quieted the fond mother. "Yes," she repeated, "there will +be more for Algernon,—my handsome generous Algernon. Let his sordid +brother go on saving,—there will be more for Algernon."</p> + +<p>These words, injudiciously spoken within the hearing of Mark +Hurdlestone, converted the small share of brotherly love, which hitherto +had existed between the brothers, into bitter hatred; and he secretly +settled in his own mind the distribution of his father's property.</p> + +<p>And Algernon, the gay thoughtless favorite of his kind but imprudent +mother, was perfectly indifferent to the love or hatred of his elder +brother. He did not himself regard him with affection, and he expected +nothing from him, beyond the passive acquiescence in his welfare which +the ties of consanguinity generally give. If he did not seek in his twin +brother a friend and bosom-counsellor, he never imagined it possible +that he could act the part of an enemy. Possessing less talent than +Mark, he was generous, frank, and confiding. He loved society, in which +he was formed by nature to shine and become a general favorite. His +passion for amusement led him into extravagance and dissipation; and it +was apparent to all who knew him, <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>best that he was more likely to spend +a fortune than acquire one.</p> + +<p>Algernon had received, with his brother, a good classical education from +his uncle, a younger brother of his father's, who had been brought up +for the Church, and taken several degrees at Oxford, but had reduced +himself to comparative indigence by his imprudence and extravagance. +Alfred Hurdlestone would have made a good soldier, but, unfortunately +for him, there were several valuable church-livings in the family; and +his father refused to provide for him in any other way. The young man's +habits and inclinations being at war with the sacred profession chosen +for him, he declined entering upon holy orders, which so enraged his +father, that he forbade him the house; and at his death, left him a +small life-annuity, sufficient with economy to keep him from starvation, +but not enough to maintain him respectably without some profession.</p> + +<p>For several years, Alfred Hurdlestone depended upon the generosity of a +rich maternal uncle, who gave him the run of the house, and who left him +at his death a good legacy. This the ne'er-do-well soon ran through, and +finding himself in middle life, destitute of funds and friends, he +consented for a trifling salary to superintend the education of his +brother's children.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for the Squire to have chosen a more injudicious +instructor for his sons—a man, who in not one instance of his life had +ever regulated his actions by the common rules of prudence. He possessed +talents without judgment, and was kind-hearted without principle; and +though a general favorite with all classes, was respected by none. +Having passed much of his time on the continent of Europe, he had +acquired an ease and courtesy of manner, which rendered him quite an +acquisition to the country <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>drawing-room, where he settled all matters +of fashion and etiquette, to the general satisfaction of the ladies; and +in spite of his reduced circumstances and dependent situation, he was +warmly welcomed by all the mammas in the parish. They knew him to be a +confirmed old bachelor, and they trusted their daughters with him +without a thought that any mis-alliance could take place. Mr. Alfred was +such a dear, good, obliging creature! He talked French with the girls, +and examined the Latin exercises of the boys, and arranged all the +parties and pic-nics in the neighborhood; and showed such a willingness +to oblige, that he led people to imagine that he was receiving, instead +of conferring a favor. His cheerful temper, agreeable person, and +well-cultivated mind, rendered him the life and soul of the Hall; +nothing went on well without him. His occupations were various—his +tasks never ended; he read prayers—instructed the young gentlemen—shot +game for the larder, and supplied the cook with fish—had the charge of +the garden and poultry-yard, and was inspector-general of the stables +and kennels; he carved at dinner—decanted the wine—mixed the punch, +and manufactured puns and jokes to amuse his saturnine brother. When the +dessert was removed he read the newspapers to the old Squire, until he +dosed in his easy chair; and when the sleepy fit was over, he played +with him at cribbage or back-gammon, until the tea equipage appeared.</p> + +<p>Then, he was an admirable cook, and helped his sister-in-law, with whom +he was an especial favorite, to put up pickles and preserves, and prided +himself upon catsup and elderberry-wine. He had always some useful +receipt for the old ladies; some pretty pattern for embroidery, or copy +of amatory verses for the young, who never purchased a new dress without +duly consulting Mr. Alfred as to the <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>fashion of the material and the +becomingness of the color. Besides all these useful accomplishments, he +visited the poor when they were sick, occasionally acting as their +medical and ghostly adviser, and would take infinite pains in carrying +about subscriptions for distressed individuals, whom he was unable to +assist out of his own scanty funds. He sang Italian and French songs +with great taste and execution, and was a fine performer on the violin. +Such was the careless being to whom Mr. Hurdlestone, for the sake of +saving a few pounds per annum, entrusted the education of his sons.</p> + +<p>As far as the mere technicalities of education went, they could not have +had a more conscientious or efficient teacher; but his morality and +theology were alike defective, and, instead of endeavoring to make them +good men, Uncle Alfred's grand aim was to make them fine gentlemen. With +Algernon, he succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations, for there +was a strong family likeness between that young gentleman and his uncle, +and a great similarity in their tastes and pursuits. Mark, however, +proved a most dogged and refractory pupil, and though he certainly owed +the fine upright carriage, by which he was distinguished, to Uncle +Alfred's indefatigable drilling, yet, like Lord Chesterfield's son, he +profited very little by his lessons in politeness.</p> + +<p>When the time arrived for him to finish his studies, by going to college +and travelling abroad, the young heir of the Hurdlestones obstinately +refused to avail himself of these advantages. He declared that the +money, so uselessly bestowed, would add nothing to his present stock of +knowledge, but only serve to decrease his patrimony; that all the +learning that books could convey, could be better acquired in the quiet +and solitude of home; that he knew <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>already as much of the dead +languages as he ever would have occasion for, as he did not mean to +enter the church or to plead at the bar; and there was no character he +held in greater abhorrence than a fashionable beau or a learned pedant. +His uncle had earned a right to both these characters; and, though a +clever man, he was dependent in his old age on the charity of his rich +relations. For his part, he was contented with his country and his home, +and had already seen as much of the world as he wished to see, without +travelling beyond the precincts of his native village.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hurdlestone greatly applauded his son's resolution, which, he +declared, displayed a degree of prudence and sagacity remarkable at his +age. But his mother, who still retained a vivid recollection of the +pleasures and gaiety of a town life, from which she had long been +banished by her avaricious lord, listened to the sordid sentiments +expressed by her first-born with contempt, and transferred all her +maternal regard to his brother, whom she secretly determined should be +the gentleman of the family.</p> + +<p>In her schemes for the aggrandizement of Algernon, she was greatly +assisted by Uncle Alfred, who loved the handsome, free-spirited boy for +his own sake, as well as for a certain degree of resemblance, which he +fancied existed between them in mental as well as personal endowments. +In this he was not mistaken; for Algernon was but an improvement on his +uncle, with less selfishness and more activity of mind. He early imbibed +all his notions, and entered with avidity into all his pursuits and +pleasures. In spite of the hard usage that Uncle Alfred had received +from the world, he panted to mingle once more in its busy scenes, which +he described to his attentive pupil, in the most glowing terms.</p> + +<p>Eager to secure for her darling Algernon those advan<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>tages which his +brother Mark had so uncourteously declined, Mrs. Hurdlestone laid close +siege to the heart of the old Squire, over whom she possessed an +influence only second to that of her eldest son. In this daring assault +upon the old man's purse and prejudices, she was vigorously assisted by +Uncle Alfred, who had a double object to attain in carrying his point. +Many were the desperate battles they had to fight with the old Squire's +love of money, and his misanthropic disposition, before their object was +accomplished, or he would deign to pay the least attention to their +proposition. Defeated a thousand times, they returned with unwearied +perseverance to the charge, often laughing in secret over their defeat, +or exulting in the least advantage they fancied that they had gained.</p> + +<p>Time, which levels mountains and overthrows man's proudest structures, +at length sapped the resolutions of the old man, although they appeared +at first to have been written upon his heart in adamant. The truth is, +that he was a man of few words, and, next to talking himself, he hated +to be talked to, and still more to be talked at; and Mrs. Hurdlestone +and brother Alfred had never ceased to talk to him, and at him, for the +last three months, and always upon the one eternal theme—Algernon's +removal to college, and his travels abroad.</p> + +<p>His patience was exhausted; human endurance could stand it no longer; +and he felt that if Ear-gate was to be stormed much longer on the same +subject, he should go mad, and be driven from the field. A magic word +had been whispered in his ear by his eldest son. "Father, let him go: +think how happy and quiet we shall be at home, when this hopeful uncle +and nephew are away."</p> + +<p>This hint was enough: the old man capitulated without another opposing +argument, and consented to what he <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>termed the ruin of his youngest son. +How Mrs. Hurdlestone and Uncle Alfred triumphed in the victory they +thought they had obtained!—yet it was all owing to that one sentence +from the crafty lips of Mark, muttered into the ear of the old man. +Algernon was to go to Oxford, and after the completion of his studies +there, make the tour of the Continent, accompanied by his uncle. This +was the extent of Mrs. Hurdlestone's ambition; and many were her private +instructions to her gay, thoughtless son, to be merry and wise, and not +draw too frequently upon his father's purse. The poor lady might as well +have lectured to the winds, as preached on prudence to Uncle Alfred's +accomplished pupil; for both had determined to fling off all restraint +the moment they left the shade of the Oak Hall groves behind them.</p> + +<p>Algernon was so elated with his unexpected emancipation from the +tyrannical control of his father and brother, that he left the stately +old house with as little regret as a prisoner would do who had been +confined for years in some magnificent castle, which had been converted +into a county jail, and, from the force of melancholy associations, had +lost all its original beauty in his eyes. The world was now within his +grasp—its busy scenes all before him: these he expected to find replete +with happiness and decked with flowers.</p> + +<p>We will not follow our young adventurer to the academic halls, or trace +his path through foreign lands. It is enough for our purpose that he +acquired little knowledge at college, save the knowledge of evil; and +that he met with many misadventures, and suffered much inconvenience and +mortification, during his journey through the Continent. He soon +discovered that the world was not a paradise; that his uncle was not a +wise man; and that human <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>nature, with some trifling variations, which +were generally more the result of circumstances and education than of +any peculiar virtue in the individual, was much the same at home and +abroad; that men, in order to conform to the usages of society, were +often obliged to appear what they were not, and sacrifice their best +feelings to secure the approbation of persons whom in secret they +despised; that he who would fight the battle of life and come off +victorious, must do it with other weapons than those with which fashion +and pleasure supply their champions.</p> + +<p>Tears of reckless folly fled away, before these wholesome lessons of +experience were forced upon Algernon's unguarded heart. Fearful of +falling into his brother's error, he ran into the contrary extreme, and +never suspected himself a dupe, until he found himself the victim of +some designing adventurer, who had served a longer apprenticeship to the +world, and had gained a more perfect knowledge of the fallibility of its +children.</p> + +<p>His father groaned over his extravagant bills: yet not one-third of the +money remitted to Algernon was expended by him. His uncle was the +principal aggressor; for he felt no remorse while introducing his nephew +to scenes which, in his early days, had effected his own ruin. Their +immoral tendency, and the sorrow and trouble they were likely to entail +upon the young man, by arousing the anger of his father, never gave him +the least uneasiness. He had squandered such large sums of money at the +gambling-houses in Paris, that he dared not show his face at the Hall +until the storm was blown over; and to such a thoughtless, extravagant +being as Alfred Hurdlestone, "sufficient to the day was the evil +thereof."</p> + +<p>Without any strikingly vicious propensities, it was impossible for +Algernon Hurdlestone to escape from the con<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>taminating influence of his +uncle, to whom he was strongly attached, without pollution. He imbibed +from him a relish for trifling amusements and extravagant expenditure, +which clung to him through life. The sudden death of his misjudging +instructor recalled him to a painful sense of past indiscretions. He +determined to amend his ways, and make choice of some profession, and +employ his time in a more honorable manner for the future. These serious +impressions scarcely survived the funeral of the thoughtless man whose +death he sincerely lamented; but the many debts his uncle had +contracted, and the exhausted state of his purse, urged upon him the +imperative necessity of returning to England; and the voyage was +undertaken accordingly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The steel strikes fire from the unyielding flint:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So love has struck from out that flinty heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The electric spark, which all but deifies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The human clay.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">About two years after Algernon Hurdlestone left the Hall, a widow lady +and her daughter came to reside at Ashton, and hired a small cottage, +pleasantly situated at the back of the park.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wildegrave's husband had been engaged in the rebellion of 1745; and +his estates, in consequence, were confiscated, and he paid with his life +the forfeit of his rashness. His widow and child, after many years of +sorrow and destitution, and living as dependents upon the charity of +poor relatives, were enabled to break through this painful bondage, and +procure a home for themselves.</p> + +<p>An uncle of Mrs. Wildegrave's, who had been more than suspected of +favoring the cause of the unhappy prince, died, and settled upon his +niece all the property he had to bestow, which barely afforded her an +income of fifty pounds a year. This was but a scanty pittance, it is +true; but it was better than the hard-earned bread of dependence, and +sufficient for the wants of two females.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wildegrave, whose health had been for some years in a declining +state, thought that the air of her native place might have a beneficial +effect upon her shattered constitution; and as years had fled away since +the wreck of all her hopes, she no longer felt the painful degradation +of return<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>ing to the place in which she had once held a distinguished +situation, and had been regarded as its chief ornament and pride.</p> + +<p>Her people, save a younger brother of her husband's, who held a +lucrative situation in India, had all been gathered to their fathers. +The familiar faces that had smiled upon her in youth and prosperity, in +poverty and disgrace, remembered her no more. The mind of the poor +forsaken widow had risen superior to the praise or contempt of the +world, and she now valued its regard at the price which it deserved. But +she had an intense longing to behold once more the woods and fields +where she had rambled in her happy childhood; to wander by the pleasant +streams, and sit under the favorite trees; to see the primrose and +violet gemming the mossy banks of the dear hedge-rows, to hear the birds +sing among the hawthorn blossoms; and, surrounded by the +fondly-remembered sights and sounds of beauty, to recall the sweet +dreams of youth.</p> + +<p>Did no warning voice whisper to her that she had made a rash +choice?—that the bitterness of party hatred outlives all other +hate?—that the man who had persecuted her young enthusiastic husband to +the death was not likely to prove a kind neighbor to his widow? Mrs. +Wildegrave forgot all this, and only hoped that Squire Hurdlestone had +outlived his hostility to her family. Sixteen years had elapsed since +Captain Wildegrave had perished on the scaffold. The world had forgotten +his name, and the nature of his offence. It was not possible for a mere +political opponent to retain his animosity to the dead. But she had +formed a very incorrect estimate of Squire Hurdlestone's powers of +hating.</p> + +<p>The arrival of Captain Wildegrave's widow in his immediate vicinity +greatly enraged the old Squire; but as he <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>possessed no power of +denouncing women as traitors, he was obliged to content himself by +pouring forth, on every occasion, the most ill-natured invectives +against his poor unprotected neighbors.</p> + +<p>He wondered at the impudence of the traitor Wildegrave's widow and +daughter daring to lift up their heads among a loyal community, where +her husband's conduct and his shameful death were but too well known. +Alas! he know not how the lonely heart will pine for the old familiar +haunts—how the sight of inanimate objects which have been loved in +childhood will freshen into living greenness its desolate wastes. The +sordid lover of gold, the eager aspirant for this world's trifling +distinctions, feels nothing, knows nothing, of this.</p> + +<p>Elinor Wildegrave, the only child of these unhappy parents, had just +completed her seventeenth year, and might have formed a perfect model of +youthful innocence and beauty. Her personal endowments were so +remarkable, that they soon became the subject of conversation, alike in +the halls of the wealthy and in the humble abodes of the poor. The +village-gossips were not backward in mating the young heiress of sorrow +with the richest and noblest in the land. Elinor was not unconscious of +her personal attractions, but a natural delicacy of mind made her shrink +from general admiration. Her mother's scanty income did not enable them +to hire servants; and the work of the house devolved upon Elinor, who +was too dutiful a child to suffer her ailing mother to assist her in +these domestic labors. The lighter employments of sewing and knitting, +her mother shared; and they were glad to increase their slender means by +taking in plain work; which so completely occupied the young girl's +time, that she was rarely seen abroad, excepting on Sundays, when she +accompanied <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>her mother to the parish church; and then, the loveliness +which attracted such attention was always partially concealed by a large +veil. Mark Hurdlestone's valet happened to meet the young lady returning +home through the park without this envious appendage, and was so struck +with her beauty, that he gave his young master an eloquent description +of the angel he had seen.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, sir, she is a mate for the King. If I were but a gentleman +of fortune like you, I should feel proud to lay it at her feet."</p> + +<p>Mark heard him with indifference. He had never felt the least tender +emotion towards woman, whom he regarded as an inferior being, only +formed to administer to the wants, and contribute to the pleasures, of +man.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wildegrave," he said, "might be a fine girl. But he could see no +beauty in a woman whose father had died upon the scaffold, and who had +no fortune. She and her mother were outcasts, who could no longer be +received into genteel society."</p> + +<p>The valet, with more taste than his master, shrugged up his shoulders, +and answered with a significant smile: "Ah, sir! if we could but +exchange situations."</p> + +<p>A few days after this conversation, Mark Hurdlestone met Elinor +Wildegrave by accident, and became deeply enamoured with the lovely +orphan.</p> + +<p>In spite of his blunt speech and misanthropic manners, the young heir of +Oak Hall, at that period, was not wholly destitute of the art of +pleasing. He was sensible and well-read. His figure was commanding, and +his carriage good. His stern features were set off by the ruddy glow of +health; and the brilliancy of his lip and eye, the dazzling whiteness of +his small even teeth, and the rich masses of raven hair that curled in +profusion round his high forehead, atoned in <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>some measure for the +disagreeable expression which at all times pervaded his remarkable +countenance.</p> + +<p>"The young Squire is certainly very handsome," said Elinor Wildegrave to +her mother, the morning after their first meeting. "But there is +something about him which I cannot like. His face is as stern and as +cold as a marble statue's. I should think it would be impossible for +that man to shed a tear, or be capable of feeling the least tender +emotion."</p> + +<p>"My dear Elinor, you judge too much by externals. These taciturn people +are often possessed of the keenest sensibility."</p> + +<p>"Ah! dearest mother, believe it not. 'From the abundance of the heart, +the mouth speaketh.' I love not these silent people. The heart that is +worn on the sleeve is better, and more to be trusted, than the heart +that is concealed in a marble shell."</p> + +<p>The human countenance never lies. If read aright, it always presents the +real index of the mind. The first impression it makes upon a stranger is +always the correct one. Pleasing manners and affable smiles may tend to +weaken, nay, even to efface these first impressions, but they will +invariably return, and experience will attest their truth.</p> + +<p>In her first estimate of the Squire's character, formed from his +physiognomy, Elinor was correct, for it was some time before she could +reconcile herself to his harsh countenance; but her dislike gradually +wore away, and she received his passing civilities with the pleasure +which a young girl of her age invariably feels, when regarded with +admiration by one so much her superior in rank and fortune.</p> + +<p>His retired habits, which at the age of twenty-four his <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>neighbors +attributed more to pride than avarice, though in truth they arose from a +mixture of both, invested him with a sort of mysterious interest. Elinor +felt her vanity flattered by the belief that her charms had touched a +heart hitherto invulnerable to female beauty. She was, indeed, his first +love, and his last.</p> + +<p>Elinor was too romantic to think of uniting herself to a man whom she +could not love, for the sake of his wealth; and she prudently and +honorably shunned the advances of her taciturn admirer. She knew that +his father had been her father's implacable enemy; that all intimacy +between the families had been strictly prohibited at the Hall; and when +the heir of that noble demesne made their cottage a resting-place after +the fatigues of hunting, and requested a draught of milk from her hands +to allay his thirst, or a bunch of roses from her little flower plot to +adorn his waistcoat, Elinor answered his demands with secret mistrust +and terror; although, with the coquetry so natural to her sex, she could +not hate him for the amiable weakness of regarding her with admiration.</p> + +<p>Alas, poor Elinor! why sacrifice to this heartless vanity the peace and +integrity of your mind; and for the sake of winning a smile, to which +you attach no real value, unseal for ever the fountain of tears?</p> + +<p>Avarice for a long time struggled with Mark Hurdlestone's growing +passion for Elinor Wildegrave; nor could he prevail upon himself to ask +the penniless daughter of an executed traitor to become his wife. He was +too proud to brave the sneers of the world; too prudent to combat with +his father's disappointed hopes and fierce anger. His fortune he knew +would be large—but when is avarice satisfied? and he abandoned the +first generous impulse he had ever felt, with the first sigh he had ever +breathed.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>He contented himself with wandering, day after day around the widow's +dwelling, in the hope of catching a passing glance of the object of his +idolatry, without incurring the danger of a personal interview, which +might lead to an indiscreet avowal of the passion which consumed him, +and place him in the power of his fair enslaver. He hovered around her +path, and at church disturbed her devotions by never removing his eyes +from her face; but the tale of his love remained untold, and was +scarcely acknowledged even to himself.</p> + +<p>This was the happiest period of Mark Hurdlestone's life. His passion for +Elinor Wildegrave, though selfish and unrefined, was deep and sincere. +He contemplated the beautiful and friendless girl, as in after years he +viewed the gold in his coffers, as a secret treasure hid from the world, +and only known to him.</p> + +<p>From this dream he was at length aroused, by the sudden and unexpected +appearance of his brother Algernon at the Hall. With quivering lips he +congratulated him upon his return to his native land; exchanging with +cold and nerveless grasp the warm pressure of his brother's hand, while +he contemplated with envy and alarm the elegant person of the returned +prodigal. From a boy, he had never loved Algernon; coveting with +unnatural greed the property which would accrue to him, should it please +Heaven to provide for his twin brother by taking him to itself. But when +that brother stood before him in the pride and glory of manhood; with +health glowing on his cheek, and beauty on his brow, he could scarcely +conceal his envy; for he beheld in him a formidable, and, if seen by +Elinor, in all probability a successful rival. Hatred took possession of +his breast, and while he pronounced with his lips a chilling welcome, +his mind, active in malice, had already <a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>planned his ruin. In the first +joyous moments of return, and while describing to his delighted mother +the lands he had visited, and his adventures at Paris and Rome. Algernon +scarcely noticed his brother's unkind reception. He knew that little +sympathy existed between them; but he never suspected that Mark bore him +any ill-will, still less that he was likely to act the part of an enemy, +and endeavor to supplant him in his father's affections.</p> + +<p>Before many days had elapsed, the decided hostility of his brother's +manner could no longer escape his attention. Candid himself, and +expecting Mark to be the same, he demanded the reason of his singular +conduct. Mark turned upon his heel, and answered with a scornful +laugh—"That if the bluntness of his speech displeased him, he knew his +remedy, and might quit the Hall. For his part, he had been brought up in +the country, and could not adapt his manners to suit the delicate taste +of a fine gentleman." Then, muttering something about a travelled +monkey, left the room.</p> + +<p>During the first burst of honest indignation. Algernon determined to +follow him, and demand a more satisfactory explanation of his conduct, +but he was deterred by the grief which he knew a quarrel between them +would occasion his mother; and for her sake he put up with the insult. +His wrath, like summer dew, quickly evaporated, and the only effect +which his short-lived passion produced was to increase the urgency with +which he entreated his father to allow him to make choice of a +profession, which would remove him from the vicinity of one whose sole +study was to torment and annoy him.</p> + +<p>His father, who wished to make him feel the effects of his extravagance +abroad, calmly listened to his proposals, and asked time for +deliberation, and this interval had to be <a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>passed by Algernon at the +Hall. For his mother's sake, whom he fondly loved, he forbore to +complain; and he hailed the approaching shooting season as a relief from +the dulness and monotony of home. Used to the lively conversation of +foreigners, and passionately fond of the society of the other sex, the +seclusion of Oak Hall was not very congenial to his taste. He soon +ceased to take an interest in the domestic arrangements of the family, +and the violin and guitar, on which he performed with great taste and +skill, were alike discarded, and he imprudently afforded his brother +daily opportunities of poisoning his father's mind against him, while he +was lounging away his time in the houses of the neighboring gentry.</p> + +<p>To his father, Mark affected, to commiserate the weakness of his +brother's intellect, and the frivolity of his pursuits. He commented +without mercy on his idle extravagant habits—his foreign air and +Frenchified manners, invidiously adding up the large sums he had already +squandered, and the expense which his father must still be at to +maintain him genteely, either in the army or at the bar. He always ended +his remarks with an observation, which he knew to be the most galling to +the pride of the old man.</p> + +<p>"He will be just such a useless despicable fellow as his uncle Alfred, +and will be the same burden to me that that accomplished unprincipled +fool was to you."</p> + +<p>The Squire only lent too ready an ear to the base insinuations of his +eldest son; and when Algernon returned from the field, he found his +father's manners yet more repulsive than his brother's. As Mr. +Hurdlestone's affection for his youngest born diminished, Mark's +appeared miraculously to increase. He even condescended to give Algernon +various friendly hints to lose no opportunity of <a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a>re-establishing +himself in his father's favor. But such conduct was too specious even to +deceive the unsuspicious, kind-hearted Algernon. He detected the +artifice, and scorned the hypocrite. Instead of absenting himself from +the family circle for a few hours, he was now abroad all day, and +sometimes for a whole week, without leaving any clue to discover his +favorite haunts.</p> + +<p>Mark at length took the alarm. A jealous fear shot through his brain, +and he employed spies to dog his path. His suspicions were confirmed +when he was at length informed by Grenard Pike, the gardener's son, that +Mr. Algernon seldom went a mile beyond the precincts of the park. His +hours, consequently, must be loitered away in some dwelling near at +hand. Algernon was not a young man of sentimental habits. He was neither +poet nor bookworm, and it was very improbable that he would fast all day +under the shade of forest boughs, watching, like the melancholy Jacques, +the deer come down to the stream to drink.</p> + +<p>Where were his walks so likely to terminate as at the widow's cottage? +What companion could the home-tired child of pleasure find so congenial +to his tastes as the young and beautiful Elinor Wildegrave? There was +madness in the thought! The passion so carefully concealed, no longer +restrained by the cautious maxims of prudence, like the turbulent +overflowing of some mighty stream, bore down all before it in its +headlong course. Several days he passed in this state of jealous +excitement. On the evening of the fourth, his mental agony reached a +climax; unable to restrain his feelings, he determined to brave the +anger of his father, the sneers of the world, and the upbraidings of his +own conscience, declare his attachment to Elinor, and ask her to become +his wife.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>He never for a moment suspected that the orphan girl could refuse the +magnificent proposal he was about to make, or contemplate with +indifference the rank and fortune he had in his power to bestow.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone was not a man to waver or turn back when his mind was +once fixed upon an object. His will was like fate, inflexible in the +accomplishment of his purpose. He thought long and deeply on a subject, +and pondered over it for days and months, and even for years; but when +he said,—"I will do it," the hand of God alone could hinder him from +performing that which he had resolutely sworn to do.</p> + +<p>Having finally resolved to make Elinor Wildegrave his wife (for in spite +of all the revolting traits in his character, he had never for a moment +entertained the idea of possessing her on less honorable terms, rightly +concluding that a man's mistress is always a more expensive appendage +than a man's wife,) he snatched up his hat, and walked with rapid +strides to the cottage.</p> + +<p>He neither slackened his pace, nor paused to reflect on the step that he +was about to take, until he unclosed the little wicket-gate that divided +the cottage from the park. Here at length he stopped to gain breath, and +the embarrassment of his situation arose in formidable array against +him. He was a man of few words, naturally diffident of his colloquial +powers, and easily confused and abashed. In what manner was he to +address her? To him the language of flattery and compliment was unknown. +He had never said a polite thing to a woman in his life. Unaccustomed to +the society of ladies, he was still more unaccustomed to woo; how then +was he to unfold the state of his heart to the object of his love? The +longer he pondered over the subject, the more awkward and irreso<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>lute he +felt. His usual fortitude forsook him, and he determined to relinquish a +project so ridiculous, or to postpone it to some more favorable moment.</p> + +<p>His hand still rested upon the latch of the gate, when his meditations +were dispelled by a soft strain of music, which floated forth upon the +balmy air, harmonizing with the quiet beauty of the landscape which was +illumined by the last rays of a gorgeous summer sunset.</p> + +<p>Then came a pause in the music, and the silence was filled with the +melodious voice of Elinor Wildegrave. She sang a sweet plaintive ditty, +and the tones of her voice had power to soften and subdue the rugged +nature of Mark Hurdlestone. His knees trembled, his heart beat faintly, +and tears, for the first time since his querulous infancy, moistened his +eyes. He softly unclosed the gate, and traversed the little garden with +noiseless steps, carefully avoiding the path that led directly to the +house.</p> + +<p>A screen of filberts concealed his tall figure from observation; and +stepping behind the mossy trunk of an excavated oak that fronted the +casement, he sent an eager glance towards the spot from whence the +sounds issued. The sight that met his eager gaze called into action all +the demoniacal passions which the tones of that sweet voice had lulled +to rest.</p> + +<p>Seated on a rude bench, fronting the lawn, he beheld the only human +creature he had ever loved encircled in the arms of his brother +Algernon. The guitar, on which he had been playing, now lay neglected at +his feet, and the head of the beautiful girl was fondly nestled in his +bosom. As the delighted Algernon bent caressingly over her, to catch the +low sweet words that murmured from her lips, his bright auburn curls +mingled with the glossy raven tresses that shaded the transparent cheek +of his lovely <a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>mistress, and he pressed a fond kiss upon her snowy brow.</p> + +<p>Oh, sight of hell! Mark Hurdlestone suppressed the yell of agony that +convulsed his throat, while he gazed with flashing eyes upon the pair +before him; yes, with such a glance as Satan regarded our first parents +ere sin had exiled them from Paradise, and destroyed the holy beauty of +innocence. He attempted to quit his place of concealment, but a strange +fascination, a horrible curiosity, rooted him to the spot.</p> + +<p>Elinor looked up with a smile into her lover's face. Algernon seemed +perfectly to understand the meaning of that playful glance, and replied +to it in lively tones, "Yes, dear Nell, sing my favorite song!" and +Elinor instantly complied, with a blush and another sweet smile. Mark +was no lover of music, but that song thrilled to his soul, and the words +never afterwards departed from his memory. A fiend might have pitied the +crushed heart of that humbled and most unhappy man.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone rushed from the garden, and sought the loneliest spot +in the park, to give utterance to his despair. With a heavy groan he +dashed himself upon the earth, tearing up the grass with his hands, and +defacing the flowers and shrubs that grew near him as he clutched at +them in his strong agony. The heavens darkened above him, the landscape +swam round and round him in endless circles, and the evening breeze, +that gently stirred the massy foliage, seemed to laugh at his mental +sufferings.</p> + +<p>He clenched his teeth, the big drops of perspiration gathered thick and +fast upon his brow, and tossing his hands frantically aloft, he cursed +his brother, and swore to pursue him with his vengeance to the grave. +Yes, that twin brother, who had been fed at the same breast—had <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>been +rocked in the same cradle—had shared in the same childish sports—it +was on his thoughtless but affectionate and manly heart he bade the dark +shadow of his spirit fall. "And, think not," he cried, "that you, +Algernon Hurdlestone, shall triumph in my despair. That woman shall be +mine, yet. Mine, though her brow has been polluted by your lips, and +your profligate love has contaminated her for ever in my eyes. But I +will bind you both with a chain, which shall render you my slaves for +ever." Then, rising from the ground, he left the spot which had +witnessed the only tender emotion he had ever felt, with a spirit full +of bitterness, and burning for revenge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh life! vain life! how many thorny cares<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie thickly strewn in all thy crooked paths!—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">There is no sight on earth so revolting as the smile with which +hypocrisy covers guilt, without it be revenge laughing at its victim.</p> + +<p>When Algernon returned at night to the Hall, his brother greeted him +with a composed and smiling aspect. He had communicated to his father +the scene he had witnessed at the cottage, and the old man's anger +exceeded his most sanguine expectations. With secret satisfaction he saw +Algernon enter the drawing-room, which the indignant Squire was pacing +with rapid steps; and when he caught the irritated glance of the old +man's eye, Mark felt that his work had been well and surely done; that +nothing could avert from his brother the storm that was gathering over +him.</p> + +<p>"So, sir, you are come at last!" said Mr. Hurdlestone, suddenly stopping +and confronting the unsuspecting culprit.</p> + +<p>"Was my presence required at home, sir?" asked Algernon, in a tone of +surprise, at the same time pulling out his watch. "It is not late. Just +ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Late or not late, that is not now the question. I have to ask you—I +insist upon your telling me—at what house in this neighborhood you +spend your time?"</p> + +<p>There was an ominous pause. Mark smiled sarcastically, but seemed to +watch intently for his brother's reply; while <a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>the old man's fierce eye +glared with tiger-like ferocity upon his younger son.</p> + +<p>Algernon at last spoke, and as he did so, he raised his head proudly, +and firmly encountered his father's keen gaze.</p> + +<p>"I see how it is, sir; my actions have been watched and my motives +misapprehended. But I shall not attempt to deny the truth. My visits +have been to the house of Mrs. Wildegrave. She has a beautiful and +virtuous daughter, whom I mean to make my wife."</p> + +<p>"The traitor Wildegrave!—his child?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"And you dare tell me this to my face?"</p> + +<p>"I never do that behind your back, that I would be ashamed to own to +your face."</p> + +<p>"Impudent scoundrel! Do you know in what manner the father of this +<i>beautiful</i> and virtuous young lady met his death?"</p> + +<p>"As many brave and unfortunate gentlemen did; who, had their cause been +successful, would have been praised for their gallantry by the very +persons who now condemn them."</p> + +<p>"And you expect me to give my consent to this accursed marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I neither expect, nor ask it from you."</p> + +<p>"By heaven, you shall never have it! nor one farthing of mine, without +you promise to relinquish all idea of this disgraceful connection."</p> + +<p>"I must leave that to your own sense of justice. I have pledged my +solemn word to Miss Wildegrave to make her my wife. I cannot break my +word without forfeiting my own self-respect."</p> + +<p>"Then it appears to me that my approbation to a <a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>measure, which so +deeply concerns the honor and respectability of my family, was a matter +of no consequence to my son."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, my dear father, I would cheerfully have consulted you upon the +subject had I not been aware of the strong prejudice with which you +regard all those who were in any way connected with that unfortunate +rebellion. In Miss Wildegrave's case, I knew my application would be +worse than fruitless."</p> + +<p>"And you knew this, and yet dared to persist in your folly?"</p> + +<p>"I did. Because I loved the young lady; and felt that I never could be +happy without her."</p> + +<p>"And with her I am determined that you never shall be happy. It was my +intention, at my decease, to have bequeathed to you the manor of Worden, +with its fine old hall, and the noble woods by which it is surrounded; +but as you mean to please yourself in the choice of a wife, I shall take +the same privilege in the choice of my heirs. Here you have no longer a +home. You may leave the Hall to-morrow, and earn a fortune for yourself +and your bride. You have ceased to be my son. I never wish to see your +face again."</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone, who had listened most attentively to the conversation, +now advanced from the recess of the window, and, pretending to take his +brother's part, began to expostulate with his father on the violence of +his proceedings; begging him to check his indignation, and allow his +brother time to perceive his error. "He could not," he said, "excuse his +brother's conduct. His want of duty and respect to such an excellent +parent he considered perfectly inexcusable, and most ungrateful, after +the many bills he had paid for him, and the great expense he had <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>been +to the family during his continental tour. But then he hoped that his +father would have compassion upon his youth, and take into account the +natural weakness of his intellect, which latter defect made him an easy +dupe to artful people."</p> + +<p>Algernon's mind was too much overwhelmed with his misfortune to notice +the implied insult. He did not even hear it, while his artful brother, +under the pretext of striving to effect a reconciliation, was heaping +fresh fuel on the fire, and doing all in his power to widen the breach.</p> + +<p>The old man's wrath was at length exhausted; and Algernon, fearing to +lose all command over his temper, and exasperated by unmerited abuse, +abruptly left the room, and retired with a heavy heart to his own +chamber.</p> + +<p>His determination to make Elinor his wife was not in the least shaken by +his father's threats; although he knew that years must now intervene +before such an union could take place. After he had a little calmed his +agitated feelings, he sat down and wrote a long letter to Elinor, +briefly stating what had taken place, and the necessity he was under of +leaving the Hall. He again repeated his vows of unshaken constancy; +assuring her that he was ready to make any sacrifice for her sake. He +begged her not to take the present trouble too deeply to heart, as he +felt certain that from the violence of the storm the danger would soon +be over.</p> + +<p>The next morning he took a tender leave of his mother, and accepting the +invitation of a friend to spend some time with him in a distant county, +he bade, as he thought, a long farewell to the Hall.</p> + +<p>From this visit he was recalled in a few weeks to attend the funeral of +his father, who died suddenly of gout in the <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>stomach. After the remains +of the old Squire had been consigned to the family vault, Algernon +accompanied his mother and brother to the library to hear the reading of +the will. No suspicion that his father would realize his threat had ever +crossed his mind; and he was literally stunned when he found that his +unnatural parent had left all to his elder brother, and cut him off with +a shilling.</p> + +<p>In a moment he comprehended the full extent of his misfortune. He had +been brought up a gentleman; he was now penniless—without money or +interest to secure a respectable situation, in which he might hope by +industry and perseverance to obtain a competency. Homeless and +friendless, whither could he go? How could he learn to forget what he +had been, what he might still be, and all that he had lost? He took up +his hat from the table on which his father's unjust testament lay, tore +from it the crape that surrounded it—that outward semblance of woe, +which in his case was a bitter mockery—and trampled it beneath his +feet. His mother raised her weeping eyes silently and imploringly to his +face. He returned to her side, pressed her hand affectionately between +his own, and casting a contemptuous glance upon his brother, quitted the +apartment, and, a few minutes after, the Hall.</p> + +<p>When at a distance from the base wretch who had robbed him of his +patrimony, by poisoning his father's mind against him, Algernon gave +free vent to the anguish that oppressed him. Instead of seeking the +widow's cottage, and pouring into the bosom of Elinor the history of his +wrongs, he hurried to that very dell in the park which had witnessed his +brother's jealous agonies, and throwing himself at his full length upon +the grass, he buried his face in his hands and wept.</p> + +<p>Could he have guessed his brother's passion for Elinor<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a> Wildegrave, or +had he witnessed his despair on that memorable night that had made him +the happiest of men, he would frankly have forgiven him the ruin he had +wrought.</p> + +<p>A strong mind, when it comprehends the worst, rouses up all its latent +energies to combat with, and triumph over, its misfortunes. Algernon was +an amiable man, a man of warm passions and generous impulses, but he was +a weak man. His indignation found vent in sighs and tears, when he +should have been up and doing.</p> + +<p>A light step rustled among the underwood—ashamed of his weakness he +sprang to his feet, and saw before him, not the slight form of Elinor +Wildegrave, into which belief busy fancy had cheated him, but the +drooping figure and mild face of his mother, shrouded in the gloomy +garments of her recent widowhood. With pale cheeks and eyelids swollen +with tears, she had followed her injured son to his lonely hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" he cried, holding out his arms to receive the poor weeper, +"dear mother! what have I done to be thus treated?"</p> + +<p>A convulsive spasm choked his utterance; and as she seated herself +beside him on the grass, his head sunk upon her lap, as in other years, +and the proud man's spirit was humbled and subdued like that of a little +child.</p> + +<p>"Your father, Algernon, has died, committing an act of injustice, but +for your mother's sake you must forgive him."</p> + +<p>Algernon tore up several tufts of grass, and flung them with violence +from him—but he remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Your brother, too, my Algernon, though harsh and unkind in his general +deportment, feels for your present situation. He is anxious to make some +amends to you for <a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>the injustice of his father. He sent me to tell you +that any sum you may think fit to name, and which you consider +sufficient to settle you in life, shall be yours."</p> + +<p>"He sent you—he—the hypocrite! Was it not he who robbed me of my +father's love—he, who has robbed me of my natural claims to a portion +of my father's property? What! does the incendiary think that I am blind +to his treachery—that I am ignorant of the hand that struck me this +blow—that I will stoop to receive as a liberal donation, an act of +special favor, a modicum of that which ought to be my own? Mother, I +will starve before I can receive one farthing from him!"</p> + +<p>"Do not be rash, my son"—</p> + +<p>"Mother, I cannot be mean. It grieves me, dearest mother, that you +should undertake to be the bearer of this message to me."</p> + +<p>"Are you not both my children?—though, God knows, not equally dear; and +ought not the welfare of both to be precious to the heart of a mother? +It is not so: Mark never had an equal share of my affections, and God +has punished me for my undue partiality, by making him the heir of all."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, this was no fault of mine."</p> + +<p>"True; but he has regarded it as a crime. You have robbed him of my +love, and he in revenge has robbed you of your fortune. Had I been a +kinder mother to him, he might have prized the gold less, and my +affection more. My conscience reproaches me as the author of your +present sufferings. Do not make my self-upbraidings more acute, by +refusing the assistance which your brother offers you."</p> + +<p>"Esau sold his birthright for a mess of pottage, mother. I will not sell +my honor for a sum of money, however <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>acceptable that sum might be. It +would never prosper with me, if it came from him."</p> + +<p>"Well, Algernon, if you will not be persuaded, you must have it your own +way. Your father, though he received from me a noble fortune, has left +me dependent upon your brother. I cannot, if I would, aid you with +money; but this case of jewels is valuable; I am old, I have no further +occasion for such baubles; I have no daughters to wear them after me. +Take them, you can raise upon them several thousand pounds—and may the +proceeds arising from their sale be blessed to your use."</p> + +<p>"Dearest mother, I accept your generous present;" and Algernon's +countenance brightened as hope once more dawned in his breast. "If I +should be fortunate, I will return to you in hard gold the value of +these gems."</p> + +<p>He took the casket from his mother's hand, and caught her to his heart +in a long and last embrace. "Should Heaven bless my honest endeavors to +obtain a respectable independence, my heart and my home, beloved one, +shall ever be open to you."</p> + +<p>And so they parted—the good mother and the disinherited son, to meet no +more on this side the grave.</p> + +<p>"Poor mother!" sighed Algernon, as he turned his steps to the widow's +cottage, "how I pity you, having to live upon the charity of that churl! +It would seem that my father was determined to punish you for your +devoted love to me."</p> + +<p>Before Algernon reached the humble abode that contained his earthly +treasure, his buoyant mind had decided upon the best course to pursue. +The sale of his mother's jewels would purchase a commission in the East +India Company's service. To India, therefore, he determined to go; and +he flattered himself that, before the expiration of <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>ten years, he would +return with an independent fortune to claim his bride. It was a long +period in perspective, but Elinor was in the early bloom of youth, and +her charms would scarcely have reached maturity when he hoped again to +revisit his native land. The bitterest pang was yet to come. He must +inform her of his father's unjust bequeathment of all his property to +his brother, and of his own determination to seek his fortune in the +East. He must bid the idol of his soul adieu, for a period which, to the +imagination of a lover, almost involved eternity. Alas for the fond +hearts and the warm hopes of youth! How could they bear the annihilation +of all the delightful anticipations which they had formed of future +enjoyment?</p> + +<p>Elinor had not seen Algernon since his return to the Hall. She ran down +the little path which led to the road to meet him, and the next moment +was in his arms. Algernon could not restrain his feelings as he clasped +her to his heart; he burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"You have had a great loss, my Algernon; I will not chide these tears. +The death of a kind parent leaves an awful blank in our existence, a +wound which time alone can heal."</p> + +<p>"His death, Elinor, has not cost me a single tear."</p> + +<p>"Then why this grief?"</p> + +<p>"We must part."</p> + +<p>"Algernon!" Elinor stepped back, and looked at her lover with death-pale +cheeks and expanded eyes. "Part!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not for ever, I hope. But for a long, long period of time; so +long, that hope dies in my heart while naming it."</p> + +<p>"But why is this, Algernon? Your father's death, you always told me, +would remove the only obstacle to—to—" Her voice failed her. She +buried her face in her apron, and wept.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>"Yes, dearest; that was, provided he left me the means to support a +wife. He has not done so. He has left all to my brother—and I am +destitute."</p> + +<p>"Good Heaven! And this is my doing. Oh, Algernon. What have you not lost +on my account!"</p> + +<p>"We will not think of that now, love," said Algernon, growing calmer now +the worst had been told; "I came to pour into your faithful heart all my +sorrows, and to tell you my plans for the future."</p> + +<p>"Algernon," said Elinor, gravely, after remaining for some time in deep +thought, "your attachment to me has overwhelmed you with misfortunes. +Comply with your father's wishes—resign your engagement to me, and your +brother will, in all probability, restore to you the property you have +lost."</p> + +<p>"And would you wish me to be under obligations to him? Is not this his +work? Elinor, I would rather enlist as a common soldier, than live in +affluence, and he my benefactor. But I am poor now, and my love may have +become valueless in your eyes," and he turned his fine eyes, moist with +tears, reproachfully on his beautiful mistress.</p> + +<p>"I spoke not for myself," said Elinor, gently. "Is not the love that has +sacrificed a fortune for my sake beyond all price? But the thought of +ruining the man I love overwhelms me with despair."</p> + +<p>"Patience, my dear girl—time will remedy the evil. I am going to work +hard to win a fortune. In a few years I shall return from India, a rich +man."</p> + +<p>"India!"</p> + +<p>"It is the only spot on the earth where fortunes can be made in a few +years."</p> + +<p>"But the dreadful climate—the many chances against you—"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>"I will brave all for your dear sake. Only promise to be true to me, +Elinor; never whilst I live, to wed another."</p> + +<p>The promise was given, and sealed upon her lips, and the lovers parted +with many sighs and tears; promising, by everything most holy and dear +to them, to remain constant to each other. Such vows are too often +traced in sand, to be washed out by the returning tide of passion or +interest: sometimes by an unfortunate combination of untoward +circumstances, over which the poor lover cannot exercise the least +control. We shall see how Algernon and his Elinor kept their vows of +eternal fidelity.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone heard of his brother's departure and safe arrival in +India with unspeakable satisfaction. With cautious steps he pursued the +path suggested to him by the implacable spirit of revenge. Before many +months had elapsed, the death of Mrs. Hurdlestone afforded him an +opportunity of obtaining a fresh introduction to Miss Wildegrave. At his +mother's particular request, Mrs. Wildegrave and her daughter had +visited her frequently during her dying illness; and as it exactly +suited his own purpose, Mark offered no objection, but did all in his +power to meet his mother's wishes. The dying woman felt an intense +desire to see the person for whom her favorite son had sacrificed so +much, and she was so pleased with his choice, that she forgave her all +the trouble she had occasioned, kept her constantly near her person +during her last illness, and finally expired in her arms.</p> + +<p>To Elinor she owed much of the attention she received at that time from +her stern unloving son. He treated her with a degree of tenderness quite +unusual to him, anticipated all her comforts, and seldom left her +apartment. "They may call the Squire a harsh cruel man," said Elinor <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>to +her mother, "but I must say, that I never saw a kinder or a better son."</p> + +<p>After the funeral, Mark called upon Mrs. Wildegrave, to deliver into her +hands a few memorials of his mother's regard, to which he added some +handsome ornaments for Elinor out of his own purse, and he expressed in +the warmest terms his grateful thanks for their attention and kindness +to the deceased. He displayed so much feeling on this melancholy +occasion, and spoke with such affection and respect of his departed +parent, that it made a deep impression upon Mrs. Wildegrave and her +daughter.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by this favorable reception, the Squire soon repeated his +visit, and by adroitly flattering the elder lady, he continued to +ingratiate himself into her favor. Mrs. Wildegrave was a kind +well-meaning woman, but she had struggled so long with poverty, that +wealth had acquired, as a natural consequence, too great an ascendancy +over her mind. The possession of these coveted riches gave to Mark +Hurdlestone an importance in her eyes, which made her blind to the +defects of his character, and she secretly wished that her daughter had +not entered into a rash engagement with his brother, which must +unavoidably extend over an indefinite number of years, but could +transfer her affections to the handsome owner of Oak Hall. Alas! how +often are mothers, and fond mothers too, induced to sacrifice the +earthly and eternal peace of a beloved child to the demon of this world, +the selfish soul-destroying power of wealth, that daily slays its +thousands and tens of thousands, yet never finds one worshipper the +less.</p> + +<p>About this period, Mr. Hurdlestone purchased the cottage rented by the +widow, and appeared in a new character, that of a landlord. The old lady +was fond of planning <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>improvements, which gave him an opportunity of +gratifying her taste; and he took no small pains in accommodating +himself to her wishes. "He was a fine generous man," she said, "one whom +the world has greatly misrepresented. All his father's faults have been +heaped upon his innocent head. She had had sore reason to hate the +illiberal narrow-minded father, but she admired and esteemed the son."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that Algernon did his brother justice," said Elinor; +"but members of the same family are often blind to each other's merits. +Certainly the Squire is not the bad selfish man I took him for."</p> + +<p>"He has behaved like an angel to us," returned the mother; "and I for my +part, prefer him to Algernon."</p> + +<p>Elinor rejected this preference with disdain; but the old lady persisted +in maintaining her own opinion. Her daughter at last relinquished the +argument, by saying, "That the Squire, with his grave serious face, and +stiff polite manners, might suit the taste of a middle-aged woman; but +he never would win the regard of a young girl."</p> + +<p>At first, Elinor had shunned the company of Mr. Hurdlestone, for his +presence recalled painful thoughts, and she was prejudiced against him +on his brother's account; but his attentions were so kind and +considerate, that, stern as he was, she began to entertain a better +opinion of him, and to think that perhaps Algernon, who was very +passionate, might have given him some provocation for the unjust +distribution of his father's property. His manners were austere, and +somewhat misanthropic, but his book-knowledge was extensive, and, though +naturally taciturn, he could, when he pleased, converse well upon any +subject. Free from the influence of malignant passions, he was a +sensible and interesting companion.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>Elinor knew that the brothers had not parted friends, nor was she +ignorant of the cause of the quarrel; but she was willing to believe, +from what she heard and saw of Mark Hurdlestone, that he was less in +fault than he had been represented to her by Algernon; and the hope of +bringing about a reconciliation, and by so doing, shorten her lover's +period of exile, took a lively hold of her imagination.</p> + +<p>The Squire was so plausible, that he found it an easy task to deceive a +girl as unsophisticated as Elinor Wildegrave, who was a perfect novice +in the ways of the world. She could not believe it possible that Mr. +Hurdlestone could stoop from his dignity to act a despicable part; that +deception could lurk beneath such a grave demeanor. Elinor was not the +first human being whose faith has been built on reeds.</p> + +<p>When alone with Miss Wildegrave, Mark never failed to make his brother +the theme of conversation. He lamented, most feelingly, the unfortunate +difference which existed between them, which appeared the more +unnatural, considering that they were twins. He laid the fault of their +disunion entirely to their parents—his father adopting him as a pet, +and his mother lavishing all her affections upon Algernon.</p> + +<p>This partiality, he said, had destroyed all confidence between them, and +produced a rivalry and misunderstanding of each other's character from +their earliest years, substituting envy for generous emulation, and +hatred for love. In all their quarrels, whether right or wrong, his +mother defended Algernon, and his father sided with him so that +well-doing was never rewarded, and ill-doing never met with an adequate +punishment. Was it to be wondered at that they had grown up perfectly +indifferent to each other?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>There was much truth in this statement; but Mark Hurdlestone made the +best of it, in order to justify himself.</p> + +<p>As they became more intimate, Elinor ventured to inquire why his father +had been induced to act so unjustly to Algernon on his death-bed; that +she could hardly believe that Algernon's attachment to her could have +drawn down upon him such a heavy punishment.</p> + +<p>"My father was a man of headstrong prejudices," said the Squire. "If he +once took a notion into his head, it was impossible to knock it out of +him. To dislike a person, and to hate them, were with him the same +thing. Such were the feelings he entertained towards your father, whom +he regarded as having been his bitterest enemy. The idea of a son of his +uniting himself to a daughter of Captain Wildegrave seemed to impugn his +own loyalty. It was with him a personal insult, an unforgivable offence. +Algernon has accused me of fomenting my father's displeasure, for the +base purpose of robbing him of his share of the property. You have been +told this?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"And you believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I did believe it; but it was before I knew you."</p> + +<p>"Dismiss such an unworthy idea of me from your breast for ever. I did +all in my power to restore Algernon to my father's favor. I earnestly +entreated him, when upon his death-bed, to make a more equitable will. +On this point the old man was inflexible. He died muttering curses on +his head."</p> + +<p>Elinor shuddered.</p> + +<p>"It was my determination to have rendered Algernon justice, and shared +the property equally between us; but in this Algernon prevented me. He +left the Hall in a <a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>tempest of rage; and when I made the proposal +through my mother, my offer was rejected with scorn. I wrote to him +before he left for India on the same subject, and my letters were +returned unopened. You see, my dear Miss Wildegrave, I have done all in +my power to conciliate my brother; but, like my poor father, his enmity +is stronger than his love, and will not be entreated."</p> + +<p>This statement of Mr. Hurdlestone's was not only very plausible, but it +was partly true. He had indeed begged the dying man to forgive Algernon, +and consent to his marriage with Miss Wildegrave; but then, he well knew +that his father would neither do the one nor the other; while his own +hypocritical interference only aggravated the old man's anger in a +tenfold degree, and would be the sure way of producing the result which +he so ardently desired. He had offered to settle a handsome sum upon his +injured brother, but he well knew that it would be rejected with scorn +by the high-spirited young man. Elinor could not contradict these +statements. She knew the impetuous disposition of her lover, and she +more readily admitted their probability. Mark had been represented to +her by him as a sullen, morose, avaricious young man, selfish, +unfeeling, and cruel, suspicious of his friends, and implacable to his +enemies. She had found him the reverse of all this; and she began to +entertain doubts of Algernon's veracity, and to conclude that it was for +some more cogent reason than for any with which she was yet acquainted +that his father had struck him out of his will, so anxious was she to +acquit herself of being the cause of her lover's exile, and the +unfortunate circumstances in which he was placed. This, too, was +selfish; but Elinor had been an only child, and very much indulged by +her mother. She was a good, gentle, beautiful girl; but not exactly the +stuff of which angels are made.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>After this explanation had taken place, Mr. Hurdlestone became a daily +visitor at the cottage; and his society and friendship contributed +greatly to the comfort and amusement of its inhabitants. He never, to +Elinor, made the least allusion to his passion. The passion, indeed, had +long ceased to exist; he sought her not for love, but for revenge.</p> + +<p>Time glided on. Algernon had been three years away; but his letters +still continued to breathe the same ardent attachment, and Elinor was +happy in the consciousness of being the sole possessor of his heart.</p> + +<p>Her mother, who had more ambitious views for her daughter, often +lamented her long engagement, which might never be completed. "She would +rather," she said, "have the rich Squire for her son-in-law; and she +would not be at all surprised if Elinor herself was to change her mind +before the ten years expired."</p> + +<p>Six years of the allotted period had expired. Algernon had been promoted +to the rank of major; and his letters were full of happy anticipations. +Elinor herself began to look forward to their union as a thing likely to +take place; and she spoke of her lover's perseverance and constancy with +proud delight.</p> + +<p>"He has done better than I expected of him," said the Squire. "There is +nothing like adversity for trying what a man's made of. But who can +wonder at his exerting himself to obtain such a reward?" And he bowed to +the blushing Elinor, as she sat with Algernon's letter in her hand, +radiant with joy.</p> + +<p>"He talks of returning in less than two years: I wish it were now. I am +already three-and-twenty; by that time I shall begin to look old."</p> + +<p>Mark thought that she never looked younger, or more beautiful, than at +that moment, and he told her so.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>"Ah, but you are my friend—are partial. Will not Algernon see a +change?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—for the better."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could believe you. But I feel older. My heart is not so fresh +as it was; I no longer live in a dream; I see things as they really +are."</p> + +<p>"And do you expect to find no change in your lover? The burning climate +of India is not a great beautifier."</p> + +<p>"I can only see him as he was. If his heart remains unchanged, no +alteration in his personal appearance could shake my regard, +particularly when those changes have been incurred for my sake."</p> + +<p>"Oh, woman, great is your faith!" said Mark, with a sigh. "Gladly would +I give my fortune to be Algernon."</p> + +<p>Elinor started, and looked anxiously at her companion. It was the first +time he had ever alluded to his secret passion. Did he love her? The +question made Elinor tremble. She folded her letter, and turned the +conversation into another channel. But the words haunted her, "I would +give my fortune to be Algernon." Could he be in earnest? Perhaps it was +only a passing compliment—men were fond of paying such. But the Squire +was no flatterer; he seldom said what he did not mean. She re-read +Algernon's letter, and thought no more about the words that his brother +had let fall.</p> + +<p>That letter was the last she ever received from her lover. After +enduring the most torturing suspense for eighteen months, and writing +frequently to demand the cause of his unnatural silence, Elinor gave +herself up to the most gloomy forebodings. Mr. Hurdlestone endeavored to +soothe her fears, and win her to the belief that his brother's letters +must have miscarried, through the negli<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>gence of private hands, to whom +they might have been entrusted. But when these suggestions failed in +arousing her from the stupor of grief into which she had fallen, he +offered the most tender consolations which could be administered to a +wounded mind—an appearance of heartfelt sympathy in its sufferings.</p> + +<p>While musing one morning over the cause of Algernon's silence, the +Squire's groom approached the open window at which she was seated, and +placed a letter in her hands; it was edged and sealed with black; and +Elinor hastily broke the seal, and opened it. Her eye glanced, hurriedly +over the first few words. She uttered a loud cry; and sank down, +weeping, at her mother's feet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wildegrave lifted her to the sofa, and taking the letter from her +cold and nerveless grasp, read its contents. They were written by Mark +Hurdlestone.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;"> +<span class="smcap">Oak Hall</span>, June 16, ——</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">My Dear Miss Wildegrave</span>:</p> + +<p>"It is with the utmost reluctance that I take up my pen to +communicate tidings which, I well know, will occasion you great +distress. This morning's post brought me the mournful intelligence +of my brother Algernon's death, which melancholy event took place +on the morning of the 4th of August last, at the house of a friend +in Calcutta. Mr. Richardson's letter I will transmit to you as soon +as you are able to bear its contents. My poor brother was on his +way to England; and his death was so sudden, that he made no +arrangement of his affairs previous to his dissolution. That Heaven +may comfort and sustain you under this severe trial, is the earnest +prayer of your sincere friend,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Marcus Hurdlestone</span>."</p></div> + +<p><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>"Oh, mother! mother! My heart—my poor heart! How shall I learn to bear +this great sorrow?" was all that the forlorn girl could utter, as she +pressed her hands tightly over the agitated bosom that concealed her +convulsed and bursting heart. No sound was heard within that peaceful +home for many days and nights but the sobs and groans of the unhappy +Elinor. She mourned for the love of her youth, as one without hope. She +resisted every attempt at consolation, and refused to be comforted. When +the first frantic outbreak of sorrow had stagnated into a hopeless and +tearless gloom, which threatened the reason of the sufferer, the Squire +visited the cottage, and brought with him the merchant's letter, that +fully corroborated his former statement, and the wretched heart-broken +girl could no longer cherish the most remote probability to which hope +could cling.</p> + +<p>Twelve months passed away. The name of Algernon was never mentioned in +her presence; and she still continued to wear the deepest mourning. A +strange apathy had succeeded her once gay flow of spirits, and she +seemed alike indifferent to herself and all the world. To the lover-like +attentions of Mark Hurdlestone she paid no regard, and appeared wholly +unconscious of his admiration. Mortified by her coldness, even his +patience was nearly exhausted; when the death of her mother, who had +been a long time in declining health, cast Elinor, friendless and +unprotected, on the world. This circumstance, hailed with unspeakable +joy by Mr. Hurdlestone, plunged the poor girl, doubly an orphan, into +despair.</p> + +<p>A lady in the neighborhood, pitying her distress, received her into her +family, until she could adopt some plan for her future maintenance; but +all her attempts to console Elinor for her loss proved abortive. Her +tears flowed unceas<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>ingly, her health and spirits were impaired; and she +felt, with bitterness, that she no longer possessed strength or +fortitude to combat with poverty and the many ills of life.</p> + +<p>At this critical juncture, Mark Hurdlestone, generously, as all the +world thought, came forward, and offered her his hand; inviting her, in +the most delicate manner, to share his splendid home and fortune.</p> + +<p>His disinterested offer, at such a time, filled Elinor with respect and +gratitude, but she did not love him; and, trembling and irresolute, she +knew not how to act. She had but one relative—an uncle, in India—who +had never written to her mother since her father died upon the scaffold. +Whether this uncle was still living, was married, or single, she could +not ascertain. To him, therefore, it was useless to apply. She had no +home—she was at present dependent upon the bounty of a stranger, who +could ill afford to be burdened with an additional member to her already +large family. What could she do? She consulted that friend; and the +worthy woman strongly advised her to accept the Squire's offer, +wondering, all the while, how she could, for one moment, think of a +refusal. So it was all settled; and Elinor reluctantly consented to +become Mark Hurdlestone's wife.