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diff --git a/1895-h/1895-h.htm b/1895-h/1895-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..db6076d --- /dev/null +++ b/1895-h/1895-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,34842 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Armadale, by Wilkie Collins + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Armadale + +Author: Wilkie Collins + +Release Date: September 21, 2008 [EBook #1895] +Last Updated: December 21, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMADALE *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ARMADALE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Wilkie Collins + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <b>TO + + JOHN FORSTER.</b> + </pre> + <p> + In acknowledgment of the services which he has rendered to the cause of + literature by his “Life of Goldsmith;” and in affectionate remembrance of + a friendship which is associated with some of the happiest years of my + life. + </p> + <p> + Readers in general—on whose friendly reception experience has given + me some reason to rely—will, I venture to hope, appreciate whatever + merit there may be in this story without any prefatory pleading for it on + my part. They will, I think, see that it has not been hastily meditated or + idly wrought out. They will judge it accordingly, and I ask no more. + </p> + <p> + Readers in particular will, I have some reason to suppose, be here and + there disturbed, perhaps even offended, by finding that “Armadale” + oversteps, in more than one direction, the narrow limits within which they + are disposed to restrict the development of modern fiction—if they + can. + </p> + <p> + Nothing that I could say to these persons here would help me with them as + Time will help me if my work lasts. I am not afraid of my design being + permanently misunderstood, provided the execution has done it any sort of + justice. Estimated by the clap-trap morality of the present day, this may + be a very daring book. Judged by the Christian morality which is of all + time, it is only a book that is daring enough to speak the truth. + </p> + <p> + LONDON, April, 1866. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0001"> <b>ARMADALE.</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_PROL"> <b>PROLOGUE.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0003"> I. THE TRAVELERS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0004"> II. THE SOLID SIDE OF THE SCOTCH CHARACTER. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0005"> III. THE WRECK OF THE TIMBER SHIP. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0006"> <b>THE STORY.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0007"> <b>BOOK THE FIRST.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0008"> I. THE MYSTERY OF OZIAS MIDWINTER. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0009"> II. THE MAN REVEALED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0010"> III. DAY AND NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0012"> IV. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0013"> V. THE SHADOW OF THE FUTURE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0014"> <b>BOOK THE SECOND</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0015"> I. LURKING MISCHIEF. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0016"> II. ALLAN AS A LANDED GENTLEMAN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0017"> III. THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0018"> IV. THE MARCH OF EVENTS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0019"> V. MOTHER OLDERSHAW ON HER GUARD. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0020"> VI. MIDWINTER IN DISGUISE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0021"> VII. THE PLOT THICKENS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0022"> VIII. THE NORFOLK BROADS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0023"> IX. FATE OR CHANCE? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0024"> X. THE HOUSE-MAID’S FACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0025"> XI. MISS GWILT AMONG THE QUICKSANDS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0026"> XII. THE CLOUDING OF THE SKY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0027"> XIII. EXIT. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0028"> <b>BOOK THE THIRD.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0029"> I. MRS. MILROY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0030"> II. THE MAN IS FOUND. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0031"> III. THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0032"> IV. ALLAN AT BAY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0033"> V. PEDGIFT’S REMEDY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0034"> VI. PEDGIFT’S POSTSCRIPT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0035"> VII. THE MARTYRDOM OF MISS GWILT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0036"> VIII. SHE COMES BETWEEN THEM. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0037"> IX. SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0038"> X. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0039"> XI. LOVE AND LAW. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0040"> XII. A SCANDAL AT THE STATION. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0041"> XIII. AN OLD MAN’S HEART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0042"> XIV. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0043"> XV. THE WEDDING-DAY. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0044"> <b>BOOK THE FOURTH.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0045"> I. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0046"> II. THE DIARY CONTINUED. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0047"> III. THE DIARY BROKEN OFF. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0048"> <b>BOOK THE LAST.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0049"> I. AT THE TERMINUS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0050"> II. IN THE HOUSE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0051"> III. THE PURPLE FLASK. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_EPIL"> <b>EPILOGUE.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0053"> I. NEWS FROM NORFOLK. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_4_0054"> II. MIDWINTER. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkH2_APPE"> <b>APPENDIX.</b> </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + <a name="linkH2_4_0001" id="H2_4_0001"></a> ARMADALE. + </h1> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_PROL" id="H2_PROL"></a> PROLOGUE. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0003" id="H2_4_0003"></a> I. THE TRAVELERS. + </h2> + <p> + It was the opening of the season of eighteen hundred and thirty-two, at + the Baths of Wildbad. + </p> + <p> + The evening shadows were beginning to gather over the quiet little German + town, and the diligence was expected every minute. Before the door of the + principal inn, waiting the arrival of the first visitors of the year, were + assembled the three notable personages of Wildbad, accompanied by their + wives—the mayor, representing the inhabitants; the doctor, + representing the waters; the landlord, representing his own establishment. + Beyond this select circle, grouped snugly about the trim little square in + front of the inn, appeared the towns-people in general, mixed here and + there with the country people, in their quaint German costume, placidly + expectant of the diligence—the men in short black jackets, tight + black breeches, and three-cornered beaver hats; the women with their long + light hair hanging in one thickly plaited tail behind them, and the waists + of their short woolen gowns inserted modestly in the region of their + shoulder-blades. Round the outer edge of the assemblage thus formed, + flying detachments of plump white-headed children careered in perpetual + motion; while, mysteriously apart from the rest of the inhabitants, the + musicians of the Baths stood collected in one lost corner, waiting the + appearance of the first visitors to play the first tune of the season in + the form of a serenade. The light of a May evening was still bright on the + tops of the great wooded hills watching high over the town on the right + hand and the left; and the cool breeze that comes before sunset came + keenly fragrant here with the balsamic odor of the first of the Black + Forest. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Landlord,” said the mayor’s wife (giving the landlord his title), + “have you any foreign guests coming on this first day of the season?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Mayoress,” replied the landlord (returning the compliment), “I + have two. They have written—the one by the hand of his servant, the + other by his own hand apparently—to order their rooms; and they are + from England, both, as I think by their names. If you ask me to pronounce + those names, my tongue hesitates; if you ask me to spell them, here they + are, letter by letter, first and second in their order as they come. + First, a high-born stranger (by title Mister) who introduces himself in + eight letters, A, r, m, a, d, a, l, e—and comes ill in his own + carriage. Second, a high-born stranger (by title Mister also), who + introduces himself in four letters—N, e, a, l—and comes ill in + the diligence. His excellency of the eight letters writes to me (by his + servant) in French; his excellency of the four letters writes to me in + German. The rooms of both are ready. I know no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” suggested the mayor’s wife, “Mr. Doctor has heard from one or + both of these illustrious strangers?” + </p> + <p> + “From one only, Madam Mayoress; but not, strictly speaking, from the + person himself. I have received a medical report of his excellency of the + eight letters, and his case seems a bad one. God help him!” + </p> + <p> + “The diligence!” cried a child from the outskirts of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + The musicians seized their instruments, and silence fell on the whole + community. From far away in the windings of the forest gorge, the ring of + horses’ bells came faintly clear through the evening stillness. Which + carriage was approaching—the private carriage with Mr. Armadale, or + the public carriage with Mr. Neal? + </p> + <p> + “Play, my friends!” cried the mayor to the musicians. “Public or private, + here are the first sick people of the season. Let them find us cheerful.” + </p> + <p> + The band played a lively dance tune, and the children in the square footed + it merrily to the music. At the same moment, their elders near the inn + door drew aside, and disclosed the first shadow of gloom that fell over + the gayety and beauty of the scene. Through the opening made on either + hand, a little procession of stout country girls advanced, each drawing + after her an empty chair on wheels; each in waiting (and knitting while + she waited) for the paralyzed wretches who came helpless by hundreds then—who + come helpless by thousands now—to the waters of Wildbad for relief. + </p> + <p> + While the band played, while the children danced, while the buzz of many + talkers deepened, while the strong young nurses of the coming cripples + knitted impenetrably, a woman’s insatiable curiosity about other women + asserted itself in the mayor’s wife. She drew the landlady aside, and + whispered a question to her on the spot. + </p> + <p> + “A word more, ma’am,” said the mayor’s wife, “about the two strangers from + England. Are their letters explicit? Have they got any ladies with them?” + </p> + <p> + “The one by the diligence—no,” replied the landlady. “But the one by + the private carriage—yes. He comes with a child; he comes with a + nurse; and,” concluded the landlady, skillfully keeping the main point of + interest till the last, “he comes with a Wife.” + </p> + <p> + The mayoress brightened; the doctoress (assisting at the conference) + brightened; the landlady nodded significantly. In the minds of all three + the same thought started into life at the same moment—“We shall see + the Fashions!” + </p> + <p> + In a minute more, there was a sudden movement in the crowd; and a chorus + of voices proclaimed that the travelers were at hand. + </p> + <p> + By this time the coming vehicle was in sight, and all further doubt was at + an end. It was the diligence that now approached by the long street + leading into the square—the diligence (in a dazzling new coat of + yellow paint) that delivered the first visitors of the season at the inn + door. Of the ten travelers released from the middle compartment and the + back compartment of the carriage—all from various parts of Germany—three + were lifted out helpless, and were placed in the chairs on wheels to be + drawn to their lodgings in the town. The front compartment contained two + passengers only—Mr. Neal and his traveling servant. With an arm on + either side to assist him, the stranger (whose malady appeared to be + locally confined to a lameness in one of his feet) succeeded in descending + the steps of the carriage easily enough. While he steadied himself on the + pavement by the help of his stick—looking not over-patiently toward + the musicians who were serenading him with the waltz in “Der Freischutz”—his + personal appearance rather damped the enthusiasm of the friendly little + circle assembled to welcome him. He was a lean, tall, serious, middle-aged + man, with a cold gray eye and a long upper lip, with overhanging eyebrows + and high cheek-bones; a man who looked what he was—every inch a + Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the proprietor of this hotel?” he asked, speaking in the German + language, with a fluent readiness of expression, and an icy coldness of + manner. “Fetch the doctor,” he continued, when the landlord had presented + himself, “I want to see him immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “I am here already, sir,” said the doctor, advancing from the circle of + friends, “and my services are entirely at your disposal.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mr. Neal, looking at the doctor, as the rest of us look + at a dog when we have whistled and the dog has come. “I shall be glad to + consult you to-morrow morning, at ten o’clock, about my own case. I only + want to trouble you now with a message which I have undertaken to deliver. + We overtook a traveling carriage on the road here with a gentleman in it—an + Englishman, I believe—who appeared to be seriously ill. A lady who + was with him begged me to see you immediately on my arrival, and to secure + your professional assistance in removing the patient from the carriage. + Their courier has met with an accident, and has been left behind on the + road, and they are obliged to travel very slowly. If you are here in an + hour, you will be here in time to receive them. That is the message. Who + is this gentleman who appears to be anxious to speak to me? The mayor? If + you wish to see my passport, sir, my servant will show it to you. No? You + wish to welcome me to the place, and to offer your services? I am + infinitely flattered. If you have any authority to shorten the + performances of your town band, you would be doing me a kindness to exert + it. My nerves are irritable, and I dislike music. Where is the landlord? + No; I want to see my rooms. I don’t want your arm; I can get upstairs with + the help of my stick. Mr. Mayor and Mr. Doctor, we need not detain one + another any longer. I wish you good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Both mayor and doctor looked after the Scotchman as he limped upstairs, + and shook their heads together in mute disapproval of him. The ladies, as + usual, went a step further, and expressed their opinions openly in the + plainest words. The case under consideration (so far as <i>they</i> were + concerned) was the scandalous case of a man who had passed them over + entirely without notice. Mrs. Mayor could only attribute such an outrage + to the native ferocity of a savage. Mrs. Doctor took a stronger view + still, and considered it as proceeding from the inbred brutality of a hog. + </p> + <p> + The hour of waiting for the traveling-carriage wore on, and the creeping + night stole up the hillsides softly. One by one the stars appeared, and + the first lights twinkled in the windows of the inn. As the darkness came, + the last idlers deserted the square; as the darkness came, the mighty + silence of the forest above flowed in on the valley, and strangely and + suddenly hushed the lonely little town. + </p> + <p> + The hour of waiting wore out, and the figure of the doctor, walking + backward and forward anxiously, was still the only living figure left in + the square. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes, were counted out by + the doctor’s watch, before the first sound came through the night silence + to warn him of the approaching carriage. Slowly it emerged into the + square, at the walking pace of the horses, and drew up, as a hearse might + have drawn up, at the door of the inn. + </p> + <p> + “Is the doctor here?” asked a woman’s voice, speaking, out of the darkness + of the carriage, in the French language. + </p> + <p> + “I am here, madam,” replied the doctor, taking a light from the landlord’s + hand and opening the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + The first face that the light fell on was the face of the lady who had + just spoken—a young, darkly beautiful woman, with the tears standing + thick and bright in her eager black eyes. The second face revealed was the + face of a shriveled old negress, sitting opposite the lady on the back + seat. The third was the face of a little sleeping child in the negress’s + lap. With a quick gesture of impatience, the lady signed to the nurse to + leave the carriage first with the child. “Pray take them out of the way,” + she said to the landlady; “pray take them to their room.” She got out + herself when her request had been complied with. Then the light fell clear + for the first time on the further side of the carriage, and the fourth + traveler was disclosed to view. + </p> + <p> + He lay helpless on a mattress, supported by a stretcher; his hair, long + and disordered, under a black skull-cap; his eyes wide open, rolling to + and fro ceaselessly anxious; the rest of his face as void of all + expression of the character within him, and the thought within him, as if + he had been dead. There was no looking at him now, and guessing what he + might once have been. The leaden blank of his face met every question as + to his age, his rank, his temper, and his looks which that face might once + have answered, in impenetrable silence. Nothing spoke for him now but the + shock that had struck him with the death-in-life of paralysis. The + doctor’s eye questioned his lower limbs, and Death-in-Life answered, <i>I + am here</i>. The doctor’s eye, rising attentively by way of his hands and + arms, questioned upward and upward to the muscles round his mouth, and + Death-in-Life answered, <i>I am coming</i>. + </p> + <p> + In the face of a calamity so unsparing and so dreadful, there was nothing + to be said. The silent sympathy of help was all that could be offered to + the woman who stood weeping at the carriage door. + </p> + <p> + As they bore him on his bed across the hall of the hotel, his wandering + eyes encountered the face of his wife. They rested on her for a moment, + and in that moment he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “The child?” he said in English, with a slow, thick, laboring + articulation. + </p> + <p> + “The child is safe upstairs,” she answered, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “My desk?” + </p> + <p> + “It is in my hands. Look! I won’t trust it to anybody; I am taking care of + it for you myself.” + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes for the first time after that answer, and said no more. + Tenderly and skillfully he was carried up the stairs, with his wife on one + side of him, and the doctor (ominously silent) on the other. The landlord + and the servants following saw the door of his room open and close on him; + heard the lady burst out crying hysterically as soon as she was alone with + the doctor and the sick man; saw the doctor come out, half an hour later, + with his ruddy face a shade paler than usual; pressed him eagerly for + information, and received but one answer to all their inquiries—“Wait + till I have seen him to-morrow. Ask me nothing to-night.” They all knew + the doctor’s ways, and they augured ill when he left them hurriedly with + that reply. + </p> + <p> + So the two first English visitors of the year came to the Baths of Wildbad + in the season of eighteen hundred and thirty-two. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0004" id="H2_4_0004"></a> II. THE SOLID SIDE OF THE + SCOTCH CHARACTER. + </h2> + <p> + AT ten o’clock the next morning, Mr. Neal—waiting for the medical + visit which he had himself appointed for that hour—looked at his + watch, and discovered, to his amazement, that he was waiting in vain. It + was close on eleven when the door opened at last, and the doctor entered + the room. + </p> + <p> + “I appointed ten o’clock for your visit,” said Mr. Neal. “In my country, a + medical man is a punctual man.” + </p> + <p> + “In my country,” returned the doctor, without the least ill-humor, “a + medical man is exactly like other men—he is at the mercy of + accidents. Pray grant me your pardon, sir, for being so long after my + time; I have been detained by a very distressing case—the case of + Mr. Armadale, whose traveling-carriage you passed on the road yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal looked at his medical attendant with a sour surprise. There was a + latent anxiety in the doctor’s eye, a latent preoccupation in the doctor’s + manner, which he was at a loss to account for. For a moment the two faces + confronted each other silently, in marked national contrast—the + Scotchman’s, long and lean, hard and regular; the German’s, plump and + florid, soft and shapeless. One face looked as if it had never been young; + the other, as if it would never grow old. + </p> + <p> + “Might I venture to remind you,” said Mr. Neal, “that the case now under + consideration is MY case, and not Mr. Armadale’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied the doctor, still vacillating between the case he had + come to see and the case he had just left. “You appear to be suffering + from lameness; let me look at your foot.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal’s malady, however serious it might be in his own estimation, was + of no extraordinary importance in a medical point of view. He was + suffering from a rheumatic affection of the ankle-joint. The necessary + questions were asked and answered and the necessary baths were prescribed. + In ten minutes the consultation was at an end, and the patient was waiting + in significant silence for the medical adviser to take his leave. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceal from myself,” said the doctor, rising, and hesitating a + little, “that I am intruding on you. But I am compelled to beg your + indulgence if I return to the subject of Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask what compels you?” + </p> + <p> + “The duty which I owe as a Christian,” answered the doctor, “to a dying + man.