</p> + +<p>Thousands in her situation would have done the same. But we must blame +her, or any other woman, whatever her circumstances may be, who consents +to become the bosom-partner of a man she cannot love. Miserable are such +unions; from them flow, as from a polluted stream, all the bitterest +sorrows and ills of life.</p> + +<p>Young maiden, whosoever you may be, whose eyes glance at this moment on +my page, take the advice of one who has been both a happy wife and +mother: never sacrifice the best and holiest affections of your heart on +the sordid shrine of <a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>wealth or worldly ambition. Without reciprocal +love, the heart becomes a moral desert How can you reasonably expect to +receive that from another, of which you are destitute yourself? Will the +field that never was sown yield to the possessor a plentiful harvest? I +do most firmly believe, that to this want of affection in parents to +each other may be traced the want of the same feeling in children +towards their parents. If a woman hates her husband, her offspring are +not very likely to feel a strong attachment to their father; for +children inherit, in a strong degree, not only the disposition of their +parents, but their mental and physical peculiarities.</p> + +<p>A virtuous woman will rarely place her affections upon an unworthy +object if she be true to herself and the education she has received; and +if she cannot consent to encounter a few trials and privations for the +sake of the man she loves, she is not worthy to be his wife.</p> + +<p>The loving and beloved partner of a good man may be called upon to +endure many temporal sorrows, but her respect and admiration for his +character will enable her to surmount them all, and she will exclaim +with pious exultation,—"Thank God! I have been happy in my choice. His +love is better to me than gold, yea, than much fine gold!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh Lord, thou hast enlarged the grief<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of this poor stricken heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only finds in tears relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which all unbidden start:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long have I borne the cruel scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of one I could not love nor hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul, with secret anguish torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yields unresisting to its fate—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">Mark Hurdlestone's triumph was complete; his revenge fully gratified, +when he led his beautiful bride from the altar to the carriage, which +was in readiness to convey her to her future home. She was his, and +Algernon might return as soon as he pleased. Elinor Wildegrave was +beyond his reach. She could never be his wife.</p> + +<p>Tranquil, but not happy, Elinor viewed the change in her circumstances +as an intervention of Providence to save her from a life of poverty and +suffering; and she fancied that, if she did not love her benefactor, +feelings of gratitude and a sense of duty would always prevent him from +becoming to her an object of dislike or indifference.</p> + +<p>How little had she studied human nature; how ignorant was she of the +mysterious movements of the human heart; and when, after much painful +experience, she acquired the fatal knowledge, how bitter were the +effects it produced upon her own.</p> + +<p>When once his victim was in his toils, Mr. Hurdlestone did not attempt +to conceal from her his real disposition.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>He laughed at her credulity in believing that love alone had actuated +him in making her his wife. He related to her, with terrible fidelity, +the scene he had witnessed between her and Algernon in the garden, and +the agonies of jealousy that he endured when he discovered that she +loved another; and he repulsed with cold and sarcastic neglect every +attempt made by Elinor to render their union more tolerable, and his +home more comfortable.</p> + +<p>To Elinor his conduct was perfectly unaccountable. She could not believe +that he did not love her, and she was not a little mortified at what she +considered his unnatural coldness and neglect.</p> + +<p>"Marcus," she said to him one evening, as she sat on a cushion at his +feet, after making many vain attempts to attract his notice, or win from +him one kind look or word, "you did not always treat me with +indifference; there was a time when I thought you loved me."</p> + +<p>"There was a time, madam, when I adored you!—when I would have given +all I possessed in the world to obtain from you one smile."</p> + +<p>"Then why this coldness? What have I done to merit your dislike?"</p> + +<p>"You loved Algernon. You love him still. Aye, that blush! Your face +tells no falsehood. You cannot conceal it from me."</p> + +<p>"I do not deny my love. But he is dead. Why should you be jealous of the +dead?"</p> + +<p>Mark smiled a grim bitter smile. "But if he were alive?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" and she pressed her small white hand tightly on her heart. "But +then, Marcus, I should not be your wife. It would no longer be my duty +to love another."</p> + +<p>"You think it, then, your duty to love me?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>"Yes. You are my husband. My heart is lonely and sad. It must be filled +by some object. Dear Marcus, suffer me to love you."</p> + +<p>She laid her fair cheek meekly upon his knee, but he did not answer her +touching appeal to his sympathy with a single caress.</p> + +<p>"I cannot make you happy, Elinor. Algernon alone can do that."</p> + +<p>"Algernon! Why Algernon?" said Elinor, bursting into tears. "Is it to +make me more miserable that you constantly remind me of my loss?"</p> + +<p>"How do you know that he is dead?"</p> + +<p>"I have your word for it; the evidence of your friend's letter; his long +silence. What frightful images you conjure up! You seem determined to +make me wretched to-night."</p> + +<p>She sprang from her lowly seat, and left the room in an agony of tears. +Mark looked after her for a moment:—"Aye, he still keeps your heart. +But I have had my revenge."</p> + +<p>The agony which he had endured in the garden on that memorable night, +when he first discovered that Elinor loved his brother, was light in +comparison to the pangs which shook the inmost soul of his unhappy wife, +when time at last revealed the full extent of her misery, and of her +husband's deep-laid treachery—and Algernon returned from India with an +independent fortune to claim his bride, and found her the wife of his +brother.</p> + +<p>The monster who had supplanted him in his father's affections had now +robbed him of his wife. Algernon did not seek an explanation from Mrs. +Hurdlestone, either personally or by letter. He supposed that her +present position was one of her own choosing, and he was too proud <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>to +utter a complaint. The hey-day of youth was past, and he had seen too +much of the world to be surprised at the inconstancy of a poor girl, who +had been offered, during her lover's absence, a splendid alliance. He +considered that Elinor was sufficiently punished for her broken vows in +being forced to spend her life in the society of such a sordid wretch as +Mark Hurdlestone.</p> + +<p>"God forgive her," he said; "she has nearly broken my heart, but I pity +her from my very soul."</p> + +<p>When the dreadful truth flashed upon the mind of Mrs. Hurdlestone, she +bitterly accused her husband of the deception he had practised. Mr. +Hurdlestone, instead of denying or palliating the charge, even boasted +of his guilt, and entered into a minute detail of each revolting +circumstance—the diabolical means that he had employed to destroy her +peace.</p> + +<p>This fiend, to whom in an evil hour she had united her destiny, had +carefully intercepted the correspondence between herself and Algernon, +and employed a friend in India to forge the plausible account he had +received of her lover's death—and finally, as the finishing stroke to +all this deep-laid villany, he had overcome his avaricious propensities, +and made Elinor his wife, not to gratify a sensual passion, but the +terrible spirit of revenge.</p> + +<p>Poor Elinor! For a long time her reason bowed before the knowledge of +these horrible facts, and when she did at last recover her senses, her +beauty had faded beneath the blight of sorrow like the brilliant but +evanescent glow of the evening cloud, which vanishes at the approach of +night. Weary of life, she did not regret the loss of those fatal charms +which had been to her a source of such misery.</p> + +<p>The last time the rose tint ever visited her once bloom<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>ing cheeks was +when suddenly informed by Mr. Hurdlestone of his brother's marriage with +a young lady of large fortune. "May he be happy," she exclaimed, +clasping her hands together, whilst the deepest crimson suffused her +face. "I was not worthy to be his wife!" Ere the sentence was concluded +the color had faded from her cheek, which no after emotion recalled.</p> + +<p>His brother's marriage produced a strange effect upon the mind of Mark +Hurdlestone. It cheated him of a part of his revenge. He had expected +that the loss of Elinor would have stung Algernon to madness; that his +existence would have become insupportable without the woman he loved. +How great was his mortification when, neither by word nor letter, nor in +conversation with his friends, did his injured brother ever revert to +the subject! That Algernon did not feel the blow, could scarcely be +inferred from his silence. The grief he felt was too acute for words, +and Algernon was still too faithful to the object of his first ardent +attachment to upbraid her conduct to others. Mark, who could not +understand this delicacy of sentiment, concluded that Elinor was no +longer regarded with affection by her lover. Elinor comprehended his +silence better, and she loved him more intensely for his forbearance.</p> + +<p>Algernon the world reputed rich and happy, and the Squire despised +Elinor when her person was no longer coveted by his rival. His temper, +constitutionally bad, became intolerable, and he treated his +uncomplaining wife with such unkindness, that it would have broken her +heart, if the remembrance of a deeper sorrow had not rendered her +indifferent to his praise or censure. She considered his kindest mercy +was neglect.</p> + +<p>Having now no other passion to gratify but avarice, <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>Mark Hurdlestone's +hoarding propensities returned with double force. He gradually +retrenched his domestic expenses; laid down his carriage; sold his +horses; discharged his liveried servants; and, to the astonishment of +his wondering neighbors, let the noble park to a rich farmer in the +parish, with permission to break it up with the plough. He no longer +suffered the produce of his extensive gardens to be consumed in the +house, or given to the poor; but sold the fruit and vegetables to any +petty greengrocer in the village, who thought it worth his while to walk +up to the Hall, and drive a bargain with the stingy Squire. He not only +assisted in gathering the fruit, for fear he should be robbed, but often +acted as scarecrow to the birds, whom he reviled as noisy, useless +nuisances, vexatiously sent to destroy the fruits of the earth.</p> + +<p>Elinor gently remonstrated with him on the meanness and absurdity of +such conduct; but he silenced what he termed her impertinent +interference in matters which did not concern her. He bade her to +remember that she brought him no fortune, and he was forced to make +these retrenchments in order to support her. After this confession, +there was no end to his savings. He discharged his remaining domestics; +sold most of the splendid furniture by public auction; and, finally, +shut up the Hall to avoid paying the window-tax, only allowing the +kitchen, one parlor, and two bed-rooms to be visited by the light of +day. The only person whom he allowed to approach the house was the +gardener, Grenard Pike, who rented a small cottage at the end of the +avenue that led to the back premises of the once noble mansion.</p> + +<p>This favored individual was the Squire in low life; and the gossip +dealers in the village did not scruple to affirm that the likeness was +not <i>merely</i> accidental; that Grenard <a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>Pike was brother to the Squire in +a natural way; but whether this report were true or false, he and his +master, if unrelated by blood, possessed kindred spirits, and perfectly +understood and appreciated each other. This man had neither wife nor +child, and the whole business of his life was how to get money, and, +when got, how to turn it to the best advantage. If the Squire was +attached to anything in the world, it was to this faithful satellite, +this humble transcript of himself.</p> + +<p>The wretched Elinor, shut out from all society, and denied every +domestic comfort, was limited by her stingy partner to the awkward +attendance of a parish girl, who, together with her mistress, he +contrived to half starve; as he insisted on keeping the key of the +pantry, and only allowed them a scanty meal twice during the twenty-four +hours, which he said, was sufficient to keep them in health; more was +hurtful both to the mind and body.</p> + +<p>Elinor had dragged on this miserable existence for twelve years, when, +to her unspeakable grief, she found that she was likely to become a +mother, for the prospect of this event served rather to increase, than +diminish her sorrows. It was some time before she dared to communicate +this unwelcome intelligence to her sordid lord. Still, she hoped, in +spite of his parsimony, that he might wish for a son to heir his immense +wealth. Not he! He only thought of a spendthrift, who would recklessly +squander all that he toiled and starved himself to save; and he received +the promise of his paternal honors with a very bad grace.</p> + +<p>"All the world!" he exclaimed, "are conspiring together to ruin me. I +shall be ate out of house and home by doctors and nurses, and my rest +will be constantly disturbed by squalling brats; for I suppose, madam, +that like my <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>worthy mother, you will entail upon me two at a time. But +my mother was a strong healthy woman, not delicate and puling like you. +It is more than probable that the child may die."</p> + +<p>"And the mother," sighed Elinor.</p> + +<p>"Well if He who sends is pleased to take away, He will find me perfectly +resigned to His will. You need not weep, madam. If my conduct appears +unnatural, let me tell you that I consider those human beings alone +fortunate who perish in their infancy. They are in no fear of coming to +the gallows. They are saved from the threatened torments of hell!"</p> + +<p>Elinor shrank from the wild flash of his keen dark eyes, and drew back +with an involuntary shudder. "Happy had it been for me if I had died an +infant on my mother's breast."</p> + +<p>"Aye, if you had never seen the light. You were born to be the bane of +my house. But since you have confided to me this precious secret, let me +ask you what you think will be the probable expense of your +confinement?"</p> + +<p>"I really cannot tell. I must have a doctor—a nurse—and some few +necessaries for the poor babe. I think, with great economy, ten pounds +would be enough."</p> + +<p>"Ten pounds!"</p> + +<p>"It may cost more, certainly not less."</p> + +<p>"You will never get that sum from me."</p> + +<p>"But, Marcus, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"The best way you can."</p> + +<p>"You would not have your wife solicit charity?"</p> + +<p>"An excellent thought. Ha! ha! you would make a first-rate beggar, with +that pale sad face of yours. But, no, madam, you shall not beg. Poor as +I am, I will find means to support both you and the child. But, mark +me—it must not resemble Algernon."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>"How is that possible? I have not seen Algernon for eighteen years."</p> + +<p>"But he is ever in your thoughts. Let me not trace this adultery of the +heart in the features of my child."</p> + +<p>"But you are like Algernon. Not a striking likeness, but still you might +be known for brothers."</p> + +<p>"So, you are trying to find excuses in case of the worst. But, I again +repeat to you, that I will not own the boy if he is like Algernon."</p> + +<p>This whim of the miser's was a new cause of terror to Elinor; from that +moment an indescribable dread lest the child should be like Algernon +took possession of her breast. She perceived that her husband already +calculated with selfish horror the expense of the unborn infant's food +and raiment; and she began to entertain some not unreasonable fears lest +the young child, if it should survive its birth, would be starved to +death, as Mark barely supplied his household with the common necessaries +of life; and, though Elinor bore the system of starvation with the +indifference which springs from a long and hopeless continuation of +suffering, the parish girl was loud in her complaints, and she was +constantly annoyed with her discontented murmurings, without having it +in her power to silence them in the only effective way.</p> + +<p>The Squire told Ruth, that she consumed more food at one meal than would +support him and her mistress for a week; and he thought that what was +enough for them might satisfy a cormorant like her. But the poor girl +could not measure the cravings of her healthy appetite by the scanty +wants of a heart-broken invalid and a miser. Her hunger remained +unappeased, and she continued to complain.</p> + +<p>At this period Mark Hurdlestone was attacked, for the <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>first time in his +life, with a dangerous illness. Elinor nursed him with the greatest +care, and prescribed for him as well as she could; for he would not +suffer a doctor to enter the house. But finding that the disorder did +not yield to her remedies, but rather that he grew daily worse, she +privately sent for the doctor. When he arrived, Mr. Hurdlestone ordered +him out of his room, and nearly exhausted what little strength he still +possessed, in accusing Elinor of entering into a conspiracy with Mr. +Moore to kill him, and, as the doctor happened to be a widower, to marry +him after his death, and share the spoils between them.</p> + +<p>"Your husband, madam, is mad—as mad as a March hare," said Mr. Moore, +as he descended the stairs. "He is, however, in a very dangerous state, +it is doubtful if he ever recovers."</p> + +<p>"And what can be done for him?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in his present humor without you have him treated as a maniac, +which, if I were in your case and in your situation, I most certainly +would do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no! there is something dreadful in such a charge coming from a +wife, though he often appears to me scarcely accountable for his +actions; but what can I give him to allay this dreadful fever?"</p> + +<p>"I will write you a prescription." This the doctor did on the back of a +letter with his pencil, for Elinor could not furnish him with a scrap of +paper.</p> + +<p>"You must send this to the apothecary. He will make it up."</p> + +<p>"What will it cost?"</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled. "A mere trifle; perhaps three shillings."</p> + +<p>"I have not had such a sum in my possession for the last three years. He +will die before he will give it to me."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>"Mad, mad, mad," said the doctor, shaking his head. "Well, my dear +lady, if he will not give it to save his worthless life, you must steal +it from him. If you fail, why let Nature take her course. His death +would certainly be your gain."</p> + +<p>Returning to the sick room, she found the patient in a better temper, +evidently highly gratified at having expelled the doctor. Elinor thought +this a good opportunity to urge her request for a small sum of money to +procure medicines and other necessaries; but on this subject she found +him inexorable.</p> + +<p>"Give you money to buy poison!" he exclaimed. "Do you take me for a +fool, or mad?"</p> + +<p>"You are very ill, Marcus; you will die, without you follow Dr. Moore's +advice."</p> + +<p>"Don't flatter yourselves. I don't mean to die to please you. There is a +great deal of vitality in me yet. Don't say another word. I will take +nothing but cold water; I feel better already."</p> + +<p>"Pray God that you may be right," said Elinor. But after this fit of +rage, he fell into a stupor, and before night he was considerably worse. +His unfortunate wife, worn down with watching and want of food and rest, +now determined to have a regular search for the key of his strongbox, +that she might procure him the medicines prescribed by the doctor, and +purchase oatmeal and bread for the use of the parish girl and herself.</p> + +<p>She carefully examined his pockets, his writing-desk, and bureau, but to +no purpose—looking carefully into every drawer and chest that had not +been sold by public auction or private contract. Not a corner of the +chamber was left unexplored—not a closet or shelf escaped her strict +examination, until, giving up the search as perfectly hopeless, <a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>she +resumed her station at his bed-side, to watch through the long winter +night—without a fire, and by the wan gleam that a miserable rush-light +shed through the spacious and lofty room—the restless slumbers of the +miser. She was ill, out of spirits, fatigued with her fruitless +exertion, and deeply disappointed at her want of success.</p> + +<p>The solitary light threw a ghastly livid hue on the strongly-marked +features of the sleeper, rendered sharp and haggard by disease and his +penurious habits; she could just distinguish through the gloom the +spectre-like form of the invalid, and the long bony attenuated hands +which grasped, from time to time, the curtains and bedclothes, as he +tossed from side to side in his feverish unrest. Elinor continued to +watch the dark and perturbed countenance of the sleeper, until he became +an object of fear, and she fancied that it was some demon who had for a +time usurped the human shape, and not the brother of Algernon—the man +whom she had voluntarily attended to the altar, and in the presence of +Almighty God had sworn to love, honor, and obey, and to cherish in +sickness and in health.</p> + +<p>A crushing sense of all the deception that had been practiced upon her, +of her past wrongs and present misery, made her heart die within her, +and her whole soul overflow with bitterness. She wrung her hands, and +smote her breast in an agony of despair; but in that dark hour no tear +relieved her burning brain, or moistened her eyes. She had once been +under the dominion of insanity; she felt that her reason in that moment +hung upon a thread; that, if she pursued much longer her present +thoughts, they would drive her mad; that, if she continued to gaze much +longer on the face of her husband, she would be tempted to plunge a +knife, which lay on the table near her, into his <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>breast. With a +desperate effort she drew her eyes from the sleeper, and turned from the +bed. Her gaze fell upon a large full-length picture in oils, which hung +opposite. It was the portrait of one of Mark's ancestors, a young man +who had fallen in his first battle, on the memorable field of Flodden. +It bore a strong resemblance to Algernon, and Elinor prized it on that +account, and would sit for hours with her head resting upon her hand, +and her eyes riveted on this picture. This night it seemed to regard her +with a sad and mournful aspect; and the large blue eyes appeared to +return her fixed gaze with the sorrowful earnestness of life.</p> + +<p>"My head is strangely confused," she murmured, half aloud. "Into what +new extravagance will my treacherous fancy hurry me to-night? Ah me! +physical wants and mental suffering, added to this long watching, will +turn my brain."</p> + +<p>She buried her face in her hands, and endeavored to shut out the +grotesque and phantom-like forms that seemed to dance before her. A +deathlike stillness reigned through the house, the silence alone broken +by the ticking of the great dial at the head of the staircase. There is +something inexpressibly awful in the ticking of a clock, when heard at +midnight by the lonely and anxious watcher beside the bed of death. It +is the voice of time marking its slow but certain progress towards +eternity, and warning us in solemn tones that it will soon cease to +number the hours for the sufferer for ever. Elinor trembled as she +listened to the low monotonous measured sounds; and she felt at that +moment a presentiment that her own weary pilgrimage on earth was drawing +to a close.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Algernon!" she thought; "it may be a crime, but I sometimes think +that if I could see you once more—only <a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>once more—I could forget all +my wrongs and sufferings, and die in peace."</p> + +<p>The unuttered thought was scarcely formed, when a slight rustling noise +shook the curtains of the bed, and the next moment a tall figure in +white glided across the room. It drew nearer, and Elinor, in spite of +the wish she had just dared to whisper to herself, struggled with the +vision, as a sleeper does with the night-mare, when the suffocating +grasp of the fiend is upon his throat. Her presence of mind forsook her, +and, with a shriek of uncontrollable terror, she flung herself across +the bed, and endeavored to awaken her husband. The place he had occupied +a few minutes before was vacant; and, raising her fear-stricken head, +she perceived, with feelings scarcely less allied to fear, that the +figure she had mistaken for the ghost of Algernon was the corporeal form +of the miser.</p> + +<p>He was asleep, but his mind appeared to be actively employed. He drew +near the table with a cautious step, and took from beneath a broad +leathern belt, which he always wore next his skin, a small key. Elinor +sat up on the bed, and watched his movements with intense interest. He +next took up the candle, and glided out of the room. Slipping off her +shoes she followed him with noiseless steps. He descended the great +staircase, and suddenly stopped in the centre of the entrance hall. Here +he put down the light on the last step of the broad oak stairs, and +proceeded to remove one of the stone flags that formed the pavement of +the hall. With some difficulty he accomplished his task; then kneeling +down, and holding the light over the chasm, he said in hollow and +unearthly tones that echoed mournfully through the empty building:</p> + +<p>"Look! here is money; my father's savings and my own. Will this save my +soul?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>Elinor leaned over the sordid wretch, and discovered with no small +astonishment that the aperture contained a great quantity of gold and +silver coins; and the most valuable articles of the family plate and +jewels.</p> + +<p>"Unhappy man!" she mentally cried; "dost thou imagine that these +glittering heaps of metal will purchase the redemption of a soul like +thine, or avert the certainty of future punishment?—for never was the +parable of the servant who buried his talent in the dust more fully +exemplified than in thee."</p> + +<p>"What, not enough?" growled forth the miser. "By heavens! thou hast a +human conscience. But wait patiently, and I will show you more—aye, +more—my brother's portion, and my own. Ha, ha! I tricked him there. The +old man's heart failed him at the last. He was afraid of you. Yes, yes, +he was afraid of the devil! It was I formed the plan. It was I guided +the dead hand. Shall I burn for that?"</p> + +<p>Then, as if suddenly struck with a violent pain, he shrieked out, "Ah, +ah! my brain is cloven with a bolt of fire. I cannot bear this! Algernon +mocks my agonies—laughs at my cries—and tells me that he has a fair +wife and plenty of gold, in spite of my malice. How did he get it? Did +he rob me?"</p> + +<p>Elinor shrunk back aghast from this wild burst of delirium; and the +miser, rising from his knees, began re-ascending the stairs. This task +he performed with difficulty, and often reeled forward with extreme pain +and weakness. After traversing several empty chambers, he entered what +had once been the state apartment, and stooping down, he drew from +beneath the faded furniture of the bed a strong mahogany brass-bound +chest, which he cautiously opened, and displayed to his wondering +companion a richer store of wealth than that on which she had so lately +gazed.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>"How! not satisfied yet!" he cried in the same harsh tones, "then may I +perish to all eternity if I give you one fraction more."</p> + +<p>As he was about to close the chest, Elinor, who knew that without a +necessary supply of money both her unborn infant and its avaricious +father would perish for want, slid her hand into the box, and dextrously +abstracted some of the broad gold pieces it contained. The coins, in +coming in contact with each other, emitted a slight ringing sound, which +arrested, trifling as it was, the ear of the sleeper.</p> + +<p>"What! fingering the gold already?" he exclaimed, hastily slapping down +the lid of the strong box. "Could you not wait till I am dead?"</p> + +<p>Then staggering back to his apartment, he was soon awake, and raving +under a fresh paroxysm of the fever. In his delirium he fancied himself +confined to the dreary gulf of eternal woe, and from this place of +torment he imagined that his brother could alone release him, and he +proffered to him, while under the influence of that strong agony, all +his hidden treasures if he would but intercede with Christ to save his +soul.</p> + +<p>These visions of his diseased brain were so frequent and appalling, and +the near approach of death so dreadful to the guilty and despairing +wretch, that they produced at last a strong desire to see his brother, +that he might ask his forgiveness, and make some restitution of his +property to him before he died.</p> + +<p>"Elinor," he said, "I must see Algernon. I cannot die until I have seen +him. But mark me, Elinor, you must not be present at our conference. You +must not see him."</p> + +<p>With quivering lips, and a face paler than usual, his wife promised +obedience, and Grenard Pike was despatched to Norgood Hall to make known +to Algernon Hurdlestone his <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>dying brother's request, and to call in, +once more, the aid of the village doctor.</p> + +<p>As Elinor watched the grim messenger depart, she pressed her hands +tightly over her breast to hide from the quick eye of the miser the +violent agitation that convulsed her frame, as the recollection of +former days flashed upon her too retentive memory.</p> + +<p>"Surely, surely," she thought, "he will never come. He has been too +deeply injured to attend to a verbal summons from his unnatural +brother."</p> + +<p>Although strongly impressed that this would be the case, the desire of +once more beholding the love of her youth, though forbidden to speak to +him, or even to hear the sound of his voice, produced a state of +feverish excitement in her mind which kept alive her fears, without +totally annihilating hope.</p> + +<p>The misty, grey dawn was slowly breaking along the distant hills, when +Grenard Pike, mounted upon a cart-horse which he had borrowed for the +occasion, leisurely paced down the broad avenue of oaks that led through +the park to the high road. Methodical in all his movements, though life +and death depended upon his journey, for no earthly inducement but a +handsome donation in money would Grenard Pike have condescended to +quicken his pace. This Elinor had it not in her power to bestow; and she +calculated with impatience the many hours which must elapse before such +a tardy messenger could reach Norgood Hall. Noon was the earliest period +within the range of possibility; yet the sound of the horse's hoofs, +striking against the frosty ground, still vibrated upon her ear when she +took her station at the chamber window, to watch for the arrival of the +man whose image a separation of nearly twenty years had not been able to +obliterate from her <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>heart. Such is the weakness of human nature, that +we suffer imagination to outspeed time, and compress into one little +moment the hopes, the fears, the anticipations, and the events of years; +but when the spoiler again overtakes us, we look back, and, forgetful of +our former impatience to accelerate his pace, we are astonished at the +rapidity of his flight.</p> + +<p>Elinor thought that the long day would never come to a close; yet it was +as dark and as short as a bleak, gloomy day in November could be. +Evening at length came, but brought no Algernon. Mr. Moore had paid his +visit, and was gone. He expected nothing less than the death of his +patient, after giving his consent to such an extraordinary event; and he +had even condescended to take a draught and some pills from the doctor's +hands. It is true that the sight of him, and the effects of the nauseous +medicines he had administered, had put the miser into a fever of +ill-temper; and he sullenly watched his wife, as she lingered hour after +hour at the window, till, in no very gentle accents, he called her to +his bed-side.</p> + +<p>At that moment Elinor fancied that she heard the sound of approaching +wheels, and she strained her eyes to discern, through the deepening +gloom, some object that might realize her hopes. "No," she sighed, "it +was but the wind raving through the leafless oaks—the ticking of the +old dial—the throbbing of my own heart. He will not—he cannot come!"</p> + +<p>"Woman! what ails you?" cried the invalid. "Reach me the drink."</p> + +<p>Elinor mechanically obeyed; but her head was turned the other way, and +her eyes still fixed upon the window. A light flashed along the dark +avenue, now lost, and now again revealed through the trees. The cup fell +from her <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>nerveless grasp, and faintly articulating, "Yes—'tis he!" she +sank senseless across the foot of the bed, as a carriage and four drove +rapidly into the court-yard.</p> + +<p>The miser, with difficulty, reached the bell-rope that was suspended +from the bed's head, and, after ringing violently for some minutes, the +unusual summons was answered by the appearance of Ruth, who, thrusting +her brown; curly head in at the door, said, in breathless haste:</p> + +<p>"The company's come, ma'arm! Such a grand coach! Four beautiful hosses, +and two real gemmen in black a' standing behind—and two on hossback a' +riding afore. What are we to do for supper? Doubtless they maun be +mortal hungry arter their long ride this cold night, and will 'spect +summat to eat, and we have not a morsel of food in the house fit to set +afore a cat."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" muttered the sick man. "Silence your senseless prate! They will +neither eat nor drink here. Tell the coachman that there are excellent +accommodations at the Hurdlestone Arms for himself and his horses. But +first see to your mistress—she is in a swoon. Carry her into the next +room. And, mark me, Ruth—lock the door, and bring me the key."</p> + +<p>The girl obeyed the first part of the miser's orders, but was too eager +to catch another sight of the grand carriage, and the real gentlemen +behind it, to remember the latter part of his injunction.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is this the man I loved, to whom I gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep devotion of my early youth?—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">Algernon Hurdlestone in his forty-second, and Algernon Hurdlestone in +his twenty-fourth year, were very different men. In mind, person, and +manners, the greatest dissimilarity existed between them. The tall +graceful figure for which he had once been so much admired, a life of +indolence, and the pleasures of the table, had rendered far too +corpulent for manly beauty. His features were still good, and there was +an air of fashion about him which bespoke the man of the world and the +gentleman; but he was no longer handsome or interesting. An expression +of careless good-humor, in spite of the deep mourning he wore for the +recent death of his wife, pervaded his countenance; and he seemed +determined to repay Fortune for the many ill turns he had received from +her in his youth, by enjoying, to their full extent, the good things +that she had latterly showered upon him.</p> + +<p>He had been a kind manageable husband to a woman whom he had married +more for convenience than affection; and was a fatally indulgent father +to the only son, the sole survivor of a large family that he had +consigned to the tomb during the engaging period of infancy. Godfrey, a +beautiful little boy of two years old, was his youngest and his best +beloved, on whom he lavished the concentrated affections of his warm and +generous heart.</p> + +<p>Since his marriage with the rich and beautiful Miss <a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>Maitland, he had +scarcely given Elinor Wildegrave a second thought. He had loved her +passionately, as the portionless orphan of the unfortunate Captain +Wildegrave; but he could not regard with affection or esteem the wife of +the rich Mark Hurdlestone—the man from whom he had received so many +injuries. How she could have condescended to share his splendid misery, +was a question which filled his mind with too many painful and +disgusting images to answer. When he received his brother's hasty +message, entreating him to come and make up their old quarrel before he +died, he obeyed the extraordinary summons with his usual kindness of +heart, without reflecting on the pain that such a meeting might +occasion, when he beheld again the object of his early affections as the +wife of his unnatural brother.</p> + +<p>When he crossed the well-known threshold, and his shadow once more +darkened his father's hall, those feelings which had been deadened by +his long intercourse with the world resumed their old sway, and he +paused, and looked around the dilipidated mansion with eyes dimmed with +regretful tears.</p> + +<p>"And it was to become the mistress of such a home as this, that Elinor +Wildegrave—my beautiful Elinor—sold herself to such a man as Mark +Hurdlestone, and forgot her love—her plighted troth to me!"</p> + +<p>So thought Algernon Hurdlestone, as he followed the parish girl up the +broad uncarpeted oak stairs to his brother's apartment, shocked and +astonished at the indications of misery and decay which on every side +met his gaze. He had heard much of Mark's penurious habits, but he had +deemed the reports exaggerated or incorrect; he was now fully convinced +that they were but too true. Surprised that Mrs. Hurdlestone did not +appear to receive <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>him, he inquired of Ruth, "if her mistress were at +home?"</p> + +<p>"At home!—why, yes, sir; it's more than her life's worth to leave home. +She durst not go to church without master's leave."</p> + +<p>"And is she well?"</p> + +<p>"She be'ant never well; and the sooner she goes the better it will be +for her, depend upon that. She do lead a wretched life, the more's the +pity; for she is a dear kind lady, a thousand times too good for the +like o' him."</p> + +<p>Algernon sighed deeply, while the girl delighted to get an opportunity +of abusing her tyrannical master, continued:</p> + +<p>"My poor mistress has been looking out for you all day, sir; but when +your coach drove into the court-yard she died right away. The Squire got +into a terrible passion, and told me to carry her up into her own room, +and lock her in until company be gone. Howsumever I was too much +flurried to do that; for I am sure my dear missus is too ill to be seen +by strangers. He do keep her so shabby, that she have not a gownd fit to +wear; and she do look as pale as a ghost; and I am sure she is nearer to +her end than the stingy old Squire is to his."</p> + +<p>Algernon possessed too much delicacy to ask the girl if Mark treated +Mrs. Hurdlestone ill; but whilst groping his way in the dark to his +brother's room, he was strongly tempted to question her more closely on +the subject. The account she had already given him of the unfortunate +lady filled his mind with indignation and regret. At the end of a long +gallery the girl suddenly stopped, and pointing to a half-open door, +told him that "that was the Squire's room," and suddenly disappeared. +The next moment, Algernon was by the sick-bed of his brother.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>Not without a slight degree of perturbation he put aside the curtain; +Mark had sunk into a kind of stupor; he was not asleep, although his +eyes were closed, and his features so rigid and immovable, that at the +first glance Algernon drew back, under the impression that he was +already dead.</p> + +<p>The sound of his brother's footsteps not only roused the miser to +animation, but to an acute sense of suffering. For some minutes he +writhed in dreadful pain, and Algernon had time to examine his ghastly +face, and thin attenuated figure.</p> + +<p>They had parted in the prime of youthful manhood—they met in the autumn +of life; and the snows of winter had prematurely descended upon the head +of the miser. The wear and tear of evil passions had made such fearful +ravages in his once handsome and stern exterior, that his twin brother +would have passed him in the streets without recognition.</p> + +<p>The spasms at length subsided, and after several ineffectual efforts, +Algernon at length spoke.</p> + +<p>"Mark, I am here, in compliance with your request; I am very sorry to +find you in this sad state; I hope that you may yet recover."</p> + +<p>The sick man rose slowly up in his bed, and shading his eyes with his +hand, surveyed his brother with a long and careful gaze, as though he +scarcely recognised in the portly figure before him the elegant +fashionable young man of former days. "Algernon! can that be you?"</p> + +<p>"Am I so much altered that you do not know me?"</p> + +<p>"Humph! The voice is the voice of Algernon—but as for the rest, time +has paid as little respect to your fine exterior as it has done to mine; +but if it has diminished your graces, it has added greatly to your bulk. +One thing, <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>however, it has not taught you, with all its hard +teachings."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" said Algernon, with some curiosity.</p> + +<p>"To speak the truth!" muttered the miser, falling back upon his pillow. +"You wish for my recovery!—ha! ha! that is rich—is good. Do you think, +Algernon, I am such a fool as to believe that?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I was sincere."</p> + +<p>"You deceive yourself—the thing is impossible. Human nature is not so +far removed from its original guilt. <i>You</i> wish my life to be prolonged, +when you hope to be a <i>gainer</i> by my death. The thought is really +amusing—so originally philanthropic, but I forgive you, I should do +just the same in your place. Now, sit down if you can find a chair, I +have a few words to say to you—a few painful words."</p> + +<p>Algernon took his seat on the bed without speaking. He perceived that +time had only increased the bitterness of his brother's caustic temper.</p> + +<p>"Algernon," said the miser, "I will not enter into a detail of the past. +I robbed you of your share of my father's property to gratify my love of +money; and I married your mistress out of revenge. Both of these deeds +have proved a curse to me—I cannot enjoy the one, and I loathe the +other. I am dying; I cannot close my eyes in peace with these crimes +upon my conscience. Give me your hand, brother, and say that you forgive +me; and I will make a just restitution of the money, and leave you in +the undisturbed possession of the wife."</p> + +<p>He laughed, that horrid fiendish laugh. Algernon shrunk back with strong +disgust, and relinquished the hand which no longer sought his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Well, I see how it is. There are some natures that <a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>cannot amalgamate. +You cannot overcome the old hate; but say that you forgive me; it is all +I ask."</p> + +<p>"If you can forgive yourself, Mark, I forgive you; and I pray that God +may do the same."</p> + +<p>"That leaves the case doubtful; however, it is of no use forcing nature. +We never loved each other. The soil of the heart has been too much +corrupted by the leaven of the world, to nourish a new growth of +affection. We have lived enemies—we cannot part friends; but take this +in payment of the debt I owe you."</p> + +<p>He drew from beneath his pillow a paper, which he placed in his +brother's hand. It was a draft upon his banker for ten thousand pounds, +payable at sight. "Will that satisfy you for all you lost by me?"</p> + +<p>"Money cannot do that."</p> + +<p>"You allude to my wife. I saved you from a curse by entailing it upon +myself; for which service I at least deserve your thanks."</p> + +<p>"What has proved a curse to you would have been to me the greatest +earthly blessing. I freely forgive you for wronging me out of my share +of the inheritance, but for robbing me of Elinor, I cannot."</p> + +<p>He turned from the bed with the tears in his eyes, and was about to quit +the room. The miser called him back. "Do not be such a fool as to refuse +the money, Algernon; the lady I will bequeath to you as a legacy when I +am gone."</p> + +<p>"He is mad!" muttered Algernon, "no sane man could act this diabolical +part. It is useless to resent his words. He must soon answer for them at +a higher tribunal. Yes—I will forgive him—I will not add to his future +misery."</p> + +<p>He came back to the bed, and taking the burning hand of the miser, said +in a broken voice, "Brother, I wronged <a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>you when I believed that you +were an accountable being; I no longer consider you answerable for your +actions, and may God view your unnatural conduct to me in the same +light; by the mercy which He ever shows to His erring creatures. I +forgive you for the past." The stony heart of the miser seemed touched, +but his pride was wounded. "Mad—mad," he said; "so you look upon me as +mad. The world is full of maniacs; I do not differ from my kind. But +take the paper, and let there be peace between you and me."</p> + +<p>Twenty years ago, and the high-spirited Algernon Hurdlestone would have +rejected the miser's offer with contempt, but his long intercourse with +the world had taught him the value of money, and his extravagant habits +generally exceeded his fine income. Besides, what Mark offered him was, +after all, but a small portion of what ought to have been his own. With +an air of cheerful good-nature he thanked his brother, and carefully +deposited the draft in his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>After having absolved his conscience by what he considered not only a +good action, but one of sufficient magnitude to save his soul, Mark +intimated to his brother that he might now leave him—he had nothing +further to say; a permission which Algernon was not slow to accept.</p> + +<p>As he groped his way through the dark gallery that led from the miser's +chamber, a door was opened cautiously at the far end of the passage, and +a female figure, holding a dim light in her hand, beckoned to him to +approach.</p> + +<p>Not without reluctance Algernon obeyed the summons, and found himself in +the centre of a large empty apartment which had once been the saloon, +and face to face with Mrs. Hurdlestone.</p> + +<p>Elinor carefully locked the door, and placing the light <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>on the +mantel-shelf, stood before the astonished Algernon, like some +memory-haunting phantom of the past.</p> + +<p>Yes. It was Elinor—his Elinor; but not a vestige remained of the grace +and beauty that had won his youthful heart. So great was the change +produced by years of hopeless misery, that Algernon, in the haggard and +careworn being before him, did not at first recognise the object of his +early love. Painfully conscious of this humiliating fact, Elinor at +length said—"I do not wonder that Mr. Algernon Hurdlestone has +forgotten me; I once was Elinor Wildegrave."</p> + +<p>A gush of tears—of bitter, heart-felt, agonizing tears—followed this +avowal, and her whole frame trembled with the overpowering emotions +which filled her mind.</p> + +<p>Too much overcome by surprise to speak, Algernon took her hand, and for +a few minutes looked earnestly in her altered face. What a mournful +history of mental and physical suffering was written there! That look of +tender regard recalled the blighted hopes and wasted affections of other +years; and the wretched Elinor, unable to control her grief, bowed her +head upon her hands, and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Elinor!—and is it thus we meet? You might have been happy with me. +How could you, for the paltry love of gain, become the wife of Mark +Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, Algernon! necessity left me no alternative in my unhappy choice. +I was deceived—cruelly deceived. Yet would to God that I had begged my +bread, and dared every hardship—been spurned from the presence of the +rich, and endured the contempt of the poor, before I consented to become +his wife."</p> + +<p>"But what strange infatuation induced you to throw away your own +happiness, and ruin mine? Did not my <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>letters constantly breathe the +most ardent affection? Were not the sums of money constantly remitted in +them more than sufficient to supply all your wants?"</p> + +<p>"Algernon, I never received the sums you name, not even a letter from +you after the third year of our separation."</p> + +<p>"Can this be true?" exclaimed Algernon, grasping her arm. "Is it +possible that this statement can be true?"</p> + +<p>"As true as that I now stand before you a betrayed, forsaken, +heart-broken woman."</p> + +<p>"Poor Elinor; how can I look into that sad face, and believe you false?"</p> + +<p>"God bless you, my once dear friend, for these kind words. You know not +the peace they convey to my aching heart. Oh, Algernon, my sufferings +have been dreadful; and there were times when I ceased to know those +sufferings. They called me mad, but I was happy then. My dreams were of +you. I thought myself your wife, and my misery as Mark's helpmate was +forgotten. When sanity returned, the horrible consciousness that you +believed me a heartless, ungrateful, avaricious woman, was the worst +pang of all. Oh, how I longed to throw myself at your feet, and tell you +the whole dreadful truth. I would not have insulted you to-night with my +presence, or wounded your peace with a recapitulation of my wrongs, but +I could no longer live and bear the imputation of such guilt. When you +have heard my sad story, you will, I am sure, not only pity, but forgive +me."</p> + +<p>With feelings of unalloyed indignation, Algernon listened to the +iniquitous manner in which Elinor had been deceived and betrayed, and +when she concluded her sad relation, he fiercely declared that he would +return to the sick <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>man's chamber—reproach him with his crimes, and +revoke his forgiveness.</p> + +<p>"Leave the sinner to his God!" exclaimed the terrified Elinor, placing +herself before the door. "For my sake—for your own sake, pity and +forgive him. Remember that, monster though he be, he is my husband and +your brother, the father of the unfortunate child whose birth I +anticipate with such sad forebodings."</p> + +<p>"Before that period arrives," said Algernon, with deep commiseration. +"Mark will have paid the forfeit of his crimes, and your child will be +the heir of immense wealth."</p> + +<p>"You believe him to be a dying man," said Elinor. "He will live. A +change has come over him for the better; the surgeon, this morning, gave +strong hopes of his recovery. Sinner that I am, if he could but have +looked into my heart he would have been shocked at the pain that this +communication conveyed. Algernon, I wished his death. God has reversed +the awful sentence; it is the mother, not the father of the unhappy +infant, that will be called hence. Heaven knows that I am weary of +life—that I would willingly die, could I but take the poor babe with +me; should it, however, survive its unfortunate mother, promise me, +Algernon, by the love of our early years, to be a guardian and protector +to my child."</p> + +<p>She endeavored to sink at his feet, but Algernon prevented her.</p> + +<p>"Your request is granted, Elinor, and for the dear mother's sake, I +promise to cherish the infant as my own."</p> + +<p>"It is enough. I thank my God for this great mercy; and now that I have +been permitted to clear my character, leave me, Algernon, and take my +blessing with you. Only remember in your prayers that such a miserable +wretch as Elinor Wildegrave still lives."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>The violent ringing of the miser's bell hurried her away. Algernon +remained for some minutes rooted to the spot, his heart still heaving +with the sense of intolerable wrong. Elinor did not again appear; and +descending to what was once the Servants' Hall, he bade Ruth summon his +attendants, and slipping a guinea into that delighted damsel's hand, he +bade a long adieu to the home of his ancestors.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a change—a goodly change!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, too, am changed. I feel my heart expand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit, long bowed down with misery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow light and buoyant 'mid these blessed scenes.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">As Elinor predicted, the miser slowly recovered, and for a few months +his severe illness had a salutary effect upon his mind and temper. He +was even inclined to treat his wife with more respect; and when informed +by Dr. Moore of the birth of his son, he received the intelligence with +less impatience than she had anticipated. But this gleam of sunshine did +not last long. With returning strength his old monomania returned; and +he began loudly to complain of the expense which his long illness had +incurred, and to rave at the extortion of doctors and nurses; declaring +the necessity of making every possible retrenchment, in order to replace +the money so lost. Elinor did not live long enough to endure these fresh +privations. She sunk into a lingering decline, and before her little boy +could lisp her name, the friendly turf had closed over his heart-broken +mother.</p> + +<p>Small was the grief expressed by the miser for the death of his gentle +partner. To avoid all unnecessary expense, she was buried in the +churchyard, instead of occupying a place in the family vault; and no +stone was erected during the life of the squire, to her memory.</p> + +<p>It was a matter of surprise to the whole neighborhood that the young +child survived his mother. His father left <a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>Nature to supply her place, +and, but for the doting affection of Ruth, who came every night and +morning to wash and feed him, out of pure affection to her dear +mistress, the little Anthony would soon have occupied a place by his +ill-fated mother.</p> + +<p>The Squire never cast a thought upon his half-clad half-famished babe +without bitterly cursing him as an additional and useless expense. +Anthony was a quiet and sweet-tempered little fellow; the school in +which he was educated taught him to endure with patience trials that +would have broken the spirit of a less neglected child.</p> + +<p>Except the kindness which he received from Ruth, who was now married to +a laborer, and the mother of children of her own, he was a stranger to +sympathy and affection; and he did not expect to receive from strangers +the tenderness which he never experienced at home.</p> + +<p>The mind of a child, like the mind of a grown person, requires +excitement: and, as Anthony could neither read nor write, and his father +seldom deigned to notice him, he was forced to seek abroad for those +amusements which he could not obtain at home. By the time he had +completed his eighth year he was to be seen daily mingling with the poor +boys in the village, with face unwashed and hair uncombed, and clothes +more ragged and dirty than those of his indigent associates.</p> + +<p>One fine summer afternoon, while engaged in the exciting game of +pitch-and-toss, a handsome elderly gentleman rode up to the group of +boys, and asked the rosy ragged Anthony if he would run before him and +open the gate that led to the Hall.</p> + +<p>"Wait awhile," cried the little fellow, adroitly poising the halfpenny +that he was about to throw, on the tip of his <a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>finger. "If I win by this +toss I will show you the way to my father's."</p> + +<p>"Your father!" said the gentleman, surveying attentively the ragged +child. "Are you the gardener's son?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," replied the boy, laughing and winking to his companions; "not +quite so bad as that. My father is a rich man, though he acts like a +poor one, and lets me, his only son, run about the streets without +shoes. But, did I belong to skin-flint Pike, instead of one slice of +bread to my milk and water, I might chance to get none. My father is the +old Squire, and my name is Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p>"His father and grandfather's names combined—names of evil omen have +they been to me," sighed the stranger, who was, indeed, no other than +Algernon Hurdlestone, who for eight long years had forgotten the solemn +promise given to Elinor, that he would be a friend and guardian to her +child. Nor would he now have remembered the circumstance, had not his +own spoilt Godfrey been earnestly teasing him for a playmate. "Be a good +boy, Godfrey, and I will bring you home a cousin to be a brother and +playfellow," he said, as his conscience smote him for this long +neglected duty; and ordering his groom to saddle his horse, he rode over +to Oak Hall to treat with the miser for his son.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" he thought, "can this neglected child be the son of my beautiful +Elinor, and heir to the richest commoner in England? But the boy +resembles my own dear Godfrey, and, for Elinor's sake, I will try and +rescue him from the barbarous indifference of such a father."</p> + +<p>Then, telling the bare-footed urchin that he was his uncle Algernon, +and that he should come to Norgood Hall, and live with him, and have +plenty to eat and drink, and <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>pretty clothes to wear, and a nice pony of +his own to ride, and a sweet little fellow of his own age to play with, +he lifted the astonished and delighted child before him on the saddle, +and was about to proceed to the Hall.</p> + +<p>"The Squire does not live at the Hall," said the child, pulling at the +rein, in order to give the horse another direction. Oh, no; he is <i>too +poor</i> (and he laughed outright) to live there."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Anthony and why do you call Mr. Hurdlestone the +Squire, instead of papa?"</p> + +<p>"He never tells me to call him papa; he never calls me his son, or +'little boy,' or even 'Anthony,' or speaks to me as other fathers speak +to their children. He calls me chit and brat, and rude noisy fellow; and +it's 'Get out of my way, you little wretch! Don't come here to annoy +me.' And how can I call him father or papa, when he treats me as if I +did not belong to him?"</p> + +<p>"My dear child, I much fear that you do not love your father."</p> + +<p>"How can I, when he does not love me? If he would be kind to me, I would +love him very much; for I have nothing in the world to love but old +Shock, and he's half-starved. But he does love me, and I give him all I +can spare from my meals, and that's little enough. I often wish for +more, for poor Shock's sake; for they say that he was mamma's dog, and +Ruth Candler told me that when mamma died, he used to go every day for +months and lie upon her grave. Now was not that kind of Shock? I wish +papa loved me only half as well as old Shock loved my mother, and I +would not mind being starved, and going about the streets without +shoes."</p> + +<p>Thus the child, prattled on, revealing to his new companion the secrets +of the prison-house. Had he looked up <a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>at that moment into his uncle's +face, he would have seen the tear upon his cheeks. He pressed the poor +child silently against him as they rode on.</p> + +<p>"We will take Shock with us, Anthony, and he shall have plenty to eat as +well as you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear uncle, how we shall love you, both Shock and I!"</p> + +<p>"But tell me, Anthony, has your father really left the Hall?"</p> + +<p>"Long, long ago; as far back as I can remember. It is the first thing I +can remember, since I awoke in this world and found myself alive, the +removing to old Pike's cottage. The Squire said that he was too poor to +live at the Hall, and there was plenty of room in the gardener's cottage +for us three, and there we have lived ever since. See, uncle, we are now +coming to it."</p> + +<p>Algernon looked up and saw that they had entered a long avenue of lofty +trees, which he recognised as a back way to the extensive gardens, at +the extremity of which, and near the garden gate, stood a small cottage, +once neat and comfortable, but now fast falling to decay. He had often +played there with his brother and Grenard Pike in their childhood. The +plastered walls of the tenement in many places had given way, and the +broken windows were filled with pieces of board, which, if they kept out +the wind and rain, dismally diminished the small portion of light which +found its way through the dusty panes.</p> + +<p>Fastening his horse to the moss-grown paling, Algernon proceeded to +knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" growled a deep voice from within.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman wishes to speak to Mr. Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p>"He's not at home to strangers," responded the former growl, without +unclosing the door.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>"That's Grenard Pike," whispered the boy. "You may be sure that the +Squire is not far off."</p> + +<p>"I <i>must</i> see Mr. Hurdlestone. I cannot wait until he returns," said +Algernon, walking into the house "I ought, I think, to be no stranger +here."</p> + +<p>A small spare man, with sharp features, a brown leather face, thin lank +black hair, and eyes like a snake, drew back from the door, as Algernon +thus unceremoniously effected an entrance. His partner in penury, the +miser, was seated at an old oak table making arithmetical calculations +upon a bit of broken slate.</p> + +<p>The tall stately figure of Mark Hurdlestone was, at this period, still +unbent with age, and he rose from his seat, his face flushed with anger +at being detected in sanctioning an untruth. His quick eye recognised +his brother, and he motioned to him to take a seat on the bench near +him.</p> + +<p>It was not in the nature of the miser to consider Algernon a welcome +visitor. He was continually haunted by the recollection of the ten +thousand pounds that remorse had extorted from him, in the evil hour +when death stared him in the face, and the fear of future punishment, +for a brief season, triumphed over the besetting sin. He could not +forgive Algernon for this dreadful sacrifice; and but for very shame +would have asked him to return the money, giving him a bond to restore +it at his death.</p> + +<p>"Well, brother," he began, in his usual ungracious tones, "what business +brings you here?"</p> + +<p>"I came to ask of you a favor," said Algernon, seating himself, and +drawing the little Anthony between his knees; "one which I hope that you +will not refuse to grant."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mark. "I must tell you, without mincing the matter brother +Algernon, that I never grant <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>favors in any shape. That I never ask +favors of any one. That I never lend money, or borrow money. That I +never require security for myself of others, or give my name as security +to them. If such is your errand to me you may expect, what you will +find—disappointment."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately my visit to you has nothing to do with money. Nor do I +think that the favor I am about to ask will cause you to make the least +sacrifice. Will you give me this boy?"</p> + +<p>The novel request created some surprise, it was so different from the +one the miser expected. He looked from the ragged child to his +fashionably-dressed brother, then to the child again, as if doubtful +what answer to return. The living brown skeleton, Pike, slipped softly +across the room to his side; and a glance of peculiar meaning shot from +his rat-like eyes, into the dark, deep-set, searching orbs of the miser.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of it, Pike? Hey!"</p> + +<p>"It is too good an offer to be refused," whispered the avaricious +satellite, who always looked upon himself as the miser's heir. "Take him +at his word."</p> + +<p>"What do you want with the child?" said Mark, turning to his brother. +"Have you not a son of your own?"</p> + +<p>"I have—a handsome clever little fellow. This nephew of mine greatly +resembles him."</p> + +<p>"He cannot be more like you than this child is, whom his mother dared to +call mine. For my own part I never have, nor ever shall, consider him as +such."</p> + +<p>"Brother! brother! you cannot, dare not, insinuate aught against the +honor of your wife!" and Algernon sprang from his seat, his cheeks +burning with anger.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down," said the miser coldly; "I do not mean to quarrel +with you on that score. In one sense of <a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>the word she was faithful. I +gave her no opportunity of being otherwise. But her heart"—and his dark +eye emitted an unnatural blaze of light—"her heart was false to me, or +that boy could not have resembled you in every feature."</p> + +<p>"These things happen every day," said Algernon. "Children often resemble +their grandfathers and uncles more than they do their own parents. It is +hard to blame poor Elinor for having a child like me. Let me look at +you, boy," he continued, turning the child's head towards him as he +spoke. "Are you so very, very like your uncle Algernon?" The +extraordinary likeness could not fail to strike him. It filled the heart +of the miser with envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness. Still the +expression of the child's face was the only point of real resemblance; +his features and complexion belonged to his father. "Your jealous fancy, +Mark, has conjured up a phantom to annoy you. Where did this boy get his +black eyes from, if not from you? his dark complexion? I am fair, my +eyes are blue."</p> + +<p>"He has his mother's eyes," sullenly returned the miser.</p> + +<p>"I might as well accuse you of being the father of Godfrey, because he +has your eyes."</p> + +<p>"You cannot reason me out of my senses. This Anthony is as like you, +Algernon, as two peas. He is your own son, and you are welcome to him. +His absence will give me no pain, nor will his adoption by you extort +from me one farthing for his future maintenance. If you persist in +taking him it will be at your own risk."</p> + +<p>"I am contented to accept the poor orphan on these terms," said the +generous Algernon. "May God soften your iron heart towards your +neglected child. While I have wealth he shall not want; and were I +deprived of it to-morrow, he should share my bread while I have a +crust."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>"Fools and their money are soon parted," muttered the ungracious Mark; +though in reality he was glad to embrace his brother's offer. No ties of +paternal love bound him to the motherless child he had so cruelly +neglected; and the father and son parted with mutual satisfaction, +secretly hoping that they never might behold each other again.</p> + +<p>"We have got rid of that pest, Grenard!" exclaimed the hard-hearted man, +as he watched his brother lift the little Anthony into his saddle, and +carefully dispose the folds of his cloak around the child to hide his +rags from public observation. "If the child were not his own, would he +take such care of him?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot believe that," said the gaunt Cerberus. "You know that it is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"You may think so—perhaps you are right—but, Grenard, you were never +married; never had any experience of the subtlety of woman. I have my +own thoughts on the subject—I hate women—I have had cause to hate +them—and I detest that boy for the likeness which he bears to my +brother."</p> + +<p>"Tush!" said the living skeleton, with more feeling of humanity than his +niggardly patron. "Whose fault is it that you rob a woman of her love, +and then accuse her of inconstancy because your son resembles the man +that was the object of her thoughts? Is that reasonable, or like your +good sense?"</p> + +<p>How delightful was that first journey to the young pilgrim of hope; and +he so lately the child of want and sorrow, whose eyes were ever bent to +earth, his cheeks ever wet with tears!—he now laughed and carolled +aloud in the redundant joy of his heart. "Oh, he was so happy, so +happy." He had never been a mile from home—had never ridden on a horse; +and now he was told he was to <a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>have a horse of his own—a home of his +own—a dear little cousin to play with, and a nice bed to sleep upon at +night, not a bundle of filthy straw.</p> + +<p>This was too much for his full heart to bear; it ran over, it was +brimful of gladness and expectation, and the excited child sobbed +himself to sleep in his good uncle's arms.</p> + +<p>Poor old Shock was trotting beside the horse, and Anthony had been too +much engrossed with his own marvellous change of fortune to notice +Shock; but Shock did not forget him, and though he could not see—for +the animal was blind—he often pricked up his ears, and raised his head +to the horse and its double burden, to be sure that his young master was +there.</p> + +<p>It was a spaniel that Algernon had left a pup with Elinor when he went +to India. The sight of the poor blind worn-out creature brought back to +his mind so many painful recollections that his own eyes were wet with +tears. The wife who had supplanted Elinor in his affections was dead. +The grass grew rank upon Elinor's nameless grave; and her poor boy was +sleeping within his sheltering arms, as if he had never known so soft a +pillow.</p> + +<p>Algernon looked down upon his beautiful but squalid face, and pressing +his lips upon his pale brow, swore to love and cherish him as his own; +and well did that careless but faithful heart keep its solemn covenant. +The very reverse of the miser, Algernon was reckless of the future; he +only lived for the present, which, after his disappointment in regard to +Elinor, was all, he said, that a man in truth could call his own. Acting +up to this principle, he was as much censured for his extravagance, as +his brother was for his parsimony, by those persons who, like Timon's +friends, daily shared his hospitality, and were too often the recipients +of his lavish expenditure. In adopting the little <a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>Anthony, he had +followed the generous impulse of his heart, without reflecting that the +separation of father and son, under their peculiar circumstances, might +injure without ultimately benefiting the child.</p> + +<p>He meant to love and take care of him; to be a father to him in the +fullest sense of the word; his intentions doubtless were good, but his +method of bringing him up was very likely to be followed by bad +consequences. Algernon had no misgivings on the subject. He felt certain +that the boy would not only inherit his father's immense wealth, (a +large portion of which the law secured to him, independent of the +caprice of his father,) but ever continue prosperous and happy. While +musing upon these things, his horse turned into the park that surrounded +his own fine mansion, and a beautiful boy bounded down the broad stone +steps that led to the hall-door, and came running along the moonlit path +to meet him,</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div><p>"Health on his cheek, and gladness in his eye."</p></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>"Well, dear papa! Have you brought me my cousin?"</p> + +<p>"What will you give for him, Godfrey?" and the delighted father bent +down to receive the clasp of the white arms, and the kiss of the +impatient child.</p> + +<p>"That's all I can afford. Perhaps he's not worth having after all;" and +the spoilt child turned pettishly away.</p> + +<p>Casting his eyes upon old Shock, he exclaimed, "Mercy! what an ugly dog. +A perfect brute!"</p> + +<p>"He was once a very handsome dog," said his father, as the groom +assisted him to alight.</p> + +<p>"It must be, a long time ago. I hope my cousin is better-looking than +his dog."</p> + +<p>"Why, what in the world have we got here?" said Mrs. <a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>Paisley, the +housekeeper, who came to the door to welcome her master home; and into +whose capacious arms the footman placed the sleeping Anthony, enveloped +in his uncle's cloak.</p> + +<p>"A present for you, Mrs. Paisley," said Algernon, "and one that I hope +you will regard with peculiar care."</p> + +<p>"A child!" screamed the good woman. "Why, la, sir; how did you come by +it?"</p> + +<p>"Honestly," returned Algernon, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Let <i>me</i> look at him," cried the eager Godfrey, as soon as they entered +the room where supper was prepared for his father; and pulling the cloak +away from his cousin's face,—"Is this dirty shabby boy the playfellow +you promised me, papa?"</p> + +<p>"The same."</p> + +<p>"And he in rags!"</p> + +<p>"That's no fault of his, my child."</p> + +<p>"And has a torn cap, and no shoes!"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Paisley will soon wash, and dress, and make him quite smart; and +then you will be proud of him."</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall see," replied the boy, doubtingly. "But I never was fond +of playing with dirty ragged children. But why is he dirty and ragged? I +thought you told me, papa, that he was the son of my rich, rich uncle, +and that he would have twice as much money as I?"</p> + +<p>"And so he will."</p> + +<p>"Then why is he in this condition?"</p> + +<p>"His father is a miser."</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"A man that loves money better than his son; who would rather see him +ragged and dirty, nay even dead, than expend upon his comfort a part of +his useless riches. Are you not glad that your father is not a miser?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>"I don't know," said Godfrey; "he would save money to make me rich, and +when he died all his wealth would be mine. Anthony is not so badly off +after all, and I think I will try to love him, that he may give me a +part of his great fortune by-and-by."</p> + +<p>"Your love, springing from a selfish motive, would not be worth having. +Besides, Godfrey, you will have a fortune of your own."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so clear of that," said the boy, with a sly glance at his +father. "People say that you will spend all your money on yourself, and +leave none for me when <i>you</i> die."</p> + +<p>There was much—too much truth in this remark; and though Algernon +laughed at what he termed his dear boy's wit, it stung him deeply. +"Where can he have learned that?" he thought; "such an idea could never +have entered into the heart of a child." Then turning to Mrs. Paisley, +who had just entered the room, he said,—</p> + +<p>"Take and wash and clothe that little boy; and when he is nicely +dressed, bring him in to speak to his cousin."</p> + +<p>"Come, my little man," said the old lady, gently shaking the juvenile +stranger. "Come, wake up. You have slept long enough. Come this way with +me."</p> + +<p>"Whose clothes are you going to put upon him?" demanded Godfrey.</p> + +<p>"Why in course, Master Godfrey, you will lend him some of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if I do, remember, Paisley, you are not to take my best."</p> + +<p>During this colloquy, Anthony had gradually woke up, and turning from +one strange face to another, he lost all his former confidence, and +began to cry. Paisley, who was really interested in the child, kindly +wiped away his tears <a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>with the corner of her white apron, and gently led +the weeper from the room.</p> + +<p>While performing for him the long and painful ablutions which his +condition required, Mrs. Paisley was astonished at his patience. "Why, +Master Godfrey would have roared and kicked, like a mad thing that he +is, if I had taken half the liberty with him," said the dame to herself. +"Well, well, the little fellow seems to have a good temper of his own. +Now you have got a clean face, my little man, let me look at you, and +see what you are like."</p> + +<p>She turned him round and round, took off her spectacles, carefully wiped +them, and re-adjusting them upon her nose, looked at the child with as +much astonishment as if he had been some rare creature that had never +before been exhibited in a Christian land.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on me! but the likeness is truly wonderful—his very image; all +but the dark eye; and that he may have got from the mother, as Master +Godfrey got his. I don't like to form hard thoughts of my master; but +this is strange.—Mr. Glen!" and she rose hastily, and opened a door +that led from her own little sanctuary into the servants' hall—"please +to step in here for a moment."</p> + +<p>"What's your pleasure, Mistress Paisley?" said the butler, a rosy, +portly, good-natured man, of the regular John Bull breed, who, in +snow-white trowsers, and blue-striped linen jacket, and a shirt adorned +with a large frill (frills were then in fashion), strutted into the +room. "Mistress Paisley, ma'arm, vot are your commands?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Glen," said the housekeeper, simpering, "I never command my +equals—I leave my betters to do that. I wanted you just to look at this +child."</p> + +<p>"Look at him—vhy, vot's the matter vith un', Mrs. <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>Paisley? He's +generally a werry naughty boy; but he looks better tempered than usual +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Why, who do you take him for?" said Mrs. Paisley, evidently delighted +at the butler's mistake.</p> + +<p>"Vhy, for Master Godfrey—is it not? Hey—vot—vhy—no—it is—and it +isn't. Vot comical demonstration is this?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't wonder, Jacob, at your mistake—it is, and it is not. Had +they been twins, they could not have been more alike. Godfrey, to be +sure, has a haughty uppish look, which this child has not. But what do +you think of our master now?"</p> + +<p>"It must be his son."</p> + +<p>The good woman nodded. "Such likenesses cannot come by accident. It is a +good thing that my poor dear mistress did not live to see this day—and +she so jealous of him—it would have broken her heart."</p> + +<p>"Aye, you may vell say that, Mrs. Paisley. And some men are cruel, +deceitful, partic'lar them there frank sort of men, like the Kurnel. +They are so pleasant like, that people never thinks they can be as bad +as other volk. They have sich han hinnocent vay vith them. I vonder +maister vos not ashamed of his old servants seeing him bring home a +child so like himself."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, and what is your name?" said Mrs. Paisley, addressing +her wondering charge.</p> + +<p>"Anthony Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p>"Do you hear that, Mrs. Paisley?"</p> + +<p>"Anthony Hurdlestone! Oh, shame, shame," said the good woman. "It would +have been only decent, Mr. Glen, for the Colonel to have called him by +some other name. Who's your father, my little man?"</p> + +<p>"Squire Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>"Humph!" responded the interrogator. "And your mother?"</p> + +<p>"She's in the churchyard."</p> + +<p>"How long has she been dead?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; but Ruth does. She died when I was a baby."</p> + +<p>"And who took care of you, my poor little fellow?" asked Mrs. Paisley, +whose maternal feelings were greatly interested in the child.</p> + +<p>"God, and Ruth Candler! If it had not been for her, the folks said that +I should have been starved long ago."</p> + +<p>"That has been the 'oman, doubtless, that the Kurnel left him with," +said the butler. "Vell, my young squire, you'll be in no danger of +starvation in this house. Your papa is rich enough to keep you."</p> + +<p>"He may be rich," said Anthony; "but, for all that, the poorest man in +the parish of Ashton is richer than he."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, my little gentleman, you are talking of what you know +nothing about," said Mrs. Paisley. "I must now take you into the parlor, +to see your papa and your little brother."</p> + +<p>"He's not my papa," said Anthony; "I wish he were. Oh, if you could see +my papa—ha! ha!—you would not forget him in a hurry; and if he chanced +to box your ears, or pinch your cheek, or rap your head with his +knuckles, you would not forget that in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"You have got a new papa, now; so you may forget the old one. Now, hold +your head up like a man, and follow me."</p> + +<p>Colonel Hurdlestone was lounging over his wine; his little son was +sitting over against him, imitating his air and manner, and playing +with, rather than drinking from, the full glass of port before him.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>"Mrs. Paisley!" he cried, with the authority of an old man of fifty, +"tell Glen to send up some sweet madeira—I hate port. Ha! little miser, +is that you?" springing from his chair. "Why, I thought it was myself. +Now, mind, don't soil those clothes, for they don't belong to you."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Anthony," said his uncle. "To-morrow I will have some made +for you. Mrs. Paisley, are not these children strikingly alike?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, your honor, they are too much alike to be lucky. Master +Godfrey may lay all his mischievous pranks upon this young one, and you +will never find out the mistake."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Paisley, for the hint. Come and sit by me, double, and let +us be friends."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you look like brothers—ay, and twin brothers, too," said +Mrs. Paisley.</p> + +<p>"They are first cousins," said Algernon, gravely. "This child is the +only son and heir of my rich brother, Mrs. Paisley: I beg that he may be +treated accordingly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, sir. I never had a child so like my husband as this boy +is like you."</p> + +<p>"Very likely, Mrs. Paisley," said the Colonel. "I have seen many +children that did not resemble their fathers. Perhaps yours were in the +same predicament?"</p> + +<p>"Whether they were or no, they are all in heaven with their poor dear +father," whimpered Mrs. Paisley, "and have left me a lone widow, with no +one to love or take care of me."</p> + +<p>"Jacob Glen says that you are a good hand at taking care of yourself, +Paisley," said Godfrey; "but I dare say Master Jacob would be glad of +taking care of you himself. Here's your good health, Mrs. P——;" and +down went the madeira.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>"Ah, Master Godfrey, you are just like your pa—you will have your +joke. Lord bless the child! he has swallowed the whole glass of wine. He +will be 'toxicated."</p> + +<p>Godfrey and the Colonel laughed, while Anthony slid from his chair, and +taking the housekeeper by the hand, said, in a gentle tone, "You have no +one to love you, Mrs. Paisley. If you will be kind to me, I will love +you."</p> + +<p>"Who could help being kind to you, sweet child?" said the good woman, +patting his curly head and kissing the rosy mouth he held up to her. +"You are a good boy, and don't make fun of people, like some folks."</p> + +<p>"That's me," said Godfrey. "Tony, you are quite welcome to my share of +Mrs. Paisley; and instead of Benjamin's, you may stand a chance to get +Jacob's portion also."</p> + +<p>"Will you have some wine, Anthony?" said his uncle, handing him a glass +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>The child took the liquid, tasted it, and put it back on the table, with +a very wry face. "I don't like it, uncle—it is medicine."</p> + +<p>"You will like it well enough by and by," said Godfrey. "I suppose the +stingy one at home only drinks Adam's ale?"</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"Water. A mess only fit for dogs and felons. Gentlemen, Anthony, rich +gentlemen like you and me, always drink wine."</p> + +<p>"I shall never like it," said the child. "I love milk."</p> + +<p>"Milk! What a baby! Papa, he says that he never means to like wine. Is +not that a shabby notion?"</p> + +<p>"You, you young dog, are too fond of it already."</p> + +<p>"I like everything that you like, pa!" said the spoilt youth. "If wine +is good for you, it must be good for me. <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>Remember, you told me +yesterday that I must obey you in all things."</p> + +<p>"Imitation is not obedience, Godfrey. I did not tell you to imitate me +in all things. Wine in moderation may be good for a man, and help to +beguile a weary hour, and yet may be very hurtful to boys."</p> + +<p>"Well, I never can understand your philosophy, pa. A boy is a half-grown +man; therefore a boy may take half as much wine as a man, and it will do +him good. And as to imitation, I think that is a sort of practical +obedience. Jacob Glen says, 'As the old cock crows, so crows the young +one.'"</p> + +<p>"You had better not quote my servants' sayings to me, Godfrey," said his +father, frowning and pushing the wine from him. "I have treated you with +too much indulgence, and am now reaping the fruit of my folly."</p> + +<p>"Surely you are not angry with your Freddy, pa," said the beautiful boy, +hanging upon Algernon's arm, and looking imploringly into his face. "It +is all fun."</p> + +<p>This was enough to calm the short-lived passion of the Colonel. One +glance into that sparkling animated face, and all the faults of the boy +were forgotten. He was, however, severely mortified by his impertinent +remarks, and he determined to be more strict with him for the future, +and broke his resolution the next minute.</p> + +<p>Algernon Hurdlestone's life had been spent in making and breaking good +resolutions. No wonder that he felt such a difficulty in keeping this. +If we would remedy a fault, the reformation must be commenced on the +instant. We must not give ourselves time to think over the matter, for +if we do, nine chances out of ten, that we never carry our intentions +into practice. Algernon often drank to excess, and too often suffered +his young son to be a specta<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>tor of his criminal weakness. Godfrey was +his constant companion both in hunting-parties and at the table; and the +boy greatly enjoyed the coarse jokes and vulgar hilarity of the +roystering uproarious country squires, who, to please the rich father, +never failed to praise the witticisms of the son.</p> + +<p>Thus the disposition of the child was corrupted, his tastes vitiated, +his feelings blunted, and the fine affections of the heart destroyed at +the age of ten years.</p> + +<p>Algernon was so fond of him, so vain of his fine person and quick parts, +that it blinded him to his many faults. He seldom noticed his habitual +want of respect to himself, or the unfeeling and sarcastic remarks of +the audacious lad on his own peculiar failings. To a stranger, Godfrey +Hurdlestone presented the painful anomaly of the address and cunning of +the man animating the breast of a child.</p> + +<p>He inherited nothing in common with his father, but his profusion and +love of company; and was utterly destitute of that kindliness of +disposition and real warmth of heart, that so strongly characterised his +too indulgent parent, and pleaded an excuse for many of his failings. He +was still more unlike his cousin Anthony, although personally they could +scarcely be known apart. The latter was serious and thoughtful beyond +his years; was fond of quiet and retirement, preferring a book or a +solitary walk to romping with Godfrey and his boisterous companions. He +had been a child of sorrow, and acquainted with grief; and though he was +happy now—too happy, he was wont to say—the cloud which ushered in his +dawn of life still cast its dark shadow over the natural gaiety and +sunshine of his heart.</p> + +<p>His mind was like a rich landscape seen through a soft summer mist, +which revealed just enough of the beautiful as to make the observer wish +to behold more.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>Gentle, truthful, and most winningly affectionate, Anthony had to be +known to be loved; and those who enjoyed his confidence never wished to +transfer their good will to his dashing cousin. He loved a few dear +friends, but he shrunk from a crowd, and never cared to make many +acquaintances. He soon formed a strong attachment to his uncle; the love +which nature meant for his father was lavished with prodigality on this +beloved relative, who cherished for his adopted son the most tender +regard.</p> + +<p>He loved the mocking, laughter-loving, mischievous Godfrey, who +delighted to lay all his naughty tricks and devilries upon his quiet +cousin; while he considered himself as his patron and protector, and +often gave himself great airs of superiority. For the sake of peace, +Anthony often yielded a disputed point to his impetuous companion, +rather than awaken his turbulent temper into active operation. Yet he +was no coward—on the contrary, he possessed twice the moral courage of +his restless playmate; but a deep sense of gratitude to his good uncle, +for the blessed change he had effected in his situation, pervaded his +heart, and influenced all his actions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weary heart may mourn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the wither'd hopes of youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the flowers so rudely shorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still leave the seeds of truth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0 smcap">J.W.D. Moodie.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">And years glided on. The trials of school, and all its joyous pastimes +and short-lived sorrows, were over, and the cousins returned to spend +the long-looked for and happy vacation at home. The curly-headed +rosy-cheeked boys had expanded into fine tall lads of sixteen; blithe of +heart, and strong of limb, full of the eager hopes and +never-to-be-realized dreams of youth. With what delight they were +welcomed by the Colonel! With what pride he turned them round and round, +and examined the improvement in form and stature of the noble +boys—wondering at first which was Anthony, and which his own dear +mischievous rogue! They were so marvellously alike, that, seen at a +distance, he scarcely knew which to call his son. And then how +delightedly he listened to their laughing details of tricks and hoaxes, +served off upon cross masters and tyrannical ushers, laughing more +loudly than they, and suggesting improvements in mischievous pranks +already too mischievous! Poor Algernon! in spite of the increasing +infirmities of age, and the pressure of cares which his reckless +extravagance could not fail to produce, he was perfectly happy in the +company of these dear boys, and once more a boy himself.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>He never inquired what progress they had made in their studies. He had +put them to school, and paid for their schooling, and if they had not +profited by their opportunities, it was no fault of his. Had he examined +them upon this important subject, he would, indeed, have been surprised +at the difference between them. Anthony, naturally studious, had made +the most of his time, while master Godfrey had wasted his, and brought +with him a small stock of literary acquirements, and many vices.</p> + +<p>"What will my uncle say, when he finds how little you have learned +during the last half year?" said Anthony to his cousin, while they were +dressing for dinner.</p> + +<p>"He'll never trouble his head about it, without you, Mr. Anthony, put +him up to it, to show off your superior powers of drudgery. But mark me, +Tony, if you dare to say one word about it, you and I shall quarrel."</p> + +<p>"But what are we to do about Mr. Cunningham's letter? You know he gave +me one to give to your father; and I much fear that it contains some +remarks not very creditable to you."</p> + +<p>"Did you give it to papa?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. Here it is."</p> + +<p>"Let me look at the old fellow's autograph. What a bad hand for a +schoolmaster! I will spare my dear lazy father the trouble of +deciphering these villainous pot-hooks. Ha! ha! my good, industrious, +quiet, plodding cousin Anthony, heir of Oak Hall, in the county of +Wilts, there lies your amiable despatch;" and he spurned the torn +document with his foot. "That's the way that I mean to serve all those +who dare to criticise my actions."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Godfrey, it is yourself that you injure by this awful waste +of your time and talents."</p> + +<p>"Talents!—Fiddlesticks! What care I for talents, <a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>without it were those +shining substantial talents spoken of in the Scriptures—talents of gold +and silver. Give me these talents, my boy, and you may profit by all the +rest. Wasting of time! How can we waste that which we can neither +overtake, nor detain when ours, and which when past is lost for ever? +Miser of moments! in another school than thine, Godfrey Hurdlestone will +learn to improve the present."</p> + +<p>"But those wasted moments, Godfrey, how will the recollection of them +embitter the future! Remember, my dear cousin, what our good chaplain +often told us—'Time is but the ante-chamber to Eternity!'"</p> + +<p>"What, turned preacher! A prudent move that, Tony. I've heard that old +Ironsides has no less than five rich livings in his gift. Now, by Jove! +I'd turn parson to-morrow, if I thought my uncle would be dutiful enough +to bestow one or two of them upon me. How would the 'Rev. Godfrey +Hurdlestone' look upon a visiting card?"</p> + +<p>He wrote upon a card, and held it up to Anthony. "See the address of the +Right Worshipful Rector of Ashton. Behold him riding upon a fine +cob—living in a fine house—surrounded by sleek, well-fed, obsequious +servants—his table served like a prince—his wine the best in the +country—his parties the most brilliant—his friends the most obliging +in the world—his curate does all the work for some paltry sixty pounds +a-year, and the rich incumbent lives at his ease. Ah, Tony, what a +prospect! What rare times we would have of it! To-morrow, when my father +asks me to make choice of a profession, hang me if I do not say the +Church."</p> + +<p>"You are not fit for so sacred a calling, Godfrey; indeed you are not," +said Anthony, fearful that his burlesquing cousin for once in his life +was in earnest.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>"I know that better than you can tell me, Tony, but 'tis such an easy +way to get a living; I could enjoy such glorious indolence; could fish, +and hunt, and shoot, and play the fiddle, and attend feasts and +merry-makings, with such a happy consciousness of being found in the +path of duty, that it would give a double zest to enjoyment. Now don't +be envious, my dear demure cousin, and forestall me in my project. I am +sure to gain my father's consent. It will save him so much trouble for +the future."</p> + +<p>Here the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Algernon.</p> + +<p>"Come, boys, dinner is waiting. My dear Anthony, after that important +business is dispatched, I want to talk to you in the library upon a +matter of serious importance, which I have, I fear, neglected too long. +Nay, don't look alarmed; it is not to administer a scolding, or to +question you in Greek or Latin; or to ask you how you have improved your +time at school, for I take it for granted that you have both done your +best, or I should have heard from Mr. Cunningham, who, they say, is the +strictest disciplinarian in the kingdom."</p> + +<p>Now, Anthony could not eat his dinner for thinking what his uncle had to +say to him; but he had to wait patiently until that gentleman had +discussed his bottle of wine; and it was not without a certain sinking +of the heart that he rose to follow him to the library. Godfrey's +curiosity was aroused; he fancied that it was to make some private +inquiries as to his conduct at school, that his father wanted to speak +alone with his cousin.</p> + +<p>"May I come?"</p> + +<p>"No, my boy. What I have to say to Anthony is for him alone."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Godfrey; then whispering to Anthony <a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>as he passed, "No +tales out of school, Tony," he sauntered into the garden.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, Anthony?" said the good-natured uncle, as he took a seat +by the table.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," returned the lad; "I felt afraid"—he hesitated—</p> + +<p>"Afraid of what?"</p> + +<p>"That you were tired of me—wished me to leave you."</p> + +<p>"I should much sooner be tired of myself. Don't you know, perverse boy, +how dearly I love you;" and he put his arm round the stripling and drew +him to his breast. "Godfrey himself is not more dear, son of my murdered +Elinor—son of my heart."</p> + +<p>There was a long pause; at length the Colonel said, "It was of your +father that I wished to speak. We have let eight years pass away without +holding the least intercourse with him; in this, I think we have been to +blame. The first year you came to me I wrote to him twice, informing him +how you were, and suggesting your future mode of education. To my first +letter I received the following answer:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="margin-left: 6em;">'<i>To Algernon Hurdlestone, Esq.</i></p> + +<p>'In adopting my son you pleased yourself. Had he remained with me I +should have provided for him. As matters at present stand, I +neither wish to be troubled with letters from him nor from you. +When you next write I would thank you to pay the <i>post.</i></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 4em;">'Yours, &c.,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap">'Marcus Hurdlestone</span>.'</p></div> + +<p>"Now, Tony, I was somewhat discouraged by this ungra<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>cious answer; +however as I knew the man, I wrote to him again and did pay the post; I +took no notice of the tenor of his letter, but merely informed him that +I had put you to school, and that you were growing a fine clever lad. +Here is his reply:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="margin-left: 6em;">'<i>To Algernon Hurdlestone, Esq.</i></p> + +<p>'Next to receiving impertinent letters, I detest the trouble of +answering them. I have no money to fling away upon fools and +foolscap.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">'<span class="smcap">Marcus Hurdlestone</span>.'</p></div> + +<p>"Now, my dear boy, although so far my applications to him on your behalf +have been unsuccessful, I think it only right and prudent in you to +write to him yourself, and remind this affectionate father that you are +still in the land of the living."</p> + +<p>"And that you wish him," said Godfrey, popping his head in at the door, +where he had been an attentive listener for the last five minutes, "well +out of it."</p> + +<p>Without heeding his cousin's nonsense, Anthony answered his uncle with +great simplicity, "Dear uncle, what can I say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Faith, my dear boy, that's more than I can tell you; just anything, the +best you can. Tell him that you wish to see him, that you are grown +nearly into a man; that you wish him to name what profession he wishes +you to pursue, as you are about to go to college. But mark me, Tony say +not one word about love, filial affection, and so forth; he'll not +believe you. The more you attempt to court or conciliate such spirits as +his—spirits, did I say? the man's all earth, hard unyielding clay—the +more they suspect you of sinister motives. The honest bluntness of +indignant truth is more likely to succeed."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>"I believe you, uncle, and without exercising any great mental +ingenuity, my letter, I fear, will be a sad hypocritical affair."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless," said Godfrey, roaring with laughter, "I wish, Tony, we +could change fathers."</p> + +<p>A reproachful look from Algernon, and a flash from the calm dark eyes of +Anthony, checked the immoral levity of his cousin, who, stepping briskly +up to the table, continued—</p> + +<p>"Give me a pen, and I will give you a few hints on the subject."</p> + +<p>"This is too serious a business for mirth, Godfrey," said Anthony, +gravely. "I did not love him once—I was a child. He was harsh and cold, +and I was ignorant of the sacred nature of those ties that bound us +together. Time has wrought a great change in me; perhaps it may have +done the same in him. I am anxious to feel for him a deeper interest—to +pity his unfortunate malady, and cherish in my heart the duty and +affection of a son."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Tony, Tony, you begin to know the value of the shiners, to tremble +lest old skinflint Pike should cut you out of daddy's will. But come, +let me write the dutiful letter that is to reinstate you in the miser's +good graces. Shall it be in verse or prose? What, silent yet? Well then, +here goes." And with an air of mock gravity he took up a pen, and +commenced reading every line aloud as he went on—</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear stingy dad, I long to share<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The keeping of your hoarded treasure;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, I know, have lots to spare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, your hopeful son and heir,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would spend at with the greatest pleasure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou most devoted father<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fill your chest—hide well the key<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Countless wealth for me you gather,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I selfishly would rather<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You should starve and save than me.<br /></span> +</div><p><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></p> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Must I—must I, still dependent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On another's bounty live—"<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, sir?" cried Algernon in sudden anger, +although hitherto much amused by his son's rattling nonsense. He saw the +blush of shame burn on the cheeks of Anthony, and the tears of wounded +pride fill his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I meant no offence," said Godfrey, abashed by the unusual severity of +the Colonel's look and tone. "What I said was only intended to make you +both laugh."</p> + +<p>"I forgive him," murmured the indignant heart-humbled lad. "He has given +me another motive to write to my father."</p> + +<p>"My dear Tony, never mind his folly." But Anthony was already in the +solitude of his own chamber.</p> + +<p>How often had he borne that taunt from Godfrey! How often had he been +told before boys whom he esteemed and loved at school, and whose good +opinion he was desirous to retain, that he was dependent upon the bounty +of Colonel Hurdlestone, though the only son and heir of the rich miser; +and that he was as selfish and mean-spirited as his father to submit to +such degradation! And he had marked the sarcastic smile, the lifted +shoulder, and the meaning glance that passed from boy to boy, and the +galling chain of dependence had entered into his soul.</p> + +<p>He became thoughtful and reserved, and applied more intensely to his +studies, to shut out what he considered the ungracious, ungrateful +conviction that he was a beggar in the house of his good uncle. Godfrey +had already calculated the expense of his board and education, for he +had more than once hinted to him, that when he came in for <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>his miserly +father's wealth, in common justice he ought to repay to him what his +romantically generous uncle had expended upon him. Anthony had solemnly +averred that such should indeed be the case, and again had been +tauntingly answered—"Wait until it is yours; you will then tell a +different tale." But now he had dared to reproach him in his uncle's +presence; and it was more than the high-spirited youth could bear.</p> + +<p>"Father, cruel, unnatural father!" he exclaimed, as he raised his head +from between his hands; "why have you subjected your unfortunate son to +insults like these?"</p> + +<p>"Who insults you, my dear Anthony?" said the Colonel, who had followed +him unobserved, and who now stood beside him. "A rash, impetuous, +thoughtless boy, who never reflects upon what he says; and who, in spite +of all his faults, loves you."</p> + +<p>"When you speak, uncle, I am silent. I am sorry that you witnessed this +burst of discontent. When I think upon all that I owe to you, my heart +is bankrupt in thanks; I never can repay your kindness, and the +thought—the consciousness of such overwhelming obligations makes me +unhappy."</p> + +<p>"I read your heart, Anthony," said the Colonel seating himself beside +him. "I know all that you would say, and cannot utter; and I, instead of +you become the debtor."</p> + +<p>"Your goodness, uncle, makes me feel ashamed of being angry with my +cousin. I wish I could forget the unfortunate circumstances in which I +am placed; that you were my father instead of him who has disowned +me—that my whole heart and soul could cling to you."</p> + +<p>He rose hastily and flung himself into the Colonel's arms. His head was +buried in his bosom, and by the con<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>vulsive heaving of the young heart +against his own, Algernon knew that the lad was weeping. His own eyes +became moist,—he pressed him warmly against his manly breast.</p> + +<p>"You are my son, Anthony—the son of her who received my early vows—of +her who ought to have been my wife. Her heart was mine; and though +another claims your earthly part, you are the son of my soul—of my +adoption. Henceforth let no sense of obligation exist between us."</p> + +<p>"I take you at your word, beloved father, and if love can repay love, in +my poor heart you have no rival."</p> + +<p>"I know it, Anthony; but since you talk of wishing to be out of my debt, +there is a way in which you can more than repay me."</p> + +<p>He paused; Anthony raised his earnest eyes to his face. "Not only by +forgiving my dear petulant Godfrey, but by continuing his friend. I know +that I have spoilt him—that he has many faults, but I think his heart +is sound. As he grows older, he will know better how to value your +character. Promise me, Anthony, that, when I am dust, your love for me +may survive for my son."</p> + +<p>"Uncle!" said the lad, dropping upon his knees by his side, and holding +up his clasped hands, "I swear by the God who made us, by the Saviour +who bled for us—by our common hopes of salvation through His blood, +that, whatever fortune I inherit from my father, Godfrey shall have an +equal part."</p> + +<p>"This is too much to ask of you, Anthony, all I wish you to promise is, +simply to continue his friend, under every provocation to become +otherwise."</p> + +<p>Anthony pressed his uncle's hand reverentially to his lips, as he said, +in a low voice, "I will endeavor to comply with your request."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>They parted: Algernon to counsel his wayward boy, and Anthony to write +to his father.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">Father</span>,</p> + +<p>(He began,) "How gladly would I call you dear. Oh, that you would +allow me to love you—to feel for you the duty and respect which +the poorest child feels for his parent. What have I done, my +father, that you deny me your presence, and hold no communion with +me? Will you not permit me to see you? You are growing old and need +some friend to be near you, to soothe the growing infirmities of +age. Who could better fill this place than your son? Who could feel +such an interest in your welfare, or be so firm a friend to you, as +your son—your only son? You will perhaps tell me that it is your +wealth, and not your love, I seek. I care not for your money. It +has never conduced to your own happiness; how do I know that it +will ever conduce to mine? I hate it, for it has shut up your heart +against me, and made me an orphan and an outcast.</p> + +<p>"Father, pity me? Pity the circumstances in which I am placed: +dependent upon the charity of my good uncle, I feel, kind though he +be to me, that I am a burden—that it is not just that I should +live upon him. I have finished my school education, and can show +you the most honorable testimonials from my masters. I have +acquired some knowledge, but I long for more. My uncle talks of +sending me to college with his son. For what profession do you wish +me to study? Let me know your wishes in this respect, and they +shall be strictly obeyed. I shall feel greatly honored by your +answer, and remain</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 6em;">"Your dutiful son,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone</span>."</p></div> + +<p><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a>Anthony did not show his uncle this letter. He knew that he would +object to the part relative to himself. He duly sealed it and paid the +post, and for several days he awaited the reply in a state of feverish +excitement. At length it came, and ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">Son Anthony</span>,</p> + +<p>"Your letter pleased me. I believe it to be sincere. You have been +so long a stranger, that I do not feel any wish to see you; but, +hereafter, if you wait with patience, you will not be forgotten. +You are a Hurdlestone. I respect the old family and the old name +too much to leave it without an heir.</p> + +<p>"I am glad that you have had sense enough to improve your time. +Time is money. As to a profession, the uncle who took you from my +protection had best choose one for his adopted son. There are +several livings in my gift. If you should make choice of the +Church, they shall be yours. This would make property which has +hitherto been of little value pay a good interest. As to being +dependent upon your uncle, the thought amused me. If he feels you a +burden, it is self-inflicted, and he must be content to bear it. +You need not look to me for pecuniary assistance; I shall yield you +none. An industrious young man can always free himself from a +galling yoke.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 6em;">"Your father and friend,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"><span class="smcap">Marcus Hurdlestone</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Upon the whole, Anthony was pleased with his father's letter. It +displayed more of human feeling than he expected; besides, he had not +rejected his claims as a son. He had acknowledged him to be his heir. It +is true, he had forbidden him his presence, and flung back his +prof<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>fered affection; but he had spoken of him with respect, and his son +was grateful even for this stinted courtesy. He would one day be able to +repay his uncle's kindness in a more substantial manner than words; and +he flew to Algernon's study with a beating heart and flushed cheeks.</p> + +<p>"What news, my boy?" said the Colonel, looking up from the artificial +fly he was making. "Have you caught a trout or a salmon?"</p> + +<p>"Better still. I have got a letter from my father!"</p> + +<p>"No!" said the Colonel, letting go his fishing-tackle. "Is that +possible?"</p> + +<p>"Here it is; read for yourself." And he put the letter into Algernon's +hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, Tony, lad, this is indeed better than I expected," he said, +grasping his nephew warmly by the hand. "But stay; what does this +paragraph mean? Have you found my love, Anthony, such a galling yoke?"</p> + +<p>"My father has misunderstood me," replied the lad, his cheeks glowing +with crimson. "I told him that it was not just for me to be dependent on +your bounty."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a crabbed old sinner," said the Colonel, laughing, "I am more +astonished at his letter than anything that has happened to me since he +robbed me of your mother."</p> + +<p>Anthony looked inquiringly at his uncle.</p> + +<p>"Come, nephew, sit down by me, and I will relate to you a page out of my +own history, which will not only show you what manner of man this father +of yours is, but explain to you the position in which we are both placed +regarding him; clearing up what must have appeared to you very +mysterious."</p> + +<p>With intense interest the amiable son of this most execrable father +listened to the tale already told of his mother's wrongs. How often did +the crimes of the parent <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>dye the cheeks of the child with honest +indignation, or pale them with fear? How did his love for his generous +uncle increase in a tenfold degree, when he revealed the treachery that +had been practised against him! How often did he ask himself—"Is it +possible that he can love the son of this cruel brother?" But then he +was also the son of the woman he had loved so tenderly for years, whose +memory he held in the deepest veneration; was like him in person, and, +with sounder judgment and better abilities, resembled him in mind also.</p> + +<p>Satisfied that his father would do him justice in spite of his cold, +unfeeling neglect, and bequeath to him the wealth to obtain which he had +sacrificed every human feeling and domestic comfort, Anthony no longer +suffered the humiliating sense of obligation to weigh upon his heart and +depress his spirits, and he cheerfully accepted his uncle's offer to +send him to college to study for the Church.</p> + +<p>"Five livings," Godfrey declared, were four too many for any incumbent, +and he would charitably relieve Anthony from some of them, and study for +the same profession. His cousin was grieved at this choice, so unfitted +to the tastes and pursuits of his gay companion; but finding all +remonstrance vain, he ceased to importune him on the subject, hoping that +as time advanced, he would, of his own accord, abandon the idea.</p> + +<p>To college, therefore, the lads went; and here the same dissimilarity +marked their conduct as at school. Anthony applied intensely to his +studies, and made rapid progress in mental and moral improvement. +Serious without affectation, and pious without cant, he daily became +more attached to the profession he had chosen, hoping to find through it +a medium by which he could one day restore to the world the talents +which for half a century his father had buried in <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>the dust. Godfrey's +career, on the other hand, was one of folly, dissipation and crime. He +wasted his father's property in the most lavish expenditure, and lost at +the gaming table sums that would have settled him well in life.</p> + +<p>Anthony remonstrated with him on his want of principle, and pointed out +the ruin which must follow such profligacy. This Godfrey took in very +bad part, and tauntingly accused his cousin of being a spy. He told him +that it sounded well from a dependent on his father's bounty to preach +up abstinence to him. These circumstances threw Anthony into a deep +melancholy. He did not like to write to his uncle to inform him in what +a disgraceful manner his son was spending his time and money; and he +constantly reproached himself with a want of faithfulness in keeping +such an important matter a secret.</p> + +<p>Disgusted with his cousin and his dissipated associates, Anthony +withdrew entirely from their society, and shut himself up in his own +apartments, rarely leaving his books to mingle in scenes in which he +could not sympathize, and in which, from his secluded habits, he was not +formed to shine. He became a dreamer. He formed a world for himself, and +peopled it with beings whose imaginary perfections had no counterpart on +earth. He went forth to mingle with his kind, and found them so unlike +the creatures in his moral Utopia, that he determined to relinquish +society and spiritualise his own nature, the better to fit him for his +high calling as a minister of the gospel of Christ.</p> + +<p>"How much better it would be to die young," he would exclaim, "than live +to be old and wicked, or to watch over the decay of the warm affections +and enthusiastic feelings of youth; to see the beautiful fade from the +heart, and the worldly and common-place fill up the blighting void! Oh! +Godfrey, Godfrey! how can you enjoy the miserable and <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>sensual pleasures +for which you are forfeiting self-respect and peace of mind for ever!"</p> + +<p>"But Godfrey is happier than you, with all your refined feelings and +cultivated tastes," whispered the tempter to his soul.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be," returned the youth, as he communed with his own heart. +"The pleasures of sin may blind the mental vision, and blunt the senses, +for a while; but when the terrible truth makes all things plain—and the +reaction comes—and come it assuredly will—and the mind, like a +polluted stream, can no longer flow back to its own bright source, and +renovate its poisoned waters; who shall then say that the madness of the +sensualist can satisfy the heart?"</p> + +<p>Thus did these two young men live together: one endeavoring by the aid +of religion, and by studying the wisdom of the past, to exalt and purify +his fallen nature; the other by grovelling in the dust, and mingling +with beings yet more sinful and degraded, rapidly debased his mind to a +more degenerate and fallen state.</p> + +<p>Godfrey Hurdlestone had always been covetous of his cousin's anticipated +wealth, but now he envied his good name, and the respect which his +talents and good conduct entitled him to receive from his superiors, and +he hated him accordingly. He could not bear to see him courted and +caressed by his worldly companions because he was the son of the rich +miser, and himself thrown into the background, although in personal +endowments he far surpassed his studious and retiring companion. His own +father, though reputed to be rich, was known to be in embarrassed +circumstances, which the extravagance of his son was not likely to +decrease. Godfrey had no mental resource but in the society of persons +whom Anthony despised; and he was <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>daily annoyed by disparaging +comparisons which the very worldlings he courted were constantly drawing +between them. "Oh envy!" well has it been said by the wisest of mankind, +"who can stand before envy?"</p> + +<p>Of all human passions, the meanest in its operations, the most fatal in +its results, foul parent of the most revolting crimes. If the heart is +guarded against this passion, the path to heaven becomes easy of access, +and the broad and dangerous way loses half its attractions.</p> + +<p>Godfrey had forfeited his own self-respect, and he hated his cousin for +possessing a jewel which he had cast away. This aversion was +strengthened by the anxious solicitude that Anthony expressed for his +welfare, and the earnest appeals which he daily made to his conscience, +to induce him to renounce his present destructive course, if not for his +own, for his father's sake.</p> + +<p>Their studies were nearly completed, when the immense sums that Godfrey +had squandered in dissipation and gambling obliged the Colonel to recall +them home.</p> + +<p>Algernon, although not a little displeased with his heartless selfish +son, received the young men with his usual kindness, but there was a +shade of care upon his broad open brow, which told to Anthony a tale of +anxiety and suffering, that caused him the deepest pain. As two whole +years must necessarily elapse before Anthony could enter into holy +orders, he determined to prosecute his studies in the country with their +worthy curate, Mr. Grant, a gentleman of great learning, piety, and +worth.</p> + +<p>This arrangement was greatly to the satisfaction of his uncle, though +Godfrey shook his shoulders, and muttered that it would be "Confounded +dull work."</p> + +<p>"I must introduce you, boys, to our new neighbors," said the Colonel, +next morning, at breakfast. "But mind that <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>you don't pull caps for Miss +Whitmore, our charming young heiress."</p> + +<p>"Who the deuce is she?" asked Godfrey.</p> + +<p>"You knew that our poor old friend Henderson, of Hazelwood Lodge, was +dead?"</p> + +<p>"Dead! Why when did he die?" said Godfrey. "You never wrote us a word +about it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought I had. He died two months ago, and his property fell to +a very distant relation. A captain in the navy. A man of small family +and substantial means, who keeps a fine stud, a capital table, and a +cross old maid, his sister, to superintend his household and take care +of his daughter."</p> + +<p>"And the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"Is a beautiful simple-hearted girl; rather romantic, and the very +reverse of the old maid. Aunt Dorothy is all ginger and vinegar. Niece +Juliet, like fine Burgundy, sparkling with life and animation."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! Anthony, good news for us. I give you warning, mister parson, +that I mean to pass away the time in this dull place by making love to +Miss Whitmore. So don't attempt to poach on my manor."</p> + +<p>"That's hardly fair, Godfrey. You ought to allow your cousin an equal +chance."</p> + +<p>"The young lady will herself make the chances equal," said Anthony, with +a quiet smile. "For my own part, I feel little interest in the subject, +and never yet saw the woman with whom I would wish to pass my life. To +me the passion of love is unknown. Godfrey, on the contrary, professes +to be in love with every pretty girl he sees."</p> + +<p>"There's no doubt that I shall win the lady," cried Godfrey. "Women are +not so fond of quiet, sentimental, learned young gentlemen, like +Anthony; his heart par<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>takes too much of the cold tough nature of his +father's to make a good lover. While he talks sense to the maiden aunt, +I shall be pouring nonsense into the young lady's ears—nursing her +lap-dog, caressing her pony, writing amatory verses in her scrap-book," +(albums were not then in fashion,) "and losing no opportunity of +insinuating myself into her good graces."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see no beauty in this wealthy dame;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the dark lashes of her downcast eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A weeping spirit lurks. And when she smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but the sunbeams of an April day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piercing a watery cloud.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">"So Colonel Hurdlestone's son and nephew arrived at the Hall last night. +Reach me down Juliet's portfolio, Dorothy; I must write the good Colonel +a congratulatory note," said Captain Whitmore to his solemn-faced +sister.</p> + +<p>The Captain was a weather-beaten stout old gentleman, who had seen some +hard service during the war, and what with wounds, hard-drinking, and +the gout, had been forced to relinquish the sea, and anchor for life in +the pretty village of Norgood, where he held property, through the death +of the rich Mr. Henderson, to a considerable amount. His wife had been +dead for some years, and his only daughter, whom he scarcely suffered +out of his sight, was educated at home, under the superintendence of her +aunt, who professed to be the most accomplished, as she certainly was +the most disagreeable, woman in the world.</p> + +<p>"I think, Captain Whitmore, you had better defer your congratulations +until you see what sort of persons these young men are. Mrs. Grant +assured me yesterday that one of these gentlemen is very wild. Quite a +profligate."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks!" said the jolly Captain, snapping his fingers. "I know +what young men are. A gay dashing <a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>lad, I suppose, whose hot blood and +youthful frolics old maiden ladies construe into the most awful crimes."</p> + +<p>"Old maiden ladies, sir! Pray whom do you mean to insult by that gross +appellation?"</p> + +<p>"Gross! I always thought that maiden was a term that implied virgin +innocence and purity, whether addressed to the blithe lass of sixteen, +or the antiquated spinster of forty," returned the provoking sailor, +with a knowing glance.</p> + +<p>"I hate your vulgar insinuations," said Miss Dorothy, her sharp nose +flushing to a deep red. "But how can one expect politeness from a sea +monster?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted the Captain. "Never mind, Dolly, don't give way to +temper, and curl up that bowsprit of yours with such a confounded ugly +twist. There may be a chance yet. Let me see. I don't think that you are +fifty-four. My nurse, Betty Holt, was called an old maid for thirty +years, and married at last."</p> + +<p>"I wonder, brother, that you are not ashamed of naming me and that +low-born person in the same breath. As to matrimony, I despise the male +sex too much to degrade myself by entering upon it."</p> + +<p>"It would have sweetened your temper amazingly," said the Captain, +re-filling his pipe. "I believe, Dorothy, you were never put to the +trial?"</p> + +<p>"You know that I refused at least a dozen offers."</p> + +<p>"Whew! I never heard a word about them before."</p> + +<p>Miss Dorothy knew that she was telling a great fib; and she drew herself +up with increased dignity. "You were at sea, sir."</p> + +<p>"So, I suppose," drawing a long whiff from his pipe, "I must have been a +great way off; and these same offers must have been made a long time +ago."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>"I could marry yet, if I pleased!" screamed the indignant spinster.</p> + +<p>"Doubtful. And pray who is the happy man?"</p> + +<p>"I have too much delicacy to reveal secrets, or to subject myself or him +to your vulgar ridicule."</p> + +<p>"I wish him luck!" said the Captain, turning over the leaves of Juliet's +portfolio. "What the deuce does the girl mean? She has scribbled over +all the paper. I hope she don't amuse herself by writing love-letters?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I would suffer my niece to spend her time in such an +improper manner? But, indeed, brother, I wish you would speak to Juliet +(for she does not mind me) on this subject."</p> + +<p>"On what subject—writing love-letters?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir: something almost as bad."</p> + +<p>"Well—out with it."</p> + +<p>"She has the folly to write verses."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"All! Only consider the scandal that it will bring upon me. I shall be +called a blue-stocking."</p> + +<p>"You! I thought it was the author to whom persons gave that +appellation."</p> + +<p>"True, Captain Whitmore; but, as I help to instruct the young lady, +ill-natured people will say that I taught her to write."</p> + +<p>"Don't fret yourself on that score, Dolly; it will not spoil your +fortune, if they do. But Juliet—I am sorry that the child has taken +such whimsies into her head; it may hinder her from getting a good +husband."</p> + +<p>"Fie, Captain Whitmore! Is that your only objection?"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Dolly, there's a good woman, and let me examine these papers. +If there is anything wrong about <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>them, I will burn them, and forbid my +pretty Julee to write such nonsense again. I know that the dear girl +loves her old dad, and will mind what I say. How!—what's this? God +bless the darling!"</p> + +<p>'<i>Lines addressed to my father during his absence at sea.</i>'</p> + +<p>The old man put on his spectacles, and read these outpourings of an +affectionate heart with the tears in his eyes. They possessed very +little merit, as a poem; but the Captain thought them the sweetest lines +he had ever read.</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Dolly, is not that a pretty poem? Who could have the heart +to find fault with that, or criticise the dear child for her dutiful +love to me? I'll not burn that." And the old tar slipped the precious +document into his pocket, to be hoarded next his heart, and to be worn +until death bade them part, within the enamelled case which contained +the miniature of his Julee's very pretty mother.</p> + +<p>"It's well enough," said Miss Dorothy; "but I hate such romantic stuff. +It could have been written with more propriety in prose." And she added, +in a malicious aside, loud enough to reach the ears of the fond father:</p> + +<p>"Now his vanity's pleased with this nonsense, there will be no end to +his admiration of Juliet's verses."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy, don't be envious of that of which you are incapable."</p> + +<p>"Me envious! Of whom, pray? A whining, half-grown chit, who, if she have +anything worthy of commendation about her, first received it from me. +Envious, indeed! Captain Whitmore, I am astonished at your impudence!"</p> + +<p>What answer the Captain would have given to this was very doubtful, for +his brow clouded up with the disrespectful manner in which Aunt Dorothy +spoke of his child, had not that child herself appeared, and all the +sunshine of the father's heart burst forth at her presence.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a>"Dear papa, what are you about?" she cried, flinging her arms about the +old veteran's neck, and trying, at the same moment, to twitch the paper +out of his hand.</p> + +<p>"Avast heavin'! my girl. The old commodore is not to be robbed so easily +of his prize."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you must give the portfolio to me!" said Juliet, her eyes full +of tears at finding her secret discovered.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, I shall do no such thing, you saucy little minx! So, +sit still whilst the father reads."</p> + +<p>"But that—that is not worth reading."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you are right, Miss Juliet," said the old maid, +sarcastically. "The rhymes of young ladies are seldom worth reading. You +had better mend your stockings, and mind your embroidery, than waste +your time in such useless trash."</p> + +<p>"It does not take up much of my time, aunt."</p> + +<p>"How do you make it up out of your little head, Julee?" said the +Captain. "Come and sit upon my knee, and tell the father all about it. I +am sure I could sooner board a French man-of-war than tack two rhymes +together."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, papa," said Juliet, laughing, and accepting the proffered +seat. "It comes into my head when it likes, and passes through my brain +with the rapidity of lightning. I find it without seeking, and often, +when I seek it, I cannot find it. The thing is a great mystery to +myself; but the possession of it makes me very happy."</p> + +<p>"Weak minds, I have often been told, are amused by trifles," sneered +Aunt Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Then I must be very weak, aunt, for I am easily amused. Dear papa, give +me that paper."</p> + +<p>"I must read it."</p> + +<p>"'Tis silly stuff."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>"Let me be the best judge of that. Perhaps it contains something that I +ought not to see?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it does. Oh, no," she whispered in his ear; "but Aunt Dorothy +will sneer so at it."</p> + +<p>The old man was too much pleased with his child to care for Aunt +Dorothy. He knew, of old, that her bark was worse than her bite; that +she really loved both him and his daughter; but she had a queer way of +showing it. And unfolding the paper, he read aloud, to the great +annoyance of the fair writer, the fragment of a ballad, of which, to do +him justice, he understood not a single word; and had he called upon her +to explain its meaning, she would, in all probability, have found it no +easy task.</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">LADY LILIAN.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alone in her tower, at the midnight hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The lady Lilian sat;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a spirit pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In her silken veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She watches the white clouds above her sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the flight of the drowsy bat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is love the theme of her waking dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her heart is gay and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">She loves the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When the stars shine bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the moon falls in showers of silver light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the stately forest tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And all around, on the dewy ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The quivering moonbeams stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the light and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By the branches made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give motion and life to the silent glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like fairy elves at play.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><p><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></p> +<span class="i0">And far o'er the meads, through its fringe of reeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Flashes the slender rill;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Like a silver thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">By some spirit led,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From an urn of light by the moonbeams fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It winds round the distant hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When sleep's soft thrall falls light on all,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That lady's eyes unclose;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To all that is fair<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In earth and air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When none are awake her thoughts to share,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or her spirit discompose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And tones more dear, to her fine-tuned ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On the midnight breezes float;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Than the sounds that ring<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the minstrel's string,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the mighty deeds of some warrior king<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inspire each thrilling note.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"So there's a hole in the ballad," said the old tar, looking up in his +daughter's blushing face. "Julee, my dear, what does all this mean?"</p> + +<p>"It would be a difficult matter for Miss Julee to explain," said Aunt +Dorothy.</p> + +<p>Further remarks on either side were stopped by the announcement of +Colonel Hurdlestone, and his son and nephew. Juliet seized the portfolio +from her father, and, with one bound, cleared the opposite doorway, and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>"We have frightened your daughter away, Captain Whitmore," said the +Colonel, glancing after the retreating figure of Juliet. "What made my +young friend run from us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have just found out the saucy jade is scribbling verses all over +my paper; and she is afraid that I should <a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>tell you about it; and that +aunt Dorothy would quiz her before these gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"I should like much to see a specimen of her poetry," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Here are a few lines addressed to myself," said the proud father, +handing them to his friend. "I was going to scold Julee for her folly; +but, by Jove, Colonel, I could not bring my heart to do it after reading +that!"</p> + +<p>The paper went round. It lingered longest in the hand of Anthony +Hurdlestone. The lines possessed no particular merit. They were tender +and affectionate, true to nature and nature's simplicity, and as he read +and re-read them, it seemed as if the spirit of the author was in unison +with his own. "Happy girl!" he thought, "who can thus feel towards and +write of a father. How I envy you this blessed, holy affection!" He +raised his eyes, and rose up in confusion, to be presented to Miss +Whitmore.</p> + +<p>Juliet could scarcely be termed beautiful; but her person was very +attractive. Her features were small, but belonged to none of the favored +orders of female beauty; and her complexion was pallid, rendered more +conspicuously so by the raven hair, that fell in long silken ringlets +down her slender white throat, and spread like a dark veil round her +elegant bust and shoulders. Her lofty brow was pure as marble, and +marked by that high look of moral and intellectual power, before which +mere physical beauty shrinks into insignificance. Soft pencilled +eyebrows gave additional depth and lustre to a pair of the most lovely +deep blue eyes that ever flashed from beneath a fringe of jet. There was +an expression of tenderness almost amounting to sadness, in those sweet +eyes; and when they were timidly raised to meet those of the young +Anthony, a light broke upon his <a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>heart, which the storms and clouds of +after-life could never again extinguish.</p> + +<p>"Miss Juliet, your father has been giving us a treat," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>Poor Juliet turned first very red, and then very pale, and glanced +reproachfully at the old man.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Miss Whitmore, you need not be ashamed of that which does you so +much credit," said the Colonel, pitying her confusion.</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, it was cruel to betray me," said Juliet, the tears of +mortified sensibility filling her fine eyes. "Colonel Hurdlestone, you +will do me a great favor by never alluding to this subject again."</p> + +<p>"You are a great admirer of nature, Miss Whitmore, or you could never +write poetry," said Godfrey, heedless of the distress of the poor girl. +But he was tired of sitting silent, and longed for an opportunity of +addressing her.</p> + +<p>"Poetry is the language in which nature speaks to the heart of the +young," said Juliet. "Do you think that there ever was a young person +indifferent to the beauties of poetry?"</p> + +<p>"All young people have not your taste and fine feeling," said Godfrey. +"There are some persons who can walk into a garden without +distinguishing the flowers from the weeds. You have of course read +Shakspeare?"</p> + +<p>"It formed the first epoch in my life," returned Juliet with animation. +"I never shall forget the happy day when I first revelled through the +fairy isle with Ariel and his dainty spirits. My father was from home, +and had left the key in the library door. It was forbidden ground. My +aunt was engaged with an old friend in the parlor, so I ventured in, and +snatched at the first book which came to hand. It was a volume of +Shakspeare, and contained, among other <a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a>plays, the Tempest and Midsummer +Night's Dream. Afraid of detection I stole away into the park, and +beneath the shadow of the greenwood tree, I devoured with rapture the +inspired pages of the great magician. What a world of wonders it opened +to my view! Since that eventful hour poetry has become to me the +language of nature—the voice in which creation lifts up its myriad +anthems to the throne of God."</p> + +<p>An enthusiastic country girl could alone have addressed this rhapsody to +a stranger. A woman of the world with half her talent and moral worth, +would have blushed at her imprudence in betraying the romance of her +nature. Juliet was a novice in the world, and she spoke with the +simplicity and earnestness of truth. Godfrey smiled in his heart at her +want of tact; yet there was one near him, in whose breast Juliet +Whitmore would have found an echo to her own words.</p> + +<p>The gentlemen rose to depart, and promised to dine at the Lodge the next +day.</p> + +<p>"Two fine young men," said the Captain, turning to his daughter, as the +door closed upon his guests. "Which of them took your fancy most, +Julee?"</p> + +<p>"They are so much alike—I should scarcely know them apart. I liked him +the best who most resembled the dear old Colonel."</p> + +<p>"Old! Miss Juliet. I hope you don't mean to call Colonel Hurdlestone an +old man! You will be calling me old next."</p> + +<p>"And not far from the truth if she did," muttered the old sailor. "That +was the Colonel's nephew, Julee, Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p>"The son of that horrible old miser? I saw him once <a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a>and took him for a +beggar. Is it possible that that elegant young man can be his son?"</p> + +<p>"I think the case somewhat doubtful," observed Miss Dorothy. "I wonder +that Colonel Hurdlestone has the effrontery to introduce that young man +as his nephew. Nature herself contradicts the assertion."</p> + +<p>"Dolly, don't be censorious. I thought the Colonel was a great friend of +yours."</p> + +<p>"He was; but I am not blind," said Miss Dorothy, with dignity. "I have +altered my mind with regard to that gentleman, and would not become his +wife if he were to ask me on his bended knees."</p> + +<p>"I wish he would pop the question," said the Captain. "I'd bet my life +on't that he would not have to ask twice!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied the lady, casting upon her brother a withering glance, "I +never mean to marry a widower—an uncle—who brings with him nephews so +like himself." Miss Dorothy swept from the room, leaving her brother +convulsed with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Miss Whitmore is not so handsome as I expected to find her, after the +fuss that George Braconberry made about her the other night at Wymar's," +said Godfrey, suddenly pulling up his horse, as they rode home, and +addressing his cousin. "Her figure is delightful, symmetry itself; but +her face, she has scarcely one good feature in it. There is nothing gay +or joyous in her expression. There is an indescribable sadness about +those blue eyes which makes one feel grave in a moment. I wanted to pay +her a few compliments by way of ingratiating myself into her good +graces; but, by Jove! I could not look her in the face and do it. A man +must have more confidence than I possess to attempt to deceive her. I +never felt afraid of a woman before."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>"I am glad to hear you say so," returned Anthony. "To me she is +beautiful, exceedingly beautiful. I would not exchange that noble +expression of hers for the most faultless features and blooming +complexion in the world. The dignity of her countenance is the mirror in +which I see reflected the beauty of the soul; as the stars picture on +the face of the placid stream the heaven in which they dwell."</p> + +<p>"Are you turned poet too, Master Anthony? Mary Mathews, down at the +farm, has a prettier face, or I am no judge of female beauty."</p> + +<p>"We all know your <i>penchant</i> for Mary Mathews. But seriously, Godfrey, +if you do not mean to marry the poor girl, it is very cruel to pay her +such lover-like attentions."</p> + +<p>"One must do something, Tony, to pass away the time in this dull place. +As to marrying the girl, you surely do not take me for a fool?"</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to take you for something worse. Last night you went +too far, when you took the sweet-briar rose from her bosom and placed it +in your own; and said that you preferred it to all the flowers in the +garden; that your highest ambition was to win and wear the wild rose. +The poor girl believed you. Did you not see how she looked down and +blushed, and then up in your face with the tears in her eyes, and a +sweet smile on her severed lips. Surely, my dear cousin, it is wrong to +give birth to hopes which you never mean to realize."</p> + +<p>A crimson flush passed over Godfrey's brow as he answered haughtily. +"Nonsense, Anthony! you take up this matter too seriously. Women love +flattery, and if we are bound in honor to marry all the women we +compliment, the law must be abolished that forbids polygamy."</p> + +<p>"I know one who would not fail to take advantage of <a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>such an act," said +Anthony. "But really, matters that concern the happiness and misery of +our fellow creatures are too serious for a joke. I hope poor Mary's +light heart will never be rendered heavy by your gallantry."</p> + +<p>Again the color flushed the cheek of Godfrey. He looked down, slashed +his well-polished boot with his riding-whip, and endeavored to hum a +tune, and appear indifferent to his cousin's lecture, but it would not +do; and telling Anthony that he was in no need of a Mentor, he whistled +to a favorite spaniel, and dashing his spurs into his horse, was soon +out of sight.</p> + +<p>Mary Mathews, the young girl who formed the subject of this +conversation, was a strange eccentric creature, more remarkable for the +beauty of her person, and her masculine habits, than for any good +qualities she possessed. Her father rented a small farm, the property of +Colonel Hurdlestone; her mother died while she was yet a child, and her +only brother ran away from following the plough and went to sea.</p> + +<p>Mathews was a rude, clownish, matter-of-fact man; he wanted some person +to assist him in looking after the farm, and taking care of the stock; +and he brought up Mary to fill the place of the son he had lost, early +inuring her to take an active part, in those manual labors which were +peculiar to his vocation. Mary was a man in everything but her face and +figure, which were exceedingly soft and feminine; and if her complexion +had not been a little injured by constant exposure to the atmosphere, +she would have been a perfect beauty; and in spite of these +disadvantages she was considered the <i>belle</i> of the village.</p> + +<p>Alas! for Mary. Her masculine employments, and constantly associating +with her father's work-people, had destroyed the woman in her heart. She +thought like a <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>man—spoke like a man—acted like a man. The loud clear +voice, and clearer louder laugh, the coarse jest and rude song, grated +painfully on the ear, and appeared unnatural in the highest degree, when +issuing from coral lips, whose perfect contour might have formed a model +for the Venus.</p> + +<p>Mary knew that she was handsome, and never attempted to conceal from +others her consciousness of the fact; and, as long as her exterior +elicited applause and admiration from the rude clowns who surrounded +her, she cared not for those minor graces of voice and manner which +render beauty so captivating to the refined and well-educated of the +other sex.</p> + +<p>In the harvest-field she was always the foremost in the band of reapers; +dressed in her tight green-cloth boddice, clean white apron, red stuff +petticoat, and neatly blacked shoes; her beautiful features shaded by +her large, coarse, flat, straw hat, put knowingly to one side, more +fully to display the luxuriant auburn tresses, of the sunniest hue, that +waved profusely in rich natural curls round her face and neck. In the +hay-field you passed her, with the rake across her shoulder, and turned +in surprise to look at the fair creature, who whistled to her dog, sang +snatches of profane songs, and hallooed to the men in the same breath. +In the evening you met her bringing home her cows from the marshes, +mounted upon her father's grey riding horse; keeping her seat with as +much ease and spirit, although destitute of a side-saddle, as the most +accomplished female equestrian in St. James's Park; and when his +services were no longer required by our young Amazon, she rubbed down +her horse, and turned him adrift with her own hands into the paddock.</p> + +<p>To see Mary Mathews to advantage, when the better <a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>nature of her +womanhood triumphed over the coarse rude habits to which her peculiar +education had given birth, was when surrounded by her weanling calves +and cosset lambs, or working in her pretty garden that skirted the road. +There, among her flowers, with her splendid locks waving round her sunny +brow, and singing as blithe as any bird, some rural ditty or ballad of +the days gone by, she looked the simple, unaffected, lovely country +girl. The traveller paused at the gate to listen to her song, to watch +her at her work, and to beg a flower from her hand. Even the proud +aristocratic country gentleman, as he rode past, doffed his hat, and +saluted courteously the young Flora whose smiling face floated before +him during his homeward ride.</p> + +<p>Uncontrolled by the usages of the world, and heedless of its good or bad +opinion, Mary became a law to herself—a headstrong, wayward, passionate +creature; shunned by her own sex, who regarded her as their common +enemy, and constantly thrown into contact with the worst and most +ignorant of the other, it was not to be wondered at that she became an +object of suspicion to all.</p> + +<p>With a mind capable of much good, but constantly exposed to much evil, +Mary felt with bitterness that she had no friend among her village +associates who could share her feelings, or enjoy her unfeminine +pursuits. With energy of purpose to form and execute the most daring +projects, her mental powers were confined to the servile drudgery of the +kitchen and the field until the sudden return of her long-lost brother +gave a new coloring to her life, and influenced all her future actions.