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal started. Those who touched his sense of religious duty touched + the quickest sense in his nature. + </p> + <p> + “You have established your claim on my attention,” he said, gravely. “My + time is yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not abuse your kindness,” replied the doctor, resuming his chair. + “I will be as short as I can. Mr. Armadale’s case is briefly this: He has + passed the greater part of his life in the West Indies—a wild life, + and a vicious life, by his own confession. Shortly after his marriage—now + some three years since—the first symptoms of an approaching + paralytic affection began to show themselves, and his medical advisers + ordered him away to try the climate of Europe. Since leaving the West + Indies he has lived principally in Italy, with no benefit to his health. + From Italy, before the last seizure attacked him, he removed to + Switzerland, and from Switzerland he has been sent to this place. So much + I know from his doctor’s report; the rest I can tell you from my own + personal experience. Mr. Armadale has been sent to Wildbad too late: he is + virtually a dead man. The paralysis is fast spreading upward, and disease + of the lower part of the spine has already taken place. He can still move + his hands a little, but he can hold nothing in his fingers. He can still + articulate, but he may wake speechless to-morrow or next day. If I give + him a week more to live, I give him what I honestly believe to be the + utmost length of his span. At his own request I told him, as carefully and + as tenderly as I could, what I have just told you. The result was very + distressing; the violence of the patient’s agitation was a violence which + I despair of describing to you. I took the liberty of asking him whether + his affairs were unsettled. Nothing of the sort. His will is in the hands + of his executor in London, and he leaves his wife and child well provided + for. My next question succeeded better; it hit the mark: ‘Have you + something on your mind to do before you die which is not done yet?’ He + gave a great gasp of relief, which said, as no words could have said it, + Yes. ‘Can I help you?’ ‘Yes. I have something to write that I <i>must</i> + write; can you make me hold a pen?’ + </p> + <p> + “He might as well have asked me if I could perform a miracle. I could only + say No. ‘If I dictate the words,’ he went on, ‘can you write what I tell + you to write?’ Once more I could only say No I understand a little + English, but I can neither speak it nor write it. Mr. Armadale understands + French when it is spoken (as I speak it to him) slowly, but he cannot + express himself in that language; and of German he is totally ignorant. In + this difficulty, I said, what any one else in my situation would have + said: ‘Why ask <i>me</i>? there is Mrs. Armadale at your service in the + next room.’ Before I could get up from my chair to fetch her, he stopped + me—not by words, but by a look of horror which fixed me, by main + force of astonishment, in my place. ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘your wife is the + fittest person to write for you as you desire?’ ‘The last person under + heaven!’ he answered. ‘What!’ I said, ‘you ask me, a foreigner and a + stranger, to write words at your dictation which you keep a secret from + your wife!’ Conceive my astonishment when he answered me, without a + moment’s hesitation, ‘Yes!’ I sat lost; I sat silent. ‘If <i>you</i> can’t + write English,’ he said, ‘find somebody who can.’ I tried to remonstrate. + He burst into a dreadful moaning cry—a dumb entreaty, like the + entreaty of a dog. ‘Hush! hush!’ I said, ‘I will find somebody.’ ‘To-day!’ + he broke out, ‘before my speech fails me, like my hand.’ ‘To-day, in an + hour’s time.’ He shut his eyes; he quieted himself instantly. ‘While I am + waiting for you,’ he said, ‘let me see my little boy.’ He had shown no + tenderness when he spoke of his wife, but I saw the tears on his cheeks + when he asked for his child. My profession, sir, has not made me so hard a + man as you might think; and my doctor’s heart was as heavy, when I went + out to fetch the child, as if I had not been a doctor at all. I am afraid + you think this rather weak on my part?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked appealingly at Mr. Neal. He might as well have looked at + a rock in the Black Forest. Mr. Neal entirely declined to be drawn by any + doctor in Christendom out of the regions of plain fact. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said. “I presume you have not told me all that you have to + tell me, yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely you understand my object in coming here, now?” returned the other. + </p> + <p> + “Your object is plain enough, at last. You invite me to connect myself + blindfold with a matter which is in the last degree suspicious, so far. I + decline giving you any answer until I know more than I know now. Did you + think it necessary to inform this man’s wife of what had passed between + you, and to ask her for an explanation?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I thought it necessary!” said the doctor, indignant at the + reflection on his humanity which the question seemed to imply. “If ever I + saw a woman fond of her husband, and sorry for her husband, it is this + unhappy Mrs. Armadale. As soon as we were left alone together, I sat down + by her side, and I took her hand in mine. Why not? I am an ugly old man, + and I may allow myself such liberties as these!” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said the impenetrable Scotchman. “I beg to suggest that you + are losing the thread of the narrative.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more likely,” returned the doctor, recovering his good humor. “It + is in the habit of my nation to be perpetually losing the thread; and it + is evidently in the habit of yours, sir, to be perpetually finding it. + What an example here of the order of the universe, and the everlasting + fitness of things!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you oblige me, once for all, by confining yourself to the facts,” + persisted Mr. Neal, frowning impatiently. “May I inquire, for my own + information, whether Mrs. Armadale could tell you what it is her husband + wishes me to write, and why it is that he refuses to let her write for + him?” + </p> + <p> + “There is my thread found—and thank you for finding it!” said the + doctor. “You shall hear what Mrs. Armadale had to tell me, in Mrs. + Armadale’s own words. ‘The cause that now shuts me out of his confidence,’ + she said, ‘is, I firmly believe, the same cause that has always shut me + out of his heart. I am the wife he has wedded, but I am not the woman he + loves. I knew when he married me that another man had won from him the + woman he loved. I thought I could make him forget her. I hoped when I + married him; I hoped again when I bore him a son. Need I tell you the end + of my hopes—you have seen it for yourself.’ (Wait, sir, I entreat + you! I have not lost the thread again; I am following it inch by inch.) + ‘Is this all you know?’ I asked. ‘All I knew,’ she said, ‘till a short + time since. It was when we were in Switzerland, and when his illness was + nearly at its worst, that news came to him by accident of that other woman + who has been the shadow and the poison of my life—news that she + (like me) had borne her husband a son. On the instant of his making that + discovery—a trifling discovery, if ever there was one yet—a + mortal fear seized on him: not for me, not for himself; a fear for his own + child. The same day (without a word to me) he sent for the doctor. I was + mean, wicked, what you please—I listened at the door. I heard him + say: <i>I have something to tell my son, when my son grows old enough to + understand me. Shall I live to tell it</i>? The doctor would say nothing + certain. The same night (still without a word to me) he locked himself + into his room. What would any woman, treated as I was, have done in my + place? She would have done as I did—she would have listened again. I + heard him say to himself: <i>I shall not live to tell it: I must; write it + before I die</i>. I heard his pen scrape, scrape, scrape over the paper; I + heard him groaning and sobbing as he wrote; I implored him for God’s sake + to let me in. The cruel pen went scrape, scrape, scrape; the cruel pen was + all the answer he gave me. I waited at the door—hours—I don’t + know how long. On a sudden, the pen stopped; and I heard no more. I + whispered through the keyhole softly; I said I was cold and weary with + waiting; I said, Oh, my love, let me in! Not even the cruel pen answered + me now: silence answered me. With all the strength of my miserable hands I + beat at the door. The servants came up and broke it in. We were too late; + the harm was done. Over that fatal letter, the stroke had struck him—over + that fatal letter, we found him paralyzed as you see him now. Those words + which he wants you to write are the words he would have written himself if + the stroke had spared him till the morning. From that time to this there + has been a blank place left in the letter; and it is that blank place + which he has just asked you to fill up.’—In those words Mrs. + Armadale spoke to me; in those words you have the sum and substance of all + the information I can give. Say, if you please, sir, have I kept the + thread at last? Have I shown you the necessity which brings me here from + your countryman’s death-bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Thus far,” said Mr. Neal, “you merely show me that you are exciting + yourself. This is too serious a matter to be treated as you are treating + it now. You have involved me in the business, and I insist on seeing my + way plainly. Don’t raise your hands; your hands are not a part of the + question. If I am to be concerned in the completion of this mysterious + letter, it is only an act of justifiable prudence on my part to inquire + what the letter is about. Mrs. Armadale appears to have favored you with + an infinite number of domestic particulars—in return, I presume, for + your polite attention in taking her by the hand. May I ask what she could + tell you about her husband’s letter, so far as her husband has written + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armadale could tell me nothing,” replied the doctor, with a sudden + formality in his manner, which showed that his forbearance was at last + failing him. “Before she was composed enough to think of the letter, her + husband had asked for it, and had caused it to be locked up in his desk. + She knows that he has since, time after time, tried to finish it, and + that, time after time, the pen has dropped from his fingers. She knows, + when all other hope of his restoration was at an end, that his medical + advisers encouraged him to hope in the famous waters of this place. And + last, she knows how that hope has ended; for she knows what I told her + husband this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The frown which had been gathering latterly on Mr. Neal’s face deepened + and darkened. He looked at the doctor as if the doctor had personally + offended him. + </p> + <p> + “The more I think of the position you are asking me to take,” he said, + “the less I like it. Can you undertake to say positively that Mr. Armadale + is in his right mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; as positively as words can say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Does his wife sanction your coming here to request my interference?” + </p> + <p> + “His wife sends me to you—the only Englishman in Wildbad—to + write for your dying countryman what he cannot write for himself; and what + no one else in this place but you can write for him.” + </p> + <p> + That answer drove Mr. Neal back to the last inch of ground left him to + stand on. Even on that inch the Scotchman resisted still. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little!” he said. “You put it strongly; let us be quite sure you + put it correctly as well. Let us be quite sure there is nobody to take + this responsibility but myself. There is a mayor in Wildbad, to begin with—a + man who possesses an official character to justify his interference.” + </p> + <p> + “A man of a thousand,” said the doctor. “With one fault—he knows no + language but his own.” + </p> + <p> + “There is an English legation at Stuttgart,” persisted Mr. Neal. + </p> + <p> + “And there are miles on miles of the forest between this and Stuttgart,” + rejoined the doctor. “If we sent this moment, we could get no help from + the legation before to-morrow; and it is as likely as not, in the state of + this dying man’s articulation, that to-morrow may find him speechless. I + don’t know whether his last wishes are wishes harmless to his child and to + others, wishes hurtful to his child and to others; but I <i>do</i> know + that they must be fulfilled at once or never, and that you are the only + man that can help him.” + </p> + <p> + That open declaration brought the discussion to a close. It fixed Mr. Neal + fast between the two alternatives of saying Yes, and committing an act of + imprudence, or of saying No, and committing an act of inhumanity. There + was a silence of some minutes. The Scotchman steadily reflected; and the + German steadily watched him. + </p> + <p> + The responsibility of saying the next words rested on Mr. Neal, and in + course of time Mr. Neal took it. He rose from his chair with a sullen + sense of injury lowering on his heavy eyebrows, and working sourly in the + lines at the corners of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “My position is forced on me,” he said. “I have no choice but to accept + it.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s impulsive nature rose in revolt against the merciless brevity + and gracelessness of that reply. “I wish to God,” he broke out fervently, + “I knew English enough to take your place at Mr. Armadale’s bedside!” + </p> + <p> + “Bating your taking the name of the Almighty in vain,” answered the + Scotchman, “I entirely agree with you. I wish you did.” + </p> + <p> + Without another word on either side, they left the room together—the + doctor leading the way. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0005" id="H2_4_0005"></a> III. THE WRECK OF THE TIMBER + SHIP. + </h2> + <p> + NO one answered the doctor’s knock when he and his companion reached the + antechamber door of Mr. Armadale’s apartments. They entered unannounced; + and when they looked into the sitting-room, the sitting-room was empty. + </p> + <p> + “I must see Mrs. Armadale,” said Mr. Neal. “I decline acting in the matter + unless Mrs. Armadale authorizes my interference with her own lips.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armadale is probably with her husband,” replied the doctor. He + approached a door at the inner end of the sitting-room while he spoke—hesitated—and, + turning round again, looked at his sour companion anxiously. “I am afraid + I spoke a little harshly, sir, when we were leaving your room,” he said. + “I beg your pardon for it, with all my heart. Before this poor afflicted + lady comes in, will you—will you excuse my asking your utmost + gentleness and consideration for her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” retorted the other harshly; “I won’t excuse you. What right + have I given you to think me wanting in gentleness and consideration + toward anybody?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor saw it was useless. “I beg your pardon again,” he said, + resignedly, and left the unapproachable stranger to himself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal walked to the window, and stood there, with his eyes mechanically + fixed on the prospect, composing his mind for the coming interview. + </p> + <p> + It was midday; the sun shone bright and warm; and all the little world of + Wildbad was alive and merry in the genial springtime. Now and again heavy + wagons, with black-faced carters in charge, rolled by the window, bearing + their precious lading of charcoal from the forest. Now and again, hurled + over the headlong current of the stream that runs through the town, great + lengths of timber, loosely strung together in interminable series—with + the booted raftsmen, pole in hand, poised watchful at either end—shot + swift and serpent-like past the houses on their course to the distant + Rhine. High and steep above the gabled wooden buildings on the river-bank, + the great hillsides, crested black with firs, shone to the shining heavens + in a glory of lustrous green. In and out, where the forest foot-paths + wound from the grass through the trees, from the trees over the grass, the + bright spring dresses of women and children, on the search for wild + flowers, traveled to and fro in the lofty distance like spots of moving + light. Below, on the walk by the stream side, the booths of the little + bazar that had opened punctually with the opening season showed all their + glittering trinkets, and fluttered in the balmy air their splendor of + many-colored flags. Longingly, here the children looked at the show; + patiently the sunburned lasses plied their knitting as they paced the + walk; courteously the passing townspeople, by fours and fives, and the + passing visitors, by ones and twos, greeted each other, hat in hand; and + slowly, slowly, the cripple and the helpless in their chairs on wheels + came out in the cheerful noontide with the rest, and took their share of + the blessed light that cheers, of the blessed sun that shines for all. + </p> + <p> + On this scene the Scotchman looked, with eyes that never noted its beauty, + with a mind far away from every lesson that it taught. One by one he + meditated the words he should say when the wife came in. One by one he + pondered over the conditions he might impose before he took the pen in + hand at the husband’s bedside. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armadale is here,” said the doctor’s voice, interposing suddenly + between his reflections and himself. + </p> + <p> + He turned on the instant, and saw before him, with the pure midday light + shining full on her, a woman of the mixed blood of the European and the + African race, with the Northern delicacy in the shape of her face, and the + Southern richness in its color—a woman in the prime of her beauty, + who moved with an inbred grace, who looked with an inbred fascination, + whose large, languid black eyes rested on him gratefully, whose little + dusky hand offered itself to him in mute expression of her thanks, with + the welcome that is given to the coming of a friend. For the first time in + his life the Scotchman was taken by surprise. Every self-preservative word + that he had been meditating but an instant since dropped out of his + memory. His thrice impenetrable armor of habitual suspicion, habitual + self-discipline, and habitual reserve, which had never fallen from him in + a woman’s presence before, fell from him in this woman’s presence, and + brought him to his knees, a conquered man. He took the hand she offered + him, and bowed over it his first honest homage to the sex, in silence. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated on her side. The quick feminine perception which, in happier + circumstances, would have pounced on the secret of his embarrassment in an + instant, failed her now. She attributed his strange reception of her to + pride, to reluctance—to any cause but the unexpected revelation of + her own beauty. “I have no words to thank you,” she said, faintly, trying + to propitiate him. “I should only distress you if I tried to speak.” Her + lip began to tremble, she drew back a little, and turned away her head in + silence. + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who had been standing apart, quietly observant in a corner, + advanced before Mr. Neal could interfere, and led Mrs. Armadale to a + chair. “Don’t be afraid of him,” whispered the good man, patting her + gently on the shoulder. “He was hard as iron in my hands, but I think, by + the look of him, he will be soft as wax in yours. Say the words I told you + to say, and let us take him to your husband’s room, before those sharp + wits of his have time to recover themselves.” + </p> + <p> + She roused her sinking resolution, and advanced half-way to the window to + meet Mr. Neal. “My kind friend, the doctor, has told me, sir, that your + only hesitation in coming here is a hesitation on my account,” she said, + her head drooping a little, and her rich color fading away while she + spoke. “I am deeply grateful, but I entreat you not to think of <i>me</i>. + What my husband wishes—” Her voice faltered; she waited resolutely, + and recovered herself. “What my husband wishes in his last moments, I wish + too.” + </p> + <p> + This time Mr. Neal was composed enough to answer her. In low, earnest + tones, he entreated her to say no more. “I was only anxious to show you + every consideration,” he said. “I am only anxious now to spare you every + distress.” As he spoke, something like a glow of color rose slowly on his + sallow face. Her eyes were looking at him, softly attentive; and he + thought guiltily of his meditations at the window before she came in. + </p> + <p> + The doctor saw his opportunity. He opened the door that led into Mr. + Armadale’s room, and stood by it, waiting silently. Mrs. Armadale entered + first. In a minute more the door was closed again; and Mr. Neal stood + committed to the responsibility that had been forced on him—committed + beyond recall. + </p> + <p> + The room was decorated in the gaudy continental fashion, and the warm + sunlight was shining in joyously. Cupids and flowers were painted on the + ceiling; bright ribbons looped up the white window-curtains; a smart gilt + clock ticked on a velvet-covered mantelpiece; mirrors gleamed on the + walls, and flowers in all the colors of the rainbow speckled the carpet. + In the midst of the finery, and the glitter, and the light, lay the + paralyzed man, with his wandering eyes, and his lifeless lower face—his + head propped high with many pillows; his helpless hands laid out over the + bed-clothes like the hands of a corpse. By the bed head stood, grim, and + old, and silent, the shriveled black nurse; and on the counter-pane, + between his father’s outspread hands, lay the child, in his little white + frock, absorbed in the enjoyment of a new toy. When the door opened, and + Mrs. Armadale led the way in, the boy was tossing his plaything—a + soldier on horseback—backward and forward over the helpless hands on + either side of him; and the father’s wandering eyes were following the toy + to and fro, with a stealthy and ceaseless vigilance—a vigilance as + of a wild animal, terrible to see. + </p> + <p> + The moment Mr. Neal appeared in the doorway, those restless eyes stopped, + looked up, and fastened on the stranger with a fierce eagerness of + inquiry. Slowly the motionless lips struggled into movement. With thick, + hesitating articulation, they put the question which the eyes asked + mutely, into words: “Are you the man?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal advanced to the bedside, Mrs. Armadale drawing back from it as he + approached, and waiting with the doctor at the further end of the room. + The child looked up, toy in hand, as the stranger came near, opened his + bright brown eyes in momentary astonishment, and then went on with his + game. + </p> + <p> + “I have been made acquainted with your sad situation, sir,” said Mr. Neal; + “and I have come here to place my services at your disposal—services + which no one but myself, as your medical attendant informs me, is in a + position to render you in this strange place. My name is Neal. I am a + writer to the signet in Edinburgh; and I may presume to say for myself + that any confidence you wish to place in me will be confidence not + improperly bestowed.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the beautiful wife were not confusing him now. He spoke to the + helpless husband quietly and seriously, without his customary harshness, + and with a grave compassion in his manner which presented him at his best. + The sight of the death-bed had steadied him. + </p> + <p> + “You wish me to write something for you?” he resumed, after waiting for a + reply, and waiting in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” said the dying man, with the all-mastering impatience which his + tongue was powerless to express, glittering angrily in his eye. “My hand + is gone, and my speech is going. Write!” + </p> + <p> + Before there was time to speak again, Mr. Neal heard the rustling of a + woman’s dress, and the quick creaking of casters on the carpet behind him. + Mrs. Armadale was moving the writing-table across the room to the foot of + the bed. If he was to set up those safeguards of his own devising that + were to bear him harmless through all results to come, now was the time, + or never. He, kept his back turned on Mrs. Armadale, and put his + precautionary question at once in the plainest terms. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask, sir, before I take the pen in hand, what it is you wish me to + write?” + </p> + <p> + The angry eyes of the paralyzed man glittered brighter and brighter. His + lips opened and closed again. He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal tried another precautionary question, in a new direction. + </p> + <p> + “When I have written what you wish me to write,” he asked, “what is to be + done with it?” + </p> + <p> + This time the answer came: + </p> + <p> + “Seal it up in my presence, and post it to my ex—” + </p> + <p> + His laboring articulation suddenly stopped and he looked piteously in the + questioner’s face for the next word. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean your executor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a letter, I suppose, that I am to post?” There was no answer. “May + I ask if it is a letter altering your will?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal considered a little. The mystery was thickening. The one way out + of it, so far, was the way traced faintly through that strange story of + the unfinished letter which the doctor had repeated to him in Mrs. + Armadale’s words. The nearer he approached his unknown responsibility, the + more ominous it seemed of something serious to come. Should he risk + another question before he pledged himself irrevocably? As the doubt + crossed his mind, he felt Mrs. Armadale’s silk dress touch him on the side + furthest from her husband. Her delicate dark hand was laid gently on his + arm; her full deep African eyes looked at him in submissive entreaty. “My + husband is very anxious,” she whispered. “Will you quiet his anxiety, sir, + by taking your place at the writing-table?” + </p> + <p> + It was from <i>her</i> lips that the request came—from the lips of + the person who had the best right to hesitate, the wife who was excluded + from the secret! Most men in Mr. Neal’s position would have given up all + their safeguards on the spot. The Scotchman gave them all up but one. + </p> + <p> + “I will write what you wish me to write,” he said, addressing Mr. + Armadale. “I will seal it in your presence; and I will post it to your + executor myself. But, in engaging to do this, I must beg you to remember + that I am acting entirely in the dark; and I must ask you to excuse me, if + I reserve my own entire freedom of action, when your wishes in relation to + the writing and the posting of the letter have been fulfilled.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you give me your promise?” + </p> + <p> + “If you want my promise, sir, I will give it—subject to the + condition I have just named.” + </p> + <p> + “Take your condition, and keep your promise. My desk,” he added, looking + at his wife for the first time. + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room eagerly to fetch the desk from a chair in a corner. + Returning with it, she made a passing sign to the negress, who still + stood, grim and silent, in the place that she had occupied from the first. + The woman advanced, obedient to the sign, to take the child from the bed. + At the instant when she touched him, the father’s eyes—fixed + previously on the desk—turned on her with the stealthy quickness of + a cat. “No!” he said. “No!” echoed the fresh voice of the boy, still + charmed with his plaything, and still liking his place on the bed. The + negress left the room, and the child, in high triumph, trotted his toy + soldier up and down on the bedclothes that lay rumpled over his father’s + breast. His mother’s lovely face contracted with a pang of jealousy as she + looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I open your desk?” she asked, pushing back the child’s plaything + sharply while she spoke. An answering look from her husband guided her + hand to the place under his pillow where the key was hidden. She opened + the desk, and disclosed inside some small sheets of manuscript pinned + together. “These?” she inquired, producing them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “You can go now.” + </p> + <p> + The Scotchman sitting at the writing-table, the doctor stirring a + stimulant mixture in a corner, looked at each other with an anxiety in + both their faces which they could neither of them control. The words that + banished the wife from the room were spoken. The moment had come. + </p> + <p> + “You can go now,” said Mr. Armadale, for the second time. + </p> + <p> + She looked at the child, established comfortably on the bed, and an ashy + paleness spread slowly over her face. She looked at the fatal letter which + was a sealed secret to her, and a torture of jealous suspicion—suspicion + of that other woman who had been the shadow and the poison of her life—wrung + her to the heart. After moving a few steps from the bedside, she stopped, + and came back again. Armed with the double courage of her love and her + despair, she pressed her lips on her dying husband’s cheek, and pleaded + with him for the last time. Her burning tears dropped on his face as she + whispered to him: “Oh, Allan, think how I have loved you! think how hard I + have tried to make you happy! think how soon I shall lose you! Oh, my own + love! don’t, don’t send me away!” + </p> + <p> + The words pleaded for her; the kiss pleaded for her; the recollection of + the love that had been given to him, and never returned, touched the heart + of the fast-sinking man as nothing had touched it since the day of his + marriage. A heavy sigh broke from him. He looked at her, and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Let me stay,” she whispered, pressing her face closer to his. + </p> + <p> + “It will only distress you,” he whispered back. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing distresses me, but being sent away from <i>you</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He waited. She saw that he was thinking, and waited too. + </p> + <p> + “If I let you stay a little—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go when I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “On your oath?” + </p> + <p> + The fetters that bound his tongue seemed to be loosened for a moment in + the great outburst of anxiety which forced that question to his lips. He + spoke those startling words as he had spoken no words yet. + </p> + <p> + “On my oath!” she repeated, and, dropping on her knees at the bedside, + passionately kissed his hand. The two strangers in the room turned their + heads away by common consent. In the silence that followed, the one sound + stirring was the small sound of the child’s toy, as he moved it hither and + thither on the bed. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was the first who broke the spell of stillness which had fallen + on all the persons present. He approached the patient, and examined him + anxiously. Mrs. Armadale rose from her knees; and, first waiting for her + husband’s permission, carried the sheets of manuscript which she had taken + out of the desk to the table at which Mr. Neal was waiting. Flushed and + eager, more beautiful than ever in the vehement agitation which still + possessed her, she stooped over him as she put the letter into his hands, + and, seizing on the means to her end with a woman’s headlong + self-abandonment to her own impulses, whispered to him, “Read it out from + the beginning. I must and will hear it!” Her eyes flashed their burning + light into his; her breath beat on his cheek. Before he could answer, + before he could think, she was back with her husband. In an instant she + had spoken, and in that instant her beauty had bent the Scotchman to her + will. Frowning in reluctant acknowledgment of his own inability to resist + her, he turned over the leaves of the letter; looked at the blank place + where the pen had dropped from the writer’s hand and had left a blot on + the paper; turned back again to the beginning, and said the words, in the + wife’s interest, which the wife herself had put into his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, sir, you may wish to make some corrections,” he began, with all + his attention apparently fixed on the letter, and with every outward + appearance of letting his sour temper again get the better of him. “Shall + I read over to you what you have already written?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armadale, sitting at the bed head on one side, and the doctor, with + his fingers on the patient’s pulse, sitting on the other, waited with + widely different anxieties for the answer to Mr. Neal’s question. Mr. + Armadale’s eyes turned searchingly from his child to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “You <i>will</i> hear it?” he said. Her breath came and went quickly; her + hand stole up and took his; she bowed her head in silence. Her husband + paused, taking secret counsel with his thoughts, and keeping his eyes + fixed on his wife. At last he decided, and gave the answer. “Read it,” he + said, “and stop when I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + It was close on one o’clock, and the bell was ringing which summoned the + visitors to their early dinner at the inn. The quick beat of footsteps, + and the gathering hum of voices outside, penetrated gayly into the room, + as Mr. Neal spread the manuscript before him on the table, and read the + opening sentences in these words: + </p> + <p> + “I address this letter to my son, when my son is of an age to understand + it. Having lost all hope of living to see my boy grow up to manhood, I + have no choice but to write here what I would fain have said to him at a + future time with my own lips. + </p> + <p> + “I have three objects in writing. First, to reveal the circumstances which + attended the marriage of an English lady of my acquaintance, in the island + of Madeira. Secondly, to throw the true light on the death of her husband + a short time afterward, on board the French timber ship <i>La Grace de + Dieu</i>. Thirdly, to warn my son of a danger that lies in wait for him—a + danger that will rise from his father’s grave when the earth has closed + over his father’s ashes. + </p> + <p> + “The story of the English lady’s marriage begins with my inheriting the + great Armadale property, and my taking the fatal Armadale name. + </p> + <p> + “I am the only surviving son of the late Mathew Wrentmore, of Barbadoes. I + was born on our family estate in that island, and I lost my father when I + was still a child. My mother was blindly fond of me; she denied me + nothing, she let me live as I pleased. My boyhood and youth were passed in + idleness and self-indulgence, among people—slaves and half-castes + mostly—to whom my will was law. I doubt if there is a gentleman of + my birth and station in all England as ignorant as I am at this moment. I + doubt if there was ever a young man in this world whose passions were left + so entirely without control of any kind as mine were in those early days. + </p> + <p> + “My mother had a woman’s romantic objection to my father’s homely + Christian name. I was christened Allan, after the name of a wealthy cousin + of my father’s—the late Allan Armadale—who possessed estates + in our neighborhood, the largest and most productive in the island, and + who consented to be my godfather by proxy. Mr. Armadale had never seen his + West Indian property. He lived in England; and, after sending me the + customary godfather’s present, he held no further communication with my + parents for years afterward. I was just twenty-one before we heard again + from Mr. Armadale. On that occasion my mother received a letter from him + asking if I was still alive, and offering no less (if I was) than to make + me the heir to his West Indian property. + </p> + <p> + “This piece of good fortune fell to me entirely through the misconduct of + Mr. Armadale’s son, an only child. The young man had disgraced himself + beyond all redemption; had left his home an outlaw; and had been thereupon + renounced by his father at once and forever. Having no other near male + relative to succeed him, Mr. Armadale thought of his cousin’s son and his + own godson; and he offered the West Indian estate to me, and my heirs + after me, on one condition—that I and my heirs should take his name. + The proposal was gratefully accepted, and the proper legal measures were + adopted for changing my name in the colony and in the mother country. By + the next mail information reached Mr. Armadale that his condition had been + complied with. The return mail brought news from the lawyers. The will had + been altered in my favor, and in a week afterward the death of my + benefactor had made me the largest proprietor and the richest man in + Barbadoes. + </p> + <p> + “This was the first event in the chain. The second event followed it six + weeks afterward. + </p> + <p> + “At that time there happened to be a vacancy in the clerk’s office on the + estate, and there came to fill it a young man about my own age who had + recently arrived in the island. He announced himself by the name of Fergus + Ingleby. My impulses governed me in everything; I knew no law but the law + of my own caprice, and I took a fancy to the stranger the moment I set + eyes on him. He had the manners of a gentleman, and he possessed the most + attractive social qualities which, in my small experience, I had ever met + with. When I heard that the written references to character which he had + brought with him were pronounced to be unsatisfactory, I interfered, and + insisted that he should have the place. My will was law, and he had it. + </p> + <p> + “My mother disliked and distrusted Ingleby from the first. When she found + the intimacy between us rapidly ripening; when she found me admitting this + inferior to the closest companionship and confidence (I had lived with my + inferiors all my life, and I liked it), she made effort after effort to + part us, and failed in one and all. Driven to her last resources, she + resolved to try the one chance left—the chance of persuading me to + take a voyage which I had often thought of—a voyage to England. + </p> + <p> + “Before she spoke to me on the subject, she resolved to interest me in the + idea of seeing England, as I had never been interested yet. She wrote to + an old friend and an old admirer of hers, the late Stephen Blanchard, of + Thorpe Ambrose, in Norfolk—a gentleman of landed estate, and a + widower with a grown-up family. After-discoveries informed me that she + must have alluded to their former attachment (which was checked, I + believe, by the parents on either side); and that, in asking Mr. + Blanchard’s welcome for her son when he came to England, she made + inquiries about his daughter, which hinted at the chance of a marriage + uniting the two families, if the young lady and I met and liked one + another. We were equally matched in every respect, and my mother’s + recollection of her girlish attachment to Mr. Blanchard made the prospect + of my marrying her old admirer’s daughter the brightest and happiest + prospect that her eyes could see. Of all this I knew nothing until Mr. + Blanchard’s answer arrived at Barbadoes. Then my mother showed me the + letter, and put the temptation which was to separate me from Fergus + Ingleby openly in my way. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blanchard’s letter was dated from the Island of Madeira. He was out + of health, and he had been ordered there by the doctors to try the + climate. His daughter was with him. After heartily reciprocating all my + mother’s hopes and wishes, he proposed (if I intended leaving Barbadoes + shortly) that I should take Madeira on my way to England, and pay him a + visit at his temporary residence in the island. If this could not be, he + mentioned the time at which he expected to be back in England, when I + might be sure of finding a welcome at his own house of Thorpe Ambrose. In + conclusion, he apologized for not writing at greater length; explaining + that his sight was affected, and that he had disobeyed the doctor’s orders + by yielding to the temptation of writing to his old friend with his own + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Kindly as it was expressed, the letter itself might have had little + influence on me. But there was something else besides the letter; there + was inclosed in it a miniature portrait of Miss Blanchard. At the back of + the portrait, her father had written, half-jestingly, half-tenderly, ‘I + can’t ask my daughter to spare my eyes as usual, without telling her of + your inquiries, and putting a young lady’s diffidence to the blush. So I + send her in effigy (without her knowledge) to answer for herself. It is a + good likeness of a good girl. If she likes your son—and if I like + him, which I am sure I shall—we may yet live, my good friend, to see + our children what we might once have been ourselves—man and wife.’ + My mother gave me the miniature with the letter. The portrait at once + struck me—I can’t say why, I can’t say how—as nothing of the + kind had ever struck me before. + </p> + <p> + “Harder intellects than mine might have attributed the extraordinary + impression produced on me to the disordered condition of my mind at that + time; to the weariness of my own base pleasures which had been gaining on + me for months past, to the undefined longing which that weariness implied + for newer interests and fresher hopes than any that had possessed me yet. + I attempted no such sober self-examination as this: I believed in destiny + then, I believe in destiny now. It was enough for me to know—as I + did know—that the first sense I had ever felt of something better in + my nature than my animal self was roused by that girl’s face looking at me + from her picture as no woman’s face had ever looked at me yet. In those + tender eyes—in the chance of making that gentle creature my wife—I + saw my destiny written. The portrait which had come into my hands so + strangely and so unexpectedly was the silent messenger of happiness close + at hand, sent to warn, to encourage, to rouse me before it was too late. I + put the miniature under my pillow at night; I looked at it again the next + morning. My conviction of the day before remained as strong as ever; my + superstition (if you please to call it so) pointed out to me irresistibly + the way on which I should go. There was a ship in port which was to sail + for England in a fortnight, touching at Madeira. In that ship I took my + passage.” + </p> + <p> + Thus far the reader had advanced with no interruption to disturb him. But + at the last words the tones of another voice, low and broken, mingled with + his own. + </p> + <p> + “Was she a fair woman,” asked the voice, “or dark, like me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal paused, and looked up. The doctor was still at the bed head, with + his fingers mechanically on the patient’s pulse. The child, missing his + midday sleep, was beginning to play languidly with his new toy. The + father’s eyes were watching him with a rapt and ceaseless attention. But + one great change was visible in the listeners since the narrative had + begun. Mrs. Armadale had dropped her hold of her husband’s hand, and sat + with her face steadily turned away from him The hot African blood burned + red in her dusky cheeks as she obstinately repeated the question: “Was she + a fair woman, or dark, like me?” + </p> + <p> + “Fair,” said her husband, without looking at her. + </p> + <p> + Her hands, lying clasped together in her lap, wrung each other hard—she + said no more. Mr. Neal’s overhanging eyebrows lowered ominously as he + returned to the narrative. He had incurred his own severe displeasure—he + had caught himself in the act of secretly pitying her. + </p> + <p> + “I have said”—the letter proceeded—“that Ingleby was admitted + to my closest confidence. I was sorry to leave him; and I was distressed + by his evident surprise and mortification when he heard that I was going + away. In my own justification, I showed him the letter and the likeness, + and told him the truth. His interest in the portrait seemed to be hardly + inferior to my own. He asked me about Miss Blanchard’s family and Miss + Blanchard’s fortune with the sympathy of a true friend; and he + strengthened my regard for him, and my belief in him, by putting himself + out of the question, and by generously encouraging me to persist in my new + purpose. When we parted, I was in high health and spirits. Before we met + again the next day, I was suddenly struck by an illness which threatened + both my reason and my life. + </p> + <p> + “I have no proof against Ingleby. There was more than one woman on the + island whom I had wronged beyond all forgiveness, and whose vengeance + might well have reached me at that time. I can accuse nobody. I can only + say that my life was saved by my old black nurse; and that the woman + afterward acknowledged having used the known negro antidote to a known + negro poison in those parts. When my first days of convalescence came, the + ship in which my passage had been taken had long since sailed. When I + asked for Ingleby, he was gone. Proofs of his unpardonable misconduct in + his situation were placed before me, which not even my partiality for him + could resist. He had been turned out of the office in the first days of my + illness, and nothing more was known of him but that he had left the + island. + </p> + <p> + “All through my sufferings the portrait had been under my pillow. All + through my convalescence it was my one consolation when I remembered the + past, and my one encouragement when I thought of the future. No words can + describe the hold that first fancy had now taken of me—with time and + solitude and suffering to help it. My mother, with all her interest in the + match, was startled by the unexpected success of her own project. She had + written to tell Mr. Blanchard of my illness, but had received no reply. + She now offered to write again, if I would promise not to leave her before + my recovery was complete. My impatience acknowledged no restraint. Another + ship in port gave me another chance of leaving for Madeira. Another + examination of Mr. Blanchard’s letter of invitation assured me that I + should find him still in the island, if I seized my opportunity on the + spot. In defiance of my mother’s entreaties, I insisted on taking my + passage in the second ship—and this time, when the ship sailed, I + was on board. + </p> + <p> + “The change did me good; the sea-air made a man of me again. After an + unusually rapid voyage, I found myself at the end of my pilgrimage. On a + fine, still evening which I can never forget, I stood alone on the shore, + with her likeness in my bosom, and saw the white walls of the house where + I knew that she lived. + </p> + <p> + “I strolled round the outer limits of the grounds to compose myself before + I went in. Venturing through a gate and a shrubbery, I looked into the + garden, and saw a lady there, loitering alone on the lawn. She turned her + face toward me—and I beheld the original of my portrait, the + fulfillment of my dream! It is useless, and worse than useless, to write + of it now. Let me only say that every promise which the likeness had made + to my fancy the living woman kept to my eyes in the moment when they first + looked on her. Let me say this—and no more. + </p> + <p> + “I was too violently agitated to trust myself in her presence. I drew back + undiscovered, and, making my way to the front door of the house, asked for + her father first. Mr. Blanchard had retired to his room, and could see + nobody. Upon that I took courage, and asked for Miss Blanchard. The + servant smiled. ‘My young lady is not Miss Blanchard any longer, sir,’ he + said. ‘She is married.’ Those words would have struck some men, in my + position, to the earth. They fired my hot blood, and I seized the servant + by the throat, in a frenzy of rage ‘It’s a lie!’ I broke out, speaking to + him as if he had been one of the slaves on my own estate. ‘It’s the + truth,’ said the man, struggling with me; ‘her husband is in the house at + this moment.’ ‘Who is he, you scoundrel?’The servant answered by repeating + my own name, to my own face: ‘<i>Allan Armadale</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “You can now guess the truth. Fergus Ingleby was the outlawed son whose + name and whose inheritance I had taken. And Fergus Ingleby was even with + me for depriving him of his birthright. + </p> + <p> + “Some account of the manner in which the deception had been carried out is + necessary to explain—I don’t say to justify—the share I took + in the events that followed my arrival at Madeira. + </p> + <p> + “By Ingleby’s own confession, he had come to Barbadoes—knowing of + his father’s death and of my succession to the estates—with the + settled purpose of plundering and injuring me. My rash confidence put such + an opportunity into his hands as he could never have hoped for. He had + waited to possess himself of the letter which my mother wrote to Mr. + Blanchard at the outset of my illness—had then caused his own + dismissal from his situation—and had sailed for Madeira in the very + ship that was to have sailed with me. Arrived at the island, he had waited + again till the vessel was away once more on her voyage, and had then + presented himself at Mr. Blanchard’s—not in the assumed name by + which I shall continue to speak of him here, but in the name which was as + certainly his as mine, ‘Allan Armadale.’ The fraud at the outset presented + few difficulties. He had only an ailing old man (who had not seen my + mother for half a lifetime) and an innocent, unsuspicious girl (who had + never seen her at all) to deal with; and he had learned enough in my + service to answer the few questions that were put to him as readily as I + might have answered them myself. His looks and manners, his winning ways + with women, his quickness and cunning, did the rest. While I was still on + my sickbed, he had won Miss Blanchard’s affections. While I was dreaming + over the likeness in the first days of my convalescence, he had secured + Mr. Blanchard’s consent to the celebration of the marriage before he and + his daughter left the island. + </p> + <p> + “Thus far Mr. Blanchard’s infirmity of sight had helped the deception. He + had been content to send messages to my mother, and to receive the + messages which were duly invented in return. But when the suitor was + accepted, and the wedding-day was appointed, he felt it due to his old + friend to write to her, asking her formal consent and inviting her to the + marriage. He could only complete part of the letter himself; the rest was + finished, under his dictation, by Miss Blanchard. There was no chance of + being beforehand with the post-office this time; and Ingleby, sure of his + place in the heart of his victim, waylaid her as she came out of her + father’s room with the letter, and privately told her the truth. She was + still under age, and the position was a serious one. If the letter was + posted, no resource would be left but to wait and be parted forever, or to + elope under circumstances which made detection almost a certainty. The + destination of any ship which took them away would be known beforehand; + and the fast-sailing yacht in which Mr. Blanchard had come to Madeira was + waiting in the harbor to take him back to England. The only other + alternative was to continue the deception by suppressing the letter, and + to confess the truth when they were securely married. What arts of + persuasion Ingleby used—what base advantage he might previously have + taken of her love and her trust in him to degrade Miss Blanchard to his + own level—I cannot say. He did degrade her. The letter never went to + its destination; and, with the daughter’s privity and consent, the + father’s confidence was abused to the very last. + </p> + <p> + “The one precaution now left to take was to fabricate the answer from my + mother which Mr. Blanchard expected, and which would arrive in due course + of post before the day appointed for the marriage. Ingleby had my mother’s + stolen letter with him; but he was without the imitative dexterity which + would have enabled him to make use of it for a forgery of her handwriting. + Miss Blanchard, who had consented passively to the deception, refused to + take any active share in the fraud practiced on her father. In this + difficulty, Ingleby found an instrument ready to his hand in an orphan + girl of barely twelve years old, a marvel of precocious ability, whom Miss + Blanchard had taken a romantic fancy to befriend and whom she had brought + away with her from England to be trained as her maid. That girl’s wicked + dexterity removed the one serious obstacle left to the success of the + fraud. I saw the imitation of my mother’s writing which she had produced + under Ingleby’s instructions and (if the shameful truth must be told) with + her young mistress’s knowledge—and I believe I should have been + deceived by it myself. I saw the girl afterward—and my blood curdled + at the sight of her. If she is alive now, woe to the people who trust her! + No creature more innately deceitful and more innately pitiless ever walked + this earth. + </p> + <p> + “The forged letter paved the way securely for the marriage; and when I + reached the house, they were (as the servant had truly told me) man and + wife. My arrival on the scene simply precipitated the confession which + they had both agreed to make. Ingleby’s own lips shamelessly acknowledged + the truth. He had nothing to lose by speaking out—he was married, + and his wife’s fortune was beyond her father’s control. I pass over all + that followed—my interview with the daughter, and my interview with + the father—to come to results. For two days the efforts of the wife, + and the efforts of the clergyman who had celebrated the marriage, were + successful in keeping Ingleby and myself apart. On the third day I set my + trap more successfully, and I and the man who had mortally injured me met + together alone, face to face. + </p> + <p> + “Remember how my confidence had been abused; remember how the one good + purpose of my life had been thwarted; remember the violent passions rooted + deep in my nature, and never yet controlled—and then imagine for + yourself what passed between us. All I need tell here is the end. He was a + taller and a stronger man than I, and he took his brute’s advantage with a + brute’s ferocity. He struck me. + </p> + <p> + “Think of the injuries I had received at that man’s hands, and then think + of his setting his mark on my face by a blow! + </p> + <p> + “I went to an English officer who had been my fellow-passenger on the + voyage from Barbadoes. I told him the truth, and he agreed with me that a + meeting was inevitable. Dueling had its received formalities and its + established laws in those days; and he began to speak of them. I stopped + him. ‘I will take a pistol in my right hand,’ I said, ‘and he shall take a + pistol in his: I will take one end of a handkerchief in my left hand, and + he shall take the other end in his; and across that handkerchief the duel + shall be fought.’ The officer got up, and looked at me as if I had + personally insulted him. ‘You are asking me to be present at a murder and + a suicide,’ he said; ‘I decline to serve you.’ He left the room. As soon + as he was gone I wrote down the words I had said to the officer and sent + them by a messenger to Ingleby. While I was waiting for an answer, I sat + down before the glass, and looked at his mark on my face. ‘Many a man has + had blood on his hands and blood on his conscience,’ I thought, ‘for less + than this.’ + </p> + <p> + “The messenger came back with Ingleby’s answer. It appointed a meeting for + three o’clock the next day, at a lonely place in the interior of the + island. I had resolved what to do if he refused; his letter released me + from the horror of my own resolution. I felt grateful to him—yes, + absolutely grateful to him—for writing it. + </p> + <p> + “The next day I went to the place. He was not there. I waited two hours, + and he never came. At last the truth dawned on me. ‘Once a coward, always + a coward,’ I thought. I went back to Mr. Blanchard’s house. Before I got + there, a sudden misgiving seized me, and I turned aside to the harbor. I + was right; the harbor was the place to go to. A ship sailing for Lisbon + that afternoon had offered him the opportunity of taking a passage for + himself and his wife, and escaping me. His answer to my challenge had + served its purpose of sending me out of the way into the interior of the + island. Once more I had trusted in Fergus Ingleby, and once more those + sharp wits of his had been too much for me. + </p> + <p> + “I asked my informant if Mr. Blanchard was aware as yet of his daughter’s + departure. He had discovered it, but not until the ship had sailed. This + time I took a lesson in cunning from Ingleby. Instead of showing myself at + Mr. Blanchard’s house, I went first and looked at Mr. Blanchard’s yacht. + </p> + <p> + “The vessel told me what the vessel’s master might have concealed—the + truth. I found her in the confusion of a sudden preparation for sea. All + the crew were on board, with the exception of some few who had been + allowed their leave on shore, and who were away in the interior of the + island, nobody knew where. When I discovered that the sailing-master was + trying in, to supply their places with the best men he could pick up at a + moment’s notice, my resolution was instantly taken. I knew the duties on + board a yacht well enough, having had a vessel of my own, and having + sailed her myself. Hurrying into the town, I changed my dress for a + sailor’s coat and hat, and, returning to the harbor, I offered myself as + one of the volunteer crew. I don’t know what the sailing-master saw in my + face. My answers to his questions satisfied him, and yet he looked at me + and hesitated. But hands were scarce, and it ended in my being taken on + board. An hour later Mr. Blanchard joined us, and was assisted into the + cabin, suffering pitiably in mind and body both. An hour after that we + were at sea, with a starless night overhead, and a fresh breeze behind us. + </p> + <p> + “As I had surmised, we were in pursuit of the vessel in which Ingleby and + his wife had left the island that afternoon. The ship was French, and was + employed in the timber trade: her name was <i>La Grace de Dieu</i>. + Nothing more was known of her than that she was bound for Lisbon; that she + had been driven out of her course; and that she had touched at Madeira, + short of men and short of provisions. The last want had been supplied, but + not the first. Sailors distrusted the sea-worthiness of the ship, and + disliked the look of the vagabond crew. When those two serious facts had + been communicated to Mr. Blanchard, the hard words he had spoken to his + child in the first shock of discovering that she had helped to deceive him + smote him to the heart. He instantly determined to give his daughter a + refuge on board his own vessel, and to quiet her by keeping her villain of + a husband out of the way of all harm at my hands. The yacht sailed three + feet and more to the ship’s one. There was no doubt of our overtaking <i>La + Grace de Dieu</i>; the only fear was that we might pass her in the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “After we had been some little time out, the wind suddenly dropped, and + there fell on us an airless, sultry calm. When the order came to get the + topmasts on deck, and to shift the large sails, we all knew what to + expect. In little better than an hour more, the storm was upon us, the + thunder was pealing over our heads, and the yacht was running for it. She + was a powerful schooner-rigged vessel of three hundred tons, as strong as + wood and iron could make her; she was handled by a sailing-master who + thoroughly understood his work, and she behaved nobly. As the new morning + came, the fury of the wind, blowing still from the southwest quarter, + subsided a little, and the sea was less heavy. Just before daybreak we + heard faintly, through the howling of the gale, the report of a gun. The + men collected anxiously on deck, looked at each other, and said: ‘There + she is!’ + </p> + <p> + “With the daybreak we saw the vessel, and the timber-ship it was. She lay + wallowing in the trough of the sea, her foremast and her mainmast both + gone—a water-logged wreck. The yacht carried three boats; one + amidships, and two slung to davits on the quarters; and the + sailing-master, seeing signs of the storm renewing its fury before long, + determined on lowering the quarter-boats while the lull lasted. Few as the + people were on board the wreck, they were too many for one boat, and the + risk of trying two boats at once was thought less, in the critical state + of the weather, than the risk of making two separate trips from the yacht + to the ship. There might be time to make one trip in safety, but no man + could look at the heavens and say there would be time enough for two. + </p> + <p> + “The boats were manned by volunteers from the crew, I being in the second + of the two. When the first boat was got alongside of the timber-ship—a + service of difficulty and danger which no words can describe—all the + men on board made a rush to leave the wreck together. If the boat had not + been pulled off again before the whole of them had crowded in, the lives + of all must have been sacrificed. As our boat approached the vessel in its + turn, we arranged that four of us should get on board—two (I being + one of them) to see to the safety of Mr. Blanchard’s daughter, and two to + beat back the cowardly remnant of the crew if they tried to crowd in + first. The other three—the coxswain and two oarsmen—were left + in the boat to keep her from being crushed by the ship. What the others + saw when they first boarded <i>La Grace de Dieu</i> I don’t know; what I + saw was the woman whom I had lost, the woman vilely stolen from me, lying + in a swoon on the deck. We lowered her, insensible, into the boat. The + remnant of the crew—five in number—were compelled by main + force to follow her in an orderly manner, one by one, and minute by + minute, as the chance offered for safely taking them in. I was the last + who left; and, at the next roll of the ship toward us, the empty length of + the deck, without a living creature on it from stem to stern, told the + boat’s crew that their work was done. With the louder and louder howling + of the fast-rising tempest to warn them, they rowed for their lives back + to the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “A succession of heavy squalls had brought round the course of the new + storm that was coming, from the south to the north; and the + sailing-master, watching his opportunity, had wore the yacht to be ready + for it. Before the last of our men had got on board again, it burst on us + with the fury of a hurricane. Our boat was swamped, but not a life was + lost. Once more we ran before it, due south, at the mercy of the wind. I + was on deck with the rest, watching the one rag of sail we could venture + to set, and waiting to supply its place with another, if it blew out of + the bolt-ropes, when the mate came close to me, and shouted in my ear + through the thunder of the storm: ‘She has come to her senses in the + cabin, and has asked for her husband. Where is he?’ Not a man on board + knew. The yacht was searched from one end to another without finding him. + The men were mustered in defiance of the weather—he was not among + them. The crews of the two boats were questioned. All the first crew could + say was that they had pulled away from the wreck when the rush into their + boat took place, and that they knew nothing of whom they let in or whom + they kept out. All the second crew could say was that they had brought + back to the yacht every living soul left by the first boat on the deck of + the timber-ship. There was no blaming anybody; but, at the same time, + there was no resisting the fact that the man was missing. + </p> + <p> + “All through that day the storm, raging unabatedly, never gave us even the + shadow of a chance of returning and searching the wreck. The one hope for + the yacht was to scud. Toward evening the gale, after having carried us to + the southward of Madeira, began at last to break—the wind shifted + again—and allowed us to bear up for the island. Early the next + morning we got back into port. Mr. Blanchard and his daughter were taken + ashore, the sailing-master accompanying them, and warning us that he + should have something to say on his return which would nearly concern the + whole crew. + </p> + <p> + “We were mustered on deck, and addressed by the sailing-master as soon as + he came on board again. He had Mr. Blanchard’s orders to go back at once + to the timber-ship and to search for the missing man. We were bound to do + this for his sake, and for the sake of his wife, whose reason was + despaired of by the doctors if something was not done to quiet her. We + might be almost sure of finding the vessel still afloat, for her ladling + of timber would keep her above water as long as her hull held together. If + the man was on board—living or dead—he must be found and + brought back. And if the weather continued to be moderate, there was no + reason why the men, with proper assistance, should not bring the ship + back, too, and (their master being quite willing) earn their share of the + salvage with the officers of the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “Upon this the crew gave three cheers, and set to work forthwith to get + the schooner to sea again. I was the only one of them who drew back from + the enterprise. I told them the storm had upset me—I was ill, and + wanted rest. They all looked me in the face as I passed through them on my + way out of the yacht, but not a man of them spoke to me. + </p> + <p> + “I waited through that day at a tavern on the port for the first news from + the wreck. It was brought toward night-fall by one of the pilot-boats + which had taken part in the enterprise—a successful enterprise, as + the event proved—for saving the abandoned ship. <i>La Grace de Dieu</i> + had been discovered still floating, and the body of Ingleby had been found + on board, drowned in the cabin. At dawn the next morning the dead man was + brought back by the yacht; and on the same day the funeral took place in + the Protestant cemetery.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said the voice from the bed, before the reader could turn to a new + leaf and begin the next paragraph. + </p> + <p> + There was a change in the room, and there were changes in the audience, + since Mr. Neal had last looked up from the narrative. A ray of sunshine + was crossing the death-bed; and the child, overcome by drowsiness, lay + peacefully asleep in the golden light. The father’s countenance had + altered visibly. Forced into action by the tortured mind, the muscles of + the lower face, which had never moved yet, were moving distortedly now. + Warned by the damps gathering heavily on his forehead, the doctor had + risen to revive the sinking man. On the other side of the bed the wife’s + chair stood empty. At the moment when her husband had interrupted the + reading, she had drawn back behind the bed head, out of his sight. + Supporting herself against the wall, she stood there in hiding, her eyes + fastened in hungering suspense on the manuscript in Mr. Neal’s hand. + </p> + <p> + In a minute more the silence was broken again by Mr. Armadale. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” he asked, looking angrily at his wife’s empty chair. The + doctor pointed to the place. She had no choice but to come forward. She + came slowly and stood before him. + </p> + <p> + “You promised to go when I told you,” he said. “Go now.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal tried hard to control his hand as it kept his place between the + leaves of the manuscripts but it trembled in spite of him. A suspicion + which had been slowly forcing itself on his mind, while he was reading, + became a certainty when he heard those words. From one revelation to + another the letter had gone on, until it had now reached the brink of a + last disclosure to come. At that brink the dying man had predetermined to + silence the reader’s voice, before he had permitted his wife to hear the + narrative read. There was the secret which the son was to know in after + years, and which the mother was never to approach. From that resolution, + his wife’s tenderest pleadings had never moved him an inch—and now, + from his own lips, his wife knew it. + </p> + <p> + She made him no answer. She stood there and looked at him; looked her last + entreaty—perhaps her last farewell. His eyes gave her back no + answering glance: they wandered from her mercilessly to the sleeping boy. + She turned speechless from the bed. Without a look at the child—without + a word to the two strangers breathlessly watching her—she kept the + promise she had given, and in dead silence left the room. + </p> + <p> + There was something in the manner of her departure which shook the + self-possession of both the men who witnessed it. When the door closed on + her, they recoiled instinctively from advancing further in the dark. The + doctor’s reluctance was the first to express itself. He attempted to + obtain the patient’s permission to withdraw until the letter was + completed. The patient refused. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal spoke next at greater length and to more serious purpose. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor is accustomed in his profession,” he began, “and I am + accustomed in mine, to have the secrets of others placed in our keeping. + But it is my duty, before we go further, to ask if you really understand + the extraordinary position which we now occupy toward one another. You + have just excluded Mrs. Armadale, before our own eyes, from a place in + your confidence. And you are now offering that same place to two men who + are total strangers to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Armadale, “<i>because</i> you are strangers.” + </p> + <p> + Few as the words were, the inference to be drawn from them was not of a + nature to set distrust at rest. Mr. Neal put it plainly into words. + </p> + <p> + “You are in urgent need of my help and of the doctor’s help,” he said. “Am + I to understand (so long as you secure our assistance) that the impression + which the closing passages of this letter may produce on us is a matter of + indifference to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I don’t spare you. I don’t spare myself. I <i>do</i> spare my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “You force me to a conclusion, sir, which is a very serious one,” said Mr. + Neal. “If I am to finish this letter under your dictation, I must claim + permission—having read aloud the greater part of it already—to + read aloud what remains, in the hearing of this gentleman, as a witness.” + </p> + <p> + “Read it.” + </p> + <p> + Gravely doubting, the doctor resumed his chair. Gravely doubting, Mr. Neal + turned the leaf, and read the next words: + </p> + <p> + “There is more to tell before I can leave the dead man to his rest. I have + described the finding of his body. But I have not described the + circumstances under which he met his death. + </p> + <p> + “He was known to have been on deck when the yacht’s boats were seen + approaching the wreck; and he was afterward missed in the confusion caused + by the panic of the crew. At that time the water was five feet deep in the + cabin, and was rising fast. There was little doubt of his having gone down + into that water of his own accord. The discovery of his wife’s jewel box, + close under him, on the floor, explained his presence in the cabin. He was + known to have seen help approaching, and it was quite likely that he had + thereupon gone below to make an effort at saving the box. It was less + probable—though it might still have been inferred—that his + death was the result of some accident in diving, which had for the moment + deprived him of his senses. But a discovery made by the yacht’s crew + pointed straight to a conclusion which struck the men, one and all, with + the same horror. When the course of their search brought them to the + cabin, they found the scuttle bolted, and the door locked on the outside. + Had some one closed the cabin, not knowing he was there? Setting the + panic-stricken condition of the crew out of the question, there was no + motive for closing the cabin before leaving the wreck. But one other + conclusion remained. Had some murderous hand purposely locked the man in, + and left him to drown as the water rose over him? + </p> + <p> + “Yes. A murderous hand had locked him in, and left him to drown. That hand + was mine.” + </p> + <p> + The Scotchman started up from the table; the doctor shrank from the + bedside. The two looked at the dying wretch, mastered by the same + loathing, chilled by the same dread. He lay there, with his child’s head + on his breast; abandoned by the sympathies of man, accursed by the justice + of God—he lay there, in the isolation of Cain, and looked back at + them. + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the two men rose to their feet, the door leading into + the next room was shaken heavily on the outer side, and a sound like the + sound of a fall, striking dull on their ears, silenced them both. Standing + nearest to the door, the doctor opened it, passed through, and closed it + instantly. Mr. Neal turned his back on the bed, and waited the event in + silence. The sound, which had failed to awaken the child, had failed also + to attract the father’s notice. His own words had taken him far from all + that was passing at his deathbed. His helpless body was back on the wreck, + and the ghost of his lifeless hand was turning the lock of the cabin door. + </p> + <p> + A bell rang in the next room—eager voices talked; hurried footsteps + moved in it—an interval passed, and the doctor returned. “Was she + listening?” whispered Mr. Neal, in German. “The women are restoring her,” + the doctor whispered back. “She has heard it all. In God’s name, what are + we to do next?” Before it was possible to reply, Mr. Armadale spoke. The + doctor’s return had roused him to a sense of present things. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said, as if nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to meddle further with your infamous secret,” returned Mr. Neal. + “You are a murderer on your own confession. If that letter is to be + finished, don’t ask <i>me</i> to hold the pen for you.” + </p> + <p> + “You gave me your promise,” was the reply, spoken with the same immovable + self-possession. “You must write for me, or break your word.” + </p> + <p> + For the moment, Mr. Neal was silenced. There the man lay—sheltered + from the execration of his fellow-creatures, under the shadow of Death—beyond + the reach of all human condemnation, beyond the dread of all mortal laws; + sensitive to nothing but his one last resolution to finish the letter + addressed to his son. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal drew the doctor aside. “A word with you,” he said, in German. “Do + you persist in asserting that he may be speechless before we can send to + Stuttgart?” + </p> + <p> + “Look at his lips,” said the doctor, “and judge for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + His lips answered for him: the reading of the narrative had left its mark + on them already. A distortion at the corners of his mouth, which had been + barely noticeable when Mr. Neal entered the room, was plainly visible now. + His slow articulation labored more and more painfully with every word he + uttered. The position was emphatically a terrible one. After a moment more + of hesitation, Mr. Neal made a last attempt to withdraw from it. + </p> + <p> + “Now my eyes are open,” he said, sternly, “do you dare hold me to an + engagement which you forced on me blindfold?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Mr. Armadale. “I leave you to break your word.” + </p> + <p> + The look which accompanied that reply stung the Scotchman’s pride to the + quick. When he spoke next, he spoke seated in his former place at the + table. + </p> + <p> + “No man ever yet said of me that I broke my word,” he retorted, angrily; + “and not even you shall say it of me now. Mind this! If you hold me to my + promise, I hold you to my condition. I have reserved my freedom of action, + and I warn you I will use it at my own sole discretion, as soon as I am + released from the sight of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember he is dying,” pleaded the doctor, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Take your place, sir,” said Mr. Neal, pointing to the empty chair. “What + remains to be read, I will only read in your hearing. What remains to be + written, I will only write in your presence. <i>You</i> brought me here. I + have a right to insist—and I do insist—on your remaining as a + witness to the last.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor accepted his position without remonstrance. Mr. Neal returned + to the manuscript, and read what remained of it uninterruptedly to the + end: + </p> + <p> + “Without a word in my own defense, I have acknowledged my guilt. Without a + word in my own defense, I will reveal how the crime was committed. + </p> + <p> + “No thought of him was in my mind, when I saw his wife insensible on the + deck of the timber-ship. I did my part in lowering her safely into the + boat. Then, and not till then, I felt the thought of him coming back. In + the confusion that prevailed while the men of the yacht were forcing the + men of the ship to wait their time, I had an opportunity of searching for + him unobserved. I stepped back from the bulwark, not knowing whether he + was away in the first boat, or whether he was still on board—I + stepped back, and saw him mount the cabin stairs empty-handed, with the + water dripping from him. After looking eagerly toward the boat (without + noticing me), he saw there was time to spare before the crew were taken. + ‘Once more!’ he said to himself—and disappeared again, to make a + last effort at recovering the jewel box. The devil at my elbow whispered, + ‘Don’t shoot him like a man: drown him like a dog!’ He was under water + when I bolted the scuttle. But his head rose to the surface before I could + close the cabin door. I looked at him, and he looked at me—and I + locked the door in his face. The next minute, I was back among the last + men left on deck. The minute after, it was too late to repent. The storm + was threatening us with destruction, and the boat’s crew were pulling for + their lives from the ship. + </p> + <p> + “My son! I have pursued you from my grave with a confession which my love + might have spared you. Read on, and you will know why. + </p> + <p> + “I will say nothing of my sufferings; I will plead for no mercy to my + memory. There is a strange sinking at my heart, a strange trembling in my + hand, while I write these lines, which warns me to hasten to the end. I + left the island without daring to look for the last time at the woman whom + I had lost so miserably, whom I had injured so vilely. When I left, the + whole weight of the suspicion roused by the manner of Ingleby’s death + rested on the crew of the French vessel. No motive for the supposed murder + could be brought home to any of them; but they were known to be, for the + most part, outlawed ruffians capable of any crime, and they were suspected + and examined accordingly. It was not till afterward that I heard by + accident of the suspicion shifting round at last to me. The widow alone + recognized the vague description given of the strange man who had made one + of the yacht’s crew, and who had disappeared the day afterward. The widow + alone knew, from that time forth, why her husband had been murdered, and + who had done the deed. When she made that discovery, a false report of my + death had been previously circulated in the island. Perhaps I was indebted + to the report for my immunity from all legal proceedings; perhaps (no eye + but Ingleby’s having seen me lock the cabin door) there was not evidence + enough to justify an inquiry; perhaps the widow shrank from the + disclosures which must have followed a public charge against me, based on + her own bare suspicion of the truth. However it might be, the crime which + I had committed unseen has remained a crime unpunished from that time to + this. + </p> + <p> + “I left Madeira for the West Indies in disguise. The first news that met + me when the ship touched at Barbadoes was the news of my mother’s death. I + had no heart to return to the old scenes. The prospect of living at home + in solitude, with the torment of my own guilty remembrances gnawing at me + day and night, was more than I had the courage to confront. Without + landing, or discovering myself to any one on shore, I went on as far as + the ship would take me—to the island of Trinidad. + </p> + <p> + “At that place I first saw your mother. It was my duty to tell her the + truth—and I treacherously kept my secret. It was my duty to spare + her the hopeless sacrifice of her freedom and her happiness to such an + existence as mine—and I did her the injury of marrying her. If she + is alive when you read this, grant her the mercy of still concealing the + truth. The one atonement I can make to her is to keep her unsuspicious to + the last of the man she has married. Pity her, as I have pitied her. Let + this letter be a sacred confidence between father and son. + </p> + <p> + “The time when you were born was the time when my health began to give + way. Some months afterward, in the first days of my recovery, you were + brought to me; and I was told that you had been christened during my + illness. Your mother had done as other loving mothers do—she had + christened her first-born by his father’s name. You, too, were Allan + Armadale. Even in that early time—even while I was happily ignorant + of what I have discovered since—my mind misgave me when I looked at + you, and thought of that fatal name. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as I could be moved, my presence was required at my estates in + Barbadoes. It crossed my mind—wild as the idea may appear to you—to + renounce the condition which compelled my son as well as myself to take + the Armadale name, or lose the succession to the Armadale property. But, + even in those days, the rumor of a contemplated emancipation of the slaves—the + emancipation which is now close at hand—was spreading widely in the + colony. No man could tell how the value of West Indian property might be + affected if that threatened change ever took place. No man could tell—if + I gave you back my own paternal name, and left you without other provision + in the future than my own paternal estate—how you might one day miss + the broad Armadale acres, or to what future penury I might be blindly + condemning your mother and yourself. Mark how the fatalities gathered one + on the other! Mark how your Christian name came to you, how your surname + held to you, in spite of me! + </p> + <p> + “My health had improved in my old home—but it was for a time only. I + sank again, and the doctors ordered me to Europe. Avoiding England (why, + you may guess), I took my passage, with you and your mother, for France. + From France we passed into Italy. We lived here; we lived there. It was + useless. Death had got met and Death followed me, go where I might. I bore + it, for I had an alleviation to turn to which I had not deserved. You may + shrink in horror from the very memory of me now. In those days, you + comforted me. The only warmth I still felt at my heart was the warmth you + brought to it. My last glimpses of happiness in this world were the + glimpses given me by my infant son. + </p> + <p> + “We removed from Italy, and went next to Lausanne—the place from + which I am now writing to you. The post of this morning has brought me + news, later and fuller than any I had received thus far, of the widow of + the murdered man. The letter lies before me while I write. It comes from a + friend of my early days, who has seen her, and spoken to her—who has + been the first to inform her that the report of my death in Madeira was + false. He writes, at a loss to account for the violent agitation which she + showed on hearing that I was still alive, that I was married, and that I + had an infant son. He asks me if I can explain it. He speaks in terms of + sympathy for her—a young and beautiful woman, buried in the + retirement of a fishing-village on the Devonshire coast; her father dead; + her family estranged from her, in merciless disapproval of her marriage. + He writes words which might have cut me to the heart, but for a closing + passage in his letter, which seized my whole attention the instant I came + to it, and which has forced from me the narrative that these pages + contain. + </p> + <p> + “I now know what never even entered my mind as a suspicion till the letter + reached me. I now know that the widow of the man whose death lies at my + door has borne a posthumous child. That child is a boy—a year older + than my own son. Secure in her belief in my death, his mother has done + what my son’s mother did: she has christened her child by his father’s + name. Again, in the second generation, there are two Allan Armadales as + there were in the first. After working its deadly mischief with the + fathers, the fatal resemblance of names has descended to work its deadly + mischief with the sons. + </p> + <p> + “Guiltless minds may see nothing thus far but the result of a series of + events which could lead no other way. I—with that man’s life to + answer for—I, going down into my grave, with my crime unpunished and + unatoned, see what no guiltless minds can discern. I see danger in the + future, begotten of the danger in the past—treachery that is the + offspring of <i>his</i> treachery, and crime that is the child of <i>my</i> + crime. Is the dread that now shakes me to the soul a phantom raised by the + superstition of a dying man? I look into the Book which all Christendom + venerates, and the Book tells me that the sin of the father shall be + visited on the child. I look out into the world, and I see the living + witnesses round me to that terrible truth. I see the vices which have + contaminated the father descending, and contaminating the child; I see the + shame which has disgraced the father’s name descending, and disgracing the + child’s. I look in on myself, and I see my crime ripening again for the + future in the self-same circumstance which first sowed the seeds of it in + the past, and descending, in inherited contamination of evil, from me to + my son.” + </p> + <p> + At those lines the writing ended. There the stroke had struck him, and the + pen had dropped from his hand. + </p> + <p> + He knew the place; he remembered the words. At the instant when the + reader’s voice stopped, he looked eagerly at the doctor. “I have got what + comes next in my mind,” he said, with slower and slower articulation. + “Help me to speak it.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor administered a stimulant, and signed to Mr. Neal to give him + time. After a little delay, the flame of the sinking spirit leaped up in + his eyes once more. Resolutely struggling with his failing speech, he + summoned the Scotchman to take the pen, and pronounced the closing + sentences of the narrative, as his memory gave them back to him, one by + one, in these words: + </p> + <p> + “Despise my dying conviction if you will, but grant me, I solemnly implore + you, one last request. My son! the only hope I have left for you hangs on + a great doubt—the doubt whether we are, or are not, the masters of + our own destinies. It may be that mortal free-will can conquer mortal + fate; and that going, as we all do, inevitably to death, we go inevitably + to nothing that is before death. If this be so, indeed, respect—though + you respect nothing else—the warning which I give you from my grave. + Never, to your dying day, let any living soul approach you who is + associated, directly or indirectly, with the crime which your father has + committed. Avoid the widow of the man I killed—if the widow still + lives. Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the way to the marriage—if + the maid is still in her service. And more than all, avoid the man who + bears the same name as your own. Offend your best benefactor, if that + benefactor’s influence has connected you one with the other. Desert the + woman who loves you, if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide + yourself from him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas + between you; be ungrateful, be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent + to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof, and + breathe the same air, with that man. Never let the two Allan Armadales + meet in this world: never, never, never! + </p> + <p> + “There lies the way by which you may escape—if any way there be. + Take it, if you prize your own innocence and your own happiness, through + all your life to come! + </p> + <p> + “I have done. If I could have trusted any weaker influence than the + influence of this confession to incline you to my will, I would have + spared you the disclosure which these pages contain. You are lying on my + breast, sleeping the innocent sleep of a child, while a stranger’s hand + writes these words for you as they fall from my lips. Think what the + strength of my conviction must be, when I can find the courage, on my + death-bed, to darken all your young life at its outset with the shadow of + your father’s crime. Think, and be warned. Think, and forgive me if you + can.” + </p> + <p> + There it ended. Those were the father’s last words to the son. + </p> + <p> + Inexorably faithful to his forced duty, Mr. Neal laid aside the pen, and + read over aloud the lines he had just written. “Is there more to add?” he + asked, with his pitilessly steady voice. There was no more to add. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal folded the manuscript, inclosed it in a sheet of paper, and + sealed it with Mr. Armadale’s own seal. “The address?” he said, with his + merciless business formality. “To Allan Armadale, junior,” he wrote, as + the words were dictated from the bed. “Care of Godfrey Hammick, Esq., + Offices of Messrs. Hammick and Ridge, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London.” + Having written the address, he waited, and considered for a moment. “Is + your executor to open this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No! he is to give it to my son when my son is of an age to understand + it.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” pursued Mr. Neal, with all his wits in remorseless working + order, “I will add a dated note to the address, repeating your own words + as you have just spoken them, and explaining the circumstances under which + my handwriting appears on the document.” He wrote the note in the briefest + and plainest terms, read it over aloud as he had read over what went + before, signed his name and address at the end, and made the doctor sign + next, as witness of the proceedings, and as medical evidence of the + condition in which Mr. Armadale then lay. This done, he placed the letter + in a second inclosure, sealed it as before, and directed it to Mr. + Hammick, with the superscription of “private” added to the address. “Do + you insist on my posting this?” he asked, rising with the letter in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Give him time to think,” said the doctor. “For the child’s sake, give him + time to think! A minute may change him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will give him five minutes,” answered Mr. Neal, placing his watch on + the table, implacable just to the very last. + </p> + <p> + They waited, both looking attentively at Mr. Armadale. The signs of change + which had appeared in him already were multiplying fast. The movement + which continued mental agitation had communicated to the muscles of his + face was beginning, under the same dangerous influence, to spread + downward. His once helpless hands lay still no longer; they struggled + pitiably on the bedclothes. At sight of that warning token, the doctor + turned with a gesture of alarm, and beckoned Mr. Neal to come nearer. “Put + the question at once,” he said; “if you let the five minutes pass, you may + be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal approached the bed. He, too, noticed the movement of the hands. + “Is that a bad sign?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor bent his head gravely. “Put your question at once,” he + repeated, “or you may be too late.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal held the letter before the eyes of the dying man “Do you know + what this is?” + </p> + <p> + “My letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you insist on my posting it?” + </p> + <p> + He mastered his failing speech for the last time, and gave the answer: + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Neal moved to the door, with the letter in his hand. The German + followed him a few steps, opened his lips to plead for a longer delay, met + the Scotchman’s inexorable eye, and drew back again in silence. The door + closed and parted them, without a word having passed on either side. + </p> + <p> + The doctor went back to the bed and whispered to the sinking man: “Let me + call him back; there is time to stop him yet!” It was useless. No answer + came; nothing showed that he heeded, or even heard. His eyes wandered from + the child, rested for a moment on his own struggling hand, and looked up + entreatingly in the compassionate face that bent over him. The doctor + lifted the hand, paused, followed the father’s longing eyes back to the + child, and, interpreting his last wish, moved the hand gently toward the + boy’s head. The hand touched it, and trembled violently. In another + instant the trembling seized on the arm, and spread over the whole upper + part of the body. The face turned from pale to red, from red to purple, + from purple to pale again. Then the toiling hands lay still, and the + shifting color changed no more. + </p> + <p> + The window of the next room was open, when the doctor entered it from the + death chamber, with the child in his arms. He looked out as he passed by, + and saw Mr. Neal in the street below, slowly returning to the inn. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the letter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Three words sufficed for the Scotchman’s answer. + </p> + <p> + “In the post.” + </p> + <p> + THE END OF THE PROLOGUE. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0006" id="H2_4_0006"></a> THE STORY. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0007" id="H2_4_0007"></a> BOOK THE FIRST. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0008" id="H2_4_0008"></a> I. THE MYSTERY OF OZIAS + MIDWINTER. + </h2> + <p> + ON a warm May night, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-one, the + Reverend Decimus Brock—at that time a visitor to the Isle of Man—retired + to his bedroom at Castletown, with a serious personal responsibility in + close pursuit of him, and with no distinct idea of the means by which he + might relieve himself from the pressure of his present circumstances. + </p> + <p> + The clergyman had reached that mature period of human life at which a + sensible man learns to decline (as often as his temper will let him) all + useless conflict with the tyranny of his own troubles. Abandoning any + further effort to reach a decision in the emergency that now beset him, + Mr. Brock sat down placidly in his shirt sleeves on the side of his bed, + and applied his mind to consider next whether the emergency itself was as + serious as he had hitherto been inclined to think it. Following this new + way out of his perplexities, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly + traveling to the end in view by the least inspiriting of all human + journeys—a journey through the past years of his own life. + </p> + <p> + One by one the events of those years—all connected with the same + little group of characters, and all more or less answerable for the + anxiety which was now intruding itself between the clergyman and his + night’s rest—rose, in progressive series, on Mr. Brock’s memory. The + first of the series took him back, through a period of fourteen years, to + his own rectory on the Somersetshire shores of the Bristol Channel, and + closeted him at a private interview with a lady who had paid him a visit + in the character of a total stranger to the parson and the place. + </p> + <p> + The lady’s complexion was fair, the lady’s figure was well preserved; she + was still a young woman, and she looked even younger than her age. There + was a shade of melancholy in her expression, and an undertone of suffering + in her voice—enough, in each case, to indicate that she had known + trouble, but not enough to obtrude that trouble on the notice of others. + She brought with her a fine, fair-haired boy of eight years old, whom she + presented as her son, and who was sent out of the way, at the beginning of + the interview, to amuse himself in the rectory garden. Her card had + preceded her entrance into the study, and had announced her under the name + of “Mrs. Armadale.” Mr. Brock began to feel interested in her before she + had opened her lips; and when the son had been dismissed, he awaited with + some anxiety to hear what the mother had to say to him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armadale began by informing the rector that she was a widow. Her + husband had perished by shipwreck a short time after their union, on the + voyage from Madeira to Lisbon. She had been brought to England, after her + affliction, under her father’s protection; and her child—a + posthumous son—had been born on the family estate in Norfolk. Her + father’s death, shortly afterward, had deprived her of her only surviving + parent, and had exposed her to neglect and misconstruction on the part of + her remaining relatives (two brothers), which had estranged her from them, + she feared, for the rest of her days. For some time past she had lived in + the neighboring county of Devonshire, devoting herself to the education of + her boy, who had now reached an age at which he required other than his + mother’s teaching. Leaving out of the question her own unwillingness to + part with him, in her solitary position, she was especially anxious that + he should not be thrown among strangers by being sent to school. Her + darling project was to bring him up privately at home, and to keep him, as + he advanced in years, from all contact with the temptations and the + dangers of the world. + </p> + <p> + With these objects in view, her longer sojourn in her own locality (where + the services of the resident clergyman, in the capacity of tutor, were not + obtainable) must come to an end. She had made inquiries, had heard of a + house that would suit her in Mr. Brock’s neighborhood, and had also been + told that Mr. Brock himself had formerly been in the habit of taking + pupils. Possessed of this information, she had ventured to present + herself, with references that vouched for her respectability, but without + a formal introduction; and she had now to ask whether (in the event of her + residing in the neighborhood) any terms that could be offered would induce + Mr. Brock to open his doors once more to a pupil, and to allow that pupil + to be her son. + </p> + <p> + If Mrs. Armadale had been a woman of no personal attractions, or if Mr. + Brock had been provided with an intrenchment to fight behind in the shape + of a wife, it is probable that the widow’s journey might have been taken + in vain. As things really were, the rector examined the references which + were offered to him, and asked time for consideration. When the time had + expired, he did what Mrs. Armadale wished him to do—he offered his + back to the burden, and let the mother load him with the responsibility of + the son. + </p> + <p> + This was the first event of the series; the date of it being the year + eighteen hundred and thirty-seven. Mr. Brock’s memory, traveling forward + toward the present from that point, picked up the second event in its + turn, and stopped next at the year eighteen hundred and forty-five. + </p> + <p> + —————— + </p> + <p> + The fishing-village on the Somersetshire coast was still the scene, and + the characters were once again—Mrs. Armadale and her son. + </p> + <p> + Through the eight years that had passed, Mr. Brock’s responsibility had + rested on him lightly enough. The boy had given his mother and his tutor + but little trouble. He was certainly slow over his books, but more from a + constitutional inability to fix his attention on his tasks than from want + of capacity to understand them. His temperament, it could not be denied, + was heedless to the last degree: he acted recklessly on his first + impulses, and rushed blindfold at all his conclusions. On the other hand, + it was to be said in his favor that his disposition was open as the day; a + more generous, affectionate, sweet-tempered lad it would have been hard to + find anywhere. A certain quaint originality of character, and a natural + healthiness in all his tastes, carried him free of most of the dangers to + which his mother’s system of education inevitably exposed him. He had a + thoroughly English love of the sea and of all that belongs to it; and as + he grew in years, there was no luring him away from the water-side, and no + keeping him out of the boat-builder’s yard. In course of time his mother + caught him actually working there, to her infinite annoyance and surprise, + as a volunteer. He acknowledged that his whole future ambition was to have + a yard of his own, and that his one present object was to learn to build a + boat for himself. Wisely foreseeing that such a pursuit as this for his + leisure hours was exactly what was wanted to reconcile the lad to a + position of isolation from companions of his own rank and age, Mr. Brock + prevailed on Mrs. Armadale, with no small difficulty, to let her son have + his way. At the period of that second event in the clergyman’s life with + his pupil which is now to be related, young Armadale had practiced long + enough in the builder’s yard to have reached the summit of his wishes, by + laying with his own hands the keel of his own boat. + </p> + <p> + Late on a certain summer day, not long after Allan had completed his + sixteenth year, Mr. Brock left his pupil hard at work in the yard, and + went to spend the evening with Mrs. Armadale, taking the <i>Times</i> + newspaper with him in his hand. + </p> + <p> + The years that had passed since they had first met had long since + regulated the lives of the clergyman and his neighbor. The first advances + which Mr. Brock’s growing admiration for the widow had led him to make in + the early days of their intercourse had been met on her side by an appeal + to his forbearance which had closed his lips for the future. She had + satisfied him, at once and forever, that the one place in her heart which + he could hope to occupy was the place of a friend. He loved her well + enough to take what she would give him: friends they became, and friends + they remained from that time forth. No jealous dread of another man’s + succeeding where he had failed imbittered the clergyman’s placid relations + with the woman whom he loved. Of the few resident gentlemen in the + neighborhood, none were ever admitted by Mrs. Armadale to more than the + merest acquaintance with her. Contentedly self-buried in her country + retreat, she was proof against every social attraction that would have + tempted other women in her position and at her age. Mr. Brock and his + newspaper, appearing with monotonous regularity at her tea-table three + times a week, told her all she knew or cared to know of the great outer + world which circled round the narrow and changeless limits of her daily + life. + </p> + <p> + On the evening in question Mr. Brock took the arm-chair in which he always + sat, accepted the one cup of tea which he always drank, and opened the + newspaper which he always read aloud to Mrs. Armadale, who invariably + listened to him reclining on the same sofa, with the same sort of + needle-work everlastingly in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” cried the rector, with his voice in a new octave, and his + eyes fixed in astonishment on the first page of the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + No such introduction to the evening readings as this had ever happened + before in all Mrs. Armadale’s experience as a listener. She looked up from + the sofa in a flutter of curiosity, and besought her reverend friend to + favor her with an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I can hardly believe my own eyes,” said Mr. Brock. “Here is an + advertisement, Mrs. Armadale, addressed to your son.” + </p> + <p> + Without further preface, he read the advertisement as follows: + </p> + <p> + IF this should meet the eye of ALLAN ARMADALE, he is desired to + communicate, either personally or by letter, with Messrs. Hammick and + Ridge (Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London), on business of importance which + seriously concerns him. Any one capable of informing Messrs. H. and R. + where the person herein advertised can be found would confer a favor by + doing the same. To prevent mistakes, it is further notified that the + missing Allan Armadale is a youth aged fifteen years, and that this + advertisement is inserted at the instance of his family and friends. + </p> + <p> + “Another family, and other friends,” said Mrs. Armadale. “The person whose + name appears in that advertisement is not my son.” + </p> + <p> + The tone in which she spoke surprised Mr. Brock. The change in her face, + when he looked up, shocked him. Her delicate complexion had faded away to + a dull white; her eyes were averted from her visitor with a strange + mixture of confusion and alarm; she looked an older woman than she was, by + ten good years at least. + </p> + <p> + “The name is so very uncommon,” said Mr. Brock, imagining he had offended + her, and trying to excuse himself. “It really seemed impossible there + could be two persons—” + </p> + <p> + “There <i>are</i> two,” interposed Mrs. Armadale. “Allan, as you know, is + sixteen years old. If you look back at the advertisement, you will find + the missing person described as being only fifteen. Although he bears the + same surname and the same Christian name, he is, I thank God, in no way + whatever related to my son. As long as I live, it will be the object of my + hopes and prayers that Allan may never see him, may never even hear of + him. My kind friend, I see I surprise you: will you bear with me if I + leave these strange circumstances unexplained? There is past misfortune + and misery in my early life too painful for me to speak of, even to <i>you</i>. + Will you help me to bear the remembrance of it, by never referring to this + again? Will you do even more—will you promise not to speak of it to + Allan, and not to let that newspaper fall in his way?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock gave the pledge required of him, and considerately left her to + herself. + </p> + <p> + The rector had been too long and too truly attached to Mrs. Armadale to be + capable of regarding her with any unworthy distrust. But it would be idle + to deny that he felt disappointed by her want of confidence in him, and + that he looked inquisitively at the advertisement more than once on his + way back to his own house. + </p> + <p> + It was clear enough, now, that Mrs. Armadale’s motives for burying her son + as well as herself in the seclusion of a remote country village was not so + much to keep him under her own eye as to keep him from discovery by his + namesake. Why did she dread the idea of their ever meeting? Was it a dread + for herself, or a dread for her son? Mr. Brock’s loyal belief in his + friend rejected any solution of the difficulty which pointed at some past + misconduct of Mrs. Armadale’s. That night he destroyed the advertisement + with his own hand; that night he resolved that the subject should never be + suffered to enter his mind again. There was another Allan Armadale about + the world, a stranger to his pupil’s blood, and a vagabond advertised in + the public newspapers. So much accident had revealed to him. More, for + Mrs. Armadale’s sake, he had no wish to discover—and more he would + never seek to know. + </p> + <p> + This was the second in the series of events which dated from the rector’s + connection with Mrs. Armadale and her son. Mr. Brock’s memory, traveling + on nearer and nearer to present circumstances, reached the third stage of + its journey through the by-gone time, and stopped at the year eighteen + hundred and fifty, next. + </p> + <p> + The five years that had passed had made little if any change in Allan’s + character. He had simply developed (to use his tutor’s own expression) + from a boy of sixteen to a boy of twenty-one. He was just as easy and open + in his disposition as ever; just as quaintly and inveterately + good-humored; just as heedless in following his own impulses, lead him + where they might. His bias toward the sea had strengthened with his + advance to the years of manhood. From building a boat, he had now got on—with + two journeymen at work under him—to building a decked vessel of + five-and-thirty tons. Mr. Brock had conscientiously tried to divert him to + higher aspirations; had taken him to Oxford, to see what college life was + like; had taken him to London, to expand his mind by the spectacle of the + great metropolis. The change had diverted Allan, but had not altered him + in the least. He was as impenetrably superior to all worldly ambition as + Diogenes himself. “Which is best,” asked this unconscious philosopher, “to + find out the way to be happy for yourself, or to let other people try if + they can find it out for you?” From that moment Mr. Brock permitted his + pupil’s character to grow at its own rate of development, and Allan went + on uninterruptedly with the work of his yacht. + </p> + <p> + Time, which had wrought so little change in the son, had not passed + harmless over the mother. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armadale’s health was breaking fast. As her strength failed, her + temper altered for the worse: she grew more and more fretful, more and + more subject to morbid fears and fancies, more and more reluctant to leave + her own room. Since the appearance of the advertisement five years since, + nothing had happened to force her memory back to the painful associations + connected with her early life. No word more on the forbidden topic had + passed between the rector and herself; no suspicion had ever been raised + in Allan’s mind of the existence of his namesake; and yet, without the + shadow of a reason for any special anxiety, Mrs. Armadale had become, of + late years, obstinately and fretfully uneasy on the subject of her son. + More than once Mr. Brock dreaded a serious disagreement between them; but + Allan’s natural sweetness of temper, fortified by his love for his mother, + carried him triumphantly through all trials. Not a hard word or a harsh + look ever escaped him in her presence; he was unchangeably loving and + forbearing with her to the very last. + </p> + <p> + Such were the positions of the son, the mother, and the friend, when the + next notable event happened in the lives of the three. On a dreary + afternoon, early in the month of November, Mr. Brock was disturbed over + the composition of his sermon by a visit from the landlord of the village + inn. + </p> + <p> + After making his introductory apologies, the landlord stated the urgent + business on which he had come to the rectory clearly enough. + </p> + <p> + A few hours since a young man had been brought to the inn by some farm + laborers in the neighborhood, who had found him wandering about one of + their master’s fields in a disordered state of mind, which looked to their + eyes like downright madness. The landlord had given the poor creature + shelter while he sent for medical help; and the doctor, on seeing him, had + pronounced that he was suffering from fever on the brain, and that his + removal to the nearest town at which a hospital or a work-house infirmary + could be found to receive him would in all probability be fatal to his + chances of recovery. After hearing this expression of opinion, and after + observing for himself that the stranger’s only luggage consisted of a + small carpet-bag which had been found in the field near him, the landlord + had set off on the spot to consult the rector, and to ask, in this serious + emergency, what course he was to take next. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock was the magistrate as well as the clergyman of the district, and + the course to be taken, in the first instance, was to his mind clear + enough. He put on his hat, and accompanied the landlord back to the inn. + </p> + <p> + At the inn door they were joined by Allan, who had heard the news through + another channel, and who was waiting Mr. Brock’s arrival, to follow in the + magistrate’s train, and to see what the stranger was like. The village + surgeon joined them at the same moment, and the four went into the inn + together. + </p> + <p> + They found the landlord’s son on one side, and the hostler on the other, + holding the man down in his chair. Young, slim, and undersized, he was + strong enough at that moment to make it a matter of difficulty for the two + to master him. His tawny complexion, his large, bright brown eyes, and his + black beard gave him something of a foreign look. His dress was a little + worn, but his linen was clean. His dusky hands were wiry and nervous, and + were lividly discolored in more places than one by the scars of old + wounds. The toes of one of his feet, off which he had kicked the shoe, + grasped at the chair rail through his stocking, with the sensitive + muscular action which is only seen in those who have been accustomed to go + barefoot. In the frenzy that now possessed him, it was impossible to + notice, to any useful purpose, more than this. After a whispered + consultation with Mr. Brock, the surgeon personally superintended the + patient’s removal to a quiet bedroom at the back of the house. Shortly + afterward his clothes and his carpet-bag were sent downstairs, and were + searched, on the chance of finding a clew by which to communicate with his + friends, in the magistrate’s presence. + </p> + <p> + The carpet-bag contained nothing but a change of clothing, and two books—the + Plays of Sophocles, in the original Greek, and the “Faust” of Goethe, in + the original German. Both volumes were much worn by reading, and on the + fly-leaf of each were inscribed the initials O. M. So much the bag + revealed, and no more. + </p> + <p> + The clothes which the man wore when he was discovered in the field were + tried next. A purse (containing a sovereign and a few shillings), a pipe, + a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, and a little drinking-cup of horn were + produced in succession. The next object, and the last, was found crumpled + up carelessly in the breast-pocket of the coat. It was a written + testimonial to character, dated and signed, but without any address. + </p> + <p> + So far as this document could tell it, the stranger’s story was a sad one + indeed. He had apparently been employed for a short time as usher at a + school, and had been turned adrift in the world, at the outset of his + illness, from the fear that the fever might be infectious, and that the + prosperity of the establishment might suffer accordingly. Not the + slightest imputation of any misbehavior in his employment rested on him. + On the contrary, the schoolmaster had great pleasure in testifying to his + capacity and his character, and in expressing a fervent hope that he might + (under Providence) succeed in recovering his health in somebody else’s + house. The written testimonial which afforded this glimpse at the man’s + story served one purpose more: it connected him with the initials on the + books, and identified him to the magistrate and the landlord under the + strangely uncouth name of Ozias Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock laid aside the testimonial, suspecting that the schoolmaster had + purposely abstained from writing his address on it, with the view of + escaping all responsibility in the event of his usher’s death. In any + case, it was manifestly useless, under existing circumstances, to think of + tracing the poor wretch’s friends, if friends he had. To the inn he had + been brought, and, as a matter of common humanity, at the inn he must + remain for the present. The difficulty about expenses, if it came to the + worst, might possibly be met by charitable contributions from the + neighbors, or by a collection after a sermon at church. Assuring the + landlord that he would consider this part of the question and would let + him know the result, Mr. Brock quitted the inn, without noticing for the + moment that he had left Allan there behind him. + </p> + <p> + Before he had got fifty yards from the house his pupil overtook him. Allan + had been most uncharacteristically silent and serious all through the + search at the inn; but he had now recovered his usual high spirits. A + stranger would have set him down as wanting in common feeling. + </p> + <p> + “This is a sad business,” said the rector. “I really don’t know what to do + for the best about that unfortunate man.” + </p> + <p> + “You may make your mind quite easy, sir,” said young Armadale, in his + off-hand way. “I settled it all with the landlord a minute ago.