</p> + +<p>The bold audacious William Mathews, of whom she felt so proud, and whom +she loved so fiercely, carried on the double profession of a poacher on +shore and a smuggler at <a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>sea. Twice Mary had exposed her life to +imminent danger to save him from detection; and so strongly was she +attached to him, that there was no peril that she would not have dared +for his sake. Fear was a stranger to her breast. Often had she been +known to ride at the dead hour of night, through lonely cross-roads, to +a distant parish, to bring home her father from some low hedge-alehouse, +in which she suspected him to be wasting his substance with a set of +worthless profligates.</p> + +<p>Twice during the short period of her life, for she had only just entered +upon her eighteenth year, she had suffered from temporary fits of +insanity; and the neighbors, when speaking of her exploits, always +prefaced it with, "Oh, poor thing! There is something wrong about that +girl. There is no account to be taken of her deeds."</p> + +<p>From a child Mary had been an object of deep interest to the young +Hurdlestones. Residing on the same estate, she had been a stolen +acquaintance and playfellow from infancy. She always knew the best pools +in the river for fishing, could point out the best covers for game, knew +where to find the first bird's-nest, and could climb the loftiest forest +tree to obtain the young of the hawk or crow with more certainty of +success than her gay companions. Their sports were dull and spiritless +without Mary Mathews.</p> + +<p>As they advanced towards manhood they took more notice of her +peculiarities, and laughed at her boyish ways; but when she grew up into +a beautiful girl they became more respectful in their turn, and seldom +passed her in the grounds without paying her some of those light +compliments and petty attentions always acceptable to a pretty vain girl +of her class. Both would officiously help her to catch and bridle her +horse, carry her pail, or assist her in the hay-field. And this was as +often done to hear the smart answers <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>that pretty Poll would return to +their gallant speeches, for the girl possessed no small share of wit, +and her natural talents were in no way inferior to their own.</p> + +<p>Godfrey had of late addressed her in less bantering tones; for he had +played, like the moth, around the taper until he had burnt his wings, +and was fairly scorched by the flame of love. In spite of the +remonstrances of his more conscientious cousin, he daily spent hours in +leaning over her garden gate, enacting the lover to this rustic Flora. +It was to such a scene as this that Anthony had alluded, and respecting +which Godfrey had given such an indefinite answer.</p> + +<p>Capricious in his pursuits, Godfrey was not less inconstant in his +affections; and the graceful person and pleasing manners of Juliet +Whitmore had made a deeper impression upon his fickle mind than he +thought it prudent to avow; nor was he at all insensible to the +pecuniary advantages that would arise from such a union.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, tell me something of this wayward girl.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, she is changed—and such a woful change!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It breaks my heart to think on't. The bright eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has lost its fire, the red rose on her cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is washed to whiteness by her frequent tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the smile has fled the ruby glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the twin lips, so tempting and so ripe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wooed to love with their ambrosial breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, issuing through those dewy portals, showed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pearly teeth within, like gems enshrined.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">What aileth thee this morning, young daughter, that thou lingerest so +long before the mirror, adjusting and re-adjusting the delicately-tinted +Provence rose-buds in thy dark flowing tresses? Art thou doubtful of thy +charms, or have the calm bright eyes of the young stranger made thee +diffident of the power of thy own surpassing loveliness? Those eyes have +caught thy young fancy, and made thee blind to all other objects around +thee. They have haunted thee through the long night; thou couldst not +sleep; those dark eyes looked into thy soul; they have kindled upon the +hidden altar of life the sad and beautiful light of love. Thou no longer +livest for thyself; another image possesses thy heart, and thou hast +wonderingly discovered a new page in the poetry of thy nature.</p> + +<p>"Yes, love—first love—is a sad and holy thing; a pleasure born out of +pain, welcomed with smiles, nourished by tears, and worshipped by the +young and enthusiastic as the only real and abiding good in a world of +shadow. <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>Alas! for the young heart, why should it ever awake to find the +most perfect of its creatures like the rest—a dream!"</p> + +<p>And poor Juliet's love-dream was banished very abruptly by the harsh +voice of Aunt Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Miss Whitmore, the dinner waits for <i>you</i>. Quick! you have been an hour +dressing yourself to-day. Will you never have done arranging your hair? +Now, do pray take out those nasty flowers. They do not become you. They +look romantic and theatrical."</p> + +<p>"Ah, aunt, you must not rob me of my flowers, God's most precious gift +to man."</p> + +<p>"I hate them! They always make a room look in a litter."</p> + +<p>"Hate flowers!" exclaimed Juliet, in unaffected surprise. "God's +beautiful flowers! I pity your want of taste, my good aunt."</p> + +<p>"Nay, spare your commiseration for those who need it, Miss Whitmore. My +judgment is certainly not inferior to <i>yours</i>; and I never could +discover the use or beauty of flowers. What! not satisfied yet?" as +Juliet cast another hurried glance at the mirror. "The vanity of girls +in our days is quite disgusting to a woman of sense."</p> + +<p>"I look so ill to-day, aunt, I am ashamed of being seen."</p> + +<p>"It is matter of little consequence, I dare say; no one will notice how +you look. A few years <i>hence</i>, and there would be some excuse for +spending so much time before a looking-glass."</p> + +<p>The ladies entered the drawing-room as dinner was announced. If Juliet +was dissatisfied with her appearance, Anthony thought that she looked +most beautiful, and was delighted to find himself seated beside her. How +gladly would he have improved this opportunity of conversing <a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>with her, +but the natural shyness of his disposition became doubly distressing +when he most wished to surmount it; and, with a thousand thoughts in his +heart and words upon his tongue, he remained silent. Juliet was the +first to speak</p> + +<p>"You were out fishing last night, Mr. Anthony. Were you successful?"</p> + +<p>"I am always successful, Miss Whitmore. But, after all, it is a cruel +and treacherous sport. I feel ashamed of myself for entering into it +with such zest. Destruction appears to be a principle inherent in our +nature. Man shows his tyrannical disposition in finding so great a +pleasure in taking away from the inferior animals the life which he +cannot restore."</p> + +<p>"You are too severe," returned Juliet. "We are apt to forget during the +excitement of the moment the cruelty we inflict. I read old Izaak Walton +when a child. He made me mistress of the whole art of angling. It is +such a quiet contemplative amusement. The clear stream, the balmy air, +the warbling of happy birds, the fragrant hedge-rows and flowery banks, +by which you are surrounded, make you alive to the most pleasing +impressions: and amidst sights and sounds of beauty, you never reflect +that you are acting the part of the destroyer. I have given up the +gentle craft; but I still think it a strangely-fascinating sport."</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to see you so engaged," said Anthony. "I never could +bear to witness so soft a hand employed in taking away life."</p> + +<p>"You, too, have learned the art of flattery," said Juliet, +reproachfully. "When will your sex, in speaking to ours, learn to +confine themselves to simple truth?"</p> + +<p>"When the education of woman is conducted with less <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>art, and they rise +superior to the meanness of being pleased with falsehood. What I said +just now was but the simple truth. I admit that it was said to please, +and I should, indeed, be grieved, if I thought that I could possibly +have given offence."</p> + +<p>He looked so serious and anxious, that Juliet burst into a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>"A very heinous crime, indeed, and deserving a very severe punishment! +What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Another lecture from those lips. Remember, I did not say, <i>sweet</i> +lips."</p> + +<p>"Worse and worse. I will abandon the lectures for the future, for, I +perceive, that to complain to a gentleman of his using compliments, only +induces him to make a dozen more, in order to atone for his first +offence."</p> + +<p>The young people's <i>tête à tête</i> was interrupted by Miss Dorothea, who +hated to hear any one talk but herself, asking Mr. Anthony, "If it were +true that he was studying for the Church?" On his replying in the +affirmative, she continued: "Your father, Mr. Anthony, is determined to +let nothing go out of the family. One would have thought that you could +have afforded to have lived like an independent gentleman."</p> + +<p>Anthony, who was unfortunately very sensitive on this subject, colored +deeply as he replied,</p> + +<p>"My choice of a profession, madam, was not so much in accordance with my +father's wishes as with my own."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say that I think it a strange choice for a young man of +fortune."</p> + +<p>"I made choice of that mode of life, in which I hoped to be of most use +to my fellow creatures. The fortune to which you allude, Miss Whitmore, +may never be mine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; I see you are determined to look out for the <a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>main chance," +continued his ill-natured tormentor. "But, to do you justice, young man, +I think nature made you for a parson."</p> + +<p>This speech was greatly relished by Godfrey, who burst into a loud +laugh. He secretly enjoyed poor Anthony's mortification; and, though he +detested the old maid himself, he had successfully wormed himself into +her good graces, by paying her some judicious compliments, in which the +graces of her person and her youthful appearance had been the theme of +praise.</p> + +<p>"By the by, Tony," he said, turning suddenly to his cousin, "you have +received a letter from your father, and never told me one word about it. +Was it a kind epistle?"</p> + +<p>"Better than I expected," returned Anthony coldly. "But I never discuss +family matters in public."</p> + +<p>"Public! Are we not among friends?" said Godfrey, persisting in his +impertinent interrogatories.</p> + +<p>"But you inherit a good deal of the suspicious cautious character of +your father. When you grow old, I believe that you will be just as fond +of money as he is. Did he offer to advance a sufficient sum to settle +you in life?"</p> + +<p>"No, he did not."</p> + +<p>"Astonishing! What excuse can he give for such unreasonable conduct?"</p> + +<p>"The old one, I suppose," said Colonel Hurdlestone, laughing—"poverty."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" reiterated Godfrey.</p> + +<p>"Godfrey!" said Anthony, with much severity of look and tone: "how can +such a lamentable instance of human weakness (madness, I might say) +awaken your mirth?"</p> + +<p>"Is it not enough to make one laugh, when an old fellow, rich enough to +pay the National Debt, refuses to provide <a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>for his only son, and suffers +him to live upon the <i>charity</i> of a brother?"</p> + +<p>This unexpected though oft-repeated insult was too much for Anthony to +bear at such a moment, and in the presence of the woman he loved. The +proud flash of his dark eye told how deeply his gentle nature was moved. +His indignation did not escape the watchful eye of Juliet; but he +mastered his passion, and answered his cousin in a calm low voice.</p> + +<p>"Godfrey, I understand you. You need say no more on that subject. You +know how painfully alive I am to the obligations I owe to my uncle, and +it is ungenerous to take such an opportunity of reminding me of them. +The debt, I hope, will one day be repaid."</p> + +<p>He rose to take leave. A pleading look from Juliet made him abandon his +intention. "Sit down," said Juliet, in a persuasive voice, "I am sure +your cousin meant no offence. Delicacy of mind," she added, in a very +low tone, meant only for his ear, "is not always an inherent quality; we +should pity and forgive those who are destitute of it."</p> + +<p>"I will do any thing to please you," returned Anthony; and Godfrey, pale +with disappointed malice, saw him resume his seat.</p> + +<p>"I have provided a little treat of strawberries and cream," continued +Juliet; "they are the first of the season, and were presented to me this +morning by that strangely-interesting girl, Mary Mathews. How I regret +that her father's injudicious method of bringing her up should so +completely have spoiled a girl whom Nature formed to be an ornament to +her humble station."</p> + +<p>"Mary is a beautiful girl," said Anthony, "and has a mind of no ordinary +cast. Her failings are the result of the peculiar circumstances in which +she has been placed. <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>With such a kind monitress as Miss Whitmore to +counsel her, I feel assured that she might soon be persuaded to forsake +her masculine employments, and feel a relish for more feminine +pursuits."</p> + +<p>He spoke with much earnestness, until perceiving that Juliet regarded +him with a peculiarly searching glance, he colored, hesitated, became +embarrassed, and, finally, stopped speaking.</p> + +<p>"When I first saw Mary Mathews, some months ago," said Juliet, "she was +very pretty, and as blithe as a bird; I used to envy the exuberance of +her animal spirits, whenever I passed her little garden, and heard her +singing. For the last few weeks, a melancholy change has taken place in +the poor girl's appearance, which gives me pain to witness. Her cheek +has lost its bloom; her step its elasticity; her dress is neglected; and +the garden in which she worked and sang so merrily, and in which she +took so much delight, is overrun with weeds. Her whole appearance +indicates the most poignant grief. When I questioned her to-day upon the +subject, she answered me with a burst of tears—tears, which seem so +unnatural for one of her disposition to shed. Perhaps, Mr. Anthony," she +continued, with an air of increasing interest, "you can tell me +something of the history of this young girl—as she is one of your +uncle's tenants—which may lead me to discover the cause of her grief?"</p> + +<p>Before Anthony could reply to this somewhat embarrassing question, he +was called upon by his uncle, who was playing chess with the old +Captain, to decide some important problem in the game; and Godfrey, who +had been a painfully observant listener to their conversation, glided +into his vacant seat.</p> + +<p>"I wish, Miss Whitmore, that I could satisfactorily <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>answer all your +generous inquiries with regard to Mary Mathews. But I know and hear so +little of the gossip of the village, and with the poor girl's private +history I am totally unacquainted—nay, the girl herself is to me a +perfect stranger. No person is better able to give you the information +you require than my cousin Anthony; he knows Mary well. In spite of my +father's prohibitions, she was always a chosen playfellow of his. He +professes a great admiration for this beautiful peasant, and takes a +deep interest in all that concerns her."</p> + +<p>Why did Juliet's cheek at that moment grow so very pale? Why did she +sigh so deeply, and suddenly drop a conversation which she had commenced +with such an apparent concern for the person who had formed the subject +of it? Love may have its joys, but oh, how painfully are they contrasted +with its doubts and fears! She had suffered the serpent of jealousy to +coil around her heart, and for the first time felt its envenomed sting. +When Anthony returned to his seat he found his fair companion unusually +cold and reserved. A few minutes after, she complained of sudden +indisposition, and left the room, and she did not return that evening.</p> + +<p>That night, Juliet wept herself to sleep. "Is it not evident," she said +to herself, "that this poor Mary is in love with Anthony Hurdlestone, +and can I be base enough to add another pang to a heart already deeply +wounded, by endeavoring to gain his affections? No. I will from this +hour banish him from my thoughts, and never make him the subject of +these waking dreams again."</p> + +<p>But alas! for good resolutions. She found the task more difficult than +she had imagined. She could not obliterate the image stamped by the +power of love upon her heart. Like the lion, she struggled in the net, +without <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>the aid of the friendly mouse to set her free. She wished that +she had never seen him—had never heard the rich tones of his mellow +voice, or suffered the glance of his dark serious eyes to penetrate to +her soul. Ah! Juliet, well mayest thou toss to and fro in thy troubled +slumbers; thy lover is more miserable than thou, for he <i>cannot sleep</i>. +Indignant at the insult he had received in so unprovoked a manner from +his ungenerous cousin, and at war with himself, Anthony Hurdlestone +paced his chamber during the greater part of the night—striking his +breast against the fetters that bound him, and striving in vain to be +free. The very idea, that he was the son of the miser—that he must +blush for his father whenever his name was mentioned, was not the least +of his annoyances.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that a girl of Juliet Whitmore's poetic temperament +could love the son of such a man? and as he pressed his hands against +his aching brow, and asked himself the question, he wished that he had +been the son of the poorest peasant upon the rich man's vast estates. +Anthony did not appear at the breakfast-table, and when he did leave his +chamber and joined the family party at dinner, he met Godfrey, who had +just returned from Captain Whitmore's, his handsome countenance glowing +with health and pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Why, Godfrey, my boy!" cried the Colonel, regarding him with parental +pride, "What have you been doing with yourself all the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Gardening with the jolly old tar, Captain Whitmore; quizzing the old +witch, his sister; and making love to his charming daughter. Upon my +word, sir, she is a delightful creature, and sings and plays divinely! +Her personal charms I might have withstood, but her voice has taken me +by surprise. You know that I was always a worshipper <a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>of sweet sounds; +and this little girl kept her divine gift so entirely to herself, that +it was by mere chance that I found out that she could sing. She was a +little annoyed too by the discovery. I came in upon her unawares, and +surprised her in the very act. She gave herself no affected airs, but +when I requested it, not only concluded the song she was singing, but +sang many others, in which I was able to accompany her. The old Captain +has insisted upon my bringing my flute over, that I may accompany his +Juliet upon the piano. He could not have done me a greater kindness, and +I have no doubt that we shall get on delightfully together."</p> + +<p>"This is hardly right, Godfrey," said his father, "you promised Anthony +to start fair in attempting to win the good opinion of Miss Whitmore, +and now you are trying to throw him altogether into the back-ground."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear sir, that was all very well in theory, but I found myself +unable to reduce it to practice. I tell you, Anthony, that I am over +head and ears in love with Miss Whitmore, and if you wish to die a +natural death, you must not attempt to rival me with the lady."</p> + +<p>"And poor Mary—what will become of her?"</p> + +<p>Godfrey flashed an angry glance at his cousin.</p> + +<p>"How can you name that <i>peasant</i> in the same breath with Miss Whitmore?"</p> + +<p>"A few days ago, Godfrey, you preferred the simple graces of the country +girl to the refined lady."</p> + +<p>"My taste is improving, you see," said Godfrey, filling his glass to the +brim. "And here—in the sparkling juice of the grape, let all +remembrance of my boyish love be drowned."</p> + +<p>Anthony sighed, and sank into a fit of abstraction, while <a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>Colonel +Hurdlestone joined his son in a bumper to the health of the lady.</p> + +<p>In spite of Godfrey's avowal, Anthony could not bring himself to regard +Juliet Whitmore with indifference; nor did he consider it any breach of +honor endeavoring to make himself agreeable in her eyes. His attentions, +though less marked than his cousin's, were of a more delicate and tender +nature, appealing less to female vanity, and more directly to her heart +and understanding; and there were moments when the young lover fancied +that he was not an object of indifference. The more he saw of the +enthusiastic girl, with all her romantic propensities, the more strongly +he became attached to her. Her sins of authorship were undictated by +ambition or the mere love of fame; but were the joyous outpourings of an +artless mind delighted in having discovered a method of conveying her +thoughts to paper, and retaining in a tangible form those delightful +visions that so often engrossed her fancy.</p> + +<p>She laid no claim to the title of a <i>Blue</i>—she had not the most remote +idea of being considered a literary lady. She sang as the birds do in +the bushes, for the mere pleasure of singing, and she was perfectly +unconscious that others listened and admired her songs.</p> + +<p>Independent of her love of music and poetry, she had many valuable +mental and moral qualities. Not among the least of these was a deep +sympathy in the wants and sufferings of the poor, which she always +endeavored to alleviate to the utmost of her power. The selfish fear of +infection never deterred her from visiting the abodes of her poor +neighbors—administering to their comfort when sick, and not +unfrequently watching beside the pillow of the dying. In the performance +of these acts of charity, she was greatly encouraged and assisted by her +worthy father.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>When aunt Dorothy, in her cold egotism, raved about her niece +endangering her life, and the lives of those around her, by going to +infected houses, the Captain's general answer was—"Let the child alone, +Dorothy; a good angel watches over her—God will take care of his own."</p> + +<p>"So you said of her mother, Captain Whitmore, yet she lost her life by +obstinately persisting in what she was pleased to call <i>her duty</i>."</p> + +<p>"If the good ship sunk while endeavoring to save the drowning crew of +another," said the poor Captain, wiping the dew from his spectacles, +"she went down in a good cause, and a blessing has descended from above +upon her child."</p> + +<p>One day, when Anthony had been remonstrating with Juliet for incurring +so much danger while visiting the poor during a period of epidemic +sickness, she replied, with her usual frankness,</p> + +<p>"This from you, Mr. Anthony, who have devoted yourself to be an +instructor of the poor, a friend of the friendless, a minister of +Christ!—how can I better employ my time than in striving to alleviate +the sorrows that I cannot cure? To tell you the truth, I cannot yield +more to pleasure without spoiling my heart. It is not that I am averse +to innocent amusements, for no person enjoys them more. But were I +constantly to gratify my own selfish inclinations, I should soon lose my +peace of mind, that dew of the soul, which is so soon absorbed in the +heated atmosphere of the world."</p> + +<p>"If such devotion is what the worldly term enthusiasm, may its blessed +inspiration ever continue to influence your actions!"</p> + +<p>"Enthusiasm!" repeated the girl. "Oh that I could convey to you in words +what I feel to be the true definition of that much abused term. +Enthusiasm is the eternal <a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>struggling of our immortal against our mortal +nature, which expands the wings of the soul towards its native heaven. +Enthusiasm! Can anything great or good be achieved without it? Can a man +become a poet, painter, orator, patriot, warrior, or lover, without +enthusiasm? Can he become a Christian without it? In man's struggles to +obtain fame, enthusiasm is a virtue. In a holy cause it is termed +madness. Oh, thou divine Author of the human soul, evermore grant me the +inspiration of this immortal spirit!"</p> + +<p>They were standing together in the balcony. The beams of the summer moon +rested upon the upturned brow of the young enthusiast, and filled her +eyes with a holy fire, and the words of love that had trembled upon +Anthony's lips were dismissed from his thoughts as light and vain. She +looked too pure to address to her, at such a moment, the wild +outpourings of human passion.</p> + +<p>Godfrey's flute sounded beneath the balcony. He played one of Juliet's +favorite songs. She turned to her lover and said, with a lively air, "Is +not the musician an enthusiast—is not the language in which he breathes +his soul the poetry of sound?"</p> + +<p>"Then what is love?" and Anthony tried to detain the small, white hand +she had placed upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"I dare not attempt to analyse it;" and Juliet blushed deeply as she +spoke. "Beautiful when worshipped at a distance, it becomes too much the +necessity of our nature when brought too near. Oh, if it would never +bend its wings to earth, and ever speak in the language of music and +poetry, this world would be too dark for so heavenly a visitant, and we +should long for death to unclose the portals of the skies."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>"Still, dearest Juliet, much quiet happiness may be realized on earth."</p> + +<p>"But think of its duration—how short—what sorrows are crowded into the +shortest life! To love, and to lose the beloved—how dreadful! My +mother—my angel mother—at her death, my heart became a funeral urn, in +which all sad and holy memories were enshrined. Oh, 'tis a fearful thing +to love and lose! Better far to keep the heart fancy-free, than to find +it the grave of hope."</p> + +<p>"And will you never consent to love, Juliet?"</p> + +<p>"Can you teach me how to resist its power?" said Juliet, with +simplicity. "We love against our own will; we call reason to our aid, +and reason laughs at us. We strive to forget; but memory, like hope, +though it cheats us, will not in turn be cheated; one holds the keys of +the future, the other unlocks the treasures of the past. When we cease +to hope, memory may cease to recall what were once the offsprings of +hope. Both accompany us through life, and will, I believe, survive the +grave."</p> + +<p>"And will you allow me, Juliet, to entertain the blessed hope—?"</p> + +<p>At this moment the lovers were interrupted by the eternal old pest, as +Godfrey very unceremoniously called Miss Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Really, Miss Whitmore, I wonder at your standing out here, in the damp +night air, without your shawl and bonnet, and the dew falling so fast. I +wish you would learn a little more prudence; it would save me a great +deal of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Alas," whispered Juliet, as Anthony led her back into the drawing-room, +"how quickly the vulgarity of common-place banishes the beauty of the +ideal!"</p> + +<p>The intimacy of the two families now became a matter of daily +occurrence. Captain Whitmore who had always <a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>coveted a son of his own, +was delighted with the society of the handsome intelligent young men. +They were fine lads! very fine lads! He really did not know which to +prefer. Juliet's choice would decide his, for the old man soon +discovered that his daughter was the great attraction that drew the +young men to the Lodge. Perhaps, had he been questioned closely on the +subject, the old veteran would have acknowledged that he preferred +Godfrey. He possessed more life and spirit than his quiet cousin; had +more wit; was more lively and amusing. He loved hunting and fishing; +played well at chess and draughts; and sang a good song. His face was +always smiling and joyous; his brow never wore the cloud of care, the +pensive earnest expression of refined thought which was so apparent in +his cousin. Godfrey made the room glad with his gay hearty laugh. He was +the life and soul of the convivial board, and prince of good fellows. A +woman must be happy with such a handsome good-natured husband, and the +Captain hoped that his dear Julee would be the wife of his favorite.</p> + +<p>Hearts understood hearts better. Godfrey Hurdlestone was not the man who +could make Juliet Whitmore happy. There existed no sympathy between +them. The one was all soul, the other a mere animal in the fullest sense +of the word; living but for animal enjoyment, and unable to comprehend +the refined taste and exquisite sensibilities that belong to higher +natures. Yet he loved music, had a fine ear and a fine voice, and +exercised both with considerable skill. Here Juliet met him on equal +terms; they played and sang together, and whilst so employed, and only +drinking in sweet sounds, rendered doubly delicious when accompanied by +harmonious words, Juliet forgot the some<a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a>thing, she could not tell what, +that made her feel such a deep aversion to the handsome musician.</p> + +<p>"If my flute could but speak the language of my heart, how quickly, Miss +Whitmore, would it breathe into your ear the tender tale which the +musician wants courage to declare!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," returned Juliet quickly, "such notes would only produce discord. +Perfect harmony must exist before we can form a union of sweet sounds. +Similarity of mind can alone produce reciprocity of affection. Godfrey +Hurdlestone, there is no real sympathy between us—nature never formed +us for each other."</p> + +<p>"These are cruel words. I will not destroy hope by believing them true. +We both love music passionately; here is at least one sympathy in +common. To love you has become so essential to my happiness that I +cannot think that you can be wholly insensible to my passion."</p> + +<p>"You deceive yourself, Godfrey Hurdlestone. The moth is attracted to the +candle, but the union produces misery and death to the unfortunate +insect. Mere admiration is not love. The novelty wears off; the soul is +sated with the idol it worshipped, and its former homage sinks into +contempt. You seek the outward and palpable. I seek that which is unseen +and true. But let us go to my father, he is fishing, and the evening is +growing cold. If he stays out much longer in the damp meadow, he will be +raving with the rheumatism."</p> + +<p>"Your worthy father would not frown upon my suit."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But he would never urge me to encourage a suitor whom I +could not love. I am very young, Mr. Godfrey, too young to enter into +any serious engagements. I esteem you and your cousin, but if you +persist in talking to me in this strain, it will destroy our friendship. +If you <a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>really feel any regard for me, never wound my feelings by +speaking to me on this subject again."</p> + +<p>As Juliet ran forward to meet her father, she felt like a bird escaped +out of the snare of the fowler, while Godfrey, humbled and mortified, +muttered to himself, "The deuce take these very clever girls; they +lecture us like parsons, and talk like books."</p> + +<p>"Why, Julee, love, how you have painted your cheeks," cried the +delighted old man, catching her in his arms, and imprinting a very +audible kiss upon her white forehead. "What has Mr. Godfrey been saying +to you?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Juliet will not listen to anything that I can say to her," said +Godfrey gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" returned the old man. "A lover must look out for squalls; his +bark is seldom destined to sail upon a smooth sea. If she will not go +ahead against wind and tide, you must try her upon another tack."</p> + +<p>He turned to Juliet, and found her in tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem" ><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Would that the dewy turf were spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er this frail form and aching head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That this torn heart and tortured brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would never wake to grief again.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">When Anthony entered the study next morning, he found his cousin +traversing the floor in great agitation.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, you are just the person I wanted to see. My father is, I fear, +a ruined man."</p> + +<p>Anthony recoiled some steps.</p> + +<p>"It is but too true. I have been talking to Johnstone, the steward. The +account that he gives of our affairs is most discouraging. My father, it +seems, has been living beyond his income for some years. The estates +have all been heavily mortgaged to supply the wants of the passing hour, +while no provision has been made for the future by their improvident +possessor. Creditors are clamorous for their money, and there is no +money to answer their demands. Mr. Haydin, the principal mortgagee, +threatens to foreclose with my father, if the interest, which has been +due upon the mortgage for some years, is not instantly forthcoming. In +this desperate exigency I can only think of two expedients, both of +which depend entirely upon you."</p> + +<p>Anthony had never questioned the state of his uncle's affairs. He had +deemed him rich, and this distressing intelligence fell upon him with +stunning violence. He begged Godfrey to explain in what manner he could +render his uncle the least assistance.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>"It is not merely of my father I speak; the service is to us both, but +it needs some prefacing."</p> + +<p>Then stepping up to the astonished Anthony, he said in a quick abrupt +manner—</p> + +<p>"Do you love Miss Whitmore?"</p> + +<p>"You have taken me by surprise, Godfrey. It is a question which, at this +moment, I can scarcely answer."</p> + +<p>"If your feelings towards her are of such an indefinite character, it +will require no great mental effort to resign her. To me she is an +object of passionate regard. A marriage with Miss Whitmore would render +me the happiest of men, and retrieve the fallen fortunes of my house. +Nor do I think, if you were absent, that she would long remain +indifferent to my suit. But if you continue to persevere in trying to +win her affections you will drive me mad."</p> + +<p>Godfrey spoke with vehemence. Anthony remained silent, lost in profound +thought. Godfrey went up to him and grasped him firmly by the hand. +"Prove your love and gratitude to my father, Anthony, by an act of +friendship to his son."</p> + +<p>"God knows that I am painfully alive to the many obligations I owe to +him, Godfrey; but you require of me a sacrifice I am unable to grant."</p> + +<p>"Have you made an offer to Miss Whitmore? and has she accepted you?"</p> + +<p>"Neither the one nor the other. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"I spoke to her on the subject yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Anthony, turning very pale. "Did she reject your suit?"</p> + +<p>"She did not. She talked of her youth, and made some excuse to go to her +father. But she showed no indications of displeasure. From her manner, I +had all to hope, and little to fear. Few women, especially a young girl +of <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>seventeen, can be won without a little wooing. I have no doubt of +ultimately winning her regard."</p> + +<p>"Can you really be in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt my word? Do you think the <i>miser's heir</i> more likely to +win the affections of the romantic child of genius than the last scion +of a ruined man?"</p> + +<p>"How have I suffered myself to be cheated and betrayed by my own +vanity!" said Anthony, thoughtfully. "Alas, for poor human nature, if +this statement be true!"</p> + +<p>"You still question my words, Anthony! Upon my honor, what I have said +is strictly true; nor would it be honorable in you, after what I have +advanced, to press your suit upon the lady."</p> + +<p>"If you asked me to resign the wealth you prize so highly, Godfrey, I +could do it. Nay, even my life itself would be a far less sacrifice than +the idea of giving up the only woman I ever loved. Ask anything of me +but that, for I cannot do it!"</p> + +<p>"Then you will compel me to do this," said Godfrey, taking from his +breast a loaded pistol, and aiming it at his own head.</p> + +<p>"Madman!" cried Anthony, striking the weapon from his hand; "what would +you do?"</p> + +<p>"Prove your gratitude to me and mine," said Godfrey with a bitter laugh. +"Your father is rich, mine is poor, and has been made so by his +generosity to others!"</p> + +<p>That horrid taunt! ah, how it stung his proud sensitive cousin to the +heart! Startled and alarmed at Godfrey's demeanor, he was yet very +doubtful of the truth of his statements, feared that he was but acting a +part, until he saw the bright cheek of his companion turn pale, and the +tears tremble in his eyes. Then, all the kindness he had received from +his uncle, all the love he had cherished for <a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>him from his earliest +years, all the affection which he had lavished upon his hot-headed +cousin, united to subdue the flame of passion which for a few moments +had burnt so fiercely in his breast. He recalled the solemn promise he +had made to Algernon never to forsake his son, and, dreadful as the +sacrifice was, which Godfrey now called upon him to make, the struggle +was over, the victory over self already won.</p> + +<p>"You shall never say, cousin Godfrey, that Anthony Hurdlestone knowingly +destroyed your peace. I love Juliet Whitmore. I believe that she loves +me. But, for my uncle's sake, I renounce my claim."</p> + +<p>Joy brightened up the handsome face of Godfrey. He was not wholly +insensible to his cousin's generous self-denial. He embraced him with +warmth, and the idea that he had rendered Godfrey happy partly +reconciled the martyr of gratitude to the sacrifice he had made.</p> + +<p>"You spoke of two expedients which might avert the ruin which threatened +my uncle. Your marriage with Juliet Whitmore rests upon no broader basis +than a mere possibility. Name the second."</p> + +<p>"In case of the worst, to apply to your father for the loan of two +thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>Anthony shook his head, and, without thinking a reply to such a wild +proposition necessary, took up his hat, and tried to still the agitation +of his mind by a stroll in the park.</p> + +<p>Anthony tried to reason himself into the belief that, in giving up the +object of his affections, he had achieved a very great and good action; +but there was a painful void in his heart, which all his boasted +philosophy failed to fill.</p> + +<p>Unconsciously he took the path that led to the humble dwelling of Mary +Mathews. As he drew near the haw<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>thorn hedge that separated the little +garden from the road, his attention was arrested by some one weeping +passionately behind its almost impervious screen. He instantly +recognised Mary in the mourner; and from a conversation that followed, +he found that she was not alone.</p> + +<p>"I could bear your reproaches," she said to her companion, "if he loved +me—but he has ceased to think of me—to care for me—I never loved but +him—I gave him all that I had in my power to bestow—and he has left me +thus."</p> + +<p>"Did he ever promise you marriage?" asked the deep voice of William +Mathews.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! a thousand and a thousand times."</p> + +<p>"Then," and he uttered a dreadful oath, "he shall keep his word, or my +name is not William Mathews."</p> + +<p>"Ah! if he did but love me as he once loved me, I would not care. The +shame would be joy, the disgrace happiness. The world is nothing to +me—it may say what it likes—I would rather be his mistress than +another man's wife. But to be forsaken and trampled upon; to know that +another with half my beauty, and with none of my love, is preferred +before me; is more than my heart can bear."</p> + +<p>"Does my father know your situation?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I would not have him know it for worlds. I dare not tell him; +and you have promised me, William, not to reveal my secret. Though +father constantly transgresses himself, men are so unjust about women +that he would never forgive me. I would rather fling myself into that +pond," and she laughed hysterically, "than that he should know anything +about it. Sometimes I think, brother, that it would be the best place +for me to hide my shame."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>"Live, girl—live for revenge. Leave your gay paramour to me. I have +been the ruin of many a better man."</p> + +<p>"I would rather die," returned the girl, "than suffer any injury to +befall him. He is my husband in the sight of Heaven, and I will cling to +him to the last!"</p> + +<p>"You are a fool, Mary! Till this moment I always thought you a clever +girl, above such paltry weakness. When your name is coupled with infamy, +and you find yourself an object of contempt to the villain who has +betrayed you, I tell you that you will alter your opinion."</p> + +<p>"Alas! he despises me already," sighed the unhappy girl, "and it is that +which makes me feel so bad. When I think of it there comes over me just +such a scorching heat as used to sear up my brain in the bad fever. The +people said I was crazed, but I was not half so mad then as I am now."</p> + +<p>"Keep up your spirits, girl! I will compel him to make you his wife."</p> + +<p>"What good would that do? You could not make him love me. We should only +be more miserable than we are at present. I wish—oh! how I wish I were +dead!"</p> + +<p>Here the conversation between the brother and sister was abruptly +terminated by Godfrey's spaniel, which had followed Anthony through the +park, springing over the stile into the garden, and leaping into Mary's +lap. The poor girl was sitting on the bank beneath the shade of a large +elm tree. She bent her head down, and returned with interest the +affectionate caresses of the dog.</p> + +<p>"It is Mr. Hurdlestone's dog, William. Poor Fido, you love me still."</p> + +<p>"His master cannot be far off," growled Mathews, jumping over the stile, +and confronting Anthony.</p> + +<p>The cousins were only partially known to him, and their <a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>great personal +likeness made him mistake the one for the other.</p> + +<p>A little ashamed of being caught in the act of listening to a +conversation never meant for his ear, Anthony would have left the spot; +but the menacing audacious air of the smuggler aroused his pride, and he +turned upon him with a haughty and enquiring glance.</p> + +<p>"I would speak a few words with you, mister!"</p> + +<p>"As many as you please. But let me first inform you that I am not the +person whom you seek."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said the ruffian, with a sarcastic sneer, "that dodge won't do. +You might as well attempt to cheat the devil as deceive Bill Mathews. I +know you too well. You and I have a heavy account to settle, and you +shall know me better before we part. Take that—and that—and that—as +an earnest of our further acquaintance."</p> + +<p>And he struck Anthony several heavy blows with an oak cudgel he held in +his hand.</p> + +<p>Forced to retaliate in self-defence, Anthony closed with his gigantic +opponent, and several blows had been given and received on either side, +when the combatants were separated by a third person—this was no other +than Captain Whitmore who, with his daughter, accidentally rode up to +the spot.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone engaged in such a disgraceful fray! Can I +believe the evidence of my senses?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you would judge truly, Captain Whitmore," said Anthony, striving +to keep a calm exterior, but still trembling with passion, while the +most bitter and humiliating feelings agitated his breast.</p> + +<p>"I was striving to revenge the wrongs done to an injured sister by a +villain!" cried the enraged Mathews. "I appeal to you sir, as a man, a +father, a brave British officer, if you <a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>would suffer a sister or a +daughter to be trampled upon and betrayed without resenting the injury?"</p> + +<p>"I am incapable of the crime laid to my charge by this man," said +Anthony, indignantly, when he saw the father and daughter exchange +glances of astonishment and contempt. "Miss Whitmore, I entreat you not +to give the least credit to this ruffian's accusation. He has uttered a +base falsehood!"</p> + +<p>The only answer the tortured lover received was an indignant flash from +the hitherto dove-like eyes of Juliet Whitmore. She reined back her +horse, and turned her face proudly away from the imploring gaze of the +distracted Anthony.</p> + +<p>"I must—I will be heard!" he cried, seizing the reins of her horse, and +forcibly detaining her. "I see, Miss Whitmore, that this foul calumny is +believed by you and your father. I demand an explanation before you +leave this spot. William Mathews has accused me of being a villain—the +seducer of his sister: and I here tell him to his face that his +accusation is a hideous slander! Call hither your sister, Mr. +Mathews—let her determine the question: she knows that I am innocent. I +shrink not from the most rigid investigation of my conduct."</p> + +<p>"Do as he bids you, Mr. Mathews," said the Captain. "Call here your +sister. I consider myself bound in justice to listen to Mr. Anthony +Hurdlestone's proposal."</p> + +<p>Juliet's eyes involuntarily turned towards the garden gate; but her pale +cheek flushed to crimson as it unclosed, and the unfortunate umpire, +half led, half dragged forward by her brother, presented herself before +them. Even Anthony's presence of mind well nigh forsook him, as, with a +start, he recognised his cousin's unfortunate victim.</p> + +<p>A few weeks had wrought a fearful change in the bloom<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>ing and healthful +appearance of the poor girl. She looked like a young sapling tree, on +whose verdant head had fallen an incurable blight; an utter disregard of +the opinions of others, or what the world would say of her, was +manifested in her squalid appearance and total neglect of personal +neatness. The pride of the girl's heart had vanished with her +self-respect, and she stood before the strange group with a bold front +and unbending brow; yet her eye wandered vacantly from face to face, as +if perfectly unconscious of the real meaning of the scene.</p> + +<p>Anthony had appealed to Mary to vindicate his character from the foul +aspersion cast upon him; but when she came he was so shocked by her +appearance that he was unable to speak to her.</p> + +<p>"Mary," said her brother peremptorily, "is not this man your lover?"</p> + +<p>Mary gazed upon Anthony sullenly, but returned no answer.</p> + +<p>"Speak, Mary," said Anthony, addressing her with a degree of +compassionate tenderness. "Did you ever receive wrong or injury from me? +Did I ever address you as a lover, betray, or leave you to shame? Your +brother has accused me of all these crimes. Speak out, and tell the +truth."</p> + +<p>Instead of answering his question in direct terms, the girl, who for the +first time comprehended the degrading situation in which she was placed, +and subdued by the kindness of Anthony's look and manner, sprang towards +him, and, following the reckless disposition which had led to her ruin, +seized his hand and pressing it to her lips, exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Hurdlestone! This from you?"</p> + +<p>"It is enough," said Juliet, who had witnessed this ex<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>traordinary scene +with an intensity of interest too great to be described; and, turning +the head of her horse homewards, she rode off at full speed, murmuring +through her fast-flowing tears, "What need have I of further evidence? +Yes, he is guilty."</p> + +<p>"She is gone!" exclaimed Anthony, in an agony of despair. "She is gone, +and believes me to be a villain!"</p> + +<p>Whilst he stood rooted to the spot, Mathew approached, and whispered in +his ear, "Your mean subterfuge has not saved you. We shall meet again."</p> + +<p>"I care not how soon," returned Anthony, fiercely; "but why," continued +he, in a softer voice, "should I be angry with you? Man, you have +mistaken your quarry—a matter of little moment to you, but a matter of +life and death to me."</p> + +<p>"Death and hell!" exclaimed the ruffian, who at last began to suspect +his error. "If you are not Godfrey Hurdlestone, you must be his ghost!"</p> + +<p>"I am his cousin; I never wronged either you or yours; but you have done +me an injury which you can never repair."</p> + +<p>"Well, hang me if that is not a good joke!" cried the smuggler, bursting +into a coarse laugh, which quickened the steps of his retreating foe. +"The devil had some mischief in store when he made those chaps so much +alike. I would not wish my own brother to resemble me so closely as all +that, lest mayhap he should murder or steal, and the halter should fall +on my neck instead of his."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, human hearts are strangely cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time softens grief and pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like reeds that shiver in the blast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They bend to rise again.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">"Come, Miss Whitmore, you must rouse yourself from this unwomanly grief. +It is quite improper for a young lady of your rank and fortune to be +shedding tears for the immoral conduct of a worthless young profligate."</p> + +<p>"Peace, Dorothy; don't scold the poor child. You see her heart is nearly +broken. It will do her good to cry. Come, my own darling, come to your +old father's arms, and never mind what your aunt says to you."</p> + +<p>"Really, Captain Whitmore, if you mean to encourage your daughter's +disrespectful conduct to me, the sooner we part the better."</p> + +<p>"Dolly, Dolly, have you no feeling for the poor child? Do hold that +cruel tongue of yours. It never sounded so harsh and disagreeable to me +before. Look up, my Julee, and kiss your old father."</p> + +<p>And Juliet made an effort to raise her head from her father's bosom, and +look in his face. The big tears weighed down her eyelids, and she sank +back upon his shoulder, faintly murmuring, "And I thought him so good."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Dorothy, whose temper was not at all softened by her +brother's reproof; "you never would believe me. You would follow your +own headstrong fancy; and now you see the result of your folly. I often +wondered <a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a>to see you reading and flirting with that silent, down looking +young man, while his frank, good-natured cousin was treated with +contempt. I hope you will trust to my judgment another time."</p> + +<p>"Aunt, spare me these reproaches. If I have acted imprudently I am +severely punished."</p> + +<p>"I am sure the poor child was not worse deceived than I have been," said +the Captain; "but the lad's to be pitied; he comes of a bad breed. But +rouse up, my Julee—show yourself a girl of spirit. Go to your own room; +a little sleep will do you a world of good. To-morrow you will forget it +all."</p> + +<p>"That poor girl!" said Juliet, and a shudder ran through her frame. "How +can I forget her? Her pale face—her sunken eyes—her look of +unutterable woe. Oh, she haunts me continually; and I—I—may have been +the cause of all this misery. My head aches sadly. I will go to bed. I +long to be alone."</p> + +<p>She embraced her father, and bade him good night, and curtseying to aunt +Dorothy, for her heart was too sore to speak to her, she sought the +silence and solitude of her own chamber.</p> + +<p>Oh, what luxury it was to be alone—to know that no prying eyes looked +upon her grief; no harsh voice, with unfeeling common-place, tore open +the deep wounds of her aching heart, and made them bleed afresh!</p> + +<p>"Oh, that I could think him innocent!" she said. "Yet I cannot wholly +consider him guilty. He looked—oh, how sad and touching was that look! +It spoke of sorrow, but it revealed no trait of remorse; but then, would +Mary, by her strange conduct, have condemned a man whom she knew to be +innocent? Alas! it must be so, and 'tis a crime to love him."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>She sank upon her knees, and buried her face in the coverlid of the +bed, but no prayer rose to her lips—an utter prostration of soul was +there, but the shrine of her God was dark and voiceless; the waves of +human passion had flowed over it, and marred the purity of the +accustomed offering. Hour after hour still found her on her knees, yet +she could not form a single petition to the Divine Father. As Southey +has beautifully expressed the same feelings in the finest of all his +poems:</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div><p>"An agony of tears was all her soul could offer."</p></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Midnight came; the moon had climbed high in the heavens. The family had +retired for the night, and deep silence reigned through the house, when +Juliet rose from her knees, and approaching the open casement, looked +long and sadly into the serene, tranquil depths of the cloudless night.</p> + +<p>Who ever gazed upon the face of the divine mother in vain? The spirit of +peace brooded over the slumbering world—that holy calm which no passion +of man can disturb—which falls with the same profound stillness round +the turmoil of the battle-field, and the bed of death—which enfolds in +its silent embrace the eternity of the past—the wide ocean of the +present. How many streaming eyes had been raised to that cloudless +moon!—how many hands had been lifted up in heart-felt prayer to those +solemn star-gemmed heavens! What tales of bitter grief had been poured +out to the majesty of night! The eyes were quenched in the darkness of +the grave; the hands were dust; and the impassioned hearts that once +breathed those plaintive notes of woe, where, oh where were they? The +spirit that listened to the sorrows of their day had no revelation to +make of their fate!</p> + +<p><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>"And I, what am I, that I should repine and murmur against the decrees +of Providence?" sighed Juliet. "The sorrows that I now endure have been +felt by thousands who now feel no more. God, give me patience under +every trial. In humble faith teach me resignation to Thy divine will."</p> + +<p>With a sorrowful tranquillity of mind she turned from the window, struck +a light, and prepared to undress, when her attention was arrested by a +letter lying upon her dressing table. She instantly recognised the hand, +and hastily breaking the seal, read with no small emotion the following +lines</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say, dost thou think that I could be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">False to myself and false to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This broken heart and fever'd brain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May never wake to joy again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet conscious innocence has given<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hope that triumphs o'er despair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trust my righteous cause to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And brace my tortured soul to bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worst that can on earth befall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In losing thee—my life, my all!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dove of promise to my ark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pole-star to my wandering bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beautiful by love enshrined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And worshipp'd with such fond excess;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose being with my being twined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In one bright dream of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not death itself can rend apart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The link that binds thee to my heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spurn not the crush'd and wither'd flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There yet shall dawn a brighter hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ev'ry tear you shed o'er this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be repaid with tenfold bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope's bright arch shall span the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wraps us in its envious shroud.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then banish from thy breast for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cold, ungenerous thought of ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falsehood awhile our hearts may sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But injured worth must triumph still.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table><p><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></p> + +<p>Juliet did not for a moment doubt that Anthony Hurdlestone was the +author of these lines, and involuntarily she pressed the paper to her +lips. Realities are stern things, but Juliet could not now believe him +guilty: and with all the romance of her nature, she was willing to hope +against hope; and she retired to bed, comforted for her past sufferings, +and as much in love with Anthony as ever.</p> + +<p>While Juliet enjoyed a profound and tranquil sleep, her unfortunate +lover was a prey to the most agonising doubts and fears. "Surely, +surely, she cannot think me guilty," thought the devoted Anthony, as he +tossed from side to side upon his restless bed. "She is too generous to +condemn me without further evidence. Yet, why do I cling to a forlorn +hope? Stronger minds than hers would believe appearances which speak so +loudly against me. But why should I bear this brand of infamy? I will go +to her in the morning and expose the real criminal."</p> + +<p>This idea, entertained for a moment, was quickly abandoned. What, if he +did expose his cousin's guilt, might not Godfrey deny the facts, and +Mary, in order to shield her unprincipled lover, bear him out in his +denial; and then his ingratitude to the father would be more +conspicuously displayed in thus denouncing his son. No: for Algernon's +sake he would bear the deep wrong, and leave to Heaven the vindication +of his honor. He had made an appeal to her feelings; and youth, ever +sanguine, fondly hoped that it had not been made in vain.</p> + +<p>Another plan suggested itself to his disturbed mind. He would inform +Godfrey of the miserable situation in <a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>which he was placed, and trust to +his generosity to exonerate him from the false charge, which Mary, in +her waywardness or madness, had fixed upon him. Judging his cousin's +mind by his own, he felt that he was secure—that, however painful to +Godfrey's self-love, he would never suffer him to bear the reproach of a +crime committed by himself.</p> + +<p>Confident of success, he rose by the dawn of day, and sought his +cousin's apartment. After rapping several times at the door, his summons +was answered by Godfrey in a grumbling tone, between sleeping and +waking.</p> + +<p>"I must see you, Godfrey," cried Anthony, impatiently shaking the door. +"My errand brooks no delay."</p> + +<p>"What the deuce do you want at this early hour?" said Godfrey with a +heavy yawn. "Now do be quiet, Tony, and give a man time to pull his eyes +open."</p> + +<p>Again the door was violently shaken. Godfrey had fallen back into a deep +sleep, and Anthony, in his eagerness to gain an audience, made noise +enough to have roused the Seven Sleepers from their memorable nap. With +a desperate effort Godfrey at length sprang from his bed, and unlocked +the door, but, as the morning was chilly, he as quickly retreated to his +warm nest, and buried his head in the blankets.</p> + +<p>"Godfrey, do rouse yourself, and attend to me; I have something of great +consequence to communicate, the recital of which cannot fail to grieve +you, if you retain the least affection for me."</p> + +<p>"Could you not wait until after breakfast?" and Godfrey forced himself +into a sitting posture. "I was out late last night, and drank too much +wine. I feel confoundedly stupid, and the uproar that you have been +making for the last hour at the door has given me an awful headache. +<a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a>But what is the matter with you, Tony? You look like a spectre. Are you +ill? or have you, like me, been too long over your cups?"</p> + +<p>"You know I never drink, Godfrey, nor have I any bodily ailment; but in +truth my mind is ill at ease. I am sick at heart, and you, you, cousin, +are the cause of my present sufferings."</p> + +<p>"Ah! the old love story. You repent of giving up Juliet, and want me to +release you from your promise. I am not such a romantic fool! I never +give up an advantage once gained, and am as miserly of opportunities as +your father is of his cash. But speak out Anthony," he continued, seeing +his cousin turn pale, "I should like to hear what dreadful charge you +have to bring against me."</p> + +<p>"You shall hear, Godfrey, if I have strength and courage to tell you." +Anthony sat down on an easy chair by the side of the bed, and after a +long pause, in which he tried to compose his agitated feelings, he +informed his cousin of the conversation that he had overheard between +Mary and her brother, and what had subsequently happened. Godfrey +listened with intense interest until he came to that part of the +narrative where Mary, in her wandering mood, had confounded him with +Anthony; and there, at the very circumstance which had occasioned his +cousin such acute anguish, and when he expected from him the deepest +sympathy, how were his feelings shocked as, throwing himself back upon +his pillow, Godfrey burst into a loud fit of laughter, exclaiming in a +jocular and triumphant tone, "By Jove, Anthony, but you are an unlucky +dog!"</p> + +<p>This was too much for the excited state of mind under which Anthony had +been laboring for some hours, and with a stifled groan he fell across +the bed in a fit. Godfrey alarmed in his turn, checked his indecent +mirth, and dress<a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a>ing himself as quickly as he could, roused up his valet +to run for the surgeon. The fresh air and the loss of a little blood +soon restored the unfortunate young man to his senses and to a deep +consciousness of his cousin's ungentlemanly and base conduct.</p> + +<p>Instead of being sorry for this unfortunate mistake, Godfrey secretly +congratulated himself upon his singular good fortune, and laughed at the +strange accident that had miraculously transferred the shame of his own +guilt to his cousin.</p> + +<p>"This will destroy for ever what little influence he possessed with +Juliet, and will close the Captain's doors against him. If I do not +improve my present advantage, may I die a poor dependent upon the bounty +of a Hurdlestone!"</p> + +<p>Again he laughed, and strode onward to the Lodge, humming a gay tune, +and talking and whistling alternately to his dog.</p> + +<p>He found Miss Dorothy and her niece at work; the latter as pale as +marble, the tears still lingering in the long dark lashes that veiled +her sad and downcast eyes. The Captain was rocking to and fro in an easy +chair, smoking his pipe and glancing first towards his daughter, and +then at her starch prim-looking aunt, with no very complaisant +expression.</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Dorothy! if you continue to torment that poor child with your +eternal sermons, you will compel me to send you from the house."</p> + +<p>"A very fitting return for all my services," whimpered Miss Dorothy; +"for all the love and care I have bestowed upon you and your ungrateful +daughter! Send <i>me</i> from the house—turn <i>me</i> out of doors! <i>Me</i>, at my +time of life;" using that for argument's sake which, if addressed to her +by another, would have been refuted with indignation; "to <a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>send <i>me</i> +forth into the world, homeless and friendless, to seek my living among +strangers! Brother, brother, have you the heart to address this to me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I was wrong, Dolly," replied the kind-hearted sailor, +repenting of his sudden burst of passion; "but you do so provoke me by +your ill-humor, your eternal contradiction, and your old-maidish ways, +that it is impossible for a man always to keep his temper. It's a hard +thing for a fellow's wife to have the command of the ship, but it seems +deucedly unnatural for him to be ruled by a sister."</p> + +<p>"Is it not enough, brother, to make a virtuous woman angry, when she +hears the girl, whose morals she has fostered with such care, defending +a wicked profligate wretch like Anthony Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, aunt, I did not defend his conduct, supposing him guilty," +said Juliet, with quiet dignity; "for if that be really the case such +conduct is indefensible. I only hoped that we had been mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, girl! You are too credulous," said her father. "I have no doubt +of his guilt. But here is Mr. Godfrey; we may learn the truth from him."</p> + +<p>With an air of the deepest concern, Godfrey listened to the Captain's +indignant recital of the scene he had witnessed in the park, and with +his uncle Mark's duplicity (only Godfrey was a laughing villain, always +the most dangerous sinner of the two) he affected to commiserate the +folly and weakness of his cousin, in suffering himself to be entangled +by an artful girl.</p> + +<p>"He is a strange lad, a very strange lad, Captain Whitmore. I have known +him from a child, but I don't know what to make of him. His father is a +bad man, and it <a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>would be strange if he did not inherit some of his +propensities."</p> + +<p>"Weaknesses of this nature were not among his father's faults," said the +Captain. "I must confess that I liked the young man, and he had, I am +told, a very amiable and beautiful mother."</p> + +<p>"I have heard my father say so—but she was his first love, and love is +always blind. I should think very little of the moral worth of a woman +who would jilt such a man as my father, to marry a selfish miserly +wretch like Mark Hurdlestone for his money."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Mr. Hurdlestone," said Juliet. "Such a woman was +unworthy of your father. Poor Anthony, he has been very unfortunate in +his parents; yet I hoped of him better things."</p> + +<p>"You think, Mr. Godfrey, that there is no doubt of his guilt?" asked +Miss Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"The girl must know best," returned Godfrey, evading, whilst at the same +moment he confirmed the question. "He always admired her from a boy. We +have had many disputes, nay downright quarrels, about her beauty. She +was never a great favorite of mine. I admire gentle, not man-like +women."</p> + +<p>"He is a scoundrel!" cried the Captain, throwing down his pipe with a +sound that made his daughter start. "He shall never darken my doors +again, and so you may tell him, Mr. Godfrey, from me!"</p> + +<p>"This is a severe sentence, but he deserves it!" said Godfrey. "I fear +my father will one day repent that he ever fostered this viper in his +bosom. Yet, strange to say, he always preferred him to me. Report says +that there is a stronger tie between them, but this is a base slander +upon the generous nature of my father. He loved Anthony's <a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>mother better +than he did mine; and he loves her son better than he does me."</p> + +<p>"Poor lad," said the Captain, warmly grasping his hand, "You have been +unkindly treated among them; and you shall always find a friend and a +father in me."</p> + +<p>Godfrey was a little ashamed of his duplicity, and would gladly, if +possible, have recalled that disgraceful scene; but having so far +committed himself, he no longer regarded the consequences; but he +determined to bear it out with the most hardened effrontery.</p> + +<p>Whilst the victim of his diabolical art was writhing upon a sick bed +under the most acute mental and bodily pain, the author of his suffering +was enjoying the most flattering demonstrations of regard, which were +lavishly bestowed upon him by the inhabitants of the Lodge. But the +vengeance of Heaven never sleeps, and though the stratagems of wicked +men may for a time prove successful, the end generally proves the truth +of the apostle's awful denunciation: "<i>The wages of sin is death</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Art thou a father? did the generous tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of warm parental love e'er fill thy veins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid thee feel an interest in thy kind?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did the pulsation of that icy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quicken and vibrate to some gentle name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed in secret at its sacred shrine?—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">Short was the time allowed to Anthony Hurdlestone to brood over his +wrongs. His uncle's affairs had reached a crisis, and ruin stared him in +the face. Algernon Hurdlestone had ever been the most imprudent of men; +and under the fallacious hope of redeeming his fortune, he had, unknown +to his son and nephew, during his frequent trips to London, +irretrievably involved himself by gambling to a large extent. This false +step completed what his reckless profusion had already begun. He found +himself always on the losing side, but the indulgence of this fatal +propensity had become a passion, the excitement necessary to his +existence. The management of his estates had always been entrusted +entirely to a steward, who, as his master's fortunes declined, was +rapidly rising in wealth and consequence. Algernon never troubled +himself to enquire into the real state of his finances, whilst Johnstone +continued to furnish him with money to gratify all the whims and wants +of the passing moment.</p> + +<p>The embarrassed state of the property was unknown to his young +relatives, who deemed his treasures, like those <a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>of the celebrated +Abulcasem, inexhaustible. Godfrey, it is true, had latterly received +some hints from Johnstone how matters stood, but his mind was so wholly +occupied with his pursuit of Juliet Whitmore, and the unpleasant +predicament in which he was placed by his unfortunate connexion with +Mary Mathews, that he had banished the disagreeable subject from his +thoughts.</p> + +<p>The storm which had been long gathering at length burst. Algernon was +arrested, his property seized by the sheriff, himself removed to the +jail of the county town of ——. Thither Anthony followed him, anxious +to alleviate by his presence the deep dejection into which his Uncle had +fallen, and to offer that heartfelt sympathy so precious to the wounded +pride of the sufferer.</p> + +<p>The gay and joyous disposition of Algernon Hurdlestone yielded to the +pressure of misfortune. His mind bowed to the heavy stroke, and he gave +himself up to misery. His numerous creditors assailed him on all sides +with their harassing importunities; and in his dire distress he applied +to his rich brother, and, humbly for him, entreated a temporary loan of +two thousand pounds until his affairs could be adjusted, and the +property sold. This application, as might have been expected, was +insultingly rejected on the part of the miser.</p> + +<p>Rendered desperate by his situation, Algernon made a second attempt, and +pleaded the expense he had been at in bringing up and educating his son, +and demanded a moderate remuneration for the same. To this ill-judged +application, Mark Hurdlestone returned for answer, "That he had not +forced his son upon his protection; that Algernon had pleased himself in +adopting the boy; that he had warned him of the consequences when he +took that extraordinary step; and that he must now abide by the result; +<a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>that he, Algernon, had wasted his substance, like the prodigal of old, +in riotous living, but that he, Mark, knew better the value of money, +and how to take care of it."</p> + +<p>"Your father, Tony, is a mean pitiful scoundrel!" cried the heart-broken +Algernon, crushing the unfeeling letter in his hand, and flinging it +with violence from him. "But I deserved to be treated with contempt, +when I could so far forget myself as to make an application to him! +Thirty years ago, I should have deemed begging my bread from door to +door an act of less degradation. But, Tony, time changes us all. +Misfortune makes the proudest neck bow beneath the yoke. My spirit is +subdued, Tony, my heart crushed, my pride gone. I am not what I was, my +dear boy. It is too late to recall the past. But I can see too late the +errors of my conduct. I have acted cruelly and selfishly to poor +Godfrey, and squandered in folly the property his mother brought me, and +which should have made him rich. And you, my dear Anthony, this blow +will deprive you of a father, aye, and of one that loved you too. I +would rather share a kennel with my dogs, than become an inmate of the +home which now awaits you."</p> + +<p>"Home!" sighed the youth. "The wide world is my home, the suffering +children of humanity my lawful kinsmen."</p> + +<p>Seeing his uncle's lip quiver, he took his hand and affectionately +pressed it between his own, while the tears he could not repress fell +freely from his eyes. "Father of my heart! would that in this hour of +your adversity I could repay to you all your past kindness. But cheer +up, something may yet be done. My legitimate father has never seen me as +a man. I will go to him. I will plead with him on your behalf, until +nature asserts her rights, and the streams of hidden affection, so long +pent up in his <a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>iron heart, overflow and burst asunder these bars of +adamant. Uncle, I will go to him this very day, and may God grant me +success!"</p> + +<p>"It is in vain, Anthony. Avarice owns no heart, has no natural +affections. You may go, but it is only to mortify your pride, agonize +your feelings, and harden your kind nature against the whole world, +without producing any ultimate benefit to me."</p> + +<p>"It is a trial, uncle, but I will not spare myself. Duty demands the +attempt, and successful or unsuccessful, it shall be made."