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” exclaimed Mr. Brock, in the utmost astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I have merely given a few simple directions,” pursued Allan. “Our friend + the usher is to have everything he requires, and is to be treated like a + prince; and when the doctor and the landlord want their money they are to + come to me.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Allan,” Mr. Brock gently remonstrated, “when will you learn to + think before you act on those generous impulses of yours? You are spending + more money already on your yacht-building than you can afford—” + </p> + <p> + “Only think! we laid the first planks of the deck the day before + yesterday,” said Allan, flying off to the new subject in his usual + bird-witted way. “There’s just enough of it done to walk on, if you don’t + feel giddy. I’ll help you up the ladder, Mr. Brock, if you’ll only come + and try.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me,” persisted the rector. “I’m not talking about the yacht + now; that is to say, I am only referring to the yacht as an illustration—” + </p> + <p> + “And a very pretty illustration, too,” remarked the incorrigible Allan. + “Find me a smarter little vessel of her size in all England, and I’ll give + up yacht-building to-morrow. Whereabouts were we in our conversation, sir? + I’m rather afraid we have lost ourselves somehow.” + </p> + <p> + “I am rather afraid one of us is in the habit of losing himself every time + he opens his lips,” retorted Mr. Brock. “Come, come, Allan, this is + serious. You have been rendering yourself liable for expenses which you + may not be able to pay. Mind, I am far from blaming you for your kind + feeling toward this poor friendless man—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be low-spirited about him, sir. He’ll get over it—he’ll be + all right again in a week or so. A capital fellow, I have not the least + doubt!” continued Allan, whose habit it was to believe in everybody and to + despair of nothing. “Suppose you ask him to dinner when he gets well, Mr. + Brock? I should like to find out (when we are all three snug and friendly + together over our wine, you know) how he came by that extraordinary name + of his. Ozias Midwinter! Upon my life, his father ought to be ashamed of + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you answer me one question before I go in?” said the rector, + stopping in despair at his own gate. “This man’s bill for lodging and + medical attendance may mount to twenty or thirty pounds before he gets + well again, if he ever does get well. How are you to pay for it?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that the Chancellor of the Exchequer says when he finds himself in + a mess with his accounts, and doesn’t see his way out again?” asked Allan. + “He always tells his honorable friend he is quite willing to leave a + something or other—” + </p> + <p> + “A margin?” suggested Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” said Allan. “I’m like the Chancellor of the Exchequer. I’m + quite willing to leave a margin. The yacht (bless her heart!) doesn’t eat + up everything. If I’m short by a pound or two, don’t be afraid, sir. + There’s no pride about me; I’ll go round with the hat, and get the balance + in the neighborhood. Deuce take the pounds, shillings, and pence! I wish + they could all three get rid of themselves, like the Bedouin brothers at + the show. Don’t you remember the Bedouin brothers, Mr. Brock? ‘Ali will + take a lighted torch, and jump down the throat of his brother Muli; Muli + will take a lighted torch, and jump down the throat of his brother Hassan; + and Hassan, taking a third lighted torch, will conclude the performances + by jumping down his own throat, and leaving the spectators in total + darkness.’ Wonderfully good, that—what I call real wit, with a fine + strong flavor about it. Wait a minute! Where are we? We have lost + ourselves again. Oh, I remember—money. What I can’t beat into my + thick head,” concluded Allan, quite unconscious that he was preaching + socialist doctrines to a clergyman; “is the meaning of the fuss that’s + made about giving money away. Why can’t the people who have got money to + spare give it to the people who haven’t got money to spare, and make + things pleasant and comfortable all the world over in that way? You’re + always telling me to cultivate ideas, Mr. Brock There’s an idea, and, upon + my life, I don’t think it’s a bad one.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock gave his pupil a good-humored poke with the end of his stick. + “Go back to your yacht,” he said. “All the little discretion you have got + in that flighty head of yours is left on board in your tool-chest. How + that lad will end,” pursued the rector, when he was left by himself, “is + more than any human being can say. I almost wish I had never taken the + responsibility of him on my shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + Three weeks passed before the stranger with the uncouth name was + pronounced to be at last on the way to recovery. + </p> + <p> + During this period Allan had made regular inquiries at the inn, and, as + soon as the sick man was allowed to see visitors, Allan was the first who + appeared at his bedside. So far Mr. Brock’s pupil had shown no more than a + natural interest in one of the few romantic circumstances which had varied + the monotony of the village life: he had committed no imprudence, and he + had exposed himself to no blame. But as the days passed, young Armadale’s + visits to the inn began to lengthen considerably, and the surgeon (a + cautious elderly man) gave the rector a private hint to bestir himself. + Mr. Brock acted on the hint immediately, and discovered that Allan had + followed his usual impulses in his usual headlong way. He had taken a + violent fancy to the castaway usher and had invited Ozias Midwinter to + reside permanently in the neighborhood in the new and interesting + character of his bosom friend. + </p> + <p> + Before Mr. Brock could make up his mind how to act in this emergency, he + received a note from Allan’s mother, begging him to use his privilege as + an old friend, and to pay her a visit in her room. + </p> + <p> + He found Mrs. Armadale suffering under violent nervous agitation, caused + entirely by a recent interview with her son. Allan had been sitting with + her all the morning, and had talked of nothing but his new friend. The man + with the horrible name (as poor Mrs. Armadale described him) had + questioned Allan, in a singularly inquisitive manner, on the subject of + himself and his family, but had kept his own personal history entirely in + the dark. At some former period of his life he had been accustomed to the + sea and to sailing. Allan had, unfortunately, found this out, and a bond + of union between them was formed on the spot. With a merciless distrust of + the stranger—simply <i>because</i> he was a stranger—which + appeared rather unreasonable to Mr. Brock, Mrs. Armadale besought the + rector to go to the inn without a moment’s loss of time, and never to rest + until he had made the man give a proper account of himself. “Find out + everything about his father and mother!” she said, in her vehement female + way. “Make sure before you leave him that he is not a vagabond roaming the + country under an assumed name.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady,” remonstrated the rector, obediently taking his hat, + “whatever else we may doubt, I really think we may feel sure about the + man’s name! It is so remarkably ugly that it must be genuine. No sane + human being would <i>assume</i> such a name as Ozias Midwinter.” + </p> + <p> + “You may be quite right, and I may be quite wrong; but pray go and see + him,” persisted Mrs. Armadale. “Go, and don’t spare him, Mr. Brock. How do + we know that this illness of his may not have been put on for a purpose?” + </p> + <p> + It was useless to reason with her. The whole College of Physicians might + have certified to the man’s illness, and, in her present frame of mind, + Mrs. Armadale would have disbelieved the College, one and all, from the + president downward. Mr. Brock took the wise way out of the difficulty—he + said no more, and he set off for the inn immediately. + </p> + <p> + Ozias Midwinter, recovering from brain-fever, was a startling object to + contemplate on a first view of him. His shaven head, tied up in an old + yellow silk handkerchief; his tawny, haggard cheeks; his bright brown + eyes, preternaturally large and wild; his rough black beard; his long, + supple, sinewy fingers, wasted by suffering till they looked like claws—all + tended to discompose the rector at the outset of the interview. When the + first feeling of surprise had worn off, the impression that followed it + was not an agreeable one. Mr. Brock could not conceal from himself that + the stranger’s manner was against him. The general opinion has settled + that, if a man is honest, he is bound to assert it by looking straight at + his fellow-creatures when he speaks to them. If this man was honest, his + eyes showed a singular perversity in looking away and denying it. Possibly + they were affected in some degree by a nervous restlessness in his + organization, which appeared to pervade every fiber in his lean, lithe + body. The rector’s healthy Anglo-Saxon flesh crept responsively at every + casual movement of the usher’s supple brown fingers, and every passing + distortion of the usher’s haggard yellow face. “God forgive me!” thought + Mr. Brock, with his mind running on Allan and Allan’s mother, “I wish I + could see my way to turning Ozias Midwinter adrift in the world again!” + </p> + <p> + The conversation which ensued between the two was a very guarded one. Mr. + Brock felt his way gently, and found himself, try where he might, always + kept politely, more or less, in the dark. + </p> + <p> + From first to last, the man’s real character shrank back with a savage + shyness from the rector’s touch. He started by an assertion which it was + impossible to look at him and believe—he declared that he was only + twenty years of age. All he could be persuaded to say on the subject of + the school was that the bare recollection of it was horrible to him. He + had only filled the usher’s situation for ten days when the first + appearance of his illness caused his dismissal. How he had reached the + field in which he had been found was more than he could say. He remembered + traveling a long distance by railway, with a purpose (if he had a purpose) + which it was now impossible to recall, and then wandering coastward, on + foot, all through the day, or all through the night—he was not sure + which. The sea kept running in his mind when his mind began to give way. + He had been employed on the sea as a lad. He had left it, and had filled a + situation at a bookseller’s in a country town. He had left the + bookseller’s, and had tried the school. Now the school had turned him out, + he must try something else. It mattered little what he tried—failure + (for which nobody was ever to blame but himself) was sure to be the end of + it, sooner or later. Friends to assist him, he had none to apply to; and + as for relations, he wished to be excused from speaking of them. For all + he knew they might be dead, and for all <i>they</i> knew <i>he</i> might + be dead. That was a melancholy acknowledgment to make at his time of life, + there was no denying it. It might tell against him in the opinions of + others; and it did tell against him, no doubt, in the opinion of the + gentleman who was talking to him at that moment. + </p> + <p> + These strange answers were given in a tone and manner far removed from + bitterness on the one side, or from indifference on the other. Ozias + Midwinter at twenty spoke of his life as Ozias Midwinter at seventy might + have spoken with a long weariness of years on him which he had learned to + bear patiently. + </p> + <p> + Two circumstances pleaded strongly against the distrust with which, in + sheer perplexity of mind, Mr. Brock blindly regarded him. He had written + to a savings-bank in a distant part of England, had drawn his money, and + had paid the doctor and the landlord. A man of vulgar mind, after acting + in this manner, would have treated his obligations lightly when he had + settled his bills. Ozias Midwinter spoke of his obligations—and + especially of his obligation to Allan—with a fervor of thankfulness + which it was not surprising only, but absolutely painful to witness. He + showed a horrible sincerity of astonishment at having been treated with + common Christian kindness in a Christian land. He spoke of Allan’s having + become answerable for all the expenses of sheltering, nursing, and curing + him, with a savage rapture of gratitude and surprise which burst out of + him like a flash of lightning. “So help me God!” cried the castaway usher, + “I never met with the like of him: I never heard of the like of him + before!” In the next instant, the one glimpse of light which the man had + let in on his own passionate nature was quenched again in darkness. His + wandering eyes, returning to their old trick, looked uneasily away from + Mr. Brock, and his voice dropped back once more into its unnatural + steadiness and quietness of tone. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said. “I + have been used to be hunted, and cheated, and starved. Everything else + comes strange to me.” Half attracted by the man, half repelled by him, Mr. + Brock, on rising to take leave, impulsively offered his hand, and then, + with a sudden misgiving, confusedly drew it back again. “You meant that + kindly, sir,” said Ozias Midwinter, with his own hands crossed resolutely + behind him. “I don’t complain of your thinking better of it. A man who + can’t give a proper account of himself is not a man for a gentleman in + your position to take by the hand.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock left the inn thoroughly puzzled. Before returning to Mrs. + Armadale he sent for her son. The chances were that the guard had been off + the stranger’s tongue when he spoke to Allan, and with Allan’s frankness + there was no fear of his concealing anything that had passed between them + from the rector’s knowledge. + </p> + <p> + Here again Mr. Brock’s diplomacy achieved no useful results. + </p> + <p> + Once started on the subject of Ozias Midwinter, Allan rattled on about his + new friend in his usual easy, light-hearted way. But he had really nothing + of importance to tell, for nothing of importance had been revealed to him. + They had talked about boat-building and sailing by the hour together, and + Allan had got some valuable hints. They had discussed (with diagrams to + assist them, and with more valuable hints for Allan) the serious impending + question of the launch of the yacht. On other occasions they had diverged + to other subjects—to more of them than Allan could remember, on the + spur of the moment. Had Midwinter said nothing about his relations in the + flow of all this friendly talk? Nothing, except that they had not behaved + well to him—hang his relations! Was he at all sensitive on the + subject of his own odd name? Not the least in the world; he had set the + example, like a sensible fellow, of laughing at it himself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock still persisted. He inquired next what Allan had seen in the + stranger to take such a fancy to? Allan had seen in him—what he + didn’t see in people in general. He wasn’t like all the other fellows in + the neighborhood. All the other fellows were cut out on the same pattern. + Every man of them was equally healthy, muscular, loud, hard-hearted, + clean-skinned, and rough; every man of them drank the same draughts of + beer, smoked the same short pipes all day long, rode the best horse, shot + over the best dog, and put the best bottle of wine in England on his table + at night; every man of them sponged himself every morning in the same sort + of tub of cold water and bragged about it in frosty weather in the same + sort of way; every man of them thought getting into debt a capital joke + and betting on horse-races one of the most meritorious actions that a + human being can perform. They were, no doubt, excellent fellows in their + way; but the worst of them was, they were all exactly alike. It was a + perfect godsend to meet with a man like Midwinter—a man who was not + cut out on the regular local pattern, and whose way in the world had the + one great merit (in those parts) of being a way of his own. + </p> + <p> + Leaving all remonstrances for a fitter opportunity, the rector went back + to Mrs. Armadale. He could not disguise from himself that Allan’s mother + was the person really answerable for Allan’s present indiscretion. If the + lad had seen a little less of the small gentry in the neighborhood, and a + little more of the great outside world at home and abroad, the pleasure of + cultivating Ozias Midwinter’s society might have had fewer attractions for + him. + </p> + <p> + Conscious of the unsatisfactory result of his visit to the inn, Mr. Brock + felt some anxiety about the reception of his report when he found himself + once more in Mrs. Armadale’s presence. His forebodings were soon realized. + Try as he might to make the best of it, Mrs. Armadale seized on the one + suspicious fact of the usher’s silence about himself as justifying the + strongest measures that could be taken to separate him from her son. If + the rector refused to interfere, she declared her intention of writing to + Ozias Midwinter with her own hand. Remonstrance irritated her to such a + pitch that she astounded Mr. Brock by reverting to the forbidden subject + of five years since, and referring him to the conversation which had + passed between them when the advertisement had been discovered in the + newspaper. She passionately declared that the vagabond Armadale of that + advertisement, and the vagabond Midwinter at the village inn, might, for + all she know to the contrary, be one and the same. Foreboding a serious + disagreement between the mother and son if the mother interfered, Mr. + Brock undertook to see Midwinter again, and to tell him plainly that he + must give a proper account of himself, or that his intimacy with Allan + must cease. The two concessions which he exacted from Mrs. Armadale in + return were that she should wait patiently until the doctor reported the + man fit to travel, and that she should be careful in the interval not to + mention the matter in any way to her son. + </p> + <p> + In a week’s time Midwinter was able to drive out (with Allan for his + coachman) in the pony chaise belonging to the inn, and in ten days the + doctor privately reported him as fit to travel. Toward the close of that + tenth day, Mr. Brock met Allan and his new friend enjoying the last gleams + of wintry sunshine in one of the inland lanes. He waited until the two had + separated, and then followed the usher on his way back to the inn. + </p> + <p> + The rector’s resolution to speak pitilessly to the purpose was in some + danger of failing him as he drew nearer and nearer to the friendless man, + and saw how feebly he still walked, how loosely his worn coat hung about + him, and how heavily he leaned on his cheap, clumsy stick. Humanely + reluctant to say the decisive words too precipitately, Mr. Brock tried him + first with a little compliment on the range of his reading, as shown by + the volume of Sophocles and the volume of Goethe which had been found in + his bag, and asked how long he had been acquainted with German and Greek. + The quick ear of Midwinter detected something wrong in the tone of Mr. + Brock’s voice. He turned in the darkening twilight, and looked suddenly + and suspiciously in the rector’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You have something to say to me,” he answered; “and it is not what you + are saying now.” + </p> + <p> + There was no help for it but to accept the challenge. Very delicately, + with many preparatory words, to which the other listened in unbroken + silence, Mr. Brock came little by little nearer and nearer to the point. + Long before he had really reached it—long before a man of no more + than ordinary sensibility would have felt what was coming—Ozias + Midwinter stood still in the lane, and told the rector that he need say no + more. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, sir,” said the usher. “Mr. Armadale has an ascertained + position in the world; Mr. Armadale has nothing to conceal, and nothing to + be ashamed of. I agree with you that I am not a fit companion for him. The + best return I can make for his kindness is to presume on it no longer. You + may depend on my leaving this place to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke no word more; he would hear no word more. With a self-control + which, at his years and with his temperament, was nothing less than + marvelous, he civilly took off his hat, bowed, and returned to the inn by + himself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock slept badly that night. The issue of the interview in the lane + had made the problem of Ozias Midwinter a harder problem to solve than + ever. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning a letter was brought to the rector from the inn, + and the messenger announced that the strange gentleman had taken his + departure. The letter inclosed an open note addressed to Allan, and + requested Allan’s tutor (after first reading it himself) to forward it or + not at his own sole discretion. The note was a startlingly short one; it + began and ended in a dozen words: “Don’t blame Mr. Brock; Mr. Brock is + right. Thank you, and good-by.