</p> + +<p>He strode towards the door. Algernon called him back. "Do not stay long, +Tony. I feel ill and low spirited. Godfrey surely does not know that I +am in this accursed place. Perhaps he is ashamed to visit me here. Poor +lad, poor lad! I have ruined his prospects in life by my extravagance, +but I never thought that it would come to this. If you see him on your +way, Anthony, tell him (here his voice faltered), tell him, that his +poor old father pines to see him, that his absence is worse than +imprisonment—than death itself. I have many faults, but I love him only +too well."</p> + +<p>This was more than Anthony could bear, and he sprang out of the room.</p> + +<p>With a heart overflowing with generous emotions, and deeply sympathising +in his uncle's misfortunes, he mounted a horse which he had borrowed of +a friend in the neighborhood, and took the road that led to his father's +mansion; that father who had abandoned him, while yet a tender boy, to +the care of another, and whom he had never met since the memorable hour +in which they parted.</p> + +<p>Oak Hall was situated about thirty miles from Norgood <a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a>Park, and it was +near sunset when Anthony caught the first glimpse of the picturesque +church of Ashton among the trees. With mingled feelings of pride, shame, +and bitterness he rode past the venerable mansion of his ancestors, and +alighted at the door of the sordid hovel that its miserable possessor +had chosen for a home.</p> + +<p>The cottage in many places had fallen into decay, and admitted through +countless crevices the wind and rain. A broken chair, a three-legged +stool, and the shattered remains of an oak table, deficient of one of +its supporters, but propped up with bricks, comprised the whole +furniture of the wretched apartment.</p> + +<p>The door was a-jar that led into an interior room that served for a +dormitory. Two old soiled mattresses, in which the straw had not been +changed for years, thrown carelessly upon the floor, were the sole +garniture of this execrable chamber. Anthony glanced around with +feelings of an uncontrollable disgust, and all his boyish antipathy to +the place returned. The lapse of nearly twenty years had not improved +the aspect of his old prison-house, and he was now more capable of +appreciating its revolting features. The harsh words, and still harsher +blows and curses, which he had been wont to receive from the miser and +his sordid associate, Grenard Pike, came up in his heart, and, in spite +of his better nature, steeled that heart against his ungracious parent.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Mark Hurdlestone, whose high stern features, once seen, +could never be forgotten, roused Anthony from his train of gloomy +recollections, and called back his thoughts to the unpleasant business +that brought him there.</p> + +<p>Mark did not at the first glance recognise his son in the <a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>tall +elegantly-dressed young man before him; and he growled out, "Who are +you, sir, and what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hurdlestone," said Anthony respectfully, "I am your son."</p> + +<p>The old man sat down in the chair. A dark cloud came over his brow, as +if he already suspected the nature of his son's mission, and he knitted +his straight bushy eyebrows so closely together that his small fiery +dark eyes gleamed like sparks from beneath the gloomy shade.</p> + +<p>"My son; yes, yes. I've heard say that 'tis a wise son that knows his +own father. It must be a very wise father who could instinctively know +his own son. Certainly, I should never have recognised mine in the gay +magpie before me. But sit down, young sir, and tell me what brought you +here. Money, I suppose; money, the everlasting want that the extravagant +sons of pleasure strive to extort from the provident, who lay up during +the harvest of life a provision for the winter of age. If such be your +errand, young man, your time is wasted here. Anthony Hurdlestone, I have +nothing to give."</p> + +<p>"Not even affection it would appear, to an only son."</p> + +<p>"I owe you none."</p> + +<p>"In what manner have I forfeited my natural claim upon your heart?"</p> + +<p>"By transferring the duty and affection which you owed to me to another. +Go to him who has pampered your appetites, clothed you with soft +raiment, and brought you up daintily to lead the idle life of a +gentleman. I disown all relationship with a useless butterfly."</p> + +<p>Anthony's cheek reddened with indignation. "It was not upon my own +account I sought you, sir. From my infancy I have been a neglected and +forsaken child, for <a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>whom you never showed the least parental regard. +Hard blows and harder words were the only marks of fatherly regard that +Anthony Hurdlestone ever received at your hands. To hear you curse me, +when, starving with cold and hunger, I have asked you for a morsel of +bread—to hear you wish me dead, and to see you watch me with hungry +eager eyes, as if in my wasted meagre countenance you wished to find a +prophetic answer—were sights and sounds of every-day occurrence. Could +such conduct as this beget love in your wretched child? Yet, God knows!" +exclaimed the young man, clasping his hands forcibly together, while +tears started to his eyes—"God knows how earnestly I have prayed to +love you, to forget and forgive these unnatural injuries, which have +cast the shadow of care over the bright morning of youth, and made the +world and all that it contains a wilderness of woe to my blighted heart."</p> + +<p>The old man regarded him with a sullen scowl; but whatever were his +feelings (and that he did feel the whole truth of the young man's +passionate appeal, the restless motion of his foot and hand sufficiently +indicated) he returned no answer; and Anthony emboldened by despair, and +finding a relief in giving utterance to the long pent-up feelings which +for years had corroded his breast, continued,</p> + +<p>"I rightly concluded that I should be considered by you, Mr. +Hurdlestone, an unwelcome visitor. Hateful to the sight of the injurer +is the person of the injured, and I stand before you a living reproach, +an awful witness both here and hereafter at the throne of God of what +you ought to have been, and what you have neglected to be—a father to +your motherless child. But let that pass. I am in the hands of One who +is the protector of the innocent, and in <a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>His righteous hands I leave my +cause. Your brother, sir, who has been a father to me, is in prison. His +heart, sorely pressed by his painful situation, droops to the grave. I +came to see if you, out of your abundance, are willing to save him, +Father, let your old grudge be forgotten. Let the child of your poor +lost Elinor be the means of reconciling you to each other. Cease to +remember him as a rival: behold him only in the light of a brother—of +that twin brother who shared your cradle—of a friend whom you have +deeply injured—a generous fellow-creature fallen, whom you have the +power to raise up and restore. Let not the kind protector of your son +end his days in a jail, when a small sum, which never could be missed +from your immense wealth, would enable him to end his days in peace."</p> + +<p>"A <i>small</i> sum!" responded the miser, with a bitter laugh. "Let me hear +what <i>you</i>, consider a <i>small</i> sum. Your uncle has the impudence to +demand of me the sum of <i>two thousand pounds</i>, which is <i>his idea</i> of a +<i>small sum</i>, which he considers a <i>trifling remuneration</i> for bringing +up and educating my son from the age of seven years to twenty. Anthony +Hurdlestone, go back to your employer, and tell him that I never +expended that sum in sixty years."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean to dismiss me, sir, with this cruel and insulting +message?"</p> + +<p>"From me, young man, you will obtain no other."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible that a creature, made in God's image, can possess such a +hard heart? Alas! sir, I have considered your avarice in the light of a +dire disease; as such I have pitied and excused it. The delusion is +over. You are but too sane, and I <i>feel</i> ashamed of my father!"</p> + +<p>The old man started and clenched his fist, his teeth <a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>grated together, +he glared upon his son with his fiery eyes, but remained obstinately +silent.</p> + +<p>Regardless of his anger, the young man continued—"It is a hard thing +for a son to be compelled to plead with his father in a cause like this. +Is there no world beyond the grave? Does no fear of the future compel +you to act justly? or are your thoughts so wholly engrossed with the +dust on which you have placed all your earthly affections, that you will +not, for the love of God, bestow a small portion of that wealth which +you want the heart to enjoy, to save a brother from destruction? Oh! +listen to me, father—listen to me, that I may love and bless you." He +flung himself passionately at the old man's feet. "Give now, that you +may possess treasures hereafter, that you may meet a reconciled brother +and wife in the realms of bliss!"</p> + +<p>"Fool!" exclaimed the miser, spurning him from his feet. "In heaven they +are neither married nor are given in marriage. Your mother and I will +never meet, and God forbid we should!"</p> + +<p>Anthony shuddered. He felt that such a meeting was impossible; and he +started from the degrading posture he had assumed, and stood before the +old man with a brow as stern and a glance as fierce as his own.</p> + +<p>"And now, Anthony Hurdlestone, let me speak a few words to you, and mark +them well. Is it for a boy like you to prescribe rules for his father's +conduct? Away from my presence! I will not be insulted in my own house +by a beardless boy, and assailed by such impertinent importunities. +Reflect, young man, on your present undutiful conduct, and, if ever you +provoke me by a repetition of it, I will strike your name out of my +will, and leave my property to strangers more deserving of it. I hear +that you <a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>have been studying for the Church, under the idea that I will +provide for you in that profession; I could do it. I would have done it, +and made good a promise I once gave you to that effect. But this meeting +has determined me to pursue another plan, and leave you to provide for +yourself."</p> + +<p>"You are welcome so to do, Mr. Hurdlestone," said Anthony, proudly; "the +education which I have received at your brother's expense will place me +above want. Farewell! and may God judge between us!"</p> + +<p>With a heavy heart, Anthony returned to ——. He saw a crowd collected +round the jail, and forcing his way to the entrance, was met by Godfrey; +his face was deadly pale, and his lips quivered as he addressed his +cousin.</p> + +<p>"You are too late, Anthony—'tis all over. My poor father—."</p> + +<p>He turned away, for his heart, at that time, was not wholly dead to the +feelings common to our nature. He could not conclude the sentence. +Anthony instantly comprehended his meaning, and rushed past him into the +room which had been appropriated to his uncle's use.</p> + +<p>And there, stretched upon that mean bed, never to rise up, or whistle to +hawk or hound, lay the generous, reckless Algernon Hurdlestone. His face +wore a placid smile; his grey hair hung in solemn masses round his open, +candid brow; and he looked as if he had bidden the cares and sorrows of +time a long good-night, and had fallen into a deep, tranquil sleep.</p> + +<p>A tall man stood beside the bed, gazing sadly and earnestly upon the +face of the deceased. Anthony did not heed him—the arrow was in his +heart. The sight of his dead uncle—his best, his dearest, his only +friend—had blinded him to all else upon earth. With a cry of deep and +heart-uttered sorrow, he flung himself upon the breast of the <a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>dead, and +wept with all the passionate, uncontrollable anguish which a final +separation from the beloved wrings from a devoted woman's heart.</p> + +<p>"Poor lad! how dearly he loved him!" remarked a voice near him, +addressing the person who had occupied the room when Anthony first +entered. It was Mr. Grant, the rector of the parish, who spoke.</p> + +<p>"I hope this sudden bereavement will serve him as a warning to amend his +own evil ways," returned his companion, who happened to be no other than +Captain Whitmore, as he left the apartment.</p> + +<p>The voice roused Anthony from his trance of grief, and stung by the +unmerited reproach, which he felt was misplaced, even if deserved, in an +hour like that, he raised his dark eyes, flashing through the tears that +blinded them, to demand of the Captain an explanation. But the +self-elected monitor was gone; and the unhappy youth again bowed his +head, and wept upon the bosom of the dead.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, be comforted," said the kind clergyman, taking his young +friend's hand. "Your poor uncle has been taken in mercy from the evil to +come. You know his frank, generous nature—you know his extravagant +habits and self-indulgence. How could such a man struggle with the +sorrows and cares of poverty, or encounter the cold glances of those +whom he was wont to entertain? Think, think a moment, and restrain this +passionate grief. Would it be wise, or kind, or Christian-like, to wish +him back?"</p> + +<p>Anthony remembered his interview with his father—the wreck of the last +hope to which his uncle had clung; and he felt that Mr. Grant was right.</p> + +<p>"All is for the best. My loss is his gain—but such a loss—such a +dreadful loss!—I know not how to bear it with becoming fortitude!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a>"I will not attempt to insult your grief by offering common-place +condolence. These are but words, of course. Nature says, weep—weep +freely, my dear young friend; but do not regret his departure."</p> + +<p>"How did he die?—dear kind uncle! Was he at all prepared for such a +sudden unexpected event?"</p> + +<p>"The agitating occurrences of the last week had induced a tendency of +blood to the head, which ended in apoplexy. From the moment of seizure +he was insensible to all outward objects; he did not even recognise his +son, in whose arms he breathed his last. Of his mental state, it is +impossible for us to determine. He had faults, but they were more the +result of unhappy circumstances than of any peculiar tendency to evil in +his nature. He was kind, benevolent, and merciful: a good neighbor, and +a warm and faithful friend. Let us hope that he has found forgiveness +through the merits of his Redeemer, and is at rest."</p> + +<p>Anthony kissed his uncle's cold cheek, and said, "God bless him!" with +great fervor.</p> + +<p>"And now, my young friend, tell me candidly, in what way you have +offended Captain Whitmore—a man both wealthy and powerful, and who has +proved himself such a disinterested friend to your uncle and cousin; and +who might, if he pleased, be of infinite service, to you? Can you +explain to me the meaning of his parting words?"</p> + +<p>"Not here—not here," said Anthony, greatly agitated. "By the dead body +of the father, how can a creature so long dependent upon his bounty +denounce his only son? Captain Whitmore labors under a strong +delusion—he has believed a lie; and poor and friendless as I am, I am +too proud to convince him of his error."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong, Anthony. No one should suffer an <a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>undeserved stigma to +rest upon his character. But I will say no more upon a painful subject. +What are you going to do with yourself? Where will you find a home +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Here with the dead. Whilst he remains upon earth I have no other home. +I know Mr. Winthrop the jailer—he is a kind benevolent man; he will not +deny me an asylum for a few days."</p> + +<p>"My house is close at hand; remain with me until the funeral is over."</p> + +<p>"There will be no delay, I hope. They will not attempt to seize the +body."</p> + +<p>"Captain Whitmore has generously provided for that. He paid the creditor +on whose suit your uncle was detained, this morning; but the Colonel was +too ill to be moved."</p> + +<p>"That was noble—generous. God bless him for that! And Godfrey—what is +to become of him?"</p> + +<p>"The Captain has insisted on his living at the Lodge until his affairs +are settled. Your cousin bore the death of his father with uncommon +fortitude. It must have been a terrible shock!"</p> + +<p>"That is a sad misapplication of the word. A want of natural affection +and sensibility, the world calls fortitude. Godfrey had too little +respect for his father while living, to mourn very deeply for his +death."</p> + +<p>"Alas! my young friend; what he is, in a great measure, his father made +him. I have known Godfrey from the petted selfish child to the +self-willed, extravagant, dissipated young man; and though I augur very +little good from what I do know of his character, much that is +prominently evil might have been restrained by proper management, and +the amiable qualities which now lie dormant been <a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>cherished and +cultivated until they became virtues. The loss of fortune, if it leads +him to apply the talents which he does possess to useful purposes, may, +in the end, prove a great gain."</p> + +<p>Anthony shook his head. "Godfrey will never work."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear sir, he must starve."</p> + +<p>"He will do neither."</p> + +<p>And the conversation between the friends terminated.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world has done its worst, you need not heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its praise or censure now.—Your name is held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deep abhorrence by the good: the bad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make it a sad example for fresh guilt.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">We will leave Anthony Hurdlestone to weep and watch beside the newly +dead, and conduct our readers into the cottage occupied by Farmer +Mathews and his family.</p> + +<p>Returning the night before from market, very much the worse from liquor, +the farmer had fallen from his horse, and received a very severe +concussion of the brain. William, surprised at his long absence, left +the house at daybreak in search of his father, and found him lying, +apparently dead, within sight of his own door.</p> + +<p>With Mary's assistance, he carried him into the house. Medical aid was +called in, and all had been done that man could do to alleviate the +sufferings of the injured farmer, but with little effect. The man had +received a mortal blow, and the doctor, when he left that evening, had +pronounced the fatal sentence that his case was hopeless; that, in all +probability, he would expire before the morning.</p> + +<p>As the night drew on, the elder Mathews became quite unconscious of +surrounding objects, and but for the quick hard breathing, you would +have imagined him already dead.</p> + +<p>The door of the cottage was open, to admit the fresh air; and in the +door way, revealed by the solitary candle <a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>which burnt upon the little +table by the bed-side, stood the tall athletic figure of William +Mathews. His sister was sitting in a low chair by the bed's head, her +eyes fixed with a vacant stare upon the heavy features of the dying man.</p> + +<p>"William," she said, in a quick deep voice, "where are you? Do come and +watch with me. I do not like to be alone."</p> + +<p>"You are not alone," returned the ruffian sullenly; "I am here; and some +one else is here whom you cannot see."</p> + +<p>"Whom do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"The devil, to be sure," responded her brother. "He is always near us; +but never more near than in the hour of death and the day of judgment."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord, deliver us!" said the girl, repeating unconsciously aloud +part of the liturgy of the Church to which nominally she belonged.</p> + +<p>"All in good time," responded the human fiend. "Has father shown any +sign of returning sense since the morning?"</p> + +<p>"No, he has remained just in the same state. William, will he die?"</p> + +<p>"You may be sure of that, Mary. Living men never look as he does now."</p> + +<p>"It is a terrible sight," said his sister. "I always did hope that I +should die before father; but since I got into this trouble I have +wished that he might never live to know it. That was sin, William. See +how my wicked thoughts have become prophecy. Yet I am so glad that he +never found out my crime, that it makes the tears dry in my eyes to see +him thus."</p> + +<p>"You make too much fuss about your condition, girl! <a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>What is done cannot +be undone. All you can now do is to turn it to the best possible +account."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, William?"</p> + +<p>"Make money by it."</p> + +<p>"Alas," said the girl, "what was given away freely cannot be redeemed +with gold. Had I the wealth of the whole world, I would gladly give it +to regain my lost peace of mind. Oh, for one night of calm fresh sleep, +such as I used to enjoy after a hard day's work in the field. What would +I not give for such a night's rest? Rest! I never rest now. I work and +toil all day; I go to bed—heart-weary and head-weary—but sleep never +comes as it used to come. After long hours of tossing from side to side, +just about the dawn of day, a heavy stupor comes over me, full of +frightful sights and sounds, so frightful that I start and awake, and +pray not to sleep again."</p> + +<p>"And what has made such a change—that one act?" said the ruffian. +"Pshaw! girl. God will never damn your soul for the like of that. It was +foolish and imprudent; but I don't call <i>that</i> sin."</p> + +<p>"Then what is sin?" said the girl solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Why, murder, and theft, and—"</p> + +<p>"And what?"</p> + +<p>"Hang me! if I wish to go deeper into the matter. But if that is sin, +which you make such a to-do about, then the whole world are sinners."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that you are not a sinner, William?"</p> + +<p>"I never thought a word about it," said the man. "I am not a whit worse +than others; but I am poorer, and that makes my faults more conspicuous. +There is Godfrey Hurdlestone, every whit as bad as I am, yet were we to +be tried by the same jury, the men that would hang me would acquit him. +But his day is over," he continued, talking to <a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a>himself. "He is now as +poor as me; and if the rich heiress does not marry him, will be much +worse off."</p> + +<p>"Marry!" cried Mary, springing from her seat, and grasping her brother's +arm. "Who talks of Godfrey Hurdlestone marrying?"</p> + +<p>"I talk of it—every one talks of it—he boasts of it himself. I was +told last night by Captain Whitmore's serving-man, that his master had +given his consent to the match, and that the young lady was coming +round, and that Mr. Godfrey was every day at the house. Perhaps the +Colonel being cooped up in jail may spoil the young man's wooing."</p> + +<p>"In jail! Colonel Hurdlestone in jail! Can that be true?"</p> + +<p>"Fact."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Godfrey? What will become of Mr. Godfrey?"</p> + +<p>"He will become one of us, and have to take care of himself. And if he +does marry Miss Whitmore, he will have enough to take care of you."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I would share his affections with another woman?" +cried the girl, her pale cheeks flushing to crimson. "Brother, I am not +sunk so low as that—not quite so low."</p> + +<p>"You are sunk quite low enough for anything, Mary. You may be as bad as +you like now, the world will think no worse of you than it does at +present. You have made a bad bargain, and you must stand by it. If you +cannot be the man's wife, you must rest content with being his mistress; +married or single you will always be Godfrey Hurdlestone's better half. +Miss Whitmore is not to compare to you, in spite of her pretty waxen +face, and she is not the woman to please such a wild fellow as him. He +<a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>will grow tired of her before the honeymoon is over, and you will have +it all your own way."</p> + +<p>"Juliet Whitmore shall never be his wife, nor any other woman, while I +live. But, William, if he is as poor as you say he is, what use will it +be to you my continuing to live with him in sin? He cannot give me money +if he has none for himself."</p> + +<p>"Hush," said the ruffian, drawing nearer, and glancing quickly round, to +be certain that they were alone. "Did you never hear of the rich miser, +Mark Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Anthony's father?"</p> + +<p>"The same. And do you not know that, were Anthony out of the way, +removed by death or any other cause, Godfrey Hurdlestone would be his +heir?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what of that? Anthony is alive and well, and may outlive us all."</p> + +<p>"Strong men often die very suddenly. There is an ill-luck hangs about +this same Mr. Anthony. I prophesy that his life will be a short one. +Hark! Was that a groan? Father is coming to himself."</p> + +<p>He took the candle and went up to the bed. The sick man still breathed, +but remained in the same stupor as before. "This cannot last long," said +his son, stooping over the corpse-like figure. "Father was a strong man +for his age, but 'tis all up with him now. I wish he could speak to us, +and tell us where he is going; but I'm thinking that we shall never hear +the sound of his voice again. The bell will toll for him before sunrise +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>He had scarcely finished speaking when the slow, deep boom of the +death-bell awoke the sluggish stillness of the heavy night. The brother +and sister started, and Mary gave a loud scream.</p> + +<p>"Who's dead?" said Mathews, stepping to the open door <a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>"some of the +quality, or that bell would not speak out at this late hour of night. +Ha! Mr. Godfrey Hurdlestone. Is that you?"</p> + +<p>"What's wrong here?" cried Godfrey, glancing rapidly round the cottage. +"Mathews, have you heard the news? My poor father's dead."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" exclaimed both his companions in a breath. "Colonel Hurdlestone +dead! When did he die?"</p> + +<p>"This evening, at sunset. 'Tis a bad piece of business, Mathews. He died +insolvent, and I am left without a penny."</p> + +<p>"Alas, what will become of us all!" shrieked Mary, flinging herself +frantically upon the bed. "William, he has ceased to breathe. Our father +too is dead!"</p> + +<p>The grief of the lower orders is generally loud and violent. +Unaccustomed to restrain their feelings, Nature lifts up her voice, and +tells, in tones which cannot be misunderstood, the blow which has left +her desolate. And so Mary Mathews poured forth the anguish of her soul +over the parent that, but a few days before, she had wished dead, to +conceal from him her guilt. Yet now that he was gone—that the strong +tie was broken, and her conscience reproached her for having cherished +for a moment the unnatural thought—she wept as if her heart had never +known a deeper sorrow. Her brother and lover strove in vain to comfort +her. She neither saw nor heeded them, but in a stern voice bade them +depart and leave her alone.</p> + +<p>"The wilful creature! Let her have her own way, Mr. Godfrey. Grief like +that, like the down-pouring of a thunder-shower, soon storms itself to +rest. She will be better soon. Leave her to take care of the dead, while +you and I step into the kitchen and consult together about the living."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>Godfrey, who had suffered much that day from mental excitement, felt +doubly depressed by the scene he had just witnessed, and gladly obeyed.</p> + +<p>Mathews lighted a fresh candle, and led the way into the kitchen. The +fire that had been used to prepare the evening meal was nearly out; +Mathews raked the ashes together and threw a fresh billet into the +grate; then reaching from a small cupboard a bottle and a glass, he drew +a small table between them, and stretching his legs towards the cheering +blaze he handed a glass of brandy to his companion.</p> + +<p>"Hang it, man! don't look so down in the mouth. This is the best friend +in time of need. This is my way of driving out the blue devils that +pinch and freeze my heart."</p> + +<p>Godfrey eagerly seized the proffered glass and drained it at a draught.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what I call hearty!" continued the ruffian, following his +example. "There's nothing like that for killing care. I don't wonder at +your being low. I feel queer myself—devilish queer. It is a strange +thing to lose a father. A something is gone—a string is loosened from +the heart, which we feel can never be tied again. I wonder whether the +souls gone from among us to-night are lost or saved—or if there be a +heaven or hell?"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" said Godfrey, lighting his pipe, "do you believe such idle +fables?"</p> + +<p>"Why, do you see, Master Godfrey, I would fain think them false for my +own sake—mere old women's tales. But terrible thoughts will come into +my mind; and though I seldom think of heaven, I often hear a voice from +the shut up depths of my heart—a voice that I cannot stifle. Do not +smile," said the man gloomily, "I am in no mood to be <a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>laughed at. Bad +as I am, confound me if you are not ten times worse."</p> + +<p>"If you are so afraid of going to hell," said Godfrey, sarcastically, +"why do you not amend your life? I, for my part, am troubled with no +such qualms of conscience."</p> + +<p>"If you had seen blood as often upon your hand as I have upon mine, you +would tell a different story. Kill a man, and then see if what we hear +of ghosts and spirits are mere fables. I tell thee, Godfrey Hurdlestone, +they never die, but live and walk abroad, and haunt you continually. The +voice they speak with will be heard. In solitary places—in the midst of +crowds—at fairs and merry-makings—in the noon of day, and at the dead +of night, I have heard their mocking tones." He leaned his elbows upon +his knees, and supported his chin between the palms of his hands, and +continued to stare upon Godfrey with vacant bloodshot eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't take me for a ghost," said Godfrey, the same sarcastic smile +passing over his handsome face. "What does it matter to us where our +fathers are gone? If there is a place of future rewards or punishments, +depend upon it we shall only have to answer for our own sins; and as you +and I have, at present, but a small chance of getting to heaven, we may +as well make the most of our time on earth."</p> + +<p>"Confound that death-bell," said the smuggler, "it has a living voice +to-night. I never hear it but it reminds me of Newgate, and I fancy that +I shall hear it toll for my own death before I die."</p> + +<p>"A very probable consummation, though certainly not a very pleasant +one," said Godfrey ironically. "But away with such melancholy presages. +Take another sup of the <a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>brandy, Mathews, and tell me what you are going +to do for a living. The lease of your farm expires in a few days. Mr. +---- has taken possession of the estates, and means, Johnstone tells me, +to put in another tenant. What will become of you and Mary in the +meanwhile?"</p> + +<p>"I have not thought about it yet. At any rate, I can always live by the +old trade, and fall upon my feet. At all events, we must leave this +place. It is little that father has saved. The neighbors think him rich, +but a drunkard never dies rich; and you know, Mr. Godfrey, that the +weight of a pig is never known until after it is dead. There will not be +much more than will bury him. There are the crops in the ground, to be +sure, and the cattle, and a few sticks of furniture; but debts of honor +must be paid, and I have been very unlucky of late. By the by, Master +Godfrey, what does your cousin mean to do with himself?"</p> + +<p>"He must go home to his miserly dad, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Humph! I think that I will go to Ashton and settle in that neighborhood +myself; I like to be near old friends."</p> + +<p>"What can induce <i>you</i>, Mathews, to go there?"</p> + +<p>"I have my reasons. Strong reasons too, in which I am sure <i>you</i> will +heartily concur." He looked into his companion's eyes, with an +expression so peculiar, that Godfrey started as if some new light had +suddenly flashed upon his soul, while Mathews continued in a lower +voice, "Suppose, now that we could get up a regular quarrel between old +Ironsides and his son; who would then be the miser's heir?"</p> + +<p>Godfrey took the hand of the smuggler and pressed it hard.</p> + +<p>"Can you form no better scheme than that?"</p> + +<p>"I understand you, Mr. Godfrey. You are a perfect <a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>genius in wickedness. +The devil never found a fitter agent for doing his business on a grand +scale. Yes, yes, I understand you."</p> + +<p>"Would it be possible?"</p> + +<p>"All things are possible to those who have the courage to perform. If I +could remove this obstacle out of your way, what would be my reward?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Your conscience! Do you think that I would risk my neck for such a +paltry bribe?"</p> + +<p>"You have done it often for the hundredth part."</p> + +<p>"That's neither here nor there. If I have played the fool a dozen times, +that's no reason that I am to do so again. Go shares, and promise to +make an honest woman of Mary, and you shall not be long out of +possession."</p> + +<p>"The sacrifice is too great," said Godfrey, musing. "Let us say no more +about it at present."</p> + +<p>"You will think about it?"</p> + +<p>"Thoughts are free."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. Evil thoughts lead to evil deeds, as surely as fruit +follows flowers upon the tree. Try to lay that babe of the brain to +rest, and see if it will not waken to plague you yet."</p> + +<p>"It was one of your own begetting—you should know best how to quiet the +imp."</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone for that. The day is breaking; we must part. We have +both melancholy duties to perform."</p> + +<p>"I wish the funeral was over," said Godfrey, "I hate being forced to act +a conspicuous part in so grave a farce."</p> + +<p>"Your cousin will help you out. He is the real mourner; you, the actor. +Remember what I hinted to you, and let me know your opinion in a few +days."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>"The risk is too great," said Godfrey, shrugging his shoulders. "When I +am reduced to my last shift, it will be time enough to talk of that."</p> + +<p>The grey misty dawn was just struggling into day, when Godfrey left the +cottage. Mathews looked after him, as, opening a side gate that led to a +foot-path that intersected the park, he vanished from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Well, there goes the greatest scoundrel that ever was unhung," he +muttered to himself. "He has never shed blood, nor done what I have +done, but hang me if I would exchange characters with him, bad as I may +be. He thinks to make a fool of me; but if I do not make him repay a +thousand fold the injuries he has heaped on me and mine, may we swing on +the same gallows."</p> + +<p>In no very enviable mood, Godfrey pursued his way though the lonely +park. The birds had not yet sung their matin hymn to awaken the earth. +Deep silence rested upon the august face of nature. Not a breath of air +stirred the branches, heavy with dew-drops. The hour was full of beauty +and mystery. An awe fell insensibly upon the heart, as if it saw the eye +of God visibly watching over the sleeping world. Its holy influence was +felt even by the selfish heartless Godfrey.</p> + +<p>The deep silence—the strange stillness—the uncertain light—the scenes +he had lately witnessed—his altered fortunes—his degrading +pursuits—the fallen and depraved state of his mind, crowded into his +thoughts, and filled his bosom with keen remorse and painful regrets.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that I could repent!" he cried, stopping, and clasping his hands +together, and fixing his eyes mournfully upon the earth,—"that I could +believe that there was a God—a heaven—a hell! Yet if there be no +hereafter, why this stifling sense of guilt—this ever-haunting +miserable <a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>consciousness of unworthiness? Am I worse than other men, or +are all men alike—the circumstances in which they are placed producing +that which we denominate good or evil in their characters? What if I +determine to renounce the evil, and cling to the good; would it yet be +well with me? Would Juliet, like a good angel, consent to be my guide, +and lead me gently back to the forsaken paths of rectitude and peace?"</p> + +<p>While the voice in his heart yet spake to him for good, another voice +sounded in his ears, and all his virtuous resolutions melted into air.</p> + +<p>"Godfrey," said the voice of Mary Mathews, "dear Mr. Godfrey, have I +become so indifferent to you, that you will neither look at me nor speak +to me?"</p> + +<p>She was the last person in the world who at that moment he wished to +see. The sight of her recalled him to a sense of his degradation, and +all that he had lost by his unhappy connexion with her, and he secretly +wished that she had died instead of her father.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he said, coldly, "what do you want with me? The morning is damp +and raw; you had better go home."</p> + +<p>"What do I want with you?" reiterated the girl. "And is it come to that? +Can you, who have so often sworn to me that you loved me better than +anything in heaven or on earth, now ask me, in my misery, what I want +with you?"</p> + +<p>"Hot-headed rash young men will swear, and foolish girls will believe +them," said Godfrey, putting his arm carelessly round her waist, and +drawing her towards him. "So it has been since the world began, and so +it will be until the end of time."</p> + +<p>"Was all you told me, then, false?" said Mary, leaning <a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>her head back +upon his shoulder, and fixing her large beautiful tearful eyes upon his +face.</p> + +<p>That look of unutterable fondness banished all Godfrey's good +resolutions. He kissed the tears from her eyes, as he replied,</p> + +<p>"Not exactly, Mary. But you expect too much."</p> + +<p>"I only ask you not to cease to love me—not to leave me, Godfrey, for +another."</p> + +<p>"Who put such nonsense into your head?"</p> + +<p>"William told me that you were going to marry Miss Whitmore."</p> + +<p>"If such were the case, do you think I should be such a fool as to tell +William?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! I am afraid that it is only too true." And Mary burst into tears +afresh. "You do not love me as you did, Godfrey, when we first met and +loved. You used to sit by my side for hours, looking into my face, and +holding my hand in yours; and we were happy—too happy to speak. We +lived but in each other's eyes; and I hoped—fondly hoped—that that +blessed dream would last for ever. I did not care for the anger of +father or brother—woe is me! I never had a mother. One kiss from those +dear lips—one kind word breathed from that dear mouth—sunk from my ear +into my heart, and I gloried in what I ought to have considered my +shame. Oh, why are you changed, Godfrey? Why should my love remain like +a covered fire, consuming my heart to ashes, and making me a prey to +tormenting doubts and fears, while you are unmoved by my anguish, and +contented in my absence?"</p> + +<p>"You attribute that to indifference, which is but the effect of +circumstances," returned Godfrey, somewhat embarrassed by her +importunities. "Perhaps, Mary, you are <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>not aware that the death of my +father has left me a poor and ruined man?"</p> + +<p>"What difference can that possibly make in our love for each other?" And +Mary's eyes brightened through a cloud of tears. "I rejoice in your loss +of fortune, for it has made us equals."</p> + +<p>"Not quite!" cried the young man, throwing her from him, as if stung by +an adder. "Birth, education, the prejudices of society, have placed an +eternal barrier between us. Impoverished though I be, I never can so far +forget myself as to mate with a vulgar peasant!"</p> + +<p>"Say that word again—that word of misery!" cried the unhappy girl, +clinging to his arm. "Recall your many promises—the awful oath you +swore on that fatal night, when I first yielded to temptation, when you +solemnly declared, in the name of Almighty God, that the moment you were +your own master, you would make me your wife."</p> + +<p>"Mary," said Godfrey, sternly, "do not deceive yourself—I never will +make you my wife!"</p> + +<p>"Then God forgive you, and grant me patience to bear my wrongs!" +murmured the poor girl, as she sunk down upon the ground, and buried her +face in the dewy grass; while her heartless seducer continued his +solitary walk to the Lodge.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My mind is like a vessel tossed at sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By winds and waves—her helm and compass lost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No friendly hand to guide her o'er the waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or point to rocks and shoals that yawn beneath.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">The day after his uncle's funeral, as Anthony sat alone in the good +rector's study, pondering over his recent loss, painfully alive to his +present condition, and the uncertainty of his future prospects, he was +informed by the servant that a gentleman wished to see him.</p> + +<p>Since Algernon's death, he and Godfrey had not met except at the +funeral, in which they had assisted as chief mourners. He was very +anxious to speak to his cousin, and consult with him about their private +affairs; and he obeyed the summons with alacrity. Instead of the person +whom he expected to see, a well-dressed intelligent-looking young man +advanced to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone," he said, "I hope you will not consider my +present visit an intrusion, when I inform you that I am your near +kinsman, the son of that Edward Wildegrave who held the office of judge +for so many years in India, in which country he died about six years +ago. My father and your mother were first cousins by the father's side. +Brought up in a distant part of England, I never had an opportunity of +falling in with the only remaining branch of the Wildegrave family; and +it was not until the death of my father, which left me an inde<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>pendent +man, that I was even aware of your existence. A few months ago I bought +the property of Milbank, in the parish of Ashton, which once belonged to +my unfortunate uncle; and I heard your history from the wife of our farm +servant, Ruth Candler. This led me to make many inquires about you; and +Ruth's relations were fully confirmed by the statements of my lawyer. +His account of your early trials and singular position created in my +mind such an intense interest in your fate, that I lost no time in +riding over to offer my services, and a share of my house until you can +arrange your plans for the future. I hope you will not refuse to grant +me this favor. My offer is made in the sincerity of friendship; and I +shall be deeply disappointed if you refuse to accept it."</p> + +<p>"I will most thankfully accept it," said Anthony, his fine face glowing +with pleasure at this unexpected meeting. "But are you certain, Mr. +Wildegrave, that my doing so will in no way inconvenience you?"</p> + +<p>"Inconvenience me? a bachelor! Your society will be a great +acquisition."</p> + +<p>"And poor Ruth Candler—is she still living? She was a mother to me +during my motherless infancy, and I shall be so glad to see her again. +As to you, Mr. Wildegrave, I cannot express half the gratitude I feel +for your disinterested kindness. The only circumstance which casts the +least damp upon the pleasure I anticipate in my visit to Ashton, is the +near vicinity of my father, who may take it into his head to imagine +that I come there in order to be a spy upon his actions."</p> + +<p>"I know the unhappy circumstances in which you are placed; yet I think +that we shall be able to overrule them for your good. However +disagreeable your intercourse with such a man must be, it is not prudent +to lose sight of <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>him altogether. While you are in his immediate +neighborhood, he cannot easily forget that he has a son. That artful +designing old scoundrel, Grenard Pike, will do all in his power to keep +you apart. Your living with me will not affect Mr. Hurdlestone's pocket; +and his seeing you at church will remind him, at least once a week, that +you are alive."</p> + +<p>"Church! Can a man destitute of charity feel any pleasure in attending a +place of worship, that teaches him that his dearest enjoyment is a +deadly sin?"</p> + +<p>"It seems a strange infatuation; but I have remarked, that, let the +weather be what it may, neither cold nor heat, nor storm nor shine, ever +keeps Mark Hurdlestone from church. He is still in the old place; his +fine grey locks flowing over his shoulders, with as proud and +aristocratic an expression on his countenance as if his head were graced +with a coronet, instead of being bound about with an old red +handkerchief, which he wears in lieu of a hat; the rest of his person +clothed in rags, which a beggar would spurn from him in disdain."</p> + +<p>"Is he insensible to the disgust which his appearance must excite?"</p> + +<p>"He seems perfectly at ease. His mind is too much absorbed in mental +calculations to care for the opinion of any one. If you sit in the +family pew, which I advise you to do, you will have to exercise great +self-control to avoid laughing at his odd appearance."</p> + +<p>"I am too much humiliated by his deplorable aberration of mind to feel +the least inclination to mirth. I wish that I could learn to respect and +love him as a father should be respected and loved; but since my last +visit to Ashton my heart is hardened against him. A dislike almost +amounting to loathing, has usurped the place of the affection which +<a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>nature ever retains for those who are bound together by kindred ties."</p> + +<p>"If you were more accustomed to witness his eccentricities you would be +less painfully alive to their absurdity. Use almost reconciles us to +anything. If you were to inhabit the same house with Mark Hurdlestone, +and were constantly to listen to his arguments on the love of money, you +might possibly fall in love with hoarding, and become like him a +worshipper of gold."</p> + +<p>"Avarice generally produces a reaction in the minds of those who witness +its effects," said Anthony. "I will not admit the truth of your +proposition, for experience has proved that the son of a miser commonly +ends in being a spendthrift."</p> + +<p>"With some exceptions," said Frederic Wildegrave, with a good-humored +smile. "But really, when he pleases, your father can be a sensible, +agreeable companion, and quite the gentleman. The other day I had a long +chat with him, partly upon business, partly from curiosity. I wanted to +buy from him an odd angle of ground, about half an acre, that made an +awkward bite into a favorite field. I went to him, and, knowing his +habits, I offered him at once the full value of the land. He saw that my +heart was set upon the purchase, and he trebled the price. I laughed at +him; and we held a long palaver of about two hours, and never came one +inch nearer to the settlement of the question. At length I pulled out my +purse, and counted the gold down upon the table before him. 'There is +the money,' I said. 'I have offered you, Mr. Hurdlestone, the full value +of the land. You can take it or leave it.'</p> + +<p>"The sight of the gold acted upon him like the loadstone upon the +needle. He began counting over the pieces; his fingers literally stuck +to them. One by one they disap<a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a>peared from my sight, and when all were +gone, he held out his hand and begged for one guinea more. I put the pen +into his hand, and the paper before him; he sighed heavily as he signed +the receipt for the full sum, and told me that I was a prudent young +man; that I deserved to be rich; and must succeed in the world, for I +knew as well how to take care of my money as he did. He then entered +upon subjects of more general interest, and I was so much pleased with +his talents and general information (chiefly obtained, I believe, from +books, which are his sole amusement, and with which he is amply +furnished from the library at the Hall,) that I invited myself to come +over and spend an evening with him. The old fox took the alarm at this. +He told me that he was quite a recluse, and never received company; but +that some evening, when I was quite alone, he would step in and take a +cup of coffee with me—a luxury which he has never allowed himself for +the last twenty years."</p> + +<p>The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Grant. Young +Wildegrave entered immediately upon the purport of his visit, and the +rector, who had a very large family to support upon very limited means, +readily consented to Anthony's removal to Ashton.</p> + +<p>The morning was spent in preparing for his journey, and not without a +feeling of regret Anthony bade adieu to his kind host, and the place in +which he had passed the only happy years of his life.</p> + +<p>As his friend slowly drove through Norgood Park, and past Hazelwood +Lodge, he turned an anxious gaze towards the house. Why did the color +flush his cheek as he hastily looked another way? Juliet was standing in +the balcony, but she was not alone; a tall figure was beside her. It was +Godfrey Hurdlestone, and the sight of him at such a time, <a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>and so +situated, sent a pang of anguish through the heart of the young lover.</p> + +<p>Frederic Wildegrave marked the deep dejection into which his companion +had fallen, and rightly concluded that some lady was the cause. "Poor +fellow," thought he, "has he, to add to his other misfortunes, been +indiscreet enough to fall in love?"</p> + +<p>Wishing to ascertain if his suspicions were true, he began to question +Anthony about the inhabitants of the Lodge, and soon drew from his frank +and confiding cousin the history of his unhappy passion, and the +unpleasant misapprehension that had closed Captain Whitmore's doors +against him.</p> + +<p>"Well, Anthony," he said, "it must be confessed that you are an unlucky +fellow. The sins of your father appear to cast a shadow upon the +destinies of his son. Yet, were I in your place, I should write to +Captain Whitmore, and clear up this foul stigma that your treacherous +cousin has suffered to rest upon your character."</p> + +<p>"No," said Anthony, "I cannot do it; I am too proud. She should not so +readily have admitted my guilt. Let Godfrey enjoy the advantage he has +gained. I swore to his father to be a friend to his son, to stand by him +through good and bad report; and though his cruel duplicity has +destroyed my happiness, I never will expose him to the only friend who +can help him in his present difficulties."</p> + +<p>"Your generosity savors a little too much of romance; Godfrey is +unworthy of such a tremendous sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"That does not render my solemn promise to my uncle less binding. +Forbearance on my part is gratitude to him; and my present self-denial +will not be without a reward."</p> + +<p>Frederic was charmed with his companion, and could <a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>Anthony have looked +into his heart, he would have been doubly convinced that he was right.</p> + +<p>They struck into a lonely cross-country road, and half an hour's smart +driving brought them to Wildegrave's residence. It was a pretty +farm-house, surrounded by extensive orchards, and a large upland meadow, +as smooth as a bowling-green. Anthony was delighted at the locality. The +peaceful solitude of the scene was congenial to his feelings, and he +expressed his pleasure in lively tones.</p> + +<p>"'Tis an old-fashioned place," said Frederic; "but it will not be +without interest to you. In that chamber to the right, your grandfather +and your mother were born."</p> + +<p>"They were both children of misfortune," replied Anthony. "But the fate +of my grandfather, although he died upon the scaffold, beneath the cruel +gaze of an insulting mob, was a merciful dispensation, to the death by +inches which awaited his unhappy child."</p> + +<p>"That room," resumed Frederic, "contains the portraits in oil of your +grandfather and your mother. The one in the prime of life, the other a +gay blooming girl of fifteen. From the happy countenances of both you +would never augur aught of their miserable doom."</p> + +<p>"You must let me occupy that chamber, cousin Wildegrave. If I may judge +by my present prospects, I am likely to inherit the same evil destiny."</p> + +<p>"These things sometimes run in families. It is the 'visiting the sins of +the fathers upon the children, until the third and fourth generation,'" +said Frederic, pulling up his horse at the front gate. "The mantle of +the Wildegrave, Anthony, has not descended upon you alone."</p> + +<p>On the steps of the house they were welcomed by a very fair +interesting-looking girl of sixteen; but so fragile and <a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>childlike that +she scarcely seemed to have entered upon her teens. She blushed deeply +as she received the stranger and her brother.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, permit me to introduce you to another cousin. This is my +sister Clarissa."</p> + +<p>"You did not inform me that you had a sister. This is indeed an +unexpected and happy surprise," said Anthony, shaking hands with the +young lady.</p> + +<p>"I thought it best to introduce all my pets together," returned +Wildegrave, patting his sister's meek head. "Clary is a shy, timid, +little creature, very unlike your sparkling Juliet, with whom I happen +to be personally acquainted; but she is a dear good girl, and the +darling of her brother's heart. Her orphan state seems to press +painfully upon her young mind. She seldom smiles, and I can never induce +her to go into company. But we must try and break her of these monastic +habits, for she is not so young as she looks, and by this time she +should know her position in society."</p> + +<p>"I do not love the world, nor the world's ways, Frederic," said his +sister, gravely. "It contains but one happy spot, my own dear tranquil +home, and I love it so well, that I never wish to leave it."</p> + +<p>"But you must not expect to live at home for ever, Clary," said her +brother, as he took his place at the tea-table. "Suppose I was to take +it into my head to marry, what would you do then? Perhaps you would not +love my wife so well as you do me."</p> + +<p>"It is time to prepare for that when she comes," said Clary. "I think I +shall live along with you, dear Fred, as long as I require an earthly +home."</p> + +<p>Something like a sad smile passed over the pensive face <a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>of the fair +child, for a child she still was, in stature and simplicity.</p> + +<p>"And so you shall, my darling. I have no idea of bringing home a new +mistress to Millbank; and long may you live to enjoy your birds, and +lambs, and dogs, and cats, and all the numerous pets that you have taken +upon yourself to adopt and cherish."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Fred, that reminds me of a pair of lovely Barbary doves I got +to-day from some unknown friend. They came from London by the coach, in +a pretty green cage, with no note or message; but simply directed to +'Miss Wildegrave.' I must bring them to show you; they are such loves."</p> + +<p>Away ran Clary to fetch her new pets. Frederic looked after her, and +laughed. "I sent for the doves, Anthony, as a little surprise. How +delighted she is. She is a fragile creature, Cousin Hurdlestone; and I +much fear that she will not require my care long. My mother died in +giving her birth; and, since the death of my sister Lucy, who was a +mother to Clary, the child has drooped sadly. She was always +consumptive, and during the last two months I can perceive a great +change in her for the worse."</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder at your anxiety. Oh, that I had such a sister to love!"</p> + +<p>"Love! she was made to love. So gentle, affectionate, and confiding. It +would break my heart to lose her."</p> + +<p>"You must not anticipate evil. And, after all, Cousin Wildegrave, is +death such a dreadful evil to a fair young creature, too good and +amiable to struggle with the ills of life? If I were in her place, I +think I could exclaim, 'that it was a good and blessed thing to die!'"</p> + +<p>"You are right," whispered the sweet low voice of Clar<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a>issa Wildegrave. +"Death is our best friend. I see, Mr. Hurdlestone, that you and I are +related—that we shall love each other, for we think alike."</p> + +<p>This would have been a strange speech, could it have been taken in any +other sense than the one in which it was meant; and Anthony, as he took +the dove, the emblem of purity, from the fair hand of Clary, thought +that a beautiful harmony existed between the bird and its mistress.</p> + +<p>"I am sure we shall love each other, Miss Wildegrave. Will you accept me +as a second brother?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want two brothers, Mr. Hurdlestone. I love Frederic so well +that I never mean him to have a rival. No; you shall remain my cousin. +Cousins often love as well as sisters and brothers."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes a great deal better," said Frederic, laughing. "But since +you have made up your mind to love Anthony, sit down and give us another +cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"There is some one below-stairs, Mr. Anthony, who loves you at any +rate," continued Clary, after handing the gentlemen their replenished +cups. "One who is quite impatient to see you, who is never tired of +talking about you, and calls you her dear boy, and says that she never +loved any of her own sons better than you."</p> + +<p>"Ruth! is she here? Let me see her directly," said Anthony, rising from +the table.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Hurdlestone. I will ring the bell for her. She can speak +to you here."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, a plainly-dressed, middle-aged woman entered the room.</p> + +<p>"My dear foster-mother! Is that you?" said Anthony, springing to meet +her.</p> + +<p>"Why yees, Muster Anthony," said the honest creature, flinging her arms +round his neck, and imprinting on either <a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>cheek a kiss that rang through +the room; while she laughed and cried in the same breath. "The Lord love +you! How you bees grown. Is this here fine young gentleman the poor +half-starved little chap that used to come begging to Ruth Candler for a +sup o' milk and a morsel o' bread? Well, yer bees a man now, and able to +shift for yoursel, whiles I be a poor old woman, half killed by poverty +and hard work. When you come in for your great fortin, don't forget old +Ruth."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will not, my good mother; if ever that day arrives, I shall +know how to reward my old friends. But you make a strange mistake, Ruth, +when you call yourself old. You look as young as ever. And how are all +my old play-fellows?"</p> + +<p>"Some dead; some in service; and my eldest gal, Mr. Anthony, is married +to a Methody parson, only think, my Sally, the wife of a Methody +parson."</p> + +<p>"She was a good girl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, about as good as the rest on us. And, pray, how do old Shock come +along? Is the old dog dead?"</p> + +<p>"Of old age, Ruth. He got so fat and sleek in my uncle's house, you +never would have known the poor starved brute."</p> + +<p>"In truth, you were a poverty pair—jist a bag o' bones the twain o' ye. +I wonder the old Squire warn't ashamed to see you walk the earth. An' +they do tell me, Measter Anthony, that he be jist as stingy as ever."</p> + +<p>"Age seldom improves avarice."</p> + +<p>"Why, nothing gets the better for being older, but strong beer. An' that +sometimes gets a little sourish with keeping."</p> + +<p>Anthony took the hint. "Ah, I remember. Your husband was very fond of +ale—particularly in harvest-time <a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a>You must give him this, to drink my +health." And he slipped a guinea into her hand. "And to-morrow, when I +come over the hill, I shall expect him to halloo largess."</p> + +<p>"The Lord love you, for a dear handsome young gentleman. An' my Dick +will do that with the greatest of pleasure." And, with an awkward +attempt at a curtsey, the good woman withdrew.</p> + +<p>After chatting some little time with Frederic and Clary, Anthony retired +to the room appropriated to his use.</p> + +<p>The quiet, unobtrusive kindness of his young relatives had done much to +soothe and tranquillize his mind; and he almost wished, as he paced to +and fro the narrow limits of his airy little chamber, that he could +forget that he had ever known and loved the beautiful and fascinating +Juliet Whitmore.</p> + +<p>"Why should mere beauty possess such an influence over the capricious +wandering heart of man?" he thought; "yet it is not beauty alone that +makes me prefer Juliet to the rest of her sex. Her talents, her deep +enthusiasm, captivate me more than her handsome face and graceful form. +Oh, Juliet! Juliet! why did we ever meet? or is Godfrey destined to +enact the same tragedy that ruined my uncle's peace, and consigned my +mother to an early grave?"</p> + +<p>As these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, his eyes rested upon +his mother's picture. It was the first time that he had ever beheld her +but in dreams. Radiant in all its girlish beauty, the angelic face +smiled down upon him with life-like fidelity. The rose that decked her +dark floating locks, less vividly bright than the glowing cheeks and +lips of happy youth; the large black eyes, "half languor and half fire," +that had wept tears of unmitigated anguish over his forlorn +infancy—rested upon his own, as if they were conscious of his presence. +Anthony continued to <a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>gaze upon the portrait till the blinding tears hid +it from his sight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my mother!" he exclaimed, "better had it been for thee to have died +in the bloom of youth and innocence, than to have fallen the victim of +an insidious—villain," he would have added, but that villain was his +father; and he paused without giving utterance to the word, shocked at +himself that his heart had dared to frame the impious word his +conscience forbade him to speak.</p> + +<p>What a host of melancholy thoughts crowded into his mind while looking +on that picture. The grief and degradation of his early days: his +dependent situation while with his uncle: the unkind taunts of his +ungenerous cousin; his blighted affections and dreary prospects for the +future. How bitterly did he ponder over these!</p> + +<p>What had he to encourage hope, or give him strength to combat with the +ills that beset him on every side? Homeless and friendless, he thought, +like Clary, that death would be most welcome, and sinking upon his +knees, he prayed long and fervently for strength to bear with manly +fortitude the sorrows which from his infant years had been his bitter +portion.</p> + +<p>Who ever sought counsel of God in vain? An answer of peace was given to +his prayers. "Endure thou unto the end, and I will give thee a crown of +life." He rose from his knees, and felt that all was right; that his +present trials were awarded to him in mercy; that had all things gone on +smoother with him, like Godfrey, he might have yielded himself up to +sinful pleasures, or followed in the footsteps of his father, and +bartered his eternal happiness for gold.</p> + +<p>"This world is not our rest. Then why should I wish to pitch my tent on +this side of Jordan, and overlook all the blessings of the promised +land? Let me rather rejoice in <a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>tribulations, if through them I may +obtain the salvation of God."</p> + +<p>That night Anthony enjoyed a calm refreshing sleep. He dreamed of his +mother, dreamed that he saw her in glory, that he heard her speak words +of comfort to his soul, and he awoke with the rising sun, to pour out +his heart in thankfulness to Him who had bestowed upon him the +magnificent boon of life.</p> + +<p>The beauty of the morning tempted him to take a stroll in the fields +before breakfast. In the parlor he had left his hat and cane. On +entering the room to obtain them, he found Clary already up and reading +by the open window. "Good morning, gentle coz," and he playfully lifted +one of the glossy curls that hid her fair face from his view. "What are +you studying?"</p> + +<p>"For eternity," said Clarissa, in a sweet solemn tone, as she raised to +his face her mild serious eyes.</p> + +<p>"'Tis an awful thought."</p> + +<p>"Yes. But one full of joy. This is the grave, cousin Anthony. This world +to which we cling, this sepulchre in which we bury our best hopes, this +world of death. That which you call death is but the gate of life; the +dark entrance to the land of love and sunbeams."</p> + +<p>What a holy fire flashed from her meek eyes as she spoke! What deep +enthusiasm pervaded that still fair face! Could this inspired creature +be his child-like simple little cousin? Anthony continued to gaze upon +her with astonishment, and when the voice ceased, he longed to hear her +speak again.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Clary, what power has conquered, in your young heart, the fear +of death?"</p> + +<p>"Truth!—simple truth. That mighty pillar that upholds the throne of +God. I sought the truth. I loved the truth, <a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a>and the truth has made me +free. Death! from a child I never feared death.</p> + +<p>"I remember, Anthony, when I was a very little girl, so young that it is +the very first thing that memory can recal, I was sick, and sitting upon +the ground at my dear sister Lucy's feet. My head was thrown back upon +her lap, and it ached sadly. She patted my curls, and leaning forward, +kissed my hot brow, and told me, 'That if I were a good girl when I died +I should go to heaven.' Eagerly I asked her—What was death, and what +was heaven?</p> + +<p>"Death, she told me, was the end of life here, and the beginning of a +new life that could never end, in a better world. That heaven was a +glorious place, the residence of the great God, who made me and the +whole world. But no pain or sorrow was ever felt in that blissful place. +That all the children of God were good and happy.</p> + +<p>"I wept for joy when she told me all this. I forgot my pain. I longed to +die and go to heaven; and from that hour death became to me a great +anticipation of future enjoyment. It mingled in all my thoughts. It came +to me in dreams, and it always wore a beautiful aspect.</p> + +<p>"There was a clear deep pond in our garden at Harford, surrounded with +green banks covered with flowers, and overhung with willows. I used to +sit upon that bank and weave garlands of the sweet buds and tender +willow shoots, and build castles about that future world. The image of +the heavens lay within the waters, and the trees and flowers looked more +beautiful reflected in their depths. Ah, I used to think, one plunge +into that lovely mirror, and I should reach that happy world—should +know all. But this I said in my simplicity, for I knew not at that +tender age that self-destruction was a sin; that man was forbidden to +unclose <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>a gate of which the Almighty held the key. His merciful hand +was stretched over the creature of his will, and I never made the rash +attempt.</p> + +<p>"As I grew older, I saw three loved and lovely sisters perish one by +one. Each, in turn, had been a mother to me, and I loved them with my +whole heart. Their sickness was sorrowful, and I often wept bitterly +over their bodily sufferings. But when the conqueror came, how easily +the feeble conquered. Instead of fearing the destroyer, as you call +Death, they went forth to meet him with songs of joy, and welcomed him +as a friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, had you seen my Lucy die! Had you seen the glory that rested upon +her pale brow; had you heard the music that burst from her sweet lips +ere they were hushed for ever; had you seen the hand that pointed upward +to the skies; you would have exclaimed, with her, 'O death, where is thy +sting! O grave, where is thy victory?'"</p> + +<p>The child paused, for her utterance was choked with tears. Anthony took +her hand; he started, for pale as it was, it burnt with an unnatural +heat. Fever was in every vein. "Are you ill, Clary?"</p> + +<p>"Ill? Oh, no! but I never feel very well. I have had my summons, +Anthony; I shall not be long here."</p> + +<p>Seeing him look anxiously in her face, she smiled, and going to a corner +of the room, brought forward a harp which had escaped his observation, +and said, playfully, "I have made you sad, cousin, when I wished to +cheer you. Come, I will sing to you. Fred tells me that I sing well. If +you love music as I do, it will soon banish sorrow from your heart."</p> + +<p>There was something so refreshing in the candor of the young creature, +that it operated upon the mind of Anthony <a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a>like a spell, and when the +finest voice he ever in his life heard burst upon his ear, and filled +the room with living harmony, he almost fancied he could see the halo +encircling the lofty brows of the fair young saint:</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers of earth are fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the hopes we fondly cherish;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the canker-worm of care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bids the best and brightest perish.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavens to-day are bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the morn brings storm and sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the friends we love to-night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May sleep in earth to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit, unfold thy drooping wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up, up to thy kindred skies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is a sad and weary thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He only lives who dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His the immortal fruits that grow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By life's eternal river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the shining waves in their onward flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sing Glory to God for ever.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>These lines were sung to a wild, irregular air, but one full of pathos +and beauty.</p> + +<p>"You must give me that hymn, Clary."</p> + +<p>"It is gone, and the music with it. I shall never be able to remember it +again. But I will play you another which will please you better, though +the words are not mine." And turning again to the harp, she sang, in a +low, plaintive strain, unlike her former triumphant burst of song:</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Slowly, slowly tolls the bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heavy note of sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gaily will its blithe notes swell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bridal peal to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">To-morrow!<br /></span> +</div><p><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a></p><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dead man in his shroud to-night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No hope from earth can borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride within her tresses bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall wreathe the rose to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">To-morrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The drops that gem that lowly bier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though shed in mortal sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not recall a single tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In festal halls to-morrow!<br /></span> +<span class="i12">To-morrow!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus through life, from joy and grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alternate shades we borrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-night in tears we find relief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In smiles of joy to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">To-morrow!<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>"What divine music!"</p> + +<p>"And the words, Cousin Anthony—you say nothing about the words."</p> + +<p>"Are both your own?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I am only in heart a poet. I lack the power to give utterance +to—</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div><p>'The thoughts that breathe and words that burn.'</p></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>They were written by a friend—a friend, whom, next to Fred, I love +better than the whole world—Juliet Whitmore."</p> + +<p>"And do <i>you</i> know Juliet?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all about it," said Clary, leaving her harp and sitting +down beside him. "After dear Lucy died, I was very, very ill, and Fred +took me to the sea-side for the benefit of bathing. I was a poor, pale, +wasted, woe-begone thing. We lodged next door to the house occu<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a>pied by +Captain Whitmore, who was spending the summer upon the coast with his +family.</p> + +<p>"He picked acquaintance with me upon the beach one day; and whenever +nurse took me down to bathe, he would pat my cheek, and tell me to bring +home a red rose to mix with the lily in my face. I told him, laughingly, +'That roses never grew by the sea shore,' and he told me to come with +him to his lodgings and see. And then he introduced me to Juliet, and we +grew great friends, for though she was much taller and more womanly, she +was only one year older than me. And we used to walk, and talk a great +deal to each other, all the time we remained at ——, which was about +three months; and, though we have not met since Fred bought Millbank, +and came to this part of the country, she often writes to me sweet +letters, full of poetry,—such poetry as she knows will please me; and +in one of her letters, Cousin Anthony, she wrote a good deal about you."</p> + +<p>"About me!—Oh, tell me, Clary, what she said about me."</p> + +<p>"She said," replied the child, blushing very deeply, and speaking so low +that Anthony could only just catch the words, "that she loved you. That +you were the only man she had ever seen that realized her dreams of what +man ought to be. And what she said of you made me love you too, and I +felt proud that you were my cousin."</p> + +<p>"Dear amiable Clary," and the delighted Anthony unconsciously covered +the delicate white hand held within his own with passionate kisses.</p> + +<p>"You must not take me for Juliet," and Clary quietly withdrew her hand. +"But I am so glad that you love her, because we shall be able to talk +about her. I have a small <a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a>portfolio she gave me, full of pretty poems, +which I will give to you, for I know all the poems by heart."</p> + +<p>Anthony no longer heard her. He was wrapt up in a blissful dream, from +which he was in no hurry to awaken. Many voices spake to his soul, but +over all, he heard one soft deep voice, whose tones pierced its utmost +recesses, and infused new life and hope into his breast, which +said—"Juliet loves you.'"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She hath forsaken God and trusted man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dark curse by man inherited<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath fallen upon her.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">We must now return to Godfrey Hurdlestone, and we find him comfortably +settled in the hospitable mansion of Captain Whitmore, a great favorite +with aunt Dorothy, and an object of increasing interest and sympathy to +the fair Juliet.</p> + +<p>Had she forgotten Anthony? Oh, no. She still loved him, but dared not +whisper to her own heart the forbidden fact. Did she believe him guilty? +Not exactly. But the whole affair was involved in mystery, and she had +not confidence enough in her own judgment to overrule the prejudices of +others. She could not pronounce him innocent, and she strove to banish +his image as a matter of necessity—a sacrifice that duty demanded of +her—from her mind.</p> + +<p>Could she receive with pleasure the attentions of such a man as Godfrey +Hurdlestone? She did, for he was so like Anthony, that there were times +when she could almost have fancied them one and the same. He wanted the +deep feeling—the tenderness—the delicacy of her absent lover, but he +had wit, beauty, and vivacity, an imposing manner, and that easy +assurance which to most women is more attractive than modest merit.</p> + +<p>Juliet did not love Godfrey, but his conversation amused <a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>her, and +helped to divert her mind from brooding over unpleasant thoughts. She +received him with kindness, for his situation claimed her sympathy, and +she did all in her power to reconcile him to the change which had taken +place in his circumstances. Godfrey was not insensible to the difference +in her manner, when addressing him, to what it had been formerly, and he +attributed that to a growing attachment which was but the result of +pity. Without giving him the least encouragement to entertain hopes she +never meant to realize, Juliet, with all the romance of her nature, had +formed the happy scheme of being able to convert the young infidel from +the paths of doubt and error, and animating him with an earnest zeal to +obtain a better heritage than the one he had lost.</p> + +<p>Young enthusiasts are fond of making proselytes, and Juliet was not +aware that she was treading upon dangerous ground, with a very subtle +companion. Untouched by the sacred truths she sought to impress upon his +mind, and which indeed were very distasteful to him, Godfrey, in order +to insinuate himself into the good graces of his fair instructress, +seemingly lent a willing ear to her admonitions, and pretended to be +deeply sensible of their importance.</p> + +<p>Since he had arrived at an age to think for himself, he had rejected the +Bible, and never troubled himself to peruse its pages. Juliet proposed +that they should read it together, and an hour every afternoon was +chosen for that purpose. Godfrey, in order to lengthen these interviews, +started objections at every line, in his apparent anxiety to arrive at a +knowledge of the truth.</p> + +<p>With all the zeal of a youthful and self-elected teacher, Juliet found a +peculiar pleasure in trying to clear up the disputed points; in removing +his doubts and strengthening his faith; and, when at length he artfully +seemed to yield <a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>to her arguments, the glow that brightened her cheeks, +and proclaimed the innocent joy of her heart, gave to her lovely +countenance a thousand additional charms.</p> + +<p>One evening their lecture had been protracted to an unusual length; and +Juliet concluded from the silence of her pupil, that he was at last +convinced of the truth of her arguments. She closed the sacred volume, +and awaited her companion's answer, but he remained buried in profound +thought.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Godfrey, do you still believe in the non-existence of a Deity?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Juliet, if my thoughts had strayed from heaven to earth. I +will, however, tell you the purport of them. If all men are equal in the +sight of the Creator, why does not the same feeling pervade the breast +of his creatures?"</p> + +<p>"Because men are not endowed with the wisdom of God, neither can they +judge righteously, as he judges. That all men are equal in his sight, +the text we have just read sufficiently proves: 'The rich and the poor +meet together. The Lord is the maker of them all.'"</p> + +<p>"Then why is wealth an object of adoration to the crowd, whilst poverty, +even in those who once possessed great riches, is regarded with contempt +and pity?"</p> + +<p>"The world gives a value to things which in themselves are of no +importance," said Juliet. "I think, however, that I should scorn myself, +could I regard with indifference the friends I once loved, because they +had been deprived of their worldly advantages."</p> + +<p>"You make me proud of my poverty, Miss Whitmore. It has rendered me rich +in your sympathy."</p> + +<p>"Obtain your wealth from a higher source, Mr. Hurdlestone," said Juliet, +not, perhaps, displeased with the com<a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>pliment, "and you will learn to +regard with indifference the riches of the world."</p> + +<p>"But supposing, my dear friend, for argument's sake, that you had a +lover to whom you were fondly attached, and he was suddenly deprived of +the fortune which had placed you on an equality, would this circumstance +alter your regard for him?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And, in spite of these disadvantages, you would become his wife?"</p> + +<p>"That would depend on circumstances. I might be under the guidance of +parents, who, from prudential motives, might forbid so rash a step; and +it would be no act of friendship to the man I loved, to increase his +difficulties by attempting to share them."</p> + +<p>"And in such a case would you not act upon the decision of your own +heart?"</p> + +<p>"I dare not. The heart, blinded by its affections for the object of its +love, might err in its decision, and involve both parties in ruin."</p> + +<p>"But you could not call this love?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Hurdlestone, and far more deserving of the name than the +sickly sentiment that so often wears the guise of real affection."</p> + +<p>"This girl is too much of a philosopher. I shall never be able to win +her to my purpose," said Godfrey, as Juliet quitted the room.</p> + +<p>A few days after this conversation, Godfrey proposed taking a ride on +horseback with Miss Whitmore.</p> + +<p>Juliet was fond of this exercise, in which she greatly excelled. This +evening she did not wish to go, but was overruled by her father and Aunt +Dorothy. The evening was <a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a>warm and cloudy, and Juliet often looked +upwards and prophesied a storm.</p> + +<p>"It will not come on before night," said her companion. "I remember +Anthony and I, when boys, were overtaken on this very spot by a +tremendous tempest." It was the first time he had suffered the name of +his cousin to pass his lips in the presence of Juliet. It brought the +color into her cheeks, and in a timid voice she inquired if he knew what +had become of Anthony?</p> + +<p>"He had a second cousin, it seems, a Mr. Wildegrave, who is residing in +his father's parish; Anthony has found a temporary home with him."</p> + +<p>Why did Juliet turn so pale? Did the recollection of the fair amiable +girl she had met and loved at —— trouble her? She spoke no more during +their long ride. On their way home, they entered a dark avenue, that led +to the Lodge, and passed through Norgood Park.</p> + +<p>"I hate this road," said Godfrey. "I have never travelled it since the +old place passed into the hands of strangers."</p> + +<p>"It was thoughtless in me to propose this path, Mr. Godfrey; let us +return by the road."</p> + +<p>She checked her horse as she spoke, when her attention was aroused by a +female figure, seated in a dejected attitude beneath an old oak tree. +Her hair hung wildly about her shoulders; and her head was buried +between her knees.</p> + +<p>Godfrey instantly recognised the person; and looking up at the heavy +dark clouds, which had for some time been encroaching upon the rich +saffron hues in the west, he said hastily turning his horse, "You are +right, Miss Whitmore we are going to have a storm, and you have chosen a +dangerous path. Let us get from under these trees as fast as we can."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>"Stay a few minutes. I want to speak to this poor woman."</p> + +<p>"It is only some gipsy girl who has been sleeping under the tree. See, +it begins to rain. Do you not hear the large drops pattering upon the +leaves? If you do not put your horse on, you will get very wet."</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of a few drops of rain. The person seems in distress—I +must speak to her."</p> + +<p>At this moment the girl slowly rose from her seat, and revealed the +faded, attenuated features of Mary Mathews.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" exclaimed Juliet, shocked and astonished at the recognition; +"what are you doing here? The rain is falling fast. Had you not better +go home?"</p> + +<p>"Home!" said the girl gloomily. "I have no home. The wide world is my +home, and 'tis a bad place for the motherless and moneyless to live in. +My father is dead; Mr. —— seized our things yesterday for the rent, +and turned us out into the streets; my brother is gone to Ashton to look +for employment, and I thought this place was as good as another; I can +sit here and brood over my wrongs."</p> + +<p>Juliet was inexpressibly shocked. She turned to address a remark to her +companion, but to her increasing surprise, he was no longer in sight. A +vague suspicion flashed upon her mind. She was determined to satisfy her +doubts. Turning again to the girl, she addressed her in a kind soothing +tone.</p> + +<p>"Have you no friends, Mary, who can receive you until your brother is +able to provide for you?"</p> + +<p>"I never had many friends, Miss Juliet, and I have lost those I once +had. You see how it is with me," she cried, rising and wringing her +hands. "No respectable person would now receive me into their house. +There is the work-<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>house, to be sure. But I will die here, beneath the +broad ceiling of heaven, before its accursed walls shall shut me in."</p> + +<p>Juliet's heart prompted her to offer the wretched girl an asylum; but +she dreaded the indignation of her fastidious aunt. Whilst she paused, +irresolute how to act, the girl, emboldened by despair, suddenly caught +hold of her bridle, and fixing her dim eyes upon her face, continued:—</p> + +<p>"It is to you, Miss Juliet, that I owe all this grief and misery—yes, +to you. Had you been a poor girl, like myself, I need not have cared for +you. My face is as pretty as yours, my figure as good. I am as capable +of love, and of being loved; but I lack the gold, the fine clothing, and +the learning, that makes you my superior. People say that you are going +to marry Mr. Hurdlestone; and it is useless for a poor girl like me to +oppose the wishes of a grand lady like you. But I warn you not to do it. +He is my husband in the sight of God; and the thought of his marrying +you has broken my heart. Despair is strong; and when I saw you together +just now, I felt that I should like to murder you both!"</p> + +<p>"Mary," said Juliet, gravely, "you should not give ear to such +reports—they are utterly false. Do you imagine that any young woman of +principle would marry such a man as Mr. Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>"Then why are you constantly together?" returned Mary, with flashing +eyes. "Did he not ride away the moment he saw me?"</p> + +<p>"You have mistaken one Mr. Hurdlestone for the other. The gentleman that +just left me was Mr. Godfrey."</p> + +<p>"And is it not Mr. Godfrey I mean? Good kind Mr. Anthony would not harm +a lamb, much less a poor motherless girl like me!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>Again wringing her hands, she burst into a fit of passionate weeping. +Juliet was dreadfully agitated; and springing from her horse, she sat +down upon the bank beside the unfortunate young woman, regardless of the +loud roaring of the thunder, and the heavy pouring of the rain, and +elicited from her the story of her wrongs.</p> + +<p>Indignant at the base manner in which she had been deceived by Godfrey +Hurdlestone, Juliet bade Mary follow her to the Lodge, and inform her +aunt of the particulars that she had just related to her.</p> + +<p>"I will never betray the man I love!" cried Mary, passionately. "When I +told you my secret, Miss Whitmore, it was under the idea that you loved +him—that you meant to tear him from me. Tell no one, I beseech you, the +sad story, which you wrung from me in my despair!"</p> + +<p>She would have flung herself at Juliet's feet; but the latter drew back, +and said, with a sternness quite foreign to her nature:</p> + +<p>"Would you have me guilty of a base fraud, and suffer the innocent to +bear the brand of infamy, which another had incurred? Affection cannot +justify crime. The feelings with which you regard a villain like Godfrey +Hurdlestone are not deserving of the name of love."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you young ladies are so hard-hearted," said Mary, bitterly. "Pride +hinders you from falling into temptation, like other folk. If you dared, +you would be no better than one of us."</p> + +<p>"Mary, do not change my pity for your unhappy situation into contempt. +Religion and propriety of conduct can protect the poorest girl from the +commission of crime. I am sorry for you, and will do all in my power to +save you from your present misery. But you must promise me to give up +your evil course of life."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>"You may spare yourself the trouble," said the girl, regarding her +companion's beautiful countenance, and its expression of purity and +moral excellence, with a glance of envious disdain. "I ask no aid; I +need no sympathy; and, least of all, from you, who have robbed me of my +lover, and then reproach me with the evil which your selfish love of +admiration has brought upon me."</p> + +<p>A glow of anger passed over Miss Whitmore's face, as the girl turned to +leave her. She struggled a few minutes with her feelings, until her +better nature prevailed; and following Mary, she caught her by the arm:</p> + +<p>"Stay with me, Mary! I forgive the rash words you uttered. I am sure you +cannot mean what you say."</p> + +<p>"You had better leave me," said the girl, gloomily. "Evil thoughts are +rising in my heart against you, and I cannot resist them."</p> + +<p>"You surely would not do me any harm?" and Juliet involuntarily glanced +towards her horse, which was quietly grazing a few paces off, +"particularly when I feel most anxious to serve you."</p> + +<p>The girl's countenance betrayed the most violent agitation. She turned +upon Juliet her fine eyes, in which the light of incipient madness +gleamed, and said in a low, horrid voice,</p> + +<p>"I hate you. I should like to kill you!"</p> + +<p>Juliet felt that to run from her, or to offer the least resistance, +would be the means of drawing upon herself the doom which her companion +threatened. Seating herself upon a fallen tree, and calmly folding her +hands together, she merely uttered, "Mary, may God forgive you for your +sinful thought!" and then awaited in silence the issue of this +extraordinary and painful scene.</p> + +<p>The girl stood before her, regarding her with a fixed and <a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>sullen tone. +Sometimes she raised her hand in a menacing attitude; and then, again, +the sweet mild glance of her intended victim appeared to awe her into +submission.</p> + +<p>"Shall I kill her?" she muttered aloud. "Shall I spoil that baby face, +which he prefers to mine?" Then as if that thought aroused all the worst +feelings in her breast, she continued in a louder, harsher tone, "Yes—I +will tread her beneath my feet—I will trample her into the dust; for he +loves her. Oh, misery, misery! he loves her better than me—than me who +love him so well—who could die for him! Oh, agony of agonies! for her +sake I am forgotten and despised!"</p> + +<p>The heart of the woman was touched by the vehemence of her own passions. +Her former ferocity gave way, and she sank down upon the ground, and +buried her face in the long grass, and wept.</p> + +<p>Her agonising sobs and groans were more than Juliet could listen to, +without offering a word of comfort to the mourner. Forgetful of her +former fears, she sat down by the prostrate weeper, and lifting her head +upon her knees put back from her swollen face the long-neglected +tresses, which, drenched by the heavy rain, fell in thick masses over +her convulsed features. Mary no longer offered any resistance. Her eyes +were closed, her lips apart. She lay quite motionless, but ever and anon +the pale lips quivered; and streams of tears gushed from beneath the +long lashes that shrouded her eyes, and fell like rain over her +garments.</p> + +<p>Oh, love and guilt, how dreadful is your struggle in the human heart! +Like Satan after his first transgression, the divine principle, still +retains somewhat of its sovereign power and dignity, and appears little +less</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div><p>"Than archangel ruined."</p></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a>"Poor Mary!" sighed Juliet, "your sin has indeed found you out! Thank +heaven, the man I love is not guilty of this moral murder. Oh, Anthony, +how I have injured you! I ought to have known that you were utterly +incapable of a crime like this!"</p> + +<p>"Leave me, Miss Juliet," said Mary, regaining her self-possession; +"leave me to my own sorrow. Oh, I wish I could die and forget it all! +But I dare not die. Hateful as life has become, I dare not look upon +death. Do not weep for me—your tears will drive me mad! Do not look at +me so—it makes me hate you. Do not ask me to go to the Lodge, for I +will not go!" she cried, springing to her feet, and clenching her hands. +"I am my own mistress! You cannot make me obey you. If I choose to bid +defiance to the world, and live as I please, it is no business of yours. +You shall not—you dare not attempt to control me!" And brushing past +Miss Whitmore, she was soon lost among the trees. Juliet drew a freer +breath when she was gone, and turning round beheld her father.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here in the rain, Juliet? your habit is soaked with +water. And where is Godfrey?"</p> + +<p>"Take me home, papa!" said Juliet, flinging herself into his arms, and +sobbing upon his shoulder. "Godfrey is gone for ever. I have been +dreadfully frightened; but I will tell you all when we get home. I +cannot tell you here!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whate'er thou hast to say, speak boldly out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Confront me like a man—I shall not start.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shiver, nor turn pale. My hand is firm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is firmer still; and both are braced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet the hour of danger—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">About a mile and a half from the village of Ashton, at the head of an +obscure cross road, seldom traversed but by wagoners and their teams, or +the day laborer going to and fro from the neighboring farms to his work, +there stood, a little back in a pathway field, a low public house, whose +signboard merely contained the following blunt announcement to mark the +owner's calling,</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Table Beer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sold Here."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The master of this obscure house of entertainment (which from its lonely +situation might have been termed anything but public,) was a notorious +poacher, familiarly known as Old Strawberry; and his cottage, for it +deserved no better name, was the nightly resort of all the idle young +fellows in the parish.</p> + +<p>The in-door accommodations of the house consisted of two rooms below, +and two attics above, and a long lean-to, which ran the whole length of +the back of the building, forming an easy mode of egress, should need +be, from the chamber windows above. The front rooms were divided into a +sort of bar, which was separated from the kitchen by a high, +old-<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>fashioned stamped-leather screen, behind which a stout red faced +middle aged woman held despotic sway, dispensing as many oaths to her +customers as she did pots of beer. The other room was of a more private +nature. It was fitted up with tables, cards and dice, to which none but +the initiated were ever admitted.</p> + +<p>The outside of the place had a worn and dilapidated appearance; but the +inside was not at all deficient in comfort. The public room contained a +good substantial oak dining-table, a dozen well polished elm chairs, an +old fashioned varnished clock, and a huge painted cupboard in a corner, +the doors of which were left purposely open, in order to display dame +Strawberry's store of "real chany" cups and saucers, four long-necked +cut-glass decanters, and a dozen long-legged ale-glasses. Then there was +a side-table decorated with a monstrous tea-board, in which was +portrayed, in all the colors of the rainbow, the queen of Sheba's +memorable visit to the immortal wisdomship of Solomon.</p> + +<p>Various pictures made gay the white-washed walls, amidst which shone +conspicuously the history of the prodigal son, representing in six +different stages a panoramic view of his life, in which the hero figured +in the character of a fop in the reign of the first George, dressed in a +sky blue coat, scarlet waistcoat, knee breeches, silk stockings, and +high-heeled shoes, and to crown all, a full bottomed wig. Then there +were the four Seasons, quaintly represented by four damsels, who all +stared upon you with round eyes, and flushed red faces, dame Winter +forming the only exception, whose grey locks and outstretched hands +seemed to reproach her jolly companions for their want of sympathy in +her sufferings.</p> + +<p>Over the mantel-shelf hung a looking-glass in a carved frame, darkened +and polished by the rubbing of years, <a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a>quite a relic of the past, the +top of which was ornamented by a large fan of peacock's feathers, and +bunches of the pretty scentless flowers called "Love everlasting." A +couple of guns slung to the beams that crossed the ceiling; an old +cutlass in its iron scabbard, and a very suspicious-looking pair of +horse pistols, completed the equipment of the room. The lean-to +contained a pantry and wash-house, and places for stowing away game and +liquor.</p> + +<p>The private room was infinitely better furnished than the one just +described. It boasted the luxury of a carpeted floor, and a dozen of +painted cane-bottomed chairs, several mahogany card-tables, and a good +mirror.</p> + +<p>In this room a tall drooping girl was busily employed in wiping the dust +from the furniture, and placing the cards and dice upon the tables. +Sometimes she stopped and sighed heavily, or looked upwards and pressed +her hand upon her head, with a sad and hopeless glance; ever and anon +wiping away the tears that trickled down her pale cheeks with the corner +of her checked apron.</p> + +<p>The door was suddenly flung open with a sound that made the girl start, +and the broad person of Mrs. Strawberry filled up the opening.</p> + +<p>"Mary Mathews!" she shouted at the top of her voice, "what are you +dawdling about? Do you think that I can afford to pay gals a shilling a +week to do nothing? Just tramp to the kitchen and wash them potatoes for +the men's supper. I don't want no fine ladies here, not I, I'se can tell +you! If your brother warn't a good customer it is not another hour that +I'd keep you, you useless lazy slut!"</p> + +<p>"I was busy putting the room to rights, ma'am," said Mary, her +indignation only suffered to escape her in the <a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>wild proud flash of her +eye. "I can't be in two places at once!"</p> + +<p>"You must learn to be in three or four, if I please," again bawled the +domestic Hecate. "Your time is mine; I have bought it, and I'll take +good care not to be cheated out of what's my due. Light up them candles. +Quick! I hear the men whistling to their dogs. They'll be here +directly."</p> + +<p>Away waddled the human biped, and Mary, with another heavy sigh, lighted +the candles, and retreated into the bar-room.</p> + +<p>The night was cold and damp, although it was but the first week in +October. The men were gathered about the fire, to dry their clothes and +warm themselves. The foremost of these was Godfrey Hurdlestone. "Polly!" +he shouted. "Polly Mathews, bring me a glass of brandy, and mind you +don't take toll by the way."</p> + +<p>The men laughed. "A little would do the girl good, and raise her +spirits," said old Strawberry. "Never mind him, my dear. He's a stingy +one. Take a good sup. Brandy's good for every thing. It's good for the +head-ache, and the tooth-ache, and the heart-ache. That's right, take it +kindly. It has put a little blood into your pale face already."</p> + +<p>"I wish it would put a little into her heart," said Godfrey: "she's +grown confoundedly dull of late."</p> + +<p>"Why, Master Godfrey, who's fault is that, I should like to know?" said +the old poacher. "You drink all the wine out of the cask, and then kick +and abuse it, because 'tis empty. Now, before that girl came across you, +she was as high-spirited a tom-boy as ever I seed. She'd come here at +the dead o' night to fetch home her old dad, when she thought he'd been +here long enough, and she'd a song and <a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>a jest for us all. She could +take her own part then, and not one of my fellows dared to say a crooked +word to her. I thought that she was the last girl in the world to be +brought to sich a pass."</p> + +<p>"Hush," said Godfrey; "what's the use of ripping up old grievances? Here +comes Mathews with the game!"</p> + +<p>"A poor night's work," said that ruffian, flinging down a sack upon the +floor. "Five hares, three brace of pheasants, and one partridge. It was +not worth venturing a trip across the herring pond for such a paltry +prize. Here, Poll! stow them away in the old place. In two hours they'll +be upon their journey to Lunnon without the aid of wings. Mind, girl, +and keep a good look-out for the mail."</p> + +<p>"Tim will take them to the four cross ways," said Mrs. Strawberry. "I +want Mary at home. Why, boys, you have hardly earned your supper."</p> + +<p>"If it's ready, let us have it upon trust, mother," said Godfrey: "this +cold work in the plantations makes a fellow hungry."</p> + +<p>In a moment all was bustle and confusion: the clatter of plates, and the +clashing of knives and forks, mingled with blasphemous oaths and horrid +jests, as the <i>worthy</i> crew sat down to partake of their evening meal. +Over all might be heard the shrill harsh voice of Mistress Strawberry, +scolding, screaming, and ordering about in all directions.</p> + +<p>The noisy banquet was soon ended; and some of the principals, like +Godfrey and his associate Mathews, retired to the inner room, to spend +the rest of the night in gambling and drinking. Mary was, as usual, in +attendance to supply their empty glasses, and to procure fresh cards, if +required.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall play to-night, Mathews," said <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>Godfrey, drawing +his companion aside. "I lost all I was worth yesterday; and Skinner is +not here. He's the only one worth plucking; the rest are all minus of +cash just now."</p> + +<p>"By the way, Godfrey," said Mathews, "what do you mean to do about that +three hundred pounds you owe to Drew? You would buy the cattle. They +were not worth half the money you paid for them; but you were drunk, and +would have your own way. You must return the horses at a great loss."</p> + +<p>"That's out of my power. They are gone—lost in a bet last night to that +lucky fool, Skinner."</p> + +<p>"Whew! you are a precious fellow. I am glad that I was not born under +the same star. Why, Drew insists upon being paid, and threatens to take +legal steps against you."</p> + +<p>"I have provided for that," said Godfrey. "Look here." They stepped to +the table at the far end of the room, and young Hurdlestone drew from +his pocket-book a paper which he gave to Mathews. "Will that pass?"</p> + +<p>"What is this? An order for three hundred pounds upon the bank of ——, +drawn by the Jew, Haman Levi. What eloquence did you employ to obtain +such a prize?"</p> + +<p>"It's forged," said Godfrey, drawing close up to him, and whispering the +words in his ear. "Did ever counterfeit come so close to reality?"</p> + +<p>"Why, 'tis his own hand."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it will escape detection?"</p> + +<p>"Old Stratch himself could hardly find it out. You may get the blunt as +soon as you like; and, if this succeeds, my boy, you will soon be able +to replenish our empty purses." And Mathews rubbed his hands together, +and chuckled with delight.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>"Have you heard anything of Anthony?" said Godfrey. "Is he still with +young Wildegrave?"</p> + +<p>"I saw him this morning in the lane, by the old yew grove, near the +park. He was walking very lovingly with a pretty little girl. I wonder +what there is in him to make the girls so fond of him. I raised my hat +as he passed, and gave him the time of day, and hang me, if he did not +start, as if he had seen his father."</p> + +<p>"Are they reconciled?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. Wildegrave's man told me that he never goes near the +Hall. Between ourselves, Mr. Godfrey, this proves your cousin to be a +shrewd clever fellow. The only way to get those stingy old chaps to +leave their money to their lawful heirs is by taking no notice of them."</p> + +<p>"Oh that this Anthony were out of my path!" said Godfrey, lowering his +voice to a whisper. "We could soon settle the old man's business."</p> + +<p>"The lad's a good lad," said the other. "I don't much relish the idea of +having his blood to answer for. If we could but get the father and son +into an open quarrel, which would place him in suspicious +circumstances—do you understand me?—and then do the old man's +business—the blame might fall upon him instead of upon you."</p> + +<p>"I would certainly rather transfer the hemp collar to his neck, if it +could be safely accomplished. But how can it be brought about?"</p> + +<p>"The devil will help us at a pinch. I have scarcely turned it over in my +mind. But I'm sure your heart would fail you, Godfrey, if it came to +murder."</p> + +<p>"Do you take <i>me</i> for a coward?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly. I was making some allowance for natural affection."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw!" muttered his companion. "Only give me the <a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a>chance. Affection! +What affection do I owe to father or son? Anthony robbed me of my +father's heart, and now stands between me and my uncle's fortune."</p> + +<p>"I owe Anthony something on my own account, if it were only for the +contempt with which he treated me in the presence of Miss Whitmore. +By-the-by, Mr. Godfrey, are all your hopes in that quarter at an end?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang her! Don't name her, Mathews. I would rather have Mary without +a farthing than be domineered over by that pretty prude, and her hideous +old aunt. I believe I might have the old maid for the asking—ha! ha! +ha!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Godfrey," said Mathews, taking no notice of his mistimed mirth, "I +would advise you, as a friend, not to mention our designs on the old +miser to Mary."</p> + +<p>"She won't peach."</p> + +<p>"I'd not trust her. Women are strange creatures. They will often do the +most wicked things when their own interests and passions are concerned; +and, at other times, will sacrifice their best friends, from a foolish +qualm of conscience, or out of a mistaken feeling of benevolence. If you +wish our scheme to be successful, don't let Mary into the secret."</p> + +<p>A wild laugh sounded in his ears: both started; and, on turning round, +beheld Mary standing quietly beside them. Mathews surveyed his sister +with a stern searching glance. She smiled contemptuously; but drew back, +as if she feared him.</p> + +<p>"Did you overhear our conversation, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I can keep my own secrets," said the girl, sullenly. "I don't want to +be burthened with yours. They are not worth the trouble of keeping. My +sleep is bad enough already. A knowledge of your deeds, William, would +not make it sounder."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>"It would make you sleep so soundly that evil thoughts would not be +likely to keep you awake," said her brother, clenching his fist in her +face. "Betray but one syllable of what you have overheard, and your bed +is prepared for you."</p> + +<p>"I do not care how soon," said Mary; "if you hold out such a temptation, +I don't know what I might be tempted to do. They say that the sins of +the murdered are all visited upon the murderer. What a comfort it would +be to transfer mine to you." This was said in a tone of bitter irony; +and, however unwilling to betray himself, it seemed to produce a strange +effect upon the mind of the ruffian.</p> + +<p>"Who talks of murder?" he said. "You are dreaming. Go to your bed, Mary. +It is late; and don't forget to say your prayers."</p> + +<p>"Prayers!" said the girl with a mocking laugh. "The prayers of the +wicked never come up before the throne of God. My prayers would sound in +my own ears like blasphemy. How would they sound in the ears of God?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk in that way, Mary; you make my flesh creep," said Mathews. +"I have never said a prayer since I was a boy at my mother's knee, and +that was before Mary was born. Had mother lived I should not have been +what I now am; and poor Mary—." He paused; there was a touch of +tenderness in the ruffian's tone and manner. The remembrance of that +mother's love seemed the only holy thing that had ever been impressed +upon his mind; and sunk even as he was in guilt, and hardened in crime, +had he followed its suggestions it would have led him back to God, and +made him the protector, instead of the base vendor of his sister's +honor.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of dwelling upon the past?" said Godfrey, pettishly. +"We were all very good little boys once. <a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a>At least my father always told +me so; and by the strange contradictions which abound in human nature, I +suppose that that was the very reason which made me grow up a bad man. +And bad men we both are, Mathews, in the world's acceptation, and we may +as well make the most we can of our acquired reputation."</p> + +<p>"Now I would like to know," said Mathews, gloomily, "if you have ever +felt a qualm of conscience in your life?"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe in a future state. Let that answer you."</p> + +<p>"Do you never fear the dark?" returned Mathews, glancing stealthily +around. "Never feel that eyes are looking upon you—cold, glassy eyes, +that peer into your very soul—eyes which are not of this world, and +which no other eyes can see? Snuff the candles, Mary. The room looks as +dismal as a vault."</p> + +<p>Godfrey burst into a loud laugh. "If I were troubled with such ocular +demonstrations I would wear spectacles. By Jove! Bill Mathews, waking or +sleeping, I never was haunted by an evil spirit worse than yourself. But +here's Skinner at last! Fetch a bottle of brandy and some glasses to yon +empty table, Mary. I must try to win back from him what I lost last +night."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! speak to me of her I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I shall think I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice whose melting tones, above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All music, charms mine ear.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">Whilst Godfrey Hurdlestone was rapidly traversing the broad road that +leads down to the gates of death, Anthony was regaining his peace of +mind in the quiet abode of domestic love. Day after day the young +cousins whiled away the charmed hours in delightful converse. They +wandered hand in hand through green quiet lanes, and along sunny paths, +talking of the beloved. Clary felt no jealous envy mar the harmony of +her dove-like soul, as she listened to Anthony's rapturous details of +the hours he had spent with Juliet, his poetical descriptions of her +lovely countenance and easy figure. Nay, she often pointed out graces +which he had omitted, and repeated, with her musical voice, sweet +strains of song by her young friend, to him unknown.</p> + +<p>Was there no danger in this intercourse? Clarissa Wildegrave felt none. +In her young heart's simplicity, she dreamed not of the subtle essence +which unites kindred spirits. She never asked herself why she loved to +find the calm noble-looking youth for ever at her side; why she prized +the flowers he gathered, and loved the songs he loved; why the sound of +his approaching steps sent the <a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>quick blood glowing to her pallid cheek, +and lighted up those thoughtful dreamy eyes with a brilliancy which fell +with the serene lustre of moon or star-light upon the heart of her +cousin—to him as holy and as pure.</p> + +<p>She loved to talk of Juliet, for it brought Anthony nearer. She loved to +praise her, for it called up a smile upon his melancholy face; the +expression of his brow became less stern, and his glance met hers, full +of grateful tenderness. She loved to see her own girlish face reflected +in the dark depths of those beautiful eyes, nor knew that the mysterious +fire they kindled in her breast was destined to consume her young heart, +and make it the sepulchre of her new-born affections.</p> + +<p>"It must be a blessed thing to be loved as you love Juliet, Anthony," +she said, as they were sitting together beneath the shadow of the great +oak which graced the centre of the lawn in front of the house. "Could +you not share your heart with another?"</p> + +<p>"Why, my little Clary, what would you do with half a heart?" said +Anthony, smiling; for he always looked upon his fragile companion as a +child. "Love is a selfish fellow, he claims the whole, concentrates all +in himself, or scatters abroad."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Anthony. I am sure if I had the half, I should soon +covet the whole. It would be a dangerous possession, and stand between +me and heaven. No, no, it would not be right to ask that which belongs +to another; only it seems so natural to wish those to love us whom we +love."</p> + +<p>"I do love you, sweet Clary, and you must continue to love me; though it +is an affection quite different from that which I feel for Juliet. You +are the sister whom nature denied me—the dear friend whom I sought in +vain amidst <a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>the world and its heartless scenes; my good angel, whose +pure and holy influence subdues the evil passions of my nature, and +renders virtue more attractive. I love you, Clary. I feel a better and +humbler creature in your presence; and when you are absent, your gentle +admonitions stimulate me to further exertions."</p> + +<p>"I am satisfied, dear Anthony," said Clary, lifting her inspired +countenance, and gazing steadily upon him. "As yon heavens exceed in +height and glory the earth beneath, so far, in my estimation, does the +love you bear to me exceed that which you feel for Juliet. One is of the +earth, and like the earth must perish; the other is light from heaven. +Evermore let me dwell in this light."</p> + +<p>With an involuntary movement, Anthony pressed the small white hand he +held in his own to his lips. Was there the leaven of earth in that kiss, +that it brought the rosy glow into the cheek of Clary, and then paled it +to death-like whiteness? "Clary," he said, "have you forgotten the +promise you made me a few days ago?"</p> + +<p>Clary looked up inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"To show me Juliet's portfolio."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, and there are some lines about love, that I will sing and play +to you," said Clary, rising.</p> + +<p>"Have you got the music?"</p> + +<p>"It is all here," said the fair girl, placing her hand upon her breast. +"The heart is the fountain from which all my inspiration flows." And she +bounded off to fetch her harp and the portfolio.</p> + +<p>Anthony looked after her, but no regretful sigh rose to his lips. His +heart was true to the first impression to which love had set his seal; +its affections had been consecrated at another shrine, and he felt that +his dear little cousin could never stand in a tenderer relation to him.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>Clary returned quite in a flutter with the exertion she had used. +Anthony sprang forward to relieve her of the harp, and to place it in a +convenient situation.</p> + +<p>"Juliet had a great fear of being married for her money," said Clary. "I +used to laugh at her, and tell her that no one who knew her would ever +remember her money; the treasures of her mind so far surpassed the dross +of the world. Yet, for all that, she wrote and gave me this ballad the +next morning. I felt very much inclined to scold her for her want of +faith."</p> + +<p>"Do let me hear it."</p> + +<p>"Patience, Mr. Anthony. You must give me time to tune my harp. Such a +theme as love requires all the strings to sound in perfect unison. There +now—let me think a few minutes. The air must be neither very sad, nor +yet gay. Something touching and tender. I have it now—"</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">THE MAIDEN'S DREAM.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In all the guise that beauty wears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well known by many a fabled token,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last night I saw young Love in tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With stringless bow and arrows broken.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, waving light in wanton flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair, sunny locks his brows adorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on his cheeks the roseate glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With which Aurora decks the morn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The living light in those blind eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No mortal tongue could ere disclose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hue was stol'n from brighter skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their tears were dew-drops on the rose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around his limbs of heavenly mould<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A rainbow-tinted vest was flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revealing through each lucid fold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faultless form by poets sung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><p><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a></p> +<span class="i0">He sighed; the air with fragrance breath'd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He moved; the earth confess'd the god;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her brightest chaplets nature wreath'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er his dimpled feet had press'd the sod.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why weeps Love's young divinity alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While men have hearts, and woman charms beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me, fair worshipp'd boy of ages flown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is ev'ry flowret faded in Love's wreath?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With that he raised his dewy, azure eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from his lips words of soft music broke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the truant tears would crowding rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And snowy bosom heave before he spoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, come and weep with me," he cried, "fair maid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weep that the gentle reign of Love is o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, venture nearer—cease to be afraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I have hearts and worshippers no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In vain I give to woman's lovely form<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that can rapture on the heart bestow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairest form no dastard heart can warm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While gold has greater power than Love below.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain I breathe a freshness on her cheek;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain the Graces round her footsteps move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes of melting beauty softly speak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul-born, silent eloquence of Love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It was not thus," the urchin, sighing, said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"When hope and gladness crowned the new-born earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Eden's bowers, beneath a myrtle's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before man was, Love sprang to birth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Heaven around me balmy fragrance shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With rosy chains the infant year I bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as my bride young Nature blushing led<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vestal beauty o'er the verdant ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The first fond sigh that young Love stole<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was wafted o'er those fields of air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kindle light in man's stern soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And render Heaven's best work more fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>Creation felt that tender sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And earth received Love's rapturous tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their beauty beamed in woman's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And music broke on human ears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whether I moved upon the rolling seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or sank on Nature's flowery lap to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or raised my light wings on the sportive breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The conscious earth with joy her god confess'd.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Mirth and Gladness round my footsteps play'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bright-haired Hope led on the laughing Hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As man and beast in holy union stray'd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To share the lucid streams and virgin flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, useless then yon shafts and broken bow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till man abused the balm in mercy given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst gold has greater charms than Love below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I flee from earth to find a home in heaven!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sudden glory round his figure spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It rose upon the sun's departing beam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sad vision sleep together fled:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Starting, I woke—and found it all a dream!<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>"When I try to compose music for love songs," said Clary, suddenly +turning to Anthony, whom she found buried in profound thought, "I never +succeed. If you understood this glorious science of music, and could +make the harp echo the inborn melodies that float through the mind, you +would not fail to give them the proper effect."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think that I should be more fortunate than your sweet self, +Clary?"</p> + +<p>"Because you 'love one bright, particular star,' with your whole heart, +Anthony. The heart has a language of its own. It speaks in music. There +are few that can comprehend its exquisite tones; but those who are so +gifted are the best qualified to call them forth. Love must have existed +before Music. The first sigh he breathed gave birth to melodious sounds. +The first words he spake were <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>song; so Juliet tells us, in this little +poem, and surely she is inspired."</p> + +<p>"What else have we here?" said Anthony, peeping into the portfolio and +drawing out a sheet of paper. "Is this bold energetic-looking hand my +beautiful Juliet's autograph?"</p> + +<p>"You are disappointed, cousin Anthony. You expected to find an elegant +flowing hand, as fair and graceful as the white fingers that held the +pen. Now, be it known unto you, my wise cousin, that persons of genius, +especially those who deal in rhymes, rarely write fine hands; their +thoughts flow too rapidly to allow them the necessary time and care +required to form perfect characters. Most boarding-school misses write +neat and graceful hands, but few of such persons are able to compose a +truly elegant sentence. The author thinks his ideas of more consequence +than his autograph, which is but the mechanical process he employs to +represent them on paper."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a hand do you write, Clary?"</p> + +<p>"Why, cousin Anthony, it just hangs between the two extremes. Not good +enough to deserve much praise, nor bad enough to call forth much +censure. In this respect it corresponds more with my character than +Juliet's does."</p> + +<p>"You are no judge of your mental qualifications, Clary, and I am not +going to make you vain by enumeration. Can you compose music for this +little ballad?" and he placed one before her.</p> + +<p>"That? Oh, no, I can do nothing with that. But hark! I hear my brother +calling me from the house. Let us go to him." She ran forward, and +Anthony was about to follow her, when he was addressed in a rude +familiar manner, and turning round, he beheld the burly form of William +<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>Mathews, leaning over the slight green paling that separated the lawn +from the road.</p> + +<p>"Good day to you, Mr. Anthony. You have been hiding from us of late. A +pleasant place this."</p> + +<p>"Have you any business with me, Mr. Mathews?" said Anthony, in a voice, +and with a look, which rendered his meaning unmistakeable.</p> + +<p>"Ahem! Not exactly. But 'tis natural for one to inquire after the health +of an old neighbor. Are you living here, or with the old 'un?"</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Mr. Mathews," said Anthony, turning coldly upon his heel. +"I make a point of never answering impertinent questions."</p> + +<p>"Curse you for a proud fool," muttered the ruffian, as Anthony entered +the house. "If Bill Mathews does not soon pull you down from your high +horse, may his limbs rot in a jail." And calling to an ugly black cur, +that was prowling round the garden, and whose physiognomy greatly +resembled his own, the poacher slunk off.</p> + +<p>"Anthony," said Frederic Wildegrave, as his cousin, in no very gentle +mood, entered the house, "unexpected business calls me away for some +weeks to a distant county. You must make yourself as comfortable as you +can during my absence. Clary will do the honors of the house. By-the-by, +I have just received four hundred pounds for the sale of the big marsh. +I have not time to deposit the money in the bank; but will you see to it +some time during the week. There is the key of my desk. You will find +the money and the banker's book in the second drawer. And now, Clary, +don't look so grave, but give me a kiss, and wish me back."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that you will have any," said Clary fling<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>ing her arms +round his neck. "My heart fills with gloom at the thought of your going +away—and so suddenly."</p> + +<p>"I shall come back as soon as I possibly can. What in tears. Silly +child!"</p> + +<p>"Don't go, dear Fred."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Business must not be neglected."</p> + +<p>"Something tells me that this journey is not for good."</p> + +<p>"Dear Clary, I could quarrel with you for these superstitious fears. +Farewell, my own darling—and joy be with you."</p> + +<p>Kissing again and again the tears from Clarissa's cheek, and shaking +Anthony warmly by the hand, the young master of the mansion sprang to +his saddle and was gone, leaving Anthony and Clary to amuse themselves +in the best manner they could.</p> + +<p>"You must not forget, Anthony, that Fred has left you his banker. He is +so generous that the money will be safer in your hands than in his own."</p> + +<p>Anthony laughed, and put the key of the desk into his pocket. What to +him was the money? had it been four thousand, or forty thousand, he +would not, in all probability have given it a second thought.</p> + +<p>The next morning Clary was seriously indisposed, and her cousin took his +breakfast alone. After making many anxious inquiries about her, and +being assured by old Ruth that she only required rest to be quite well +again, he retired to Frederic's study; and taking up a volume of a new +work that was just out, he was soon buried in its contents.</p> + +<p>A loud altercation in the passage, between some person who insisted upon +seeing Mr. Hurdlestone and old Ruth, broke in upon his studies.</p> + +<p>"Will you please to send up your name, sir?" said <a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>Ruth, in no very +gentle tones; "Mr. Hurdlestone is busy."</p> + +<p>"No. I told you before that I would announce myself."</p> + +<p>Anthony instantly recognised the voice, and before he could lay aside +the book, Godfrey Hurdlestone stood before him.</p> + +<p>How changed—how dreadfully changed he was, since they last met. The +wicked career of a few months had stamped and furrowed his brow with the +lines of years. His dress was mean and faded. He looked dirty and +slovenly, and little of his former manly beauty and elegance of person +remained. So utterly degraded was his appearance, that a cry of surprise +broke from Anthony's lips, so inexpressibly shocked was he at an +alteration so startling.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know me, Anthony," said Godfrey, with a sarcastic smile; +"I can't be so changed as all that?"</p> + +<p>"You are greatly changed."</p> + +<p>"For the worse, of course. Yes, poverty soon brings a man down who has +never been used to work. It has brought me down—down to the very dust."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say so. I thought that you were comfortably +settled with the Whitmores until you could procure a tutorship. With +your education and abilities, Godfrey, you should not appear thus."</p> + +<p>"I left the Whitmores a long time ago. I thought you had heard that +piece of ill news, for such stories travel apace. You must know that, as +ill-luck would have it, Juliet learned from Mary all the particulars of +that unfortunate business, and I, of course, had to decamp. Since then +the world has gone all wrong with me, and one misfortune has followed +upon another, until I stand before you a lost and ruined man; and if +you, Anthony, refuse to assist me, I must go headlong to destruction."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>In spite of all his affected boldness, it was evident that the speaker +was dreadfully agitated. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his fine +features swollen and distorted, and his face as pale as ashes.</p> + +<p>Anthony continued to gaze upon him with eyes full of pity and +astonishment, and cheeks yet paler than his own. Could it be Algernon +Hurdlestone's son that stood before him—that cousin whom he had sworn +to love and cherish as a brother, and to help to the uttermost in time +of need? The solemn vow he had taken when a boy was the uppermost +thought that moment in his mind; and his eyes slowly filled with tears +as turning to Godfrey he said, "If I can help you I will do so to the +utmost of my power. Like you, however, I am a poor man, and my power is +limited."</p> + +<p>Godfrey remained silent.</p> + +<p>"What can have happened to agitate you thus? What have you done that can +warrant such dreadful words? Sit down, cousin. You look faint. Good +Heavens! how you tremble. What can occasion this terrible distress of +mind?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be better presently. Give me a glass of brandy, Tony, to make +me speak steadily. I never felt nervous before."</p> + +<p>His teeth chattered audibly and prevented him from speaking further. +Anthony gave him the stimulant he desired. It seemed to possess some +miraculous power. Godfrey rose from his chair, and coming quite close up +to his cousin, he said with apparent calmness:</p> + +<p>"Anthony, I have committed forgery."</p> + +<p>Anthony recoiled backward. He caught the table convulsively to keep +himself from falling, as he gasped out:</p> + +<p>"This is too dreadful! Oh, my poor uncle! Thank Heaven, you are spared +the agony of this. Godfrey, Godfrey, what could induce you to perpetrate +such a crime?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>"Necessity. But don't torture me with questions. I am punished enough +already. The deed is done and the forfeit must be paid. Haman Levi, the +Jew, in whose name the check was drawn, has detected the fraud. +Fortunately for me he is a rascal, a man without any principle, in whom +avarice is a more powerful feeling than justice. He knows that he will +gain nothing by hanging me; but something considerable by a compromise +that will save my life. The sum drawn by me was for three hundred +pounds. Haman came to me this morning, and told me that if I paid him +four hundred down within twelve hours he would acknowledge the order, +and stop the prosecution; but if I refused to comply with his terms, the +law should take its course. I have no money, Anthony. I know not where +or how to obtain such a large sum in the given time, and if I suffer +this day to expire, the season for mercy is past. Rescue me, Anthony, +from this frightful situation—save me from a death of shame—and the +rest of my life shall be devoted to your service!"</p> + +<p>"Alas, Godfrey, I have already borne your shame, and though your victim +has pronounced me innocent, the world considers me guilty. What can I do +in this dreadful business? I have no money. And my cousin who might, +perhaps, for my sake have helped you in this emergency, left us last +night, and will be some weeks absent."</p> + +<p>"You have a father—a rich father, Anthony!" said Godfrey, writhing in +despair. "Will you not go to him and make one effort—one last +effort—to save my life. Think of our early years. Think of my generous +father—of his love and friendship—of all he sacrificed for your +sake—and will you let his son be hung like a dog, when a few words of +persuasion might save him."</p> + +<p>The criminal bowed his head upon his hands, and wept <a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a>long and +passionately. Anthony was deeply affected by his misery. Had Frederic +been at home, he thought, they might have done something to rescue him. +They might have gone to the miser, and together represented the +necessity of the case, and by offering large interest for the loan of +the money, have obtained it. What was to be done? Confounded and +bewildered, he could think of no plan at all likely to succeed.</p> + +<p>Alas for Anthony! The money which had been left in his hands by Frederic +Wildegrave, at that unlucky moment flashed across his mind. It was +exactly the sum. He was sure that Frederic would lend it to him at his +earnest request. Anthony was young and inexperienced, he had yet to +learn that we are not called upon, in such matters, to think for others, +or to do evil that good may come of it. He looked doubtfully in the +haggard face of the wretched suppliant.</p> + +<p>"Have you no means of raising the money, Godfrey?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—in a few days, perhaps. But it will be too late then."</p> + +<p>"Cannot you persuade the Jew to wait?"</p> + +<p>"He is inexorable. But, Anthony, if you can borrow the money for me +to-day, I will repay it to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"Can you promise me this?"</p> + +<p>"I swear it. I will sell the reversion of the legacy left me by my aunt +Maitland, which falls due at her husband's death. It is eight hundred +pounds; I will sell it for half its value to meet the demand. But to +accomplish this, more time is required than I can just now command. Will +this satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"It will. But woe to us both if you deceive me!"</p> + +<p>"Can you imagine me such an ungrateful scoundrel?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>"You have betrayed me once before. If you fail this time, Godfrey, you +will not die alone."</p> + +<p>Anthony went to the desk, and unlocked it with a trembling hand. As he +opened the drawer which contained the money, a sudden chill crept +through his veins, and he paused, irresolute how to act. "It is not +theft," he argued to himself; "it is but a loan, which will soon be +repaid. A few hours cannot make much difference. Long before Frederic +requires the money, it will be replaced."</p> + +<p>He had gone too far to recede. Godfrey was already at his side and +eagerly seized the golden prize. With tears of real or feigned gratitude +he left the house, and Anthony had leisure to reflect upon what he had +done.</p> + +<p>The more he pondered over the rash act, the more imprudent and criminal +it appeared; and when, by the next post, he received a letter from +Frederic, informing him that he had made a very advantageous purchase of +land, and requested him to transmit the money he had left in his +keeping, his misery was complete.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunate Anthony!" he cried. "Into what new dangers will your +unhappy destiny hurry you!"</p> + +<p>Snatching up his hat, he rushed forth in quest of his unprincipled +relative.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Strange voices still are ringing in mine ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something of shame, of anguish, and reproach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My brain is dark, I have forgot it all.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">In the miserable attic over the kitchen in the public-house already +described, there was a sound of deep, half-suppressed, passionate +weeping—a young mother weeping for her first-born, who would not be +pacified. The deepest fountain of love in the human heart had been +stirred; its hallowed sources abused, and violently broken up; and the +shock had been too great for the injured possessor to bear patiently. +Her very reason had yielded to the blow, and she lamented her loss, as a +forward child laments the loss of some favorite plaything. Had she not +been a creature of passionate impulses, the death of this babe of shame +would have brought a stern joy to her bereaved mind. She would have +wept—for nature speaks from the heart in tears; but she would have +blessed God that He had removed the innocent cause of her distress from +being a partaker of her guilt, a sharer of her infamy, a lasting source +of regret and sorrow.</p> + +<p>Mary Mathews had looked forward with intense desire for the birth of +this child. It would be something for her to love and cling +to—something for whose sake she would be content to live—for whom she +could work and toil; who would meet her with smiles, and feel its +dependence upon her exertions. She thought, too, that Godfrey would +<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>love her once more, for his infant's sake. Rash girl! She had yet to +learn that the love of man never returns to the forsaken object of his +selfish gratification.</p> + +<p>The night before this event took place, violent words had arisen between +Mary and her brother. The ruffian was partially intoxicated, and urged +on by the infuriated spirit of intemperance, regardless of the +entreaties of the woman Strawberry, or the helpless situation of the +unfortunate girl, he had struck her repeatedly; and the violent passion +into which his brutal unkindness had hurried his victim produced +premature confinement, followed by the death of her child, a fine little +boy.</p> + +<p>Godfrey was absent when all this occurred; and though the day was pretty +far advanced, he had not as yet returned.</p> + +<p>As to William Mathews, he wished that death had removed both mother and +child, as he found Mary too untractable to be of any use to him.</p> + +<p>"My child! my child!" sobbed Mary. "What have you done with him? where +have you put him? Oh! for the love of Heaven, Mrs. Strawberry, let me +look at my child!"</p> + +<p>"Hold your peace, you foolish young creature! What do you want with the +corpse? You had better lie still, and be quiet, or we may chance to bury +you both in the same grave."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" sighed the girl, burying her face in the pillow, and giving way to +a fresh gush of tears, "that's too good to happen. The wretched never +die; the lost, like me, are never found. The wicked are denied the rest, +the deep rest of the grave. Oh, my child! my blessed child! Let me but +look upon my own flesh and blood, let me baptize <a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a>the unbaptized with my +tears, and I shall feel this horrible load removed from my heart."</p> + +<p>"It was a sad thing that it died, before it got the sign of the cross," +said the godless old woman. "Sich babes, I've heard the priest say, +never see the light o' God's countenance; but the blackness of darkness +abides on them for ever. Howsomever, these kind o' childer never come to +no good, whether they live or die. Young giddy creatures should think o' +that before they run into sin, and bring upon themselves trouble and +confusion. I was exposed to great temptation in my day; but I never +disgraced myself by the like o' that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you were very good, I dare say," said Mary, coaxingly; "and I will +think you the best and kindest woman that ever lived, if you will but +let me see the poor babe."</p> + +<p>"What good will it do you to see it? it will only make you fret. You +ought to thank God that it is gone. It was a mercy you had no right to +expect. You are now just as good as ever you were. You can go into a +gentleman's service, and hold up your head with the best of them. I +would not stay here, if I were you, to be kicked and ordered about by +that wicked brother of yours, nor wait, like a slave, upon this Mr. +Godfrey. What is he now? not a bit better than one of us. Not a shilling +has he to bless himself with, and I am sure he does not care one +farthing for you, and will be glad that the child is off his hands."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he loves me; indeed, indeed, he loves me and the child. Oh, he will +grieve for the child. Mrs. Strawberry, if ever you were a mother +yourself, have pity upon me, and show me the baby."</p> + +<p>She caught the woman by the hand, and looked up in <a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a>her face with such +an expression of longing intense desire, that, harsh as she was, it +melted her stony heart; and, going to a closet, she returned with the +babe in her arms. It was dressed in its little cap, and long white +night-gown—a cold image of purity and perfect peace.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mine own! mine own!" wailed the young mother, pressing the cold +form against her breast, as she rocked to and fro on the pillow. "My +blessed innocent boy! You have left me for ever, and ever, and ever. My +child! my infant love! I have wept for you—prayed for you—while yet +unborn, have blessed you. Your smiles would have healed up the deep +wounds of my broken heart. Together we would have wandered to some +distant land, where reproaches, and curses, and blows, would never have +found us; and we would have been happy in each's other's love—so happy! +Ah, my murdered child! I call upon you, but you cannot hear me! I weep +for you, but you are unconscious of my grief. Ah, woe is me! What shall +I do, a-wanting thee? My heart is empty; the world is empty. Its +promises are false—its love departed. My child is dead, and I am +alone—alone—alone."</p> + +<p>"Come, give me the babe, Mary! I hear your brother's step upon the +stair."</p> + +<p>"You shall not have it!" cried the girl, starting up in the bed, her +eyes flashing fire. "Hush! your loud voice will waken him. He is mine. +God gave him to me; and you shall not tear him from me. No other hand +shall feed and rock him to sleep but mine.</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lullaby, baby! no danger shall come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My breast is thy pillow, my heart is thy home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That poor heart may break, but it ever shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True, true to thy father, dear baby, and thee!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><p><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a></p> +<span class="i0">"Weep, mother, weep, thy loved infant is sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sleep which no storms of the world can awaken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, what avails all thy passionate weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The depths of that love which no sorrow has shaken?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All useless and lost in my desolate sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sunbeam of hope scatters light through the gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instead of the voice of rejoicing and gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear the wind wave the rank grass on thy tomb."<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>Partly moaning, and partly singing, the poor creature, exhausted by a +night of severe pain, and still greater mental anxiety, dropped off into +a broken slumber, with the dead infant closely pressed to her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Well, there they lie together: the dead and the living," said Mrs. +Strawberry. "'Tis a piteous sight. I wish they were both bound to the +one place. We'll have no good of this love-sick girl; and I have some +fears myself of her brutal brother and the father of the brat. I hear +his voice: they are home. Well, they may just step up, and look at their +work. If this is not murder, I wonder what is?"</p> + +<p>With a feeling of more humanity than Mrs. Strawberry was ever known to +display, she arranged the coarse pillow that supported Mary's head, and +softly closing the door, descended the step-ladder that led to the +kitchen; here she found Godfrey and Mathews in close conversation, the +latter laughing immoderately.</p> + +<p>"And he took the bait so easily, Godfrey? Never suspected that it was +all a sham? Ha! ha! ha! Let me look at the money. I can scarcely believe +my own senses. Ha! ha! ha! Why, man, you have found out a more +expeditious method of making gold than your miserly uncle ever knew."</p> + +<p>"Aye, but I have not his method of keeping it, Bill; but <a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>you may well +laugh. This proud boy is in our toils now. I have him as sure as fate. I +must say that I felt a slight pang of remorse when I saw him willing to +dare so much for me; and he looked so like my father, that I could +almost have fancied that the dead looked through his eyes into my soul. +I have gone too far to recede. What must be, must be; none of us shape +our own destinies, or some good angel would have warned Anthony of his +danger."</p> + +<p>"What the devil has become of Mary?" said Mathews, glancing round the +kitchen. "She and I had some words last night; it was a foolish piece of +business, but she provoked me past endurance. I found her dressed up +very smart just at nightfall, and about to leave the house. I asked her +where she was going so late in the evening. She answered, 'To hear the +Ranters preach in the village; that she wanted to know what they had to +say to her soul.' So I cursed her soul, and bade her go back to her +chamber, and not expose her shame to the world; and she grew fierce, and +asked me tauntingly, who it was that had brought her to that shame, and +if I were not the greater sinner of the two; and I struck her in my +anger, and drove her up stairs."</p> + +<p>"Struck her!" said Godfrey, starting back. "Struck a woman! That woman +your sister, and in her helpless situation! You dared not do such a +cowardly, unmanly act?"</p> + +<p>"I was drunk," said Mathews, gloomily; "and she was so aggravating that +I am not sure that you would have kept your hands off her. She flew at +me like an enraged tiger-cat, with clenched fists and eyes flashing +fire, and returned me what I gave with interest; and I believe there +would have been murder between us, if Mrs. Strawberry had not <a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>dragged +her off. What has become of her, mother. How is she now?"</p> + +<p>"You had better go up and see," said the woman, with a bitter laugh. +"She is not very likely to fight again to-day."</p> + +<p>There was something mysterious in the woman's manner that startled the +ruffian. "Come up with me, Godfrey, and speak to her. One word from you +will make my peace with Mary. I did not mean to hurt the girl."</p> + +<p>Mary had been sleeping. The sound of their steps broke in upon her +feverish slumber; but she still kept her eyes closed, as if unwilling to +rouse herself from the stupor of grief in which she had fallen.</p> + +<p>"She is sleeping," said Mathews, approaching the bed. "By Jove! I +thought she was dead. How still she lies. How deadly pale she looks—and +what is that upon her breast?"</p> + +<p>"A child! my child!" cried Godfrey, stepping eagerly forward. "Poor +Mary! she is safe through that trial. But the child—"</p> + +<p>"Is dead," said Mathews. "Yes, dead. Godfrey you are in luck. What a +fortunate thing for us all."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said the young father, laying his hand upon the cold pale cheek +of his first born. "Aye, so it is. She was so healthy, I dared not hope +for this. Poor little pale cold thing, how happy I am to see you thus! +What a load of anxiety your death has removed from my heart! What a +blessing it would have been if it had pleased God to take them both!"