—O. M.” + </p> + <p> + The rector forwarded the note to its proper destination, as a matter of + course, and sent a few lines to Mrs. Armadale at the same time to quiet + her anxiety by the news of the usher’s departure. This done, he waited the + visit from his pupil, which would probably follow the delivery of the + note, in no very tranquil frame of mind. There might or might not be some + deep motive at the bottom of Midwinter’s conduct; but thus far it was + impossible to deny that he had behaved in such a manner as to rebuke the + rector’s distrust, and to justify Allan’s good opinion of him. + </p> + <p> + The morning wore on, and young Armadale never appeared. After looking for + him vainly in the yard where the yacht was building, Mr. Brock went to + Mrs. Armadale’s house, and there heard news from the servant which turned + his steps in the direction of the inn. The landlord at once acknowledged + the truth: young Mr. Armadale had come there with an open letter in his + hand, and had insisted on being informed of the road which his friend had + taken. For the first time in the landlord’s experience of him, the young + gentleman was out of temper; and the girl who waited on the customers had + stupidly mentioned a circumstance which had added fuel to the fire. She + had acknowledged having heard Mr. Midwinter lock himself into his room + overnight, and burst into a violent fit of crying. That trifling + particular had set Mr. Armadale’s face all of a flame; he had shouted and + sworn; he had rushed into the stables; and forced the hostler to saddle + him a horse, and had set off full gallop on the road that Ozias Midwinter + had taken before him. + </p> + <p> + After cautioning the landlord to keep Allan’s conduct a secret if any of + Mrs. Armadale’s servants came that morning to the inn, Mr. Brock went home + again, and waited anxiously to see what the day would bring forth. + </p> + <p> + To his infinite relief his pupil appeared at the rectory late in the + afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Allan looked and spoke with a dogged determination which was quite new in + his old friend’s experience of him. Without waiting to be questioned, he + told his story in his usual straightforward way. He had overtaken + Midwinter on the road; and—after trying vainly first to induce him + to return, then to find out where he was going to—had threatened to + keep company with him for the rest of the day, and had so extorted the + confession that he was going to try his luck in London. Having gained this + point, Allan had asked next for his friend’s address in London, had been + entreated by the other not to press his request, had pressed it, + nevertheless, with all his might, and had got the address at last by + making an appeal to Midwinter’s gratitude, for which (feeling heartily + ashamed of himself) he had afterward asked Midwinter’s pardon. “I like the + poor fellow, and I won’t give him up,” concluded Allan, bringing his + clinched fist down with a thump on the rectory table. “Don’t be afraid of + my vexing my mother; I’ll leave you to speak to her, Mr. Brock, at your + own time and in your own way; and I’ll just say this much more by way of + bringing the thing to an end. Here is the address safe in my pocket-book, + and here am I, standing firm for once on a resolution of my own. I’ll give + you and my mother time to reconsider this; and, when the time is up, if my + friend Midwinter doesn’t come to <i>me</i>, I’ll go to my friend + Midwinter.” + </p> + <p> + So the matter rested for the present; and such was the result of turning + the castaway usher adrift in the world again. + </p> + <p> + —————— + </p> + <p> + A month passed, and brought in the new year—‘51. Overleaping that + short lapse of time, Mr. Brock paused, with a heavy heart, at the next + event; to his mind the one mournful, the one memorable event of the series—Mrs. + Armadale’s death. + </p> + <p> + The first warning of the affliction that was near at hand had followed + close on the usher’s departure in December, and had arisen out of a + circumstance which dwelt painfully on the rector’s memory from that time + forth. + </p> + <p> + But three days after Midwinter had left for London, Mr. Brock was accosted + in the village by a neatly dressed woman, wearing a gown and bonnet of + black silk and a red Paisley shawl, who was a total stranger to him, and + who inquired the way to Mrs. Armadale’s house. She put the question + without raising the thick black veil that hung over her face. Mr. Brock, + in giving her the necessary directions, observed that she was a remarkably + elegant and graceful woman, and looked after her as she bowed and left + him, wondering who Mrs. Armadale’s visitor could possibly be. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later the lady, still veiled as before, passed Mr. + Brock again close to the inn. She entered the house, and spoke to the + landlady. Seeing the landlord shortly afterward hurrying round to the + stables, Mr. Brock asked him if the lady was going away. Yes; she had come + from the railway in the omnibus, but she was going back again more + creditably in a carriage of her own hiring, supplied by the inn. + </p> + <p> + The rector proceeded on his walk, rather surprised to find his thoughts + running inquisitively on a woman who was a stranger to him. When he got + home again, he found the village surgeon waiting his return with an urgent + message from Allan’s mother. About an hour since, the surgeon had been + sent for in great haste to see Mrs. Armadale. He had found her suffering + from an alarming nervous attack, brought on (as the servants suspected) by + an unexpected, and, possibly, an unwelcome visitor, who had called that + morning. The surgeon had done all that was needful, and had no + apprehension of any dangerous results. Finding his patient eagerly + desirous, on recovering herself, to see Mr. Brock immediately, he had + thought it important to humor her, and had readily undertaken to call at + the rectory with a message to that effect. + </p> + <p> + Looking at Mrs. Armadale with a far deeper interest in her than the + surgeon’s interest, Mr. Brock saw enough in her face, when it turned + toward him on his entering the room, to justify instant and serious alarm. + She allowed him no opportunity of soothing her; she heeded none of his + inquiries. Answers to certain questions of her own were what she wanted, + and what she was determined to have: Had Mr. Brock seen the woman who had + presumed to visit her that morning? Yes. Had Allan seen her? No; Allan had + been at work since breakfast, and was at work still, in his yard by the + water-side. + </p> + <p> + This latter reply appeared to quiet Mrs. Armadale for the moment; she put + her next question—the most extraordinary question of the three—more + composedly: Did the rector think Allan would object to leaving his vessel + for the present, and to accompanying his mother on a journey to look out + for a new house in some other part of England? In the greatest amazement + Mr. Brock asked what reason there could possibly be for leaving her + present residence? Mrs. Armadale’s reason, when she gave it, only added to + his surprise. The woman’s first visit might be followed by a second; and + rather than see her again, rather than run the risk of Allan’s seeing her + and speaking to her, Mrs. Armadale would leave England if necessary, and + end her days in a foreign land. Taking counsel of his experience as a + magistrate, Mr. Brock inquired if the woman had come to ask for money. + Yes; respectably as she was dressed, she had described herself as being + “in distress”; had asked for money, and had got it. But the money was of + no importance; the one thing needful was to get away before the woman came + again. More and more surprised, Mr. Brock ventured on another question: + Was it long since Mrs. Armadale and her visitor had last met? Yes; longer + than all Allan’s lifetime—as long ago as the year before Allan was + born. + </p> + <p> + At that reply, the rector shifted his ground, and took counsel next of his + experience as a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Is this person,” he asked, “connected in any way with the painful + remembrances of your early life?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; with the painful remembrance of the time when I was married,” said + Mrs. Armadale. “She was associated, as a mere child, with a circumstance + which I must think of with shame and sorrow to my dying day.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock noticed the altered tone in which his old friend spoke, and the + unwillingness with which she gave her answer. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me more about her without referring to yourself?” he went + on. “I am sure I can protect you, if you will only help me a little. Her + name, for instance—you can tell me her name?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Armadale shook her head, “The name I knew her by,” she said, “would + be of no use to you. She has been married since then; she told me so + herself.” + </p> + <p> + “And without telling you her married name?” + </p> + <p> + “She refused to tell it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything of her friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Only of her friends when she was a child. They called themselves her + uncle and aunt. They were low people, and they deserted her at the school + on my father’s estate. We never heard any more of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she remain under your father’s care?” + </p> + <p> + “She remained under my care; that is to say, she traveled with us. We were + leaving England, just as that time, for Madeira. I had my father’s leave + to take her with me, and to train the wretch to be my maid—” + </p> + <p> + At those words Mrs. Armadale stopped confusedly. Mr. Brock tried gently to + lead her on. It was useless; she started up in violent agitation, and + walked excitedly backward and forward in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me any more!” she cried out, in loud, angry tones. “I parted + with her when she was a girl of twelve years old. I never saw her again, I + never heard of her again, from that time to this. I don’t know how she has + discovered me, after all the years that have passed; I only know that she + <i>has</i> discovered me. She will find her way to Allan next; she will + poison my son’s mind against me. Help me to get away from her! help me to + take Allan away before she comes back!” + </p> + <p> + The rector asked no more questions; it would have been cruel to press her + further. The first necessity was to compose her by promising compliance + with all that she desired. The second was to induce her to see another + medical man. Mr. Brock contrived to reach his end harmlessly in this + latter case by reminding her that she wanted strength to travel, and that + her own medical attendant might restore her all the more speedily to + herself if he were assisted by the best professional advice. Having + overcome her habitual reluctance to seeing strangers by this means, the + rector at once went to Allan; and, delicately concealing what Mrs. + Armadale had said at the interview, broke the news to him that his mother + was seriously ill. Allan would hear of no messengers being sent for + assistance: he drove off on the spot to the railway, and telegraphed + himself to Bristol for medical help. + </p> + <p> + On the next morning the help came, and Mr. Brock’s worst fears were + confirmed. The village surgeon had fatally misunderstood the case from the + first, and the time was past now at which his errors of treatment might + have been set right. The shock of the previous morning had completed the + mischief. Mrs. Armadale’s days were numbered. + </p> + <p> + The son who dearly loved her, the old friend to whom her life was + precious, hoped vainly to the last. In a month from the physician’s visit + all hope was over; and Allan shed the first bitter tears of his life at + his mother’s grave. + </p> + <p> + She had died more peacefully than Mr. Brock had dared to hope, leaving all + her little fortune to her son, and committing him solemnly to the care of + her one friend on earth. The rector had entreated her to let him write and + try to reconcile her brothers with her before it was too late. She had + only answered sadly that it was too late already. But one reference + escaped her in her last illness to those early sorrows which had weighed + heavily on all her after-life, and which had passed thrice already, like + shadows of evil, between the rector and herself. Even on her deathbed she + had shrunk from letting the light fall clearly on the story of the past. + She had looked at Allan kneeling by the bedside, and had whispered to Mr. + Brock: “<i>Never let his Namesake come near him! Never let that Woman find + him out</i>!” No word more fell from her that touched on the misfortunes + which had tried her in the past, or on the dangers which she dreaded in + the future. The secret which she had kept from her son and from her friend + was a secret which she carried with her to the grave. + </p> + <p> + When the last offices of affection and respect had been performed, Mr. + Brock felt it his duty, as executor to the deceased lady, to write to her + brothers, and to give them information of her death. Believing that he had + to deal with two men who would probably misinterpret his motives if he + left Allan’s position unexplained, he was careful to remind them that Mrs. + Armadale’s son was well provided for, and that the object of his letter + was simply to communicate the news of their sister’s decease. The two + letters were dispatched toward the middle of January, and by return of + post the answers were received. The first which the rector opened was + written not by the elder brother, but by the elder brother’s only son. The + young man had succeeded to the estates in Norfolk on his father’s death, + some little time since. He wrote in a frank and friendly spirit, assuring + Mr. Brock that, however strongly his father might have been prejudiced + against Mrs. Armadale, the hostile feeling had never extended to her son. + For himself, he had only to add that he would be sincerely happy to + welcome his cousin to Thorpe Ambrose whenever his cousin came that way. + </p> + <p> + The second letter was a far less agreeable reply to receive than the + first. The younger brother was still alive, and still resolute neither to + forget nor forgive. He informed Mr. Brock that his deceased sister’s + choice of a husband, and her conduct to her father at the time of her + marriage, had made any relations of affection or esteem impossible, on his + side, from that time forth. Holding the opinions he did, it would be + equally painful to his nephew and himself if any personal intercourse took + place between them. He had adverted, as generally as possible, to the + nature of the differences which had kept him apart from his late sister, + in order to satisfy Mr. Brock’s mind that a personal acquaintance with + young Mr. Armadale was, as a matter of delicacy, quite out of the question + and, having done this, he would beg leave to close the correspondence. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock wisely destroyed the second letter on the spot, and, after + showing Allan his cousin’s invitation, suggested that he should go to + Thorpe Ambrose as soon as he felt fit to present himself to strangers. + </p> + <p> + Allan listened to the advice patiently enough; but he declined to profit + by it. “I will shake hands with my cousin willingly if I ever meet him,” + he said; “but I will visit no family, and be a guest in no house, in which + my mother has been badly treated.” Mr. Brock remonstrated gently, and + tried to put matters in their proper light. Even at that time—even + while he was still ignorant of events which were then impending—Allan’s + strangely isolated position in the world was a subject of serious anxiety + to his old friend and tutor. The proposed visit to Thorpe Ambrose opened + the very prospect of his making friends and connections suited to him in + rank and age which Mr. Brock most desired to see; but Allan was not to be + persuaded; he was obstinate and unreasonable; and the rector had no + alternative but to drop the subject. + </p> + <p> + One on another the weeks passed monotonously, and Allan showed but little + of the elasticity of his age and character in bearing the affliction that + had made him motherless. He finished and launched his yacht; but his own + journeymen remarked that the work seemed to have lost its interest for + him. It was not natural to the young man to brood over his solitude and + his grief as he was brooding now. As the spring advanced, Mr. Brock began + to feel uneasy about the future, if Allan was not roused at once by change + of scene. After much pondering, the rector decided on trying a trip to + Paris, and on extending the journey southward if his companion showed an + interest in Continental traveling. Allan’s reception of the proposal made + atonement for his obstinacy in refusing to cultivate his cousin’s + acquaintance; he was willing to go with Mr. Brock wherever Mr. Brock + pleased. The rector took him at his word, and in the middle of March the + two strangely assorted companions left for London on their way to Paris. + </p> + <p> + Arrived in London, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly face to face with + a new anxiety. The unwelcome subject of Ozias Midwinter, which had been + buried in peace since the beginning of December, rose to the surface + again, and confronted the rector at the very outset of his travels, more + unmanageably than ever. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock’s position in dealing with this difficult matter had been hard + enough to maintain when he had first meddled with it. He now found himself + with no vantage-ground left to stand on. Events had so ordered it that the + difference of opinion between Allan and his mother on the subject of the + usher was entirely disassociated with the agitation which had hastened + Mrs. Armadale’s death. Allan’s resolution to say no irritating words, and + Mr. Brock’s reluctance to touch on a disagreeable topic, had kept them + both silent about Midwinter in Mrs. Armadale’s presence during the three + days which had intervened between that person’s departure and the + appearance of the strange woman in the village. In the period of suspense + and suffering that had followed no recurrence to the subject of the usher + had been possible, and none had taken place. Free from all mental + disquietude on this score, Allan had stoutly preserved his perverse + interest in his new friend. He had written to tell Midwinter of his + affliction, and he now proposed (unless the rector formally objected to + it) paying a visit to his friend before he started for Paris the next + morning. + </p> + <p> + What was Mr. Brock to do? There was no denying that Midwinter’s conduct + had pleaded unanswerably against poor Mrs. Armadale’s unfounded distrust + of him. If the rector, with no convincing reason to allege against it, and + with no right to interfere but the right which Allan’s courtesy gave him, + declined to sanction the proposed visit, then farewell to all the old + sociability and confidence between tutor and pupil on the contemplated + tour. Environed by difficulties, which might have been possibly worsted by + a less just and a less kind-hearted man, Mr. Brock said a cautious word or + two at parting, and (with more confidence in Midwinter’s discretion and + self-denial than he quite liked to acknowledge, even to himself) left + Allan free to take his own way. + </p> + <p> + After whiling away an hour, during the interval of his pupil’s absence, by + a walk in the streets, the rector returned to his hotel, and, finding the + newspaper disengaged in the coffee-room, sat down absently to look over + it. His eye, resting idly on the title-page, was startled into instant + attention by the very first advertisement that it chanced to light on at + the head of the column. There was Allan’s mysterious namesake again, + figuring in capital letters, and associated this time (in the character of + a dead man) with the offer of a pecuniary reward. Thus it ran: + </p> + <p> + SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.—To parish clerks, sextons, and others. Twenty + Pounds reward will be paid to any person who can produce evidence of the + death of ALLAN ARMADALE, only son of the late Allan Armadale, of + Barbadoes, and born in Trinidad in the year 1830. Further particulars on + application to Messrs. Hammick and Ridge, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London. + </p> + <p> + Even Mr. Brock’s essentially unimaginative mind began to stagger + superstitiously in the dark as he laid the newspaper down again. Little by + little a vague suspicion took possession of him that the whole series of + events which had followed the first appearance of Allan’s namesake in the + newspaper six years since was held together by some mysterious connection, + and was tending steadily to some unimaginable end. Without knowing why, he + began to feel uneasy at Allan’s absence. Without knowing why, he became + impatient to get his pupil away from England before anything else happened + between night and morning. + </p> + <p> + In an hour more the rector was relieved of all immediate anxiety by + Allan’s return to the hotel. The young man was vexed and out of spirits. + He had discovered Midwinter’s lodgings, but he had failed to find + Midwinter himself. The only account his landlady could give of him was + that he had gone out at his customary time to get his dinner at the + nearest eating-house, and that he had not returned, in accordance with his + usual regular habits, at his usual regular hour. Allan had therefore gone + to inquire at the eating-house, and had found, on describing him, that + Midwinter was well known there. It was his custom, on other days, to take + a frugal dinner, and to sit half an hour afterward reading the newspaper. + On this occasion, after dining, he had taken up the paper as usual, had + suddenly thrown it aside again, and had gone, nobody knew where, in a + violent hurry. No further information being attainable, Allan had left a + note at the lodgings, giving his address at the hotel, and begging + Midwinter to come and say good-by before his departure for Paris. + </p> + <p> + The evening passed, and Allan’s invisible friend never appeared. The + morning came, bringing no obstacles with it, and Mr. Brock and his pupil + left London. So far Fortune had declared herself at last on the rector’s + side. Ozias Midwinter, after intrusively rising to the surface, had + conveniently dropped out of sight again. What was to happen next? + </p> + <p> + —————— + </p> + <p> + Advancing once more, by three weeks only, from past to present, Mr. + Brock’s memory took up the next event on the seventh of April. To all + appearance, the chain was now broken at last. The new event had no + recognizable connection (either to his mind or to Allan’s) with any of the + persons who had appeared, or any of the circumstances that had happened, + in the by-gone time. + </p> + <p> + The travelers had as yet got no further than Paris. Allan’s spirits had + risen with the change; and he had been made all the readier to enjoy the + novelty of the scene around him by receiving a letter from Midwinter, + containing news which Mr. Brock himself acknowledged promised fairly for + the future. The ex-usher had been away on business when Allan had called + at his lodgings, having been led by an accidental circumstance to open + communications with his relatives on that day. The result had taken him + entirely by surprise: it had unexpectedly secured to him a little income + of his own for the rest of his life. His future plans, now that this piece + of good fortune had fallen to his share, were still unsettled. But if + Allan wished to hear what he ultimately decided on, his agent in London + (whose direction he inclosed) would receive communications for him, and + would furnish Mr. Armadale at all future times with his address. + </p> + <p> + On receipt of this letter, Allan had seized the pen in his usual headlong + way, and had insisted on Midwinter’s immediately joining Mr. Brock and + himself on their travels. The last days of March passed, and no answer to + the proposal was received. The first days of April came, and on the + seventh of the month there was a letter for Allan at last on the + breakfast-table. He snatched it up, looked at the address, and threw the + letter down again impatiently. The handwriting was not Midwinter’s. Allan + finished his breakfast before he cared to read what his correspondent had + to say to him. + </p> + <p> + The meal over, young Armadale lazily opened the letter. He began it with + an expression of supreme indifference. He finished it with a sudden leap + out of his chair, and a loud shout of astonishment. Wondering, as he well + might, at this extraordinary outbreak, Mr. Brock took up the letter which + Allan had tossed across the table to him. Before he had come to the end of + it, his hands dropped helplessly on his knees, and the blank bewilderment + of his pupil’s expression