</p> + +<p>This from the man she loved—the father of her child—was too much. Mary +opened her large tear-swollen eyes, and fixed them mournfully upon his +face. He stooped down, and would have kissed her; but she drew back with +<a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>ill-disguised horror. The love she had so madly cherished for him was +gone—vanished for ever in those cruel words, and nought but the blank +darkness and horror of remorse remained. She turned upon her pillow, and +fixing her eyes upon the dead infant, mentally swore that she would live +for revenge. She no longer shed a tear, or uttered the least complaint, +but secretly blessed God that the babe was dead. She had lived to hear +the father of that child, for whose sake she had borne the contempt of +her neighbors, the reproaches of conscience, and the fears of eternal +punishment, rejoice in the death of his first-born; and without a tear +or sigh, wish that she might share the same grave. Could such things be? +Alas! they happen every day, and are the sure reward of guilt.</p> + +<p>"My poor Mary," said the hypocrite. "You have suffered a good deal for +my sake; but do not cry. God knew best when he took the child from us. +It is painful for us to part with him, but depend upon it, he is much +better off where he is."</p> + +<p>"I know it now," said the young mother. "Yes, Godfrey Hurdlestone, he is +better off where he is; and for some wise end, God has spared my +worthless life. Is that you, William? The murderer of my child has no +business here."</p> + +<p>"Mary, it was the drink. I did not mean to hurt either you or the child; +so shake hands, and say that you forgive me."</p> + +<p>He leant over the bed and held out his hand. Mary put it contemptuously +aside. "Never," she said firmly; "neither in this world, nor in the +world to come."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what you say?" said Mathews, bending over the pillow and +doubling his fist in his sister's face, whilst his dark grey eyes +emitted a deadly light.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>"I am in my senses," returned Mary, with a bitter laugh, "although you +have done your best to drive me mad. You need not stamp your foot, nor +frown, nor glare upon me like a beast of prey. I defy your malice. What +I said I will again repeat; and may my curse and the curse of an +offended God cleave to you for ever!"</p> + +<p>"I will murder you for those words!" said the fiend, grinding his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Death is no punishment. Threaten me, William, with something that I +fear. I am helpless, now, but I shall soon be strong and well, and my +arm may be a match for the feeble drunkard—the cowardly destroyer of +women and children."</p> + +<p>"Unhand me, Godfrey Hurdlestone!" roared out the villain, struggling in +the powerful grasp of his colleague in guilt. "For by all the fiends of +hell! she shall answer for those words!"</p> + +<p>"Hold, Mathews! You are mad! I will stab you to the heart if you attempt +to touch her."</p> + +<p>He spoke to the winds, for throwing him back to the wall, Mathews seized +the knife from his hand, and sprang upon his intended victim. Rising +slowly up in the bed, with an air of calm solemn grandeur, she held up +the pure pale form of the dead child between herself and the murderer.</p> + +<p>Not a word was spoken. With an awful curse the man reeled back as if he +had been stung by a serpent, and fell writhing upon the floor, and Mary +sunk back upon her pillow, and covered her face with her hands, +muttering as she did so,—"How strong is innocence! The wicked are like +the chaff which the wind scatters abroad. Oh, God, forgive the past, +which is no longer in my power; and let the future be spent in thy +service. I repent in dust and ashes. Oh, woe is me, for I have sinned!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>Rousing Mathews from the fit into which he had fallen, and in no very +enviable state of mind, Godfrey left the chamber, and joined a set of +notorious gamblers in the room below.</p> + +<p>From this scene of riot and drunken debauchery, he was summoned by Mrs. +Strawberry to attend a gentleman who wished to speak to him in the outer +room. With unsteady steps, and a face flushed with the eager excitement +of gambling. Godfrey followed his conductress, and ruffian as he was, +his cheek paled, and his eyes sought the ground when he found himself in +the presence of his injured cousin.</p> + +<p>Shocked at the situation in which he found him, Anthony briefly stated +the difficulty he had had in tracing Godfrey to this infamous resort, +and the awkward circumstances in which he was placed with young +Wildegrave; and he claimed the promise made to him by his cousin on the +preceding day, to relieve him from the impending danger.</p> + +<p>"I told you that to-night, Anthony, the money should be repaid. The +clock has not yet struck for eight. If I have luck, it shall be returned +before twelve to-night."</p> + +<p>"Luck!" reiterated Anthony, gasping for breath, as he staggered to the +wall for support. "Is it on such a precarious basis that my honor and +your honesty must rest? You talked yesterday of the sale of your +reversionary property."</p> + +<p>"I did. But the Jew was too cunning for me. He became the purchaser, and +the money just satisfied his demand, and covered an old debt of honor, +that I had forgotten was due to him, and I am worse off than I was +before."</p> + +<p>"But you can restore the money you got from me last night, as Haman was +satisfied by the sale of the legacy."</p> + +<p>"I could if you had called two hours ago. I was tempted <a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>to try my luck +in the hope of gaining a few pounds for my self, and—"</p> + +<p>"It is lost at the gaming table?"</p> + +<p>Godfrey nodded his head.</p> + +<p>"It is well," said Anthony, bitterly. "You have saved your own life by +transferring the doom to me."</p> + +<p>He did not wait for futher explanation, but walked rapidly from the +house; and after a thousand severe self-upbraidings, in a fit of +despair, took the road that led through Ashton Park to the miser's +dwelling.</p> + +<p>After an hour's walk he came in sight of the wretched hovel. It was now +evening, and a faint light, shed from a rush candle, gleamed through the +broken apertures of the low casement. He paused upon the threshold of +this abode of want and misery, and for the first time in his life he +thought it had been well for him had he never left it. For some time he +continued knocking loudly at the door, without being able to gain +admittance; at, length, bolt after bolt was slowly withdrawn, and the +miser himself let him in.</p> + +<p>"It is well, Grenard, that you are home at last," growled forth the +surly old man. "If you make a practice of staying out so late at night, +we shall both be murdered."</p> + +<p>But when, on holding up the light, he discovered his mistake, and +recognised the features of his son, he demanded in an angry tone, "What +business he had with him?"</p> + +<p>Anthony pushed past him, and entered the house.</p> + +<p>"Father, I will tell you immediately—but I am tired and ill. I must sit +down."</p> + +<p>Without regarding the old man's stern look of surprise and displeasure, +he advanced to the table, and sat down upon the empty bench which was +generally occupied by <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>Grenard Pike, secretly rejoicing that that worthy +was not at home. The awkwardness and difficulty of his situation pressed +so painfully upon the young man, that for a few seconds he could not +utter a word. A cold perspiration bedewed his limbs, and his knees +trembled with agitation.</p> + +<p>Stern and erect, the old man, still holding the light, stood before him, +and though he did not raise his head to meet the miser's glance, he felt +that the searching gaze from which he used to shrink when a boy was +riveted upon him.</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone was the first to break the awful silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir! If you are ready to explain the cause of this extraordinary +visit, I am ready to listen to you. What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"Your advice and aid," at length gasped forth the unhappy youth. "I have +acted very foolishly, and in an hour of great difficulty and danger, I +fling myself upon your mercy, and I beseech you not to turn a deaf ear +to my prayer."</p> + +<p>Mark sat down in his high-backed chair, and placed the light upon the +table in such a manner as fully to reveal the pale agitated features of +his son. Had a stranger at that moment entered the cottage, he might for +the first time have perceived the strong family likeness that existed +between them. The same high features, the same compressed lips and +haughty stern expression of eye. The gloom which overspread the +countenance of the one, produced by the habitual absence of all joyous +feeling; the other by actual despair. Yes, in that hour they looked +alike, and the miser seemed tacitly to acknowledge the resemblance, for +a softening expression stole over his rigid features as he continued to +gaze upon his son.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a>"You have acted foolishly," he said; "no uncommon thing at your +age—and in danger and difficulty you seek me. I suppose I ought to +consider this act of condescension on your part a great compliment. Your +circumstances must be desperate indeed, when they lead you to make a +confidant of your father, considering how greatly I am indebted to you +for filial love. You have been in my neighborhood, Anthony Hurdlestone, +nearly a month, and this is the first visit with which you have honored +me."</p> + +<p>"I should have been most happy to have paid my respects to you, sir, +could I have imagined that my visits would have been acceptable."</p> + +<p>"It was worth your while to make the trial, young man. It was not for +you to think, but to act, and the result would have proved to you how +far you were right. But to dismiss all idle excuses, which but aggravate +your want of duty in my eyes, be pleased briefly to inform me, why I am +honored so late at night with a visit from Mr. Anthony Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>Anthony bit his lips. It was too late to retract, and though he deeply +repented having placed himself in such a humiliating situation, he +faithfully related to his stern auditor the cause of his distress. The +old man listened to him attentively, a sarcastic smile at times writhing +his thin lips; and when Anthony implored him for the loan of four +hundred pounds, until the return of Mr. Wildegrave, who he was certain +would overlook his unintentional fraud—he burst into a taunting laugh, +and flatly refused to grant his request.</p> + +<p>Anthony assailed him with a storm of eloquence, using every argument +which the agony of the moment suggested, in order to soften his hard +heart. He might as well have asked charity of the marble monuments of +his ancestors. <a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>Stung to madness by the old man's obstinate refusal, he +sprang from his seat.</p> + +<p>"Father, relent I beseech you: revoke this cruel decision. My request is +too urgent to admit of a denial!"</p> + +<p>He dashed his clenched fist upon the shattered remains of the old oak +table, upon which Mark was leaning, his head resting between his long +bony attenuated hands. The blow sent a hollow sound through the empty +desolate apartment. The grey-haired man raised his eyes, without lifting +his head, and surveyed his son with an expression of mocking triumph, +but answered not a word. His contemptuous silence was more galling to +the irritated applicant than the loudest torrent of abuse. He was +prepared for that, and he turned from the stony glance and harsh face of +his father with eyes full of tears, and his breast heaving under the +sense of intolerable wrongs.</p> + +<p>At length his feelings found utterance. His dark eyes flashed fire, and +despair, with all her attendant furies, took possession of his heart.</p> + +<p>"I will not reproach you, Mr. Hurdlestone, for giving me life," he +cried, in tones tremulous with passion, "for that would be to insult the +God who made me: but your unnatural conduct to me since the first moment +I inherited that melancholy boon has made me consider that my greatest +misfortune is being your son. It was in your power to have rendered it a +mutual blessing. From a child, I have been a stranger in your house, an +alien to your affections. While you possessed a yearly income of two +hundred thousand pounds, you suffered your only son to be educated on +the charity of your injured brother, your sordid love of gold rendering +you indifferent to the wants of your motherless child. Destitute of a +home without money, and driven to desperation by an act of <a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a>imprudence, +which my compassion for the son of that generous uncle urged me in an +unguarded hour to commit, I seek you in my dire necessity to ask the +loan of a small sum, to save me from utter ruin. This you refuse. I now +call upon you by every feeling, both human and divine, to grant my +request.</p> + +<p>"What, silent yet. Nay, then by Heaven! I will not leave the house until +you give me the money. Give me this paltry sum, and you may leave your +hoarded treasures to the owls and bats, or make glad with your useless +wealth some penurious wretch, as fond of gold as yourself!"</p> + +<p>Mark Hurdlestone rocked to and fro in his chair, as if laboring with +some great internal emotion; at length he half rose from his seat, and +drew a key from beneath his vest. Anthony, who watched all his movements +with intense interest, felt something like the glow of hope animate his +breast; but these expectations were doomed to be annihilated, as the +miser again sunk down in his chair, and hastily concealed the key among +the tattered remains of his garments.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, Anthony," he said, in a hollow voice, which issued from his +chest as from a sepulchre. "Cannot you wait patiently until my death? It +will all be your own, then."</p> + +<p>"It will be too late," returned the agitated young man, whilst his +cheeks glowed with the crimson blush of shame, as a thousand agonising +recollections crowded upon his brain, and, covering his face with his +hands, he groaned aloud. A long and painful pause succeeded. At length a +desperate thought flashed through his mind.</p> + +<p>He drew nearer, and fixed his dark expanded eyes upon his father's face, +until the old man cowered, beneath the <a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>awful scrutiny. Again he spoke, +but his voice was calm, dreadfully calm. "Father, will you grant my +request? Let your answer be briefly, yes—or no?"</p> + +<p>"No!" thundered the miser. "I will part with my life first."</p> + +<p>"Be not rash. We are alone," returned the son, with the same unnatural +composure. "You are weak, and I am strong. If you wantonly provoke the +indignation of a desperate man, what will your riches avail you?"</p> + +<p>The miser instinctively grasped at the huge poker that graced the +fireplace, in whose rusty grate a cheerful fire had not been kindled for +many years. Anthony's quick eye detected the movement, and he took +possession of the dangerous weapon with the same cool but determined +air.</p> + +<p>"Think not that I mean to take your life. God forbid that I should stain +my hand with so foul a crime, and destroy your soul by sending it so +unprepared into the presence of the Creator. It is not blood—but money +I want."</p> + +<p>"Would not a less sum satisfy you?" and the miser eyed fearfully the +weapon of offence, on which his son continued to lean, and again drew +forth the key.</p> + +<p>"Not one farthing less."</p> + +<p>Mark glanced hurriedly round the apartment, and listened with intense +anxiety for the sound of expected footsteps. The sigh of the old trees +that bent over the hovel, swept occasionally by the fitful autumnal +blast alone broke the deep silence, and rendered it doubly painful.</p> + +<p>"Where can the fellow stay?" he muttered to himself; then as if a +thought suddenly struck him, he turned to his eon, and addressed him in +a more courteous tone. "Anthony, I cannot give you this great, sum +to-night. But <a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>come to me at this hour to-morrow night, and it shall be +yours."</p> + +<p>"On what surety?"</p> + +<p>"My word."</p> + +<p>"I dare not trust to that. You may deceive me."</p> + +<p>"When was Mark Hurdlestone ever known to utter a lie?" and a dark red +flush of anger mounted to the miser's face.</p> + +<p>"When he forged the news of his brother's death, to murder by slow +degrees my unhappy mother," said Anthony, scornfully. "The spirits of +the dead are near us in this hour; silently, but truly, they bear +witness against you."</p> + +<p>The old man groaned, and sunk his face between his hands as his son +continued;</p> + +<p>"I cannot wait until the morrow. This night alone is mine. If you cannot +readily lay your hands upon the money, write me an order upon your +banker for the sum."</p> + +<p>"I have neither pen, ink, nor paper," said the miser, eagerly availing +himself of the most paltry subterfuge, in order to gain time until the +return of Grenard Pike, or to escape paying the money.</p> + +<p>"I can supply you." And Anthony drew forth a small writing case, and +placed paper before him, and put a pen into his father's hand.</p> + +<p>"Anthony, you had better trust to my word," said Mark, solemnly. "Gold +is a heavier surety than paper, and by the God who made us, I swear to +keep my promise."</p> + +<p>"Aye, but you forget the old proverb, father. 'A bird in the hand is +worth two in the bush.'"</p> + +<p>The old man eyed him with a glance of peculiar meaning as with a +trembling hand he proceeded to write the order. <a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>When he had finished, +he folded the paper carefully together, and presented it to his son. +"You will not trust to my honor. Be it so. Take this paper, Anthony +Hurdlestone, for a Hurdlestone you are, and for the first time in my +life I believe that you are my son. But it is the sole inheritance you +will ever receive from me. Go, and let me see your face no more."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, sir," said the youth, in a faltering voice. "Forgive my +late intemperate conduct; it was influenced by despair. From this moment +I will love and respect you as my father."</p> + +<p>The miser's thin lips quivered as his son turned to leave him. He called +faintly after him, "Anthony, Anthony! Don't leave me alone with the +spirits of the dead. To-morrow I will do you justice. At this hour +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>His son stopped, but the entrance of old Pike stifled the rising gleam +of paternal regard, and dismissed the ghastly phantoms of the past from +the excited mind of the gold-worshipper. He grumbled a welcome to his +minion, and sternly waved to the unwelcome intruder to quit the house. +His wishes were instantly obeyed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Murder most foul hath been committed here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By thee committed—for thy hand is red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on thy pallid brow I see impress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mark of Cain.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">A thrilling feeling of joy at having gained the object of his visit to +Oak Hall, and obtained the means of wiping off the stain he so much +dreaded from his character, was throbbing in the breast of Anthony +Hurdlestone, as he reached, about nine o'clock in the evening, his +nominal home.</p> + +<p>He had sold his birthright for a mere trifle, but the loss of wealth +weighed lightly in his estimation against the loss of honor. On entering +Frederic's study, he found his cousin Godfrey and the ruffian Mathews +awaiting his return.</p> + +<p>Godfrey had dogged his steps to Ashton, had seen him enter the miser's +hovel, and from the length of his visit guessed rightly the cause. His +anxiety to know the result of this meeting induced him to return a part +of the money he had the day before received from his cousin, which he +had neither lost at play, as he had affirmed to Anthony, nor paid to the +Jew the fictitious debt which he had declared was due to him. These +falsehoods had been planned by him and his base companion, in order to +draw the unsuspecting young man into their toils, and bring about the +rupture they desired with his father.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>"My dear Anthony," he said, shaking him heartily by the hand, as he +rose to meet him. "I have not enjoyed a moment's peace since we parted +this evening. Here is half the sum you so kindly advanced, and if you +can wait for a few days, I hope to have the rest ready for you."</p> + +<p>With a heavy sigh, Anthony received the notes from his cousin, and +counting them over he locked them up in the desk, doubly rejoiced that +he had the means of replacing the whole sum.</p> + +<p>"You have been to Oak Hall," said Godfrey, carelessly. "How did the old +place look?"</p> + +<p>"I did not notice it. My mind was too much agitated. When I left you +ruin stared me in the face; as a last desperate chance to free myself, I +determined to visit my father, and request the loan of the money."</p> + +<p>"A daring move that," said Godfrey, with a smile to his companion; +"particularly after the rebuff you got from him, when you visited him on +behalf of my poor father. May I ask if you were successful?"</p> + +<p>"Here is the order for the money;" and with a feeling of natural +triumph, Anthony took the order from his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible! The philosopher's stone is no fable, if words of yours +could extract gold from a heart of flint. Brave Anthony! you have +wrought a miracle. But let me look at the order. Seeing's believing; and +I cannot believe such an improbable thing without I witness it with my +own eyes."</p> + +<p>"Nay, convince yourself of the truth, Godfrey. What object can I have in +attempting to deceive you? It would be against my own interest so to do, +as you are still my debtor for two hundred pounds."</p> + +<p>Godfrey took the paper from his cousin's hand, and went <a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a>to the table to +examine it by the light. As he glanced over the contents he gave a +sudden exclamation of surprise, and a smile curled his lip.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe me now?" said Anthony, who knew not exactly how to +interpret the dubious expression of Godfrey's face.</p> + +<p>"Read for yourself," returned Godfrey, giving back the paper. "When you +deal with such an accomplished scoundrel as Mark Hurdlestone, you should +give the devil a retaining fee."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Godfrey?" and his cousin eagerly snatched the paper +from his grasp. "He has not dared to deceive me!"</p> + +<p>Still, as he read, his countenance fell, a deadly paleness suddenly +pervaded his features, and uttering a faint moan, in which all the +bitter disappointment he experienced was visibly concentrated, he sank +down in a swoon at Godfrey's feet.</p> + +<p>"What on earth's the matter with the lad?" said Mathews, as he assisted +Godfrey in lifting him to the sofa. "What's in the wind?"</p> + +<p>"A capital joke," whispered Godfrey. "I could almost love the old sinner +for his caustic humor. The order for the money is drawn up in the usual +manner, but instead of the words '<i>To pay</i>,' the crafty old fox has +written, '<i>Not to pay</i> the bearer the sum of four hundred pounds.'"</p> + +<p>"Excellent! But let old skinflint look to himself; with that malignant +joke he has signed his own death-warrant."</p> + +<p>Anthony by this time had recovered from his swoon. But he sat like one +stupefied; his throbbing temples resting upon his hands, and his eyes +fixed on vacancy. Godfrey's voice at length roused him to a recollection +of what <a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>had happened, and in faint tones, he requested his two +companions to leave him.</p> + +<p>"Not in this state of mind. Come, Anthony, clear up that cloudy brow. I +am sorry, sorry that I have been the means of drawing you into this ugly +scrape, but for my poor father's sake you must forgive me. If you were +to make a second application to your ungracious dad, he might, in the +hope of ridding himself of such an importunate beggar, give down the two +hundred pounds yet wanting. Such a decrease in your demand might work +wonders. What think you? Matters cannot be worse between you than they +are at present."</p> + +<p>Anthony recalled his father's parting look—his parting words.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, I will do you justice if you come to me, at this hour, +to-morrow;" and hope again shed a faint glimmer in his breast. He +repeated these words to Godfrey. Had he noticed the glance which his +cousin threw towards his partner in guilt, he would have been puzzled to +read its meaning. Mathews understood it well.</p> + +<p>"Go, by all means, Anthony. I have no doubt that his heart will relent; +that he already feels ashamed of his barbarous conduct. At all events, +it can do no harm—it may do good. Take that infamous piece of writing +in your hand, and reproach him with his treachery. My father's injured +spirit will be near you, to plead your cause, and you must be +successful."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will go," said Anthony. "Either he or I must yield. My mind is +made up upon the subject. Godfrey, good night."</p> + +<p>"He is ours, Mathews," whispered Godfrey, as they left the house. "The +old man's days are numbered. Remember this hour to-morrow night!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>Glad to find himself once more alone, Anthony continued to pace the +room, revolving over in his mind his interview with his father. He felt +convinced that the old man had repented of the cruel trick he had played +him; that but for the entrance of Grenard Pike, he would have recalled +the paper and given him the sum he desired. At all events, he was +determined to see him at the hour the miser had named, and tell him, +without disguise, his thoughts upon the subject.</p> + +<p>In the midst of all this tumult of passion, the image of Juliet glided +into his mind, and seemed to whisper peace to his perturbed spirit. "Oh, +that I had a friend to advise me in this gloomy hour, into whose +faithful bosom I could pour out my whole soul! Shall I tell Clary? Shall +I confide to the dear child my guilt and folly?" He rang the bell. Old +Ruth, half asleep, made her appearance.</p> + +<p>"How is your mistress, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"Better the night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you tell her that I wish very much to see her."</p> + +<p>"You won't disturb the poor lamb, sure. Why, Mr. Anthony, she has been +in her bed these two hours. She asked after you several times during the +day, and was very uneasy at your absence. Poor child! I believe she is +mortal fond of you."</p> + +<p>"Of me, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"Of you, sir. I am sure Miss Clary is over head and ears in love with +you. Arn't it natural? Two handsome young creatures living in the same +house together, walking, and talking, and singing and playing, all the +time with each other. Why, Master Anthony, if you don't love the dear +child, you must be very deceitful, after making so much of her."</p> + +<p>The old woman left him, still muttering to herself some <a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>anathema +against the deceitfulness of men; while Anthony, shocked beyond measure +at the disclosure of a secret which he had never suspected, threw +himself upon the sofa, and yielding to the overpowering sense of misery +which oppressed him, wept—even as a woman weeps—long and bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Why," he thought, "why am I thus continually the sport of a cruel +destiny? Are the sins of my parents indeed visited upon me? Is every one +that I love, or that loves me, to be involved in one common ruin?"</p> + +<p>And then he wished for death, with a longing, intense, sinful desire, +which placed him upon the very verge of self-destruction. He went to +Frederic's bureau, and took out his pistols, and loaded them, then +placed himself opposite to the glass, and deliberately took aim at his +head. But his hand trembled, and the ghastly expression of his face +startled him—so wan, so wild, so desperate. It looked not of earth, +still less like a future denizen of heaven.</p> + +<p>"No, not to-night," he said. "He the stern father may relent, or fill up +the full measure of his iniquities. The morrow; God knoweth what it may +bring for me. If all should fail me, then this shall be my friend. Yes, +even in his presence will I fling at his feet the loathed life he gave!"</p> + +<p>He threw himself upon the sofa, but not to sleep. Hour after hour passed +onward towards eternity. One, two, three, spoke out the loud voice of +Time, and it sounded in the ears of the watcher like his knell.</p> + +<p>And she, the fair child—she who had, at sixteen, outlived the fear of +death. Had he won her young spirit back to earth, to mar its purity with +the stains of human passion? There was not a feeling in his heart at +that moment so sad as this. How deeply he regretted that he ever had +been admitted to that peaceful home.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>But was she not a Wildegrave, and was not misery hers by right of +inheritance? And then he thought of his mother—thought of his own +desolate childhood—of his poor uncle—of his selfish but still dear +cousin Godfrey, and overcome by these sad reflections, as the glad sun +broke over the hills, bringing life and joy to the earth, he sunk into a +deep, dreamless sleep, from which he did not awaken until the broad +shadows of evening were deepening into night.</p> + +<p>When old Ruth dusted out the parlor, she was surprised to find him +asleep upon the sofa. He looked so pale and ill, that she flung Miss +Clary's large cloak over him, and went up stairs to inform her mistress +of such an unusual occurrence.</p> + +<p>All day Clary had sat beside him, holding, almost unconsciously, his +burning hand in hers. Often she bathed his temples with sal-volatile and +water, but so deep were his slumbers, so blessed was the perfect +cessation from mental misery, that he continued to sleep until the sun +disappeared behind the oak hills, and then, with a deep sigh, he once +more awoke to a painful consciousness of his situation.</p> + +<p>Clary dropped the hand she held, and started from the sofa, over which +she had been leaning, the vivid flush burning upon her cheek, and sprang +away to order up tea. Anthony rose, marvelling at his long sleep, and +went to his chamber to make his toilet; when he returned to the parlor, +he found Clary waiting for him.</p> + +<p>"My kind little cousin," he said, taking her hand, "you have been +ill—are you better?"</p> + +<p>"I am quite well, and should be quite happy, dear Anthony, if I could +see you looking so. But you are ill and low-spirited; I read it all in +your dim eye and dejected looks. Come, sit down, and take a cup of tea. +You have <a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>eaten nothing all day. Here is a nice fowl, delicately cooked, +which Ruth prepared for your especial benefit. Do let me see you take +something."</p> + +<p>"I cannot eat," said Anthony, pushing the plate from him, and eagerly +swallowing the cup of refreshing tea that Clary presented. "I am ill, +Clary, but mine is a disease of the mind. I am, indeed, far from happy; +I wish I could tell you all the deep sorrow that lies so death-like at +my heart."</p> + +<p>"And why do you make it worse by concealment?" said Clary, rising and +going round to the side of the table on which he was leaning; "you need +not fear to trust me, Anthony; there is no one I love on earth so well, +except dear Frederic. Will you not let your little cousin share your +grief?"</p> + +<p>"My sweet child," said Anthony, winding his arm around her slender +waist, and leaning his head on her shoulder, "you could render me no +assistance; the knowledge of my sorrow would only make you miserable."</p> + +<p>"If it is anything about Juliet, tell me freely. Perhaps, you think, +dear Anthony, that I am jealous of you and Juliet; oh, no, I love you +too well for that. I know that I can never be as dear to you as Juliet; +that she is more worthy of your love—Good Heavens! you are weeping. +What have I said to cause these tears? Anthony, dear Anthony, speak to +me. You distract me. Oh, tell me that I have not offended you."</p> + +<p>Anthony's lips moved, but no word issued from them. His eyes were firmly +closed, his brow pale as marble, and large tears slid in quick +succession from beneath the jet-black lashes that lay like a shadow upon +his ashen cheeks. And other tears were mingling with those drops of +heart-felt agony—tears of the tenderest sympathy, the most <a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a>devoted +love, as, leaning that fair face upon the cold brow of the unhappy +youth, Clary unconsciously kissed away those waters of the heart, and +pressed that wan cheek against her gentle bosom. She felt his arm +tighten round her, as she stood in the embrace of the beloved, scarcely +daring to breathe, for fear of breaking the sad spell that had linked +them together. At length Anthony unclosed his eyes, and looked long and +earnestly up in his young companion's face—</p> + +<p>"Oh, Clary! how shall I repay this love, my poor innocent lamb? Would to +God we had never met!"</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, Anthony. I never knew what it was to be happy until I +knew you."</p> + +<p>"Then you love life better than you did, Clary?"</p> + +<p>"I love you," sighed Clary, hiding her fair face among his ebon curls, +"and the new life with which you have inspired me is very dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that I could bid you cherish it for my sake, dear artless girl! But +we must part. In a few hours the faulty being whom you have rashly dared +to love, may be no longer a denizen of earth."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" cried Clary, starting from his arms, and gazing upon +him with a distracted air. "While I have been idling in my bed something +dreadful has happened. I read it in your averted eyes—on your sad, sad +brow. Do not leave me in this state of torturing doubt. I beseech you to +tell me the cause of your distress?"</p> + +<p>"Clary, I cannot; I wish to tell you, but the circumstances are so +degrading, I cannot find words to give them utterance; I feel that you +would despise me—that all good men would upbraid me as a weak +unprincipled fool; yet I call Heaven to witness, that at the moment I +committed the rash act I thought not that it was a crime."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a>"It is impossible, Anthony, that you could do anything unworthy of +yourself, or that could occasion this bitter grief. You are laboring +under some strong delusion, and are torturing yourself to no purpose. +Frederic will be home to-morrow; he will counsel you what to do, and all +will be right."</p> + +<p>"Frederic home to-morrow!" and Anthony gasped for breath.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad. It seems an age since he left us. By the bye, I have +a letter for you, which I quite forgot. It came this morning by the +post. I am sure it is from my brother, for I know his hand." Going to +the mantel-shelf, Clary handed him the letter. Anthony trembled +violently as he broke the seal; it ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">My Dear Anthony</span>,</p> + +<p>"I know not in what manner to interpret your unkind silence. Your +failing to forward the money I left in your hands has caused me great +mortification and inconvenience, and will oblige me to leave—to-morrow, +without transacting the business that took me from home.</p> + +<p>"Though I am certain that you will give me very satisfactory reasons for +your non-compliance with my very urgent request, I feel so vexed and +annoyed by it, that it makes me half inclined to quarrel with you. You +would forgive this if you only knew what an irritable mortal I am. I +advise you and Clary to frame some notable excuse for your negligence, +or you may dread the wrath of your affectionate friend,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Frederic.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>This letter, though written half in joke, confirmed Anthony's worst +fears. He imagined that Frederic suspected <a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>him of dishonorable conduct, +although he forbore to say so in direct terms; and his repugnance to +confess what he had done, to either Clary or her brother, was greatly +strengthened by the perusal.</p> + +<p>It was this want of confidence in friends who really loved him, which +involved him in ruin. Had he frankly declared his folly and thrown +himself upon Wildegrave's generosity, he would as frankly have been +forgiven; but pride and false shame kept his lips sealed.</p> + +<p>He was a very young man—a novice in the ways of the world; and even in +some degree ignorant of the nature of the crime, the commission of which +had made him so unhappy. Instead of a breach of trust, he looked upon it +as a felonious offence, which rendered him amenable to the utmost +severity of the law. The jail and the gallows were ever in his thoughts; +and worse than either, the infamy which would for ever attach itself to +his name.</p> + +<p>He determined to see his father for the last time, and if he failed in +moving his compassion, he had formed the desperate resolution of putting +an end to his own life in his presence; a far greater crime than that +for which he dreaded receiving a capital punishment.</p> + +<p>"Clary," he said, hastily thrusting the letter into his pocket, +"business of importance calls me away to-night. Do not be alarmed if I +should be detained until the morning."</p> + +<p>"You cannot go to-night, Anthony. It has rained all the afternoon; the +ground is wet. The air is raw and damp. You are not well. If you leave +the house you will take cold!"</p> + +<p>"Do not attempt to detain me, Clary, I must go. I shall leave a letter +for your brother on the table, which you must give him if I do not +return."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>"Something is wrong. Tell me, oh, tell me what it is!"</p> + +<p>"You will know all to-morrow," said Anthony, greatly agitated. "I cannot +speak of it to-night." He took her hand and pressed it sadly to his +heart. "Should we never meet again, dear Clary, will you promise to +think kindly of me; and in spite of the contempt of the world, to +cherish your cousin's memory?"</p> + +<p>"Though all the world should forsake you, yet will I never desert you," +sobbed Clary, as, sinking into his extended arms, she fainted on his +breast.</p> + +<p>"This will kill you, poor innocent. May God bless and keep you from a +knowledge of my guilt." He placed her gently upon the sofa, and kissed +her pale lips and brow, and calling Ruth to her assistance, sought with +a heavy heart his own chamber.</p> + +<p>He sat down and wrote a long letter to Frederic, explaining the +unfortunate transaction which had occurred during his absence. This +letter he left upon the study table, and putting a brace of loaded +pistols into his pocket he sallied out upon his hopeless expedition.</p> + +<p>It had been a very wet afternoon. The clouds had parted towards +nightfall, and the moon rose with unusual splendor, rendering every +object in his path as distinctly visible as at noonday. The beauty of +the night only seemed to increase the gloom of Anthony Hurdlestone's +spirit. He strode on at a rapid pace, as if to outspeed the quick +succession of melancholy thoughts, that were hurrying him on to commit a +deed of desperation. He entered the great avenue that led up to the back +of the Hall, and past the miser's miserable domicile, and had traversed +about half the extent of the darkly shaded path, when his attention was +aroused by a tall figure leaning against the trunk of a large elm tree. +A blasted oak, bare of foliage, on the opposite side the <a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>road, let in a +flood of light through its leafless branches, which shone full upon the +face of the stranger, and Anthony, with a shudder, recognised William +Mathews.</p> + +<p>"A fine evening for your expedition, Mr. Hurdlestone. It might well be +termed the forlorn hope; however I wish with all my heart that you may +be successful." As he spoke he lowered a fowling-piece from his shoulder +to the ground. "Do you hear that raven that sits croaking upon the +rotten branch of the old oak opposite? Does not his confounded noise +make you nervous? It always does me. It sounds like a bad omen. I was +just going to pull down at him as you came along. I fancy, however, that +he's too far above us for a good shot."</p> + +<p>"I am in no humor for trifling to-night," said Anthony, stopping and +glancing up at the bird, who sat motionless on a decayed branch a few +yards above his head. "If you are afraid of such sounds, you can soon +silence that for ever."</p> + +<p>"It would require a good eye, and an excellent fowling-piece, to bring +down the black gentleman from his lofty perch. I have heard that you, +Mr. Hurdlestone, are accounted a capital shot, far before your cousin +Godfrey. I wish you would just give me a trial of your skill."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" muttered Anthony. "The bird's only a few yards above us. A +pistol would bring him down."</p> + +<p>"I should like to see it done," said Mathews, with a grin. "Here, sir, +take my gun."</p> + +<p>Impatient of interruption, and anxious to get rid of the company of a +man whose presence he loathed, Anthony drew one of the pistols from his +breast pocket, and, taking a deliberate aim at the bird, he fired, and +the raven fell dead at his feet. Picking it up, and tossing it over to +Mathews, he said—"Do you believe me now? Pshaw! it <a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>was not worth +staining my hands and clothes with blood for such a paltry prize."</p> + +<p>Mathews laughed heartily at this speech; but there was something so +revolting in the tones of his mirth, that Anthony quickened his pace to +avoid its painful repetition. A few minutes more brought him in sight of +the miser's cottage. No light gleamed from the broken casement, and both +the door and the window of the hovel were wide open, and flapping in the +night wind. Surprised at a circumstance so unusual, Anthony hastily +entered the house. The first object that met his sight rivetted him to +the threshold.</p> + +<p>The moon threw a broad line of silver light into the dusty worm-eaten +apartment, and danced and gleamed in horrid mockery upon a stream of +dark liquid which was slowly spreading itself over the floor. And there, +extended upon the brick pavement, his features shockingly distorted, his +hands still clenched, and his white locks dabbled in blood, lay the +cold, mutilated form of his father.</p> + +<p>Overpowered with horror, unable to advance or retreat, Anthony continued +to gaze upon the horrid spectacle, until the hair stiffened upon his +head, and a cold perspiration bedewed all his limbs.</p> + +<p>Still as he gazed he fancied that the clenched hands moved, that a +bitter smile writhed the thin parted lips of the dead; and influenced by +a strange fascination, against which he struggled in vain, he continued +to watch the ghastly countenance, until horror and astonishment involved +every other object in misty obscurity.</p> + +<p>He heard the sound of approaching footsteps, but his limbs had lost the +power of motion, his tongue of speech, and he suffered the constables, +who entered with Grenard Pike, to lead him away without offering the +least resistance. <a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>They placed him in a post-chaise, between two of the +officers of justice, and put the irons upon his wrists, but he remained +in the same state of stupefaction, making no remark upon his unusual +situation, or taking the least notice of his strange companions. When +the vehicle stopped at the entrance of the county jail, then, and not +until then, did the awfulness of his situation appear to strike him. +Starting from his frightful mental abstraction, he eagerly demanded of +the officers why his hands were manacled, and for what crime they had +brought him there?</p> + +<p>When told for the murder of his father, he regarded the men with a look +of surprised incredulity. "My poor father! what interest could I have to +murder my father? You cannot think I committed this horrid crime?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know what to think, Mr. Hurdlestone," said one of the men. "I +am very sorry to see you in this plight, but appearances are very much +against you. Your father was an old man and a bad man, and it is little +you owed to his parental care. But he could not have lived many years, +and all the entailed property must have been yours; it was an act of +insanity on your part to kill him. A fearful crime to send him so +unprepared into the presence of his God."</p> + +<p>"You cannot believe me guilty," said Anthony.</p> + +<p>The men shook their heads. "I condemn no man until the law condemns, +him," returned the former spokesman. "But there is evidence enough in +your case to hang a hundred men."</p> + +<p>"I have one witness in my favor. He knows my innocence, and to Him I +appeal," said Anthony, solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Aye, but will he prove it my lad?"</p> + +<p>"I trust He will."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>"Well, time will show. The assizes will be held next week, so you have +not long to remain in doubt. I would be inclined to think you innocent, +if you could prove to me what business you had with loaded pistols in +your possession—why one was loaded, and the other unloaded, and how +your hands and clothes came stained with blood—why you quarrelled with +the old man last night, and went to him again to-night with offensive +weapons on your person, and at such an unseasonable hour? These are +stubborn facts."</p> + +<p>"They, are indeed," sighed the prisoner. A natural gush of feeling +succeeded, and from that hour Anthony resigned himself to his fate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dread uncertainty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life-wasting agony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dost thou pain the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Causing such tears to start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sorrow never shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er hopes for ever fled!—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">What a night of intense anxiety was that to the young Clary! Hour after +hour, she paced the veranda in front of the cottage; now listening for +approaching footsteps, now straining her eyes to catch through the gloom +of the fir-trees the figure of him for whom she watched and wept in +vain. The cold night wind sighed through her fair locks, scattering them +upon the midnight air. The rising dews chilled the fragile form, but +stilled not the wild throbbing of the aching heart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, to know the worst—the very worst—were better than this sore +agony." Years of care were compressed into that one night of weary +watching. "He will never come. I shall never, never see him again. I +feel now, as I felt when my sisters were taken from me, that I should +see them no more on earth. But I cannot weep for him as I wept for them. +I knew that they were happy, that they were gone to rest, and I felt as +if an angel's hand dried my tears. But I weep for him as one without +hope, as for one whom a terrible destiny has torn from me. I love him, +but my love is a crime, for he loves another. Oh, woe <a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>is me! Why did we +ever meet, if thus we are doomed to part?"</p> + +<p>She looked up at the cold clear moon—up to the glorious stars of night, +and her thoughts, so lately chained to earth, soared upwards to the +Father of her spirit, and once more she bowed in silent adoration to her +Saviour and her God.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, holy Father!" she murmured. "I have strayed from thy fold, +and my steps have stumbled upon the rough places of the earth. I have +reared up an idol in thy sacred temple, and worshipped the creature more +than the Creator. The love of the world is an unholy thing. It cannot +satisfy the cravings of an immortal spirit. It cannot fill up the +emptiness of the human heart. Return to thy rest, O my soul! I dedicate +thee and all thy affections to thy God!"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head upon her hands and wept; such tears purify the source +from whence they flow, and Clary felt a solemn calm steal over her +agitated spirit, as, kneeling beneath the wide canopy of heaven, she +prayed long and earnestly for strength to subdue her passion for +Anthony, and to become obedient in word, thought, and deed, to the will +of God; and she prayed for him, with a fervor and devotion which love +alone can give—prayed that he might be shielded from all temptation, +from the wickedness and vanity of the world, from the deceitfulness of +his own heart.</p> + +<p>She was still in the act of devotion, when the sound of rapidly +approaching footsteps caused her to start suddenly from her knees. A man +ran past at full speed, then another, and another: then a group of women +without hats and shawls, running and calling to one another. What could +all this mean, at that still hour of night, and in that lonely place?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a>Clary's heart beat tumultuously. She rushed to the garden gate, that +opened from the lawn into the main road. She called aloud to one of the +retreating figures to stop and inform her what was the matter. Why they +were abroad at that late hour, and whither they were going? No one +slackened their speed, or stayed one moment to answer her enquires. At +length an old man, tired and out of breath, came panting along; one whom +Clary knew, and springing into the road she intercepted his path.</p> + +<p>"Ralph Hilton, what is the matter? Is there a fire in the neighborhood? +Where are you all going?"</p> + +<p>"Up to the Hall, Miss Clary. Dear, dear, have you not heard the news? +The old man has been murdered. Murdered by his son. Alack, alack, 'tis a +desperate piece of wickedness! The coroner is up at the old cottage, +sitting upon the body, and I want to get a sight of the murdered man, +like the rest of 'un."</p> + +<p>"Who is it you mean? Who has been murdered?" gasped out the terrified +girl.</p> + +<p>"Why old Squire Hurdlestone. He has been shot dead by his own son—that +young chap who has been staying here so long. They have got him safe, +though. And by this time he must be in jail. Oh, I hope they will hang +'un. But hanging is too good. He should be burnt alive."</p> + +<p>And here the old man hobbled on, eager to get a sight of the frightful +spectacle, and to hear all the news from the fountain head.</p> + +<p>The first blush of the red dawn was glowing in the east; but Clary still +remained in the same attitude, with her hand resting upon the half-open +gate, her eyes fixed on vacancy, her lips apart, a breathing image of +despair. The stage coach from —— drove briskly up. A gentleman sprang +from the top of the vehicle. A portmanteau was <a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>flung down to him by the +guard.—"All right," and the horses were again at full gallop.</p> + +<p>"Clary, dear Clary, who would have thought of your being up so early to +meet me?"</p> + +<p>That voice seemed to recall the wandering spirit of the pale girl back +to its earthly tabernacle. With a long wild cry, she flung herself into +her brother's arms. "Hide me in your heart, Frederic, hide me from +myself. I am sick and weary of the world!"</p> + +<p>Unable to comprehend the cause of this violent agitation, Frederic +Wildegrave carried his now insensible sister into the house, and calling +Ruth, who was busy kindling the fires, he bade her awake Mr. Anthony. +The woman shook her head mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"He's gone, sir. He left us suddenly last night, and Miss Clary has been +up ever since."</p> + +<p>"I fear it is as I suspected. He must have robbed me. Yet, if he has +deceived me, I never will trust to physiognomy again."</p> + +<p>He opened his desk, and found two hundred pounds in notes, and turning +to the window to examine them, he recognised the letter addressed to him +by Anthony that was lying on the table.</p> + +<p>With feelings of compassion and astonishment, he hastily glanced over +the affecting account it contained of the thrilling events of the past +week. Several times the tears sprang to his eyes, and he reproached +himself for having suspected Anthony of having eloped with the money +left in his charge. He knew what agony of mind his cousin must have +endured before he could prevail upon himself to petition his relentless +father for the loan of the sum he had imprudently lent to Godfrey. He +only blamed him for the want of confidence which had hindered him from +communicating his situation <a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a>to his friend. Fearing that he had been +induced to commit some desperate act, he did not wait to change his +dress, or partake of the breakfast old Ruth had provided, but mounting a +horse, rode full speed to Ashton.</p> + +<p>Long before he reached the village he learned the dreadful tale of the +murder, and though he did not like to believe Anthony guilty, he knew +not how to get satisfactorily over the great mass of circumstantial +evidence, which even his own letter contained against him. Every person +with whom he talked upon the subject held the same opinion, and many who +before had execrated the old man, and spoke with abhorrence of his +conduct to his son, now mentioned him with pity and respect, and decried +the young man as a monster, for whom hanging was too good, who deserved +to die a thousand deaths.</p> + +<p>Deeply grieved for his unfortunate relative, Wildegrave at first +defended him with some warmth, and urged as an excuse for his conduct +the unnatural treatment he had from infancy received from his father.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said an old farmer, who had formed one of the jury during the +inquest, "with all his faults, old Mark was an honest man, and doubtless +he had good reasons for his conduct, and knew the lad better than we +did, as the result has proved."</p> + +<p>"It has not been proved yet," said Frederic, "and I believe, however +strongly appearances are against him, that Anthony Hurdlestone never +committed the murder."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wildegrave, I am sorry to contradict a gentleman like you, but did +not Grenard Pike see him with his own eyes fire at the old man through +the window? And has he not known the lad from a baby?"</p> + +<p>"He will be hung," said another farmer, riding up; "and that's not half +punishment enough for such a villain!"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>"He should be torn to pieces," cried a third.</p> + +<p>"He was a queer little boy," said a fourth; "I never thought that he +would come to any good."</p> + +<p>"His uncle was the ruin of him," said a fifth. "If he had never taken +him from his father, the old man would have been alive this day."</p> + +<p>"Oh hang him!" cried another. "I don't pity the old miser. He deserved +his death—but 'twas terrible from the hand of his own son."</p> + +<p>"Old Mark is to have a grand funeral," said the first speaker. "He is to +be buried on Monday. All the gentlemen in the county will attend."</p> + +<p>"It would break his heart, if he were alive," said another, "could he +but see the fine coffin that Jones is making for him. It is to be +covered all over with silk velvet and gold."</p> + +<p>"How old was he?" asked some voice in the group.</p> + +<p>"Just in his sixty-fifth, and a fine hale man for his years; he might +have lived to have been a hundred."</p> + +<p>"Did they find any money in the house?" whispered a long-nosed, +sharp-visaged man; "I heard that he had lots hidden away under the +thatch. Old Grenard knows that a box containing several thousand gold +guineas was taken away."</p> + +<p>"Then the devil, or old Grenard, must have flown away with it," said the +sexton of the parish, "for I was there when they seized the poor lad, +and he had not a penny in his possession."</p> + +<p>"Will they bury him with his wife?" asked the old farmer.</p> + +<p>"He'll never rest beside her," said a man near him. "He treated her +about as well as he did her poor boy."</p> + +<p>"How can the like o' him rest in the grave?" chimed in <a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>a female voice. +"I've no manner of doubt but he'll haunt the old Hall, as his father did +afore him. Mercy on us, sirs! what an awful like ghost he will make!"</p> + +<p>"Was old Squire Anthony ever seen?" said another woman, in a mysterious +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Ay, scores of times. I've heard that the old miser met him one night +himself upon the staircase, and that was the reason why he shut up the +Hall."</p> + +<p>"Who'll heir the property?" asked the old farmer.</p> + +<p>"Algernon's son Godfrey; a fine handsome fellow. He'll make ducks and +drakes of the miser's gold. We shall have fine times when he comes to +the Hall."</p> + +<p>"He'll lower the rents and the tithes upon us. Come, my lads, let's go +to the public-house and drink his health."</p> + +<p>The male portion of the group instantly acceded to the proposal; and +Frederic Wildegrave set spurs to his horse and rode off, disgusted with +the scene he had witnessed, and returned to his home with a sorrowful +heart.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the fond visions faithful mem'ry kept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rush'd o'er his soul; he bow'd his head and wept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such tears as contrite sinners pour alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mercy pleads before the eternal throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When naked, helpless, prostrate in the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit owns its condemnation just,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seeks for pardon and redeeming grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through Him who died to save a fallen race.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">By the light of a solitary candle, and seated at a small table in the +attic of a public-house, and close to the miserable bed in which Mary +Mathews was tossing to and fro in the restless delirium of fever, two +men were busily engaged in dividing a large heap of gold, which had been +emptied from a strong brass-bound box, that lay on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Well, the old fellow died game," said Mathews. "Did you see how +desperately he clenched his teeth, and how tightly he held the key of +his treasures. I had to cut through his fingers before I wrenched it +from his grasp. See, it is all stained with blood. Faugh! it smells of +carrion."</p> + +<p>"He took me for Anthony," said Godfrey, shuddering; "and he cursed +me—oh, how awfully! He told me that we should meet in hell; that the +gold for which he had bartered his soul, and to obtain which I had +committed murder, had bought us an estate there. And then he +laughed—that horrid, dry, satirical laugh. Oh, I hear it <a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>yet. It would +almost lead me to repentance, the idea of having to pass an eternity +with him."</p> + +<p>"Don't feel squeamish now, man. This brave sight," pointing to the gold, +"should lay all such nervous fancies to rest. The thing was admirably +managed; and between ourselves, I think that, if we had not pinked him, +that same virtuous son of his would. What did he want with pistols? It +looks queer."</p> + +<p>"It will condemn him."</p> + +<p>"Let us drink to his rising in the world," said the ruffian, handing the +brandy bottle to his companion in guilt. "How much money is there?"</p> + +<p>"Two thousand five hundred pounds in gold."</p> + +<p>"A pretty little fortune. How do you mean to divide the odd hundreds?"</p> + +<p>"I want them for a particular purpose. There is a thousand; I think you +ought to be satisfied. It was my bullet that unlocked the box, when I +brought the old man down."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, that you intend to appropriate five hundred +pounds for the mere act of shooting the old dog, when I ran as much risk +as you?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Bill;" for the smuggler had sprung to his feet, and stood +before his colleague in a menacing attitude; "and don't look so fierce. +It won't do for you and I to quarrel. I meant it for a marriage portion +for Mary; surely you don't wish to rob her?"</p> + +<p>"It's just the same as appropriating it to yourself," growled the +villain; "you know that she can't keep anything from you."</p> + +<p>"Mary, my pet," said Godfrey, now half intoxicated with the brandy he +had drank, taking up a handful of the money and going up to the bed, "I +heard you say a few days ago <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>that you wanted a new frock; look, here is +plenty of money to buy you a score of smart dresses. Will you not give +me a kiss for all this gold?"</p> + +<p>The girl turned her wide wandering eyes upon him, glanced at his hands, +and uttered a wild scream.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mary! what the deuce ails you?"</p> + +<p>"What's that upon your hands, Godfrey? What's that upon your hands? It's +blood—blood! Oh, take it away! don't bring to me the price of blood!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; you are dreaming, girl—gold can gild every stain."</p> + +<p>"I have been dreaming," said Mary, rising up in the bed, and putting +back the long hair which had escaped from under her cap, and now fell in +rich neglected masses round her pallid face. "Yes. I have been +dreaming—such an awful dream! I see it before me yet."</p> + +<p>"What was it, Mary?" asked her brother, with quivering lips.</p> + +<p>"It was a lonesome place," continued the girl, "a dark lonesome place; +but God's moon was shining there, and there was no need of the sun, or +of any other light, for all seemed plain to me as the noon day.</p> + +<p>"I saw an old man with grey hairs, and another man old and grey was +beside him. The countenances of both were dark and unlovely. And one old +man was on his knees—but it was not to God he knelt; he had set up an +idol to worship, and that idol was gold; and God, as a punishment, had +turned his heart to stone, so that nothing but the gold could awaken the +least sympathy there. And whilst he knelt to the idol, I heard a cry—a +loud, horrid, despairing cry—and the old man fell to the earth +weltering in his blood; but he had still strength to lock up his idol, +and he held the key as tightly as if it had been the key of heaven. <a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>And +I saw two young men enter the house and attack the old man, while his +companion, whom they did not see, stole out of a back door and fled. And +they dashed the wounded old man against the stones, and they marred his +visage with savage blows; and they trod him underfoot, and tore from him +his idol, and fled.</p> + +<p>"And I saw another youth with a face full of sorrow, and while he wept +over the dead man, he was surrounded by strange figures, who, regardless +of his grief, forced him from the room. And while I pondered over these +things in my heart, an angel came to my bed-side, and whispered a message +from God in my ears. And I awoke from my sleep; and lo, the old man's +idol was before me, and his blood was upon your hands, Godfrey +Hurdlestone."</p> + +<p>"Is this a dream?" cried Godfrey, glancing instinctively at his hands, +on whose white well-formed fingers no trace of the recently enacted +tragedy remained, "did you really witness the scene you have just +described; tell me the truth. Mary, or by ——"</p> + +<p>"Could these feeble limbs carry me to Ashton," said the girl, +interrupting the dreadful oath ere it found utterance, "or could this +rocking brain steady them, were I, indeed, able to rise from my bed—"</p> + +<p>"Mathews," cried Godfrey, "what do you think of this?"</p> + +<p>"That we should be off, or put such dreamers to silence."</p> + +<p>"Be off! That's impossible. It would give rise to the suspicion that we +were the murderers. Besides, are we not both subpœnaed as witnesses +against him."</p> + +<p>"I don't like it," said Mathews, gloomily. "The devil has revealed every +circumstance to the girl. What if she were to witness against us?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Who would take the evidence of a dream?" said Godfrey.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>"I'm not so sure that it was a dream. You know her of old. She's very +cunning."</p> + +<p>"But the girl's too ill to move from her bed. Besides, she never would +betray me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. She's turned mighty religious of late. It was +only last night that I heard her pray to God to forgive her sinful soul; +and then she promised to lead a new life. Now I should not wonder if she +were to begin by hanging us."</p> + +<p>"If I thought so," said Godfrey, grasping a knife he held in his hand, +and glancing towards the bed. "But no. We both do her injustice. She +would die for me. She would never betray me. Mary," he continued, going +to the bed-side, "what was the message that the angel told you?"</p> + +<p>"It was in the unknown tongue," said Mary. "I understood it in my sleep, +but since I awoke it has all passed from my memory." Then laughing in +her delirium, she burst out singing:</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His voice was like the midnight wind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ushers in the storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the thunder mutters far behind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the dark clouds onward borne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the trees are bending to its breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waters plashing high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nature crouches pale as death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the lurid sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas in such tones he spake to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So awful and so dread;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou would'st read the mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those tones will wake the dead.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + + +<p>"She is mad!" muttered Godfrey, resuming his seat at the table. "Are you +afraid, Bill, of the ravings of a <a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>maniac? Come, gather up courage and +pass the bottle this way; and tell me how we are to divide the rest of +the spoil."</p> + +<p>"Let us throw the dice for it."</p> + +<p>"Agreed. Who shall have the first chance?"</p> + +<p>"We will throw for that. The lowest gains. I have it," cried Mathews, +clutching the box.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" said Mary. "Fair play's a jewel. There are three of you at the +table. Will you not let the old man have one chance to win back his +gold?"</p> + +<p>"The Devil!" cried Mathews, dropping the box, and staggering to his seat, +a universal tremor perceptible in his huge limbs. "Where—where is he?"</p> + +<p>"At your elbow," said Mary. "Don't you see him frown and shake his head +at you? How fast the blood pours down from the wound in his head! It is +staining all your clothes. Get up, William, and give the poor old man +the chair."</p> + +<p>"Don't mind her, Mathews, she is raving," said Godfrey. "Do you see +anything?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I saw a long, bony, mutilated hand, flitting to and fro, over +the gold. Ah! there it is again," said Mathews, starting from his chair. +"You may keep the money, for may I be hanged if I will touch it. Leave +this accursed place and yon croaking fiend. Let us join the boys down +stairs, and drink and sing, and drive away care."</p> + +<p>And so the murderers departed, leaving the poor girl alone with the +gold, but they took good care to lock the door after them. When they +were gone, Mary threw an old cloak about her, which formed part of the +covering to the bed, and stepped upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"They are gone," she said; "I have acted my part well. <a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a>But, alas, this +is no place for me. I am called upon by God himself to save the +innocent, and the mission shall be performed, even at the expense of my +worthless life.</p> + +<p>"They think not that I followed them to the spot—that, weak as I am, +God has given me strength to witness against them. I feel ill, very +ill," she continued, putting her hand to her head. "But if I could only +reach the Lodge, and inform Captain Whitmore, or Miss Juliet, it might +be the means of saving his life. At all events, I will try."</p> + +<p>As she passed the gold that glittered in the moonbeams, she paused. "I +want money for my journey. Shall I take aught of the accursed thing? No. +I will trust in Providence to supply my wants. I have read somewhere +that misery travels free."</p> + +<p>Then slowly putting on her clothes, and securing a slice of coarse +bread, that Mrs. Strawberry had brought for her supper, in her +handkerchief, Mary approached the window. The distance was not great to +the roof of the lean-to, and she had been used to climb tall forest +trees when a child, and fearlessly to drop from any height. She unclosed +the casement and listened. She heard from below loud shouts and +boisterous peals of laughter, mingled with licentious songs and profane +oaths.</p> + +<p>When the repentant soul is convinced of sin, how dreadful does the +language once so familiar appear! The oath and the profane jest smite +upon it with a force which makes it recoil within itself; and it flies +for protection to the injured Majesty it so often wantonly defied. +"Alas, for the wicked!" said Mary. "'Destruction and misery are in their +paths, and the way of peace they have not known.' How long have I, in +word, thought and deed, blasphemed the majesty of the Most High, and +rebelled against his holy laws! Ought I then to condemn my fellows in +<a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a>iniquity? Am I in reality any better than they? I will go to the grave +of my child—that sight will make me humble—that little mound of dark +earth holds all that the world now contains for me."</p> + +<p>She dropped from the window to the ground. The watch-dog knew her and +forbore to bark. He thrust his cold nose into her wasted hand, and +wagging his tail looked up inquiringly into her face. There was +something of human sympathy in the expression of the generous brute. It +went to the heart of the poor wanderer. She leant down and kissed the +black head of the noble animal. A big bright tear glittered among his +shaggy hair, and the moonbeams welcomed it with an approving smile.</p> + +<p>Like a ghost Mary glided down the garden path, overgrown with rank +weeds, and she thought that the neglected garden greatly resembled the +state of her soul. A few necessary wants had alone been attended to. The +flower-beds were overgrown and choked with weeds—the fruit-trees barren +from neglect and covered with moss. "But He can make the desolate place +into a fruitful field," said Mary. "The wilderness, under his fostering +care, can blossom like the rose."</p> + +<p>She crossed the lane, and traversing several lonely fields she came to +the park near the old Hall, within whose precincts the gothic church, +erected by one of the ancestors of the Hurdlestones, reared aloft its +venerable spire. How august the sacred building looked in the moonlight! +how white the moonbeams lay upon the graves! Mary sighed deeply, but +hers was not a mind to yield easily to superstitious fears. She had +learned to fear God, and there was nothing in his beautiful creation +which could make her tremble, save the all-seeing eye which she now felt +was upon her.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a>Passing the front of the church, where all the baptized children of the +village for ages had found their place of final rest, she stepped behind +a dark screen of yews at the back of the church, and knelt hastily upon +the ground beside a little mound of freshly turned sods. Stretching +herself out upon that lowly bed, and embracing it with passionate +tenderness, the child of sin and sorrow found a place to weep, and +poured out her full heart to the silent ear of night.</p> + +<p>The day was breaking, when she slowly rose and wiped away her tears. +Regaining the high road, she was overtaken by a man in a wagon, who had +been one of the crowd that had been to look at the murdered man. He +invited Mary to take a seat in the wagon, and finding that he was going +within a few miles of Norgood, she joyfully accepted the offer—and +before Godfrey and her brother recovered from their drunken debauch, or +found that she was missing, she was near the end of her journey.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lyre is hush'd, for ever hush'd the hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That woke to ecstacy its thrilling chords;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that sweet voice, with music eloquent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps with the silent lyre and broken heart.—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">"Why do you look so sad, Juliet," said Captain Whitmore to his daughter, +as they stood together at the open window, the morning after her +perilous meeting with Mary Mathews in the park. "Have <i>I</i> said anything +to wound your feelings?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that you would have been so glad to find him innocent, papa," +said Juliet, the tears again stealing down her cheeks, "and I am +disappointed—bitterly disappointed."</p> + +<p>"Well, my girl. I am glad that the lad is not guilty of so heinous an +offence. But I can't help feeling a strong prejudice against the whole +breed. These Hurdlestones are a bad set—a bad set. I have seen enough +of them. And, for your own happiness, I advise you, my dear Juliet, to +banish this young man for ever from your thoughts. With my consent you +never shall be his wife."</p> + +<p>"Without it I certainly never shall." And Juliet folded her hands +together, and turned away to hide the fresh gush of tears that blinded +her eyes. "At the same time, papa, I must think that the ill-will you +bear to an innocent person is both cruel and unjust."</p> + +<p>"Juliet," said the Captain, very gravely, "from the ear<a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a>nestness of your +manner, I fear that you feel a deeper interest in this young Hurdlestone +than I am willing to believe. Answer me truly—do you love the lad?"</p> + +<p>"Father, I do love him. I feel that my happiness is inseparably +connected with his." This was said with that charming candor which was +the most attractive feature in Juliet Whitmore's character. It had its +effect upon the old man's generous nature. He could no longer chide, +however repugnant to his feelings the confession she had just made. He +drew her gently to his manly breast, and kissed away the tears that +still lingered on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"My poor girl, I am sorry for you—very sorry. But I see no chance of +your ever becoming his wife."</p> + +<p>"I am contented to remain single, papa; I never can love another as I +love him."</p> + +<p>"Stuff and nonsense! What should hinder you? Why, child, you will get +over this romantic passion. Few people are able to marry the first +person with whom they fall in love; and, in nine cases out of ten, they +would be grievously disappointed if they did. This Anthony Hurdlestone +may be a good young man, but his father is a very bad man. His children +may inherit some of the family propensities, which you know, my little +daughter are everything but agreeable. I should not like to be grandpapa +to a second edition of Mark Hurdlestone, or even of his hopeful nephew, +Master Godfrey."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear father," said Juliet, with great simplicity, "this may be +all very true; but how do you know that we should have any children?"</p> + +<p>This unexpected confession threw the old Captain, in spite of his grave +lecture, into convulsions of laughter, whilst it covered his daughter's +face with crimson blushes.</p> + +<p>"Miss Juliet!" cried her aunt, who entered just in <a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a>time to hear her +niece speak her thoughts aloud, "I am perfectly astonished at you. Have +you no sense of decorum?"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, Dolly!" said the Captain, still laughing. "It was quite +accidental. Your over delicate ladies are the most indelicate people in +the world. I am sure what the child said was perfectly natural."</p> + +<p>"Nature, Captain Whitmore, is not the best book for young ladies to +study," said Miss Dorothy, drawing herself up to her full height. "If we +were to act entirely from her suggestions, we should reduce ourselves to +a level with the brutes. Young ladies should never venture a remark +until they have duly considered what they have to say. They should know +how to keep the organ of speech in due subjection."</p> + +<p>"And pray, Dolly, will you inform me at what age a lady should commence +this laudable act of self-denial? for I am pretty certain that your +first lesson is still to learn."</p> + +<p>Oh, how poor Aunt Dorothy flounced and flew, at this speech! how she let +her tongue run on, without bit or bridle, while vindicating her injured +honor from this foul aspersion, quite forgetting her own theory in the +redundancy of her practice! There never was, by her own account, such a +discreet, amiable, well-spoken, benevolent, and virtuous gentlewoman! +And how the cruel Captain continued to laugh at, and quiz, and draw her +out: until Juliet, in order to cause a diversion in her aunt's favor, +pinched her favorite black cat's ear. But this stratagem only turned the +whole torrent of the old maid's wrath upon herself.</p> + +<p>"How cruel you are, Miss Juliet!" she cried, snatching the ill-used +darling to her bosom. "You never think that <a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a>these poor animals can feel +ill-treatment as severely as yourself. I despise young ladies who write +poetry, and weep and whine over a novel, yet are destitute of the common +feelings of humanity."</p> + +<p>"Puss will forgive me," said Juliet, holding out her small white hand to +the cat, which immediately left off rubbing herself against Aunt +Dorothy's velvet stomacher, to fawn upon the proffered peace-offering.</p> + +<p>The old Captain, who had remained for some minutes in deep thought, now +suddenly turned from the window, and said:</p> + +<p>"Juliet, would you like to visit London?"</p> + +<p>"What, at this beautiful season of the year!" And Juliet left off +caressing the cat, and regarded her father with surprise, not unmixed +with curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The flowers of the gay world, Julee, always blossom at the same time +with those in the country; only the latter have always this advantage, +that they are never out of season, and blossom for the day, instead of +for the night. But, my dear child, I think it necessary for you to go. +The change of scene and air will be very beneficial to your health, and +tend to invigorate both your mind and body. Now, don't pout and shake +your head, Juliet; I do most earnestly wish you to go. The very best +antidote to love is a visit to London. You will see other men, you will +learn to know your own power; and all these idle fancies will be +forgotten. Aunt Dorothy, what say you to the trip?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, I am always ready at the post of duty. Juliet wants a little +polishing—she is horribly countryfied. When shall we prepare for the +journey?"</p> + +<p>"Directly. I will write to her Aunt Seaford by tonight's post. She will +be delighted to have Juliet with her. <a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a>The little sly puss is the old +lady's heir; but she is quite indifferent to her good fortune."</p> + +<p>"I never covet the possession of great wealth," said Juliet. "Mark +Hurdlestone is an awful example to those who grasp after riches. I do +not anticipate much pleasure in this London visit, but I will go, dear +papa, as you wish it."</p> + +<p>"There's a dear good girl!" and the old man fondly kissed her. "I wish I +could see the rose's blush once more upon this pale face. You look so +like your mother, Julee, it makes my heart ache. Ah! just so thin and +pale she looked, before I lost her. You must not leave your poor old +father in this cold-hearted world alone."</p> + +<p>Juliet flung her arms round his neck. "Do not make my heart ache, dear +papa, as I know not how soon we may part. You once loved poor Anthony," +she whispered: "for Julee's sake, love him still."</p> + +<p>"She will forget him," said the Captain looking fondly after her, as she +left the room, "she will forget him in London."</p> + +<p>And to London they went. Juliet was received by her rich aunt with the +most lively demonstrations of regard. She felt proud of introducing to +the notice of the gay world a creature so beautiful. Admired for her +great personal attractions, and courted for her wealth, Juliet soon +found herself the centre of attraction to a large circle of friends. But +ah! how vapid and tasteless to the young lover of nature were the +artificial manners and the unmeaning flatteries of the world. +Professions of attachment, breathed into her ears by interested +admirers, shocked and disgusted her simple taste, and made her thoughts +turn continually to the one adored object, whose candid and honest +bearing had won her heart. His soul had been poured forth at the <a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a>same +shrine, had drunk inspiration from the same sacred fount, and his +sympathies and feelings were in perfect unison with her own.</p> + +<p>How could she forget Anthony whilst mingling in scenes so uncongenial to +her own pursuits? Was he not brought every hour nearer to her thoughts? +Was she not constantly drawing contrasts between him and the worldly +beings by whom she was surrounded! Did not his touching voice thrill +more musically in her mental ear, when the affected ostentatious tones +of the votary of fashion and pleasure tried to attract her attention by +a display of his accomplishments and breeding? There was a want of +reality in all she heard and saw that struck painfully upon her heart; +and after the first novelty of the scene had worn off, she began to pine +for the country. Her step became less elastic, her cheek yet paler, and +the anxious father began to watch more closely these hectic changes, and +to tremble for the health of his child.</p> + +<p>"I am sick of this crowded place, of these sophisticated people, papa. I +shall die here. Let me return to the country."</p> + +<p>Frightened at the daily alteration in her appearance, the Captain +promised to grant her request. Her aunt gave a large party the night +before they were to leave town; and Juliet, to please her kind relative, +exerted herself to the utmost to appear in good spirits.</p> + +<p>"There has been a shocking murder committed in your neighborhood, Miss +Whitmore," said the officer, with whom she had been dancing, as he led +her to a seat. "Have you seen the papers?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Juliet, carelessly. "I seldom read these accounts. They are +so shocking; and we read them too much as matters of mere amusement and +idle curiosity, with<a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a>out reflecting sufficiently upon the awful guilt +which they involve."</p> + +<p>"This is a very dreadful business indeed. I thought you might know +something of the parties."</p> + +<p>"Not very likely. We lead such a secluded life at the Lodge, that we are +strangers to most of the people in the neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"You have heard of the eccentric miser, Mark Hurdlestone?"</p> + +<p>"Who has not?" and Juliet started, and turned pale. "Surely he has not +been murdered?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and by his own son."</p> + +<p>"His son? Oh, not by his son! His nephew, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"His son. Anthony Hurdlestone. The heir of his immense wealth."</p> + +<p>He spoke to a cold ear. Juliet had fainted.</p> + +<p>How did that dreadful night pass over the hapless maiden? It did pass, +however, and on the morrow she was far on her journey home.</p> + +<p>"I never thought he could be guilty of a crime like this," said the +Captain to his sister as she sat opposite to him in his travelling +carriage. His arm encircled the slender waist of his daughter, and her +pale cheek rested on his shoulder. But no tear hung in the long, dark, +drooping eyelashes of his child. Juliet was stunned; but she had not +wept.</p> + +<p>"He is not guilty," she cried, in a passionate voice. "I know and feel +that he is not guilty. Remember Mary Mathews—how strong the +circumstantial evidence against him in that case. Yet he was +innocent—innocent, poor Anthony!"</p> + +<p>The Captain, who felt the most tender sympathy for the state of mind +into which this afflicting news had thrown his child, was willing to +soothe, if possible, her grief.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a>"If he is innocent it will be proved on the trial, Julee darling. We +will hope for the best."</p> + +<p>"It will be proved," said Juliet, sitting upright, and looking her +father earnestly, if not sternly in the face. "I am so confident of his +innocence that, on that score, I have not shed a single tear. Ah! we are +drawing near home," she continued with a sigh. "Dear home! why did I +leave it? There is something pure and holy in the very air of home. See, +papa! there is the church spire rising above the trees. The dear old elm +trees! We shall have time to think here, to hope, to pray; but who is +that woman lying along the bank. She is ill, or dead."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is intoxicated," said Miss Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"It is—yes—it is Mary Mathews!" cried Juliet, without noticing her +aunt's remark. "What can bring her here?"</p> + +<p>"No good, you may be sure," remarked the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Oh! stop the carriage, dear papa, and let us speak to her. She may know +something about the murder."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Juliet; let us ask her a few questions."</p> + +<p>They both left the carriage, and hurried to the spot where Mary, +overcome with fatigue and fever, lay insensible and unconscious of her +danger by the roadside.</p> + +<p>Captain Whitmore lifted up the unhappy girl from the ground, and placed +her in the carriage, greatly to the indignation of Miss Dorothy, and +conveyed her to the Lodge. A medical gentleman in the neighborhood was +sent for; and Juliet, in the deep interest she felt for the alarming +state of the poor sufferer, for a while forgot her own poignant grief.</p> + +<p>The next morning, on entering the parlor, she found Frederic Wildegrave +in close conversation with her father.</p> + +<p>After the usual compliments had passed between them, <a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a>Juliet asked, with +an air of intense anxiety depicted on her fine countenance, if Mr. +Wildegrave thought it possible that Anthony Hurdlestone had committed +the murder?</p> + +<p>He replied sorrowfully, "My dear Miss Whitmore, I know not what to +think."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen him since his imprisonment?"</p> + +<p>"I have not. Many sorrows have confined me at home. This melancholy +business has had a sad effect upon the weak nerves of my poor little +sister. Clary is ill. I fear dying. She has expressed such a strong +desire to see you, Miss Whitmore, once again, that I came over to make +known to you her urgent request. It is asking of you a very great favor; +but one, I hope, that you will not refuse to grant to our tears."</p> + +<p>"Juliet is in very poor health herself," said her father. "If she could +be spared this trying scene, it would be the better for her."</p> + +<p>"Poor, pretty Clarissa; and she is ill—is dying," said Juliet, speaking +unconsciously aloud. "This dreadful affair has killed her; and she +wishes to see me. Yes, I will go."</p> + +<p>"My child, you know not what you are about to undertake," said the old +man, coming forward. "It may be the death of you."</p> + +<p>"Dear papa, I am stronger than you think. I have borne a worse sorrow," +she added, in a whisper. "Let me go."</p> + +<p>"Please yourself, Julee; but I fear it will be too much for you."</p> + +<p>Frederic was anxious that Clary should be gratified; and, in spite of +Captain Whitmore's objections, he continued, backed by Juliet, to urge +his request. Reluctantly the old man yielded to their united entreaties.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323"></a>Before Juliet set out upon her melancholy journey, she visited the sick +chamber of the unconscious Mary Mathews, whom she strongly recommended +to the care of Aunt Dorothy and her own waiting-woman. The latter, who +loved her young mistress very tenderly, and who perhaps was not ignorant +of her attachment to young Hurdlestone, promised to pay every attention +to the poor invalid during her absence. Satisfied with these +arrangements, Juliet kissed her father; and begging him not to be uneasy +on her account, as for his sake she would endeavor to bear up against +the melancholy which oppressed her, she accepted Mr. Wildegrave's escort +to Ashton.</p> + +<p>During the journey, she found that Frederic was acquainted with +Anthony's attachment to her; and the frank and generous sympathy that he +expressed for the unhappy young man won from his fair companion her +confidence and friendship. He was the only person whom she had ever met +to whom she could speak of Anthony without reserve, and he behaved to +her like a true friend in the dark hour of doubt and agony.</p> + +<p>The night was far advanced when they arrived at Millbank. Clary was +sleeping, and the physician thought it better that she should not be +disturbed.</p> + +<p>The room allotted to Miss Whitmore's use was the one which had been +occupied by Anthony. Everything served to remind her of its late tenant. +His books, his papers, his flute, were there. Her own portfolio, +containing the little poems he so much admired, was lying upon the +table, and within it lay a bunch of dried flowers—wild flowers—which +she had gathered for him upon the heath near his uncle's park; but what +paper is that attached to the faded nosegay? It is a copy of verses. She +knows his handwriting, and trembles as she reads—</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"><p><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324"></a></p> +<span class="i0">Ye are wither'd, sweet buds, but love's hand can portray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On memory's tablets each delicate hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recall to my bosom the long happy day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When she gathered ye, fresh sprinkled over with dew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, never did garland so lovely appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For her warm lip had breathed on each beautiful flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the pearl on each leaf was less bright than the tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gleamed in her eyes in that rapturous hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye are wither'd, sweet buds, but in memory ye bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor can nature's stern edict your loveliness stain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye are fadeless and rich in undying perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your sweetness, like truth, shall unaltered remain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When this fond beating heart shall be cold in the grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, mock not my bier with fame's glittering wreath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bid on my temples these wither'd buds wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through life fondly cherish'd, and treasured in death.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>And had he really kept these withered flowers for her sake? How did her +soul flow up into her eyes, to descend upon those faded blossoms in +floods of tears, as sadly she pressed them to her lips and heart!</p> + +<p>Then came the dreadful thought—He whom you thus passionately love is a +murderer, the murderer of his father! The hand that penned those tender +lines has been stained with blood. Shuddering, she let the flowers fall +from her grasp. She turned, and met the mild beautiful eyes of his +mother. The lifeless picture seemed to reproach her for daring for a +moment to entertain such unworthy suspicions of her child, and she +murmured for the hundredth time, since she first heard the tale of +horror, "No, no, I cannot believe him guilty."</p> + +<p>She undressed and went to bed. The bed in which he had so lately slept, +in which he had passed so many wakeful hours in thinking of her; in +forming bright schemes of future happiness, and triumphing in idea over +the seeming impossibilities of his untoward destiny. His spirit +ap<a name="Page_325" id="Page_325"></a>peared to hover around her, and in dreams she once more wandered with +him through forest paths, eloquent with the song of birds, and bright +with spring and sunshine.</p> + +<p>Oh, love! how strong is thy faith! How confiding thy trust. The world in +vain frowns upon the object of thy devotion. Calumny may blacken, and +circumstances condemn, but thou, in thy blind simplicity, still +clingest, through storm and shine, to the imaginary perfections of thy +idol.</p> + +<p>To believe in the innocence of Anthony Hurdlestone was to hope against +hope; yet Juliet firmly, confidingly, and religiously believed him +guiltless. Oh, who might not envy her this love and faith!</p> + +<p>The robin red-breast from his fading bower of hawthorns warbled in the +early dawn of the cold, bright, autumnal day. The first rays of the sun +gilded the gay changing leaves of the vine that clustered about the +windows with hues of the richest dye, and the large bunches of grapes +peeping from among the leaves looked more temptingly ripe, bathed in dew +and brightened in the morning beam. A slight rap at her chamber door +dispelled Juliet's slumbers, and Ruth Candler entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Is anything wrong, Ruth?"</p> + +<p>"My mistress is awake, and wishes to see you, Miss," said Ruth, bursting +into tears. "It's the last morn. I'm thinking, that she'll ever see on +earth. She's in no pain, she says, but she is so pale, and her eyes do +not look like the eyes of the living. Alas! alas! what shall we do when +she is gone? The dear sweet young creter!"</p> + +<p>Ruth wept aloud with her face to the wall while Juliet hurried on her +clothes, and, with a full heart, followed the old woman to the chamber +of the invalid.</p> + +<p>She found Clary sitting up in the bed, supported by <a name="Page_326" id="Page_326"></a>pillows. Cold as it +was, the casement was open to admit the full beams of the rising sun, +and the arms of the dying girl were extended towards it, and her +countenance lighted up with an expression of angelic beauty and intense +admiration. Her brother was seated upon the bed, his face concealed in +the pillow, while ever and anon a deep sob burst from his full laboring +heart.</p> + +<p>He had watched there through the long night—had watched and prayed +while the dear one slept her last sleep on earth; and he knew that the +young spirit had only roused itself to look once more upon the lovely +creation of God before it plumed its bright wing for its final flight.</p> + +<p>"Sun, beautiful sun! I shall see thee no more," said the child. "Thou +glorious emblem of the power and love of God. But I go to him who is the +Sun of the spirit-world, the life and light of the soul. There is joy in +my heart—deep joy—joy which no mortal tongue can express, for the +happiness I feel is not of the world. The fresh breezes of morning fan +my brow; to-morrow they will sigh over my grave. The earth returns to +the earth, the spirit to the God who gave it. Weep not for me, dear +brother. For this hour I was born. For this hour I came into the world, +and you should rejoice and be exceedingly glad that I have so soon +obtained my passport to the skies."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my sister, what will life be to me, when you are gone? You are the +last kindred tie that binds me to earth."</p> + +<p>"There will be another strong tie to draw you towards heaven, my +brother. Our spirits will not be divided. I shall still live in your +memory—still visit you in dreams. Your love for me will grow stronger, +for it will never know diminution or decay."</p> + +<p>She paused for a few seconds, and folded her poor wasted <a name="Page_327" id="Page_327"></a>hands +together, whilst a serene smile passed over her wan features, lighting +them with a holy joy.</p> + +<p>"I had a dream last night, Frederic. A beautiful dream. If I have +strength I will try and tell it to you. I thought much of Death last +night, and my soul shrunk within me, for I felt that he was near. I did +not fear Death while my heart was free from earthly love, but now he +seemed to wear a harsh and terrible aspect. I prayed long and fervently +to God to give me strength to enable me to pass tranquilly through the +dark valley; but in my heart I felt no response to my prayer. Soon after +this, the pains, that had racked me all yesterday, left me, and I fell +into a deep sleep. And then me-thought I stood in a narrow pass between +two vast walls of black rock, that enclosed me on either side, and +appeared to reach to the very clouds. The place was lighted by a dim +twilight that flowed through an enormous arch that united in the far +distance these gigantic walls; an arch, high and deep enough to have +sustained the weight of the whole world. I felt like an atom in +immensity, alone in that strange place. Still as I gazed in bewildered +awe upon that great gateway, a figure rose like a dim mist out of the +darkness, and it grew and brightened into a real and living presence; +its dazzling robes of snowy whiteness shedding a sort of glorious +moonshine all around. Oh, the beauty, the surpassing beauty of the +heavenly vision! it filled my whole soul with light.</p> + +<p>"Whilst I continued to gaze upon it with increasing awe and admiration, +it addressed me in a voice so rich and melodious that it awoke echoes of +soft music from those eternal rocks.</p> + +<p>"'Child of earth,' he said, 'is my aspect so terrible that men should +shrink from me in horror?'</p> + +<p>"'Not so,' I exclaimed, in an extasy of joy. 'Your <a name="Page_328" id="Page_328"></a>face is like the +face of the angel of the Lord, when he welcomes the beloved with a smile +of peace into the presence of God.'</p> + +<p>"'Yet I am he whom men regard as their worst enemy, and shrink from with +cowardly fear. Yes, maiden, I am Death! Death, the friend of man, the +conqueror of grief and pain. I hold in my hand the keys of the unknown +world. I am the bright spirit who unlocks for the good the golden gates +of eternal joy.'</p> + +<p>"He took my out-stretched hands, and drawing me forward, bade me look +through the black archway into the far eternity. Oh, that glorious land, +those rivers of delight—those trees and flowers, and warbled +songs—that paradise of living praise! I long, my brother, to break +these bonds asunder, to pass the dark archway, and tread that heavenly +shore."</p> + +<p>"Happy Clary," said Juliet, softly approaching the bed. "Dear blessed +girl, who would wish to detain you in this cold miserable world, when +heaven offers you a brighter home?"</p> + +<p>"You are come to see your poor friend, my Juliet," said Clary, twining +her thin white arms about her neck. "The sight of you recalls me back to +earth, filling my mind with sad thoughts and dark forebodings. Brother," +she continued, turning to Frederic, "leave us for a few minutes. I must +speak to Juliet Whitmore, for a short space, alone."</p> + +<p>For some seconds the two young creatures remained locked in each other's +arms. Clary was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"The thoughts of heaven," she said, "are full of rapture; the +recollections of earth, full of anguish and tears. It is not for myself, +Juliet, I weep. It is for the living I mourn —<a name="Page_329" id="Page_329"></a>for the friends I leave +behind. For me—I have lived long enough. It is better for me to go, +Juliet; I am dying; will you kiss me once more, and tell me that you +forgive your poor little Clary for having dared to love one whose whole +heart was given to you, and who was by you beloved again?"</p> + +<p>"Was Anthony dear to your gentle heart, Clary?" said Juliet, stooping +down, and kissing fervently the cold damp brow of the dying girl. "Oh, +dearer far dearer are you to me, in having thus shared, to its full +extent, all the deep sorrow that weighs down my spirit."</p> + +<p>"My love, Juliet, was full of hope and joy, of blissful dreams and +visions of peace and happiness. The storm came suddenly upon me, and the +feeble threads that held together my frail existence parted in the +conflict. I am thankful and resigned, and bless the hand that, in mercy, +dealt the blow." After a few minutes' silence, she said very solemnly, +"Anthony Hurdlestone is accused of having perpetrated a great crime. Do +you, Juliet, believe him guilty?"</p> + +<p>"When you believe that yon burning orb of fire is a mass of cold +unmeaning ice," said Juliet, pointing to the sun, "then will I suspect +the man I love to be a base unnatural monster, a thief and a parricide."</p> + +<p>"Then you, and you alone, Juliet, are worthy of his love. And he loves +you. Ah! so truly, so well, that I feel that he is innocent. A voice +from heaven tells me so. Yes, dearest Juliet, God will yet vindicate his +injured servant, and you and Anthony will meet again."</p> + +<p>"In heaven," said Juliet, weeping.</p> + +<p>"On earth," returned Clary in feebler accents. "When you see each other, +Juliet, tell him that Clary loved him and prayed for him to the last; +that dying she blessed him, <a name="Page_330" id="Page_330"></a>and believed him innocent. To you, Juliet, +I leave my harp, the friend and companion of my lonely childhood. When +you play the sweet airs I loved so well, think kindly of me. When you +wander by sparkling brooks, and through flowery paths, listening to the +song of birds, and the music of forest shades, remember me. Ah! I have +loved the bright and beautiful things of this glorious earth, and my +wish has been granted, that I might pass hence with sunshine about my +bed, and the music of Nature's wild minstrels ringing in my ears. Sun of +earth, farewell. Friends of earth we shall meet again. See, heaven +opens. Its one eternal day streams in upon my soul. Farewell.</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Happy spirit, welcome in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! the song of seraphim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hails thy presence at the throne—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth is lost, and Heaven is won!<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Enter in."<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>The voice died away in faint indistinct murmurs; the eye lost the living +fire; the prophetic lip paled to marble, quivered a moment, and was +still for ever. The spirit of Clary had passed the dark gateway, and was +the new-born of heaven.</p> + +<p>"My sister; oh, my sister! Is she indeed gone from me for ever?" +exclaimed Frederic, bursting into the room, and flinging himself upon +the bed beside her. "Clary! my angel! Clary! What! cold and dead? Oh, my +poor heart!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I envy her this blessed change!" said Juliet.</p> + +<p>"Aye, 'tis a sin to weep for her. But grief is selfish, Miss Whitmore; +it will have its way. Oh! sister, dear sister, why did you leave me +alone, the last survivor of an unfortunate race?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331"></a>And thus sorrow poured forth its querulous wailings into the cold ear +of death. The storm which bereaves us of our best affections passes +over; the whirlwind, the thunder, and the shower, desolating our harvest +of expected joys; but the sun bursts forth again. Hope blossoms afresh +in its beams, and the heart of man revives to form new schemes of future +enjoyment. Such is life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hast thou sought me in this dreary cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This dark abode of guilt and misery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To win my sadden'd spirit back to earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With words of blessed import?—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">The assizes were rapidly approaching. Conscious of his innocence, as far +as the murder of his father was concerned, Anthony Hurdlestone looked +forward to his trial with firmness and composure. There never was a +greater mass of circumstantial evidence brought against a prisoner than +in his memorable case.</p> + +<p>Holding an elevated position in society, his trial created a great +amount of interest and curiosity among all ranks, and the court was +crowded to excess. The youth of the criminal, his gentlemanly bearing, +his fine expressive countenance, his thoughtful mild eye and benevolent +brow excited surprise in the beholders, and gave rise to many doubts as +to his being the murderer; and the calm dignified manner in which he +listened to the evidence given against him tended greatly to increase +the interest which was expressed by many in his awful situation.</p> + +<p>Grenard Pike was the first witness called, and he deposed,</p> + +<p>That on the evening of the tenth of October, between the hours of eight +and nine, he and the elder Hurdlestone were <a name="Page_333" id="Page_333"></a>seated at a table counting +money into a mahogany brass-bound box. He (Grenard) saw a tall figure +pass the window. Mr. Hurdlestone instantly called out, "Grenard, did you +see that man?" and he (the witness) answered, "Yes, it is your son." Mr. +Hurdlestone replied, in some alarm, "I told him to come to-night; but I +did not think that he would take me at my word. What can he want with +me?" The next moment a pistol was fired through the casement. The ball +passed through Mr. Hurdlestone's shoulder. He fell to the floor across +the money-box, exclaiming, "My son! my cruel son! He has murdered me for +my money; but he shall not have my money!" Witness looked up, and saw +the murderer, by the light of the moon, standing by the window. He could +swear to the person of Anthony Hurdlestone. Thinking his own life in +danger he made his escape into a back room, and got out of the window, +and ran as fast as he could to the village, to give the alarm and +procure a surgeon. When he returned he found the prisoner leaning, +apparently conscience-stricken, over the corpse. He offered no +resistance when seized by the constables; he had no money in his +possession. A pair of pistols was found in his coat pocket. One had been +recently used; the other was still loaded; and there were stains of +blood upon his hands and clothes.</p> + +<p>He then related Anthony's previous visit to the cottage; the manner in +which he had threatened his father; and the trick the miser had played +off upon him, which circumstance had been faithfully detailed to him by +old Mark, who regarded the latter as an excellent joke, although, +Grenard dryly remarked, "It had cost him his life."</p> + +<p>During Pike's evidence, the prisoner was greatly agitated, and was +observed to lean heavily upon the dock for <a name="Page_334" id="Page_334"></a>support. But when his cousin +Godfrey and William Mathews appeared to add their testimony against him, +his fortitude entirely forsook him, and he turned away, and covered his +face for some minutes with his hands.</p> + +<p>Godfrey's evidence was most conclusive. He stated that Anthony had +borrowed from him, before his uncle's death, the sum of four hundred +pounds, to settle some college debts which he had concealed from Colonel +Hurdlestone's knowledge. Godfrey, willing to oblige him, had raised upon +a note the greater part of the money. It became due and he (Godfrey) +being unable, from his altered circumstances, to meet it, went to his +cousin, to beg him to do so, if possible. He was surprised that the +prisoner was able to give him the sum at once, though he afterwards +learned that it was money left in his charge by Mr. Wildegrave that he +had taken for that purpose. Anthony told him that Mr. Wildegrave had +written to him for the money, and that he was greatly perplexed what to +do. In this emergency, he (Godfrey) advised him to go to his father and +state to him the difficulty in which he was placed, and, in all +probability, the old man would rescue him from his unpleasant situation. +He then related the result of the prisoner's interview with his father, +the manner in which he had been repulsed, and the threatening language +which the prisoner had used; his (Godfrey's) discovery of the trick +which the hard old man had played off upon his son, and Anthony's +determination to visit him again on the night of the tenth of October, +and force him to terms. He concluded by saying, that he had every reason +to believe that the intended visit had taken place at the very time that +the murder was committed. He spoke of his cousin with much feeling, and +tried to excuse his conduct, as being <a name="Page_335" id="Page_335"></a>the result of his father's +ill-treatment and neglect; and he commented upon Anthony's solitary +habits, and sullen uncommunicative disposition, as having been fostered +by these unfortunate circumstances.</p> + +<p>His evidence was given in so frank and manly a way, and he seemed to +sympathize so deeply in his cousin's unfortunate position, that he +created quite a sensation among his listeners. No one imagined him to be +in any way implicated in the crime.</p> + +<p>The statement of William Mathews corroborated all that had been advanced +by Godfrey Hurdlestone. He related his accidental meeting with Mr. +Anthony Hurdlestone on his way to the miser's cottage, but he omitted +the conversation that passed between them; only stating, that he +observed the muzzle of a pistol protruding from the pocket of the +prisoner—a circumstance which, knowing the peaceable habits of the +prisoner, astonished him at the time.</p> + +<p>Long before Mathews had concluded his deposition, there remained not a +doubt on the minds of the jury that Anthony Hurdlestone was the +murderer. Even Captain Whitmore, who had greatly interested himself on +behalf of the young man, believed him guilty.</p> + +<p>One witness still remained unheard, and Anthony still clung to hope; +still anxiously anticipated that the evidence of Frederic Wildegrave +would go far to save him. Alas! how great was his disappointment, when +the circumstances related by his friend were more conclusive of his +guilt than all the false statements that had been made by his enemies. +His own letter, too, which was read in court, alone would have condemned +him in the opinion of all unprejudiced men.</p> +<p><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336"></a></p> +<div class="blockquot"><p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">October</span> 10th, 1790.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">My Dear Frederic</span>,</p> + +<p>"I am certain that I have forfeited your good opinion, by omitting +to send you the money you left in my keeping: I have forfeited my +own. How shall I find words to tell you the dreadful truth, that +the money is no longer in my possession; that, in a moment of +excitement, I gave the deposit entrusted to my care to another?</p> + +<p>"Yet listen to me for a few painful moments, before you condemn me +utterly. My cousin Godfrey came to me in great distress; he +implored me to save him from ruin, by obtaining for him a temporary +loan, for a few hours, of four hundred pounds, which he faithfully +promised to replace the following day. Hurried away by my feelings, +I imprudently granted his request, and gave him the money you left +with me. Do not wholly despise me, Frederic; he looked so like my +poor uncle, I knew not how to deny him.</p> + +<p>"This morning brought your letter. You ask for the money to be sent +to you immediately. I have it not to send; my sin has found me out. +A thief and swindler! Can it be possible that I have incurred such +dreadful guilt?</p> + +<p>"<i>Night.</i>—I have seen Godfrey—he has failed me. What shall I do? +I must go to my father; perhaps he will relent, and pity my +distress. My heart is torn with distracting doubts. Oh, that I +could pour into some faithful bosom my torturing situation! Clary +is ill—and left to myself, I am lost.</p> + +<p>"<i>Midnight.</i>—I have seen my father. What a meeting. My brain aches +while I try to recall it. At first he insulted my agony; taunted me +with my misfortunes, and finally maddened me. I cannot describe to +you what passed. <a name="Page_337" id="Page_337"></a>Wound up to a pitch of fury, I threatened to +obtain the money by violence, if he did not write an order upon his +banker for the sum required. Cowering with fear, he complied; and +I—I, in the fullness of my heart, implored his pardon for the +language I had used, and blessed him. Yes, I blessed him, who only +a few minutes before had spurned me from his feet—had mocked at my +calamity—and cursed me in the savage malevolence of his heart. +Some feeling of remorse appeared to touch his cruel breast; as I +left the house he called after me, 'Anthony, Anthony, to-morrow +night I will do you justice.' I will go to him no more. I feel that +we have parted for ever.</p> + +<p>"<i>Thursday evening.</i>—The old man has deceived me—has jested with +my distress. I could curse him, but I have not done so. To-night we +shall have a fearful reckoning; yes, to-night he will be forced to +do me justice.</p> + +<p>"Godfrey has been with me. He discovered the cruel trick which the +unnatural wretch who calls himself my father had played me—and he +laughed. How could he laugh at such a melancholy instance of +depravity? Godfrey should have been this man's son. In some things +they resemble each other. Yes, he laughed at the trick. Is the idea +of goodness existing in the human heart a mere dream? Are men all +devils, or have some more tact to conceal their origin than others? +I begin to suspect myself and all mankind. I will go once more to +that hard-hearted man; if he refuses to grant my request, I will +die at his feet. Last night I attempted suicide, but my good angel +prevailed. To-night is my hour, and the power of darkness. Will he +feel no touch of remorse when he beholds his neglected +son—lost—bleeding—dying at his feet?</p> + +<p><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338"></a>"Oh, that you were near to save me from myself! An unseen power +seems hurrying, drawing me to perdition. The voice of a friend +would dissolve the spell, and set the prisoner of passion free. The +clock strikes eight—I must go. Farewell, my friend, my brother; +forgive and pity the unfortunate</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;">"<span class="smcap">Anthony M. Hurdlestone</span>."</p></div> + +<p>He went—and the old man was found murdered. What more natural than such +a consequence after penning such a letter? The spectators looked from +one to the other: on every brow rested a cloud; every head was nodded in +token of agreement; every one present, but Frederic Wildegrave, believed +him guilty. He had retained no counsel, preferring to plead in his own +defence.</p> + +<p>He rose; every eye was fixed upon him, men held their breath, wondering +what sort of defence could issue from the lips of the parricide.</p> + +<p>He spoke; the clear, rich, mellow, unimpassioned tones of his voice +rolled over that mass of human heads, penetrating every heart, and +reaching every ear.</p> + +<p>"My lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, I rise not with the idea of +saving my life, by an avowal of my innocence, for the evidence which has +been given against me is of too conclusive a nature for me to hope for +that; I merely state the simple fact, that I am not guilty of the +dreadful crime laid to my charge; and I leave it to God, in whose hands +are the issues of life and death, to prove the truth of my words.</p> + +<p>"The greater part of the evidence brought against me is true; the +circumstances recorded against me really occurred; the letter just read +was penned by my own hand; yet, <a name="Page_339" id="Page_339"></a>in the face of these overwhelming +facts, I declare myself innocent of the crime laid to my charge. I know +not in what manner my father met his death. I am as ignorant as you can +be of the hand that dealt the fatal blow. I confess that I sought his +presence with the dreadful determination of committing murder; but the +crime was against myself. For this I deserve punishment—for this I am +content to die: to this charge, made by myself, I plead guilty. I look +around me—in every face I see doubt and doom. I stand here a mark and +scorn to the whole world; but, though all unite in my condemnation, I +still fearlessly and distinctly declare my innocence. I am neither a +parricide nor a murderer! and I now await my sentence with the calmness +and fortitude which a clear conscience alone can give."</p> + +<p>Murmurs of disapprobation ran though the court.</p> + +<p>"What a hypocrite!" muttered some, as the jury left the court to consult +together about the verdict.</p> + +<p>"Do you observe the striking likeness between the prisoner at the bar +and his cousin, the second witness against him?" whispered a gentleman +in the crowd to a friend near him. "By Jove, 'tis a fearful resemblance. +I would not be so like the murderer for worlds. 'Tis the same face."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said his friend, "they are partners in guilt. I have my +doubts. But 'tis unlawful to condemn any man."</p> + +<p>"He's a bad fellow by his own account," said the other. "It was he who +first led the prisoner to commit the theft. I think one of them deserves +death as much as the other."</p> + +<p>"Whist, man! Yon handsome rogue is the miser's heir."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340"></a>"Humph!" said the first speaker. "If I were on the jury—"</p> + +<p>"Here they come, there is death in their very looks, I thought as much, +he is found guilty."</p> + +<p>The judge rose; a death-like stillness pervaded the court during his +long and impressive address to the prisoner. The sentence of death was +then pronounced, and Anthony Marcus Hurdlestone was ordered for +execution on the following Monday.</p> + +<p>"This dreadful day is at length over," he said as he flung himself on +his pallet of straw in the condemned cell, on the evening of that +memorable day. "Thank God it is over, and I know the worst, and nothing +now remains to hope or fear. A few brief hours and this weary world will +be a dream of the past, and I shall awake from my bed of dust to a new +and better existence, beyond the power of temptation—beyond the might +of sin. My God, I thank Thee. Thou hast dealt justly with Thy servant. +The soul that sinneth, it must die; and grievously have I sinned in +seeking to mar Thy glorious image—to cast the life thou gavest me as a +worthless boon at Thy feet. I bow my head in the dust and am silent +before Thee. Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"</p> + +<p>His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the chaplain of the +jail—a venerable Christian who felt a deep interest in the prisoner, +and who now sought him to try and awaken him to a full sense of his +awful situation.</p> + +<p>"My son," he said, laying his hand upon Anthony's shoulder, "how is it +with you this night? What is God saying to your soul?"</p> + +<p>"All is well," replied Anthony. "He is speaking to me words of peace and +comfort."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341"></a>"Your fellow-men have condemned you—" he paused then added with a deep +sigh, "—and I too, Anthony Hurdlestone, believe you guilty."</p> + +<p>"God has not condemned me, good father, and by the light of His glorious +countenance that now shines upon me, shedding joy and peace into my +heart, I am innocent."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that I could think you so!"</p> + +<p>"Though it has seemed right in the eyes of the All-wise Sovereign of the +universe that I should be pronounced guilty before an earthly bar, I +feel assured that He, in His own good time, will declare my innocence."</p> + +<p>"Will that profit you aught, my son, when you are dust?"</p> + +<p>"It will rescue my name from infamy, and give me a mournful interest in +the memory of my friends."</p> + +<p>"Poor lad, this is but a melancholy consolation; I wish I could believe +you."</p> + +<p>"What a monster of depravity you must think me, if you can imagine me +guilty after what I have just said! Is truth so like falsehood, that a +man of your holy calling cannot discern the difference? Do I look like a +guilty man? Do I speak like a guilty man who knows that he has but a few +days to live? If I were the wretch you take me for, should I not be +overwhelmed with grief and despair? Would not the thought of death be +insupportable? Oh! believe one who seeks not to live—who is contented +to die, when I again solemnly declare my innocence."</p> + +<p>"I have seen men, Anthony Hurdlestone, who, up to the very hour of their +execution, persisted in the same thing and yet, after all their solemn +protestations, owned at the last moment that their sentence was just, +and that they merited death."</p> + +<p><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342"></a>"And I too have merited death," said Anthony mournfully. "God is just."</p> + +<p>The chaplain started; though but a few minutes before he had considered +the prisoner guilty, yet it produced a painful feeling in his mind to +hear him declare it.</p> + +<p>"Is self-destruction murder?" asked Anthony with an anxious earnest +glance.</p> + +<p>"Aye, of the worst kind: for deep ingratitude to God, and contempt of +his laws, are fearfully involved in this unnatural outrage."</p> + +<p>"Then my sentence is just," sighed Anthony; "I never raised my hand +against my father's life, but I raised it against my own. God has +punished me for this act of rebellion against His Divine Majesty, in +rejecting, as a thing of no value, the life He gave. I yield myself into +His hands, confident that His arm is stretched over His repentant +creature for good; whether I die upon the scaffold or end my days +peacefully in my bed, I can lay my hand upon my heart and say—'His will +be done.'"</p> + +<p>For about an hour the good clergyman continued reading and praying with +the prisoner, and before he left him that evening, in spite of his +pre-conceived notions of his guilt, he was fully convinced of innocence.</p> + +<p>Sadly and solemnly the hours passed on that brought the morning of his +execution, "with death-bed clearness, face to face." He had joined in +the sacred duties of the Sabbath; it was to him a day of peaceful +rest—a forestate of the quiet solemnity of the grave. In the evening he +was visited by Frederic Wildegrave, who had been too ill after the trial +to leave his bed before. He was pale, and wasted with sorrow and +disease, and looked more like a man going to meet death than the +criminal he came to cheer with his presence.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343"></a>"My dear Anthony," said Frederic, taking his cousin's hand, "my heart +bleeds to see you thus. I have been sick; my spirit is weighed down with +sorrow, or we should have met sooner."</p> + +<p>"You do indeed look ill," replied Anthony, examining, with painful +surprise, the altered face of his friend; "I much fear that I have been +the cause of this change. Tell me, Frederic, and tell me truly, do you +believe me guilty?"</p> + +<p>"I have never for one moment entertained a thought to that effect, +Anthony; though the whole world should condemn you, I would stake my +salvation on your integrity."</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my friend; my true, faithful, noble-hearted friend," cried +Anthony, clasping the hand he held to his breast, "you are right; I am +not the murderer."</p> + +<p>"Who is?"</p> + +<p>Anthony shook his head.</p> + +<p>"That infernal scoundrel, Mathews?"</p> + +<p>"Hush! Not him alone."</p> + +<p>"Godfrey?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Frederic; had you seen the triumphant smile that passed over his +face at the moment that my sentence was pronounced, you could entertain +no doubt upon the subject. I heard not the sentence—I saw not the +multitude of eyes fixed upon me—I only saw him—I only saw his eyes +looking into my soul and laughing at the ruin he had wrought. But he +will not go unpunished. There is one who will yet betray him, and prove +my innocence; I mean his hateful accomplice, William Mathews."</p> + +<p>"And can nothing be done to convict them?"</p> + +<p><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344"></a>"They have sworn falsely, and perverted facts. I have no proof of their +guilt. Would the world believe my statements? Would it not appear like +the wolf accusing the lamb? For my poor uncle's sake I am ready to +suffer; and for this cause I employed no counsel to plead on my behalf; +I would rather die myself than be the means of bringing to the scaffold +the only son that he adored. Poor Algernon! I have paid a heavy debt for +his generosity to me. Yes," he continued, more cheerfully, "I will leave +Godfrey to enjoy his ill-gotten wealth, nor waste the few hours which +now remain to me on earth in vain regrets. How is it with the dear +Clary? How has she borne up against this dreadful blow?"</p> + +<p>Frederic's sole answer was a mournful glance at the sables in which he +was clad. Anthony comprehended in a moment the meaning of that sad, sad +look. "She is gone," he said—"she, the beautiful—the innocent. Yes, +yes—I knew it would kill her, the idea of my guilt. Alas! poor Clary!"</p> + +<p>"She never thought you guilty," said Frederic, wiping his eyes. "She +bade me give you this letter, written with her dying hand, to convince +you that she believed you innocent. Her faith towards you was as strong +as death; her love for you snapped asunder the fragile threads that held +her to life. But she is happy. Dear child! She is better off than those +who weep her loss. And you, Anthony, you—the idol of her fond young +heart—will receive her welcome to that glorious country, of which, I +trust, she is now the bright inhabitant."</p> + +<p>"And she died of grief. Died—because others suspected of crime the man +she loved. Oh, Clary! Clary! how unworthy was I of your love! You knew I +loved another, <a name="Page_345" id="Page_345"></a>yet it did not diminish aught of your friendship, your +pure devotion to me! Oh, that I had your faith—your love!"</p> + +<p>He covered his face with his hands, and both were silent for a long +time.</p> + +<p>"Frederic, we must part," said Anthony, at length raising his head. +"Beloved friend, we must part for ever!"</p> + +<p>"I shall see you again to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"What! on the scaffold?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, on the scaffold! Your place of martyrdom."</p> + +<p>"This is friendship indeed. Time may one day prove to you that Anthony +Hurdlestone was not unworthy of your love."</p> + +<p>Frederic burst into tears afresh, and wringing Anthony's hand, hurried +from the cell; and the prisoner was once more left alone to commune with +his own thoughts, and prepare for the awful change that awaited him.</p> + +<p>His spirit, weaned as it was from the things of earth, contemplated with +melancholy pleasure the death of the young Clary, which he considered +had placed his sweet young friend beyond the reach of human suffering.</p> + +<p>"She is with the Eternal Present," he said. "No dark mysterious future +can ever more cloud her soul with its heavy shadow. To-morrow—and the +veil will be rent in twain, and our ransomed spirits will behold each +other face to face. What is Death? The eclipse for a moment of the sun +of human life. The shadow of earth passes from before it, and it again +shines forth with renewed splendor."</p> + +<p>His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of the jailor followed by +another person muffled up in a large riding <a name="Page_346" id="Page_346"></a>cloak. "A stranger," he +said, "wished to exchange a few words in private with the prisoner."</p> + +<p>Anthony rose from his humble bed, and asked in subdued tones, "to whom +he had the honor of speaking?"</p> + +<p>"To a sincere friend, Anthony Hurdlestone—one who cannot believe you +guilty of the dreadful crime of murder."</p> + +<p>The sound of that voice, though months had passed away since its musical +tones had vibrated on his ear, thrilled to the soul of the prisoner.</p> + +<p>"Miss Whitmore!" he cried, in an extasy of joy; and sinking at her feet, +he seized her hands, and pressing them to his lips and heart burst into +an agony of tears.</p> + +<p>"Anthony!" said Juliet, placing her hand upon his shoulder, as he sat at +her feet with his face upturned and his eyes suffused in tears, gazing +tenderly upon her; "I came here to-night to ask you one simple question. +With many tears I gained my father's consent to this unusual step. Not +without many severe mental struggles I overcame the feelings of maiden +shame, and placed myself in this painful situation in order to receive +from your own lips an answer which might satisfy the intense anxiety +that presses upon my mind. As you value your own and my eternal peace, I +charge you, Anthony, to answer me truly—as truly as if you stood before +the bar of God, and the eye of the Great Searcher of hearts was upon +you; Did you murder your unhappy father?"</p> + +<p>"As I hope for salvation, I am as ignorant of the real perpetrators of +the deed as you are."</p> + +<p>"Both directly and indirectly?"</p> + +<p>"The whole affair is involved in mystery. I have, of course, my doubts +and surmises. These I must not name, <a name="Page_347" id="Page_347"></a>lest I might accuse persons who +like myself are innocent of the offence. Hear me, Juliet Whitmore! while +I raise this fettered right hand to heaven, and swear by that awful +Judge before whose dread tribunal I must in a few hours appear, that I +am guiltless of the crime for which at the age of one-and-twenty, in the +first bloom of youth and manhood, I am condemned to die!"</p> + +<p>There was a slight convulsion of the features as he uttered the last +words, and his lips quivered for a moment. Nature asserted her right +over her sentient creature; and the thoughts of death awoke at that +moment a strange conflict in his breast. So young—so highly gifted—so +tenderly beloved; it was indeed hard to die—to die a death of infamy, +amidst the curses and execrations of an insulting mob. Oh, how gladly +would he have seen the bitter cup pass from his lips!</p> + +<p>Juliet regarded her unhappy lover with a sad and searching glance. But +innocence is strong; he shrunk not from the encounter. His eyes were +raised to hers in confidence and love, and the glow of conscious worth +irradiated his wan and wasted features. Alas! what years of sorrow had +been compressed into one short week!</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Anthony, to be an injured man. Thank God!" she +continued, mournfully folding her hands together, "thank God! I have not +loved a murderer!"</p> + +<p>"Loved!" repeated the prisoner, whilst the deepest crimson for a moment +flushed his face; "is it possible that Juliet Whitmore ever loved me! +Loved me after witnessing that disgraceful scene in the park. Oh, +Juliet! dear generous Juliet! these blessed words would make me too +happy were it not for these bonds."</p> + +<p>"I wronged you, Anthony; cruelly wronged you. My <a name="Page_348" id="Page_348"></a>unfortunate +misconception of painful facts may have been the means of rivetting +those irons upon your limbs. I cannot forgive myself for not questioning +Mary Mathews alone upon the subject."</p> + +<p>"Appearances were strongly against me, Juliet. I have been the victim of +unfortunate circumstances." He bent his head down upon his fettered +hands, and continued, in a low voice rendered almost inarticulate with +emotion: "But you love me, and this assurance ought to atone for all the +dreary past. Alas! at this moment it comes to rob me of my fortitude; to +add a bitterness to death!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that it were in my power to save your life, beloved Anthony!" said +Juliet, sinking on her knees beside him, and clasping his fettered hands +within her own. "I have loved you long and tenderly. I shall see you no +more on earth. If my life could ransom yours, I would give it without a +sigh; but will is powerless; our hands are tied; we are indeed the +creatures of circumstance. All that now remains for us is to submit—to +bow with fortitude to the mysterious ways of Providence. To acknowledge, +even in our hearts' deep agony, that whatever is, is right."</p> + +<p>"Let us pray," said Anthony solemnly, holding up her hands in his; "pray +that God may give us strength to undergo the trial that awaits us."</p> + +<p>"With tears and sobs and struggling sighs, those unhappy young lovers +poured out their full hearts to God. They appealed to his love, his +justice, his mercy; they cried to him in their strong agony; and even in +that moment of unutterable woe they found peace.</p> + +<p>"Go, my beloved," whispered Anthony, "I can part with you now. We shall +soon meet again."</p> + +<p>"To part no more for ever!" sobbed Juliet, struggling with <a name="Page_349" id="Page_349"></a>her tears. +"I have a message for you from one who has already passed the dark +valley—from one who loved you—poor Clary."</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear it now," said Anthony. "I hope soon to hear a more joyful +message from her gentle lips. Farewell, my Juliet—my soul's first and +only earthly love! Live for my sake—live to defend my memory from +infamy. Time will dissipate the clouds that now blacken my name; and the +day will come when Juliet Whitmore will not have cause to blush for her +unfortunate lover."</p> + +<p>One long and last embrace—one gush of free and heartfelt tears—one sad +impassioned kiss, and Anthony Hurdlestone was once more alone in the +condemned cell, with silence and darkness—mute emblems of +death—brooding around him.</p> + +<p>He had all this time unconsciously held Clary's letter strained in his +hand; and as his thoughts flowed back to her he longed intensely to read +it. The visit of the good chaplain, who brought with him a light, +afforded him the opportunity he so much desired.</p> + +<p>A strange awe came over him as he unfolded the paper. The hand that had +traced it was no longer of earth; the spirit that had dictated it was +removed to another sphere. Yet he fancied, as he read the paper, that +the soft blue eyes of Clary looked into his own; that her bright golden +locks fanned his feverish cheek; that she was actually before him. +Several times he started and looked up into the face of the chaplain +before he could dispel the vision.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">"<span class="smcap">Anthony, Dear Anthony</span>, (she wrote.)</p> + +<p>"This will meet you at a time when sorrow for my death will be lost in +joy, that we shall so soon meet in hea<a name="Page_350" id="Page_350"></a>ven. Fear not, Anthony; that hour +may be far distant. God is just. You are innocent; trust in him. Trust +firmly, nothing wavering, and he will save you. I have wept for you, +prayed for you; would that I could die for you! My soul has been poured +forth in tears; but never for one moment have I abused our holy +friendship by imagining you guilty. Weep not for me, dear Anthony; I am +happy. God is taking me from the evil to come, from the anguish of +seeing you the husband of another. Death has no sting; I welcome him as +a friend.</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why should I dread thee, Death?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stern friend in solemn guise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One pause of this frail breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then the skies!<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + +<p>"When restored to peace, to happiness, and to Juliet, think kindly of +me. Remember how I loved you—how I delighted in all that delights and +interests you. But not in crowded halls would I have you recall my +image;—my heart was solitary amidst the dust and rubbish of the gay +world. But in spring, when the earth is bright with flowers, when the +sun looks down in love upon creation, when the full streams are flowing +on with a voice of joy, when the song of birds makes glad the +forest-bowers, when every blade of grass is dressed in beauty, and every +leaf and flower glows with the light of life, and the unsophisticated +untried heart of youth breathes forth its ardent aspiration to the +throne of God—then, Anthony, think of me. My spirit will hover about +your path; my voice will murmur in the breeze; and the recollection of +what I was, of all my faith and love, will be dear to your heart.</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When these eyes, long dimm'd with weeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the silent dust are sleeping;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When above my lowly bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breeze shall wave the thistle's head,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Thou wilt think of me, love!<br /></span> +</div><p><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351"></a></p><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the queen of beams and showers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes to dress the earth with flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the days are long and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moon shines all the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Thou wilt think of me, love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the tender corn is springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the merry thrush is singing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the swallows come and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On light wings flitting to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Thou wilt think of me, love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When 'neath April's rainbow skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Violets ope their azure eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mossy bank and verdant mound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet knots of primroses have crown'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Thou wilt think of me, love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When the meadows glitter white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a sheet of silver light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When bluebells gay and cowslips bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet-scented briar and golden broom,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">Thou wilt think of me, love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Each bud shall be to thee a token<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a fond heart reft and broken;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the month of joy and gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall fill thy soul with holy sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">And thou wilt sigh for me, love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><p><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352"></a></p> +<span class="i0">"When thou rov'st the woodland bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt cull spring's sweetest flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To strew with tender, silent weeping<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely bed where I am sleeping,<br /></span> +<span class="i12">And sadly mourn for me, love!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +</td></tr></table> +</div> + +<p>And thus ended poor Clary's letter. Anthony folded it up carefully, and +laid it next his heart. The hope she had endeavored to inspire did not +desert him at that moment. He was resigned to his fate; he even wished +to die. Her simple child-like letter had done more to reconcile him to +his doom than the pious lectures of the good priest, and his own deep +reflections on the subject. The madness of all human pursuits—the +vanity and frivolity of life—now awoke in his breast sensations of pity +and disgust. But love and friendship—those drops of honey in the cup of +gall—did not their sweetness in this hour of desolation atone for the +bitter dregs, and hold him to earth? The mighty struggle was to rend +asunder these new-formed and holy ties. For him there existed no hope of +a reprieve. Wise and good men had tried and found him guilty of a crime +which, in all ages, had been held in execration by mankind. He was not a +common criminal; for him there existed no sympathy, no pity. The voice +of humanity was against him; the whole world united in his condemnation.</p> + +<p>It was his last night upon earth; yet amidst its silent dreary watches, +when these thoughts flitted through his mind, he wished it past. A +thousand times he caught himself repeating from Dr. Young that memorable +line, as if to fortify himself against the coming event,</p> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div><p>"Man receives, not suffers, death's tremendous blow."</p></div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>But it was not the mere death-pang—the separation of <a name="Page_353" id="Page_353"></a>matter and +spirit—that he shrank from. It was the loathed gibbet; that disgusting +relic of a barbarous age, the revolting exhibition, the public and +disgraceful manner of his death, that made it so terrible. And he +sighed, and prayed to God to grant him patience, and fell into a deep +tranquil sleep, from which he did not awake until the hour of his +departure was at hand.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<table summary="poem" class="center"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On life's wide sea, when tempests gathering dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour the fierce billow on the shatter'd bark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The surge may break, the warring winds may rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis God controls the vengeance of the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And those who trust in his Almighty arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No storm shall vex, nor hurricane alarm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He is their stay when earthly hope is lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light and anchor of the tempest-tost!—S.M.<br /></span> +</div></div></td></tr></table> + + +<p class="padtop">At an early hour next morning every avenue and street leading to the +place of execution was thronged with human beings, all anxious to behold +an erring fellow-creature suffer the punishment due to the enormous +crime of which he had been found guilty. The rush of the gathering +multitude was like the roaring of a troubled sea, when the waters foam +and chafe, and find no rest for their tumultuous heavings. Intense +curiosity was depicted on every countenance, and each man strained his +neck eagerly forward to catch a glance of the monster who had murdered +his own father.</p> + +<p>And there was one among that mass of living heads the most anxious, the +most eager of all. This was Godfrey Hurdlestone, who could not believe +his victim sure until he saw him die.</p> + +<p>"Why, Squire," whispered a voice near him, "I did not expect to see you +here. Are you not satisfied that he is condemned?"</p> + +<p>"No, Bill," responded the murderer. "I must see him <a name="Page_355" id="Page_355"></a>die. Then, and not +till then, shall I believe myself secure."</p> + +<p>"What has become of Mary?" again whispered his companion in guilt.</p> + +<p>Godfrey's hardened face became livid. "She was lying speechless, given +over by the physicians, at Captain Whitmore's, three days ago. Curse +her! I have no doubt that she meant to betray us."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had throttled her the night she described the scene of the +murder! But mum; here comes the prisoner. By Jove! how well he looks! +how bravely he bears up against his fate! Does not the sight of that +proud pale face make you feel rather queerish?"</p> + +<p>"Away with your scruples; his death makes rich men of us."</p> + +<p>The prisoner ascended the platform, supported by Frederic Wildegrave and +the good chaplain. A breathless pause succeeded, and he became the +central point to which all eyes were directed. His hat was off, and the +expression of his face was calm and resigned; the dignity of conscious +innocence was there. He turned his fine dark eyes with a pitying glance +on the upturned faces of the gazing crowd; the hisses and groans with +which they had greeted his first appearance were hushed; a death-like +stillness fell upon that vast assemblage, and many a rugged cheek was +moistened with tears of genuine compassion.</p> + +<p>"Hark, he is about to speak! Is it to confess his crime?"</p> + +<p>In deep clear tones he addressed the multitude. "Fellow-men, you are +assembled here this day to see me die. You believe me guilty of a +dreadful crime; the most dreadful crime that a human creature can +commit—the <a name="Page_356" id="Page_356"></a>murder of a parent. Here, before you all, and in the +presence of Almighty God, I declare my innocence. I neither committed +the murder nor am I acquainted with the perpetrators of the deed. God +will one day prove the truth of my words. To Him I leave the vindication +of my cause; He will clear from my memory this infamous stain. +Farewell!"</p> + +<p>"He cannot be guilty!" exclaimed some.</p> + +<p>"The hardened wretch!" cried others. "To take God's name in vain, and +die with a lie upon his lips."</p> + +<p>The prisoner now resigned himself to the hangman's grasp; but whilst the +fatal noose was adjusting, a cry—a wild, loud, startling cry—broke +upon the crowd, rising high into the air and heard above all other +sounds. Again and again it burst forth, until it seemed to embody itself +into intelligible words; "Stop! stop!" it cried, "stop the execution! He +is innocent! he is innocent!"</p> + +<p>The crowd caught up the cry; and "He is innocent! he is innocent!" +passed from man to man. A young female was now seen forcing a passage +through the dense mass. The interest became intense; every one drew +closer to his neighbor, to make way for the bearer of unexpected +tidings, who, arriving within a few yards of the scaffold, again called +out in shrill tones, which found an echo in every benevolent +heart—"Godfrey Hurdlestone and William Mathews are the real murderers. +I heard them form the plot. I saw the deed done!"</p> + +<p>"Damnation!—we are betrayed!" whispered Godfrey to his colleague in +crime, as they fled from the scene.</p> + +<p>All was now uproar and confusion. The sheriff and his officers at length +succeeded in quieting the excited populace, and removed the prisoner +once more to his cell.</p> + +<p><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357"></a>"I trust, my son, that the bitterness of death is past," said the +chaplain, who accompanied him hither. "The God in whom you trusted has +been strong to save."</p> + +<p>"And where, where is my preserver?" asked Anthony, rising from his +knees, after returning humble and heartfelt thanks to God for his +preservation.</p> + +<p>"She is here," said Mary, kneeling at his feet. "Here to bless and thank +you for all your unremitted kindness to a wretch like me. Oh! I feared +that I should be too late; that all would be over before my feeble limbs +would bring me to the spot. I have been ill, Mr. Anthony, dreadfully +ill; I couldn't speak to tell them that you were innocent; but it lay +upon my heart day by day, and it burnt into my brain like fire. But they +did not comprehend me; they could not understand my ravings. At last I +stole from my bed, when they were all absent, and put on my clothes, and +hurried out into the blessed air. The winds of heaven blew upon me and +my reason returned; and God gave me strength, and brought me here in +time to save your life. Yes, you are saved. Blessed be God's name for +ever. You are saved, and by me!"</p> + +<p>The poor girl, overcome by her feelings, burst into a fit of hysterical +weeping, and suffered the chaplain to lead her from the cell and place +her under the protection of the jailor's wife.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CONCLUSION" id="CONCLUSION"></a>CONCLUSION.</h2> + + +<p class="padtop">Little now remains of my sad tale to be told. Godfrey and his infamous +accomplice Mathews were apprehended, convicted and condemned, and +suffered for their crimes on the very spot which had witnessed the +rescue of Anthony Hurdlestone from a death of unmerited infamy.</p> + +<p>The sole survivor of a rich and powerful family, Anthony left the +condemned cell in the county jail to take possession of his paternal +estates. But it was not on a spot haunted by such melancholy +recollections that the last of the Hurdlestones thought fit to dwell. +The Hall was sold, and passed into the hands of strangers; and after +remaining two years abroad, Anthony once more returned to his native +shores, and led to the altar his betrothed bride—the beautiful and +talented Juliet Whitmore.</p> + +<p>The young Squire's character had been fully vindicated to the world, and +his wealthy neighbors took every opportunity of courting his +acquaintance; but a change had come over Mr. Hurdlestone, which the +caresses of the great and the smiles of fortune could not remove. He +never forgot the sad lesson he had learned in —— jail, or the +melancholy fate of his nearest relatives. He had proved the instability +of all earthly pursuits and enjoyments; and he renounced the gay world, +and devoted his time and talents, and the immense riches which heaven +had entrusted to his stewardship, in alleviating the wants and woes of +suffering humanity. In the wise and virtuous Juliet he found a partner +worthy of his love. One in heart and purpose, their unaffected piety and +benevolence rendered them a great blessing to the poor in their +neighborhood, <a name="Page_359" id="Page_359"></a>who never spoke of the rich Squire and his wife without +coupling their names with a blessing.</p> + +<p>Amongst his peers, Anthony Hurdlestone was regarded as a singular +wayward being, whose eccentricities were to be excused and accounted for +by the strange circumstances in which he had been placed. It was a +matter of surprise to all, that the son of the miser, Mark Hurdlestone, +should know how to use, without abusing, his wealth; that, avoiding the +selfish idolatry of the Gold Worshipper and the folly and extravagance +of the spendthrift, he dedicated to the service of God and his +fellow-creatures the riches that, in his father's case, had illustrated +the truth of the heaven-taught proverb:—</p> + +<p>"How hardly shall a rich man enter the kingdom of God!"</p> + + +<p style="text-align: center;">THE END.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mark Hurdlestone, by Susanna Moodie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARK HURDLESTONE *** + +***** This file should be named 16836-h.htm or 16836-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/3/16836/ + +Produced by Early Canadiana Online, Robert Cicconetti, +Stacy Brown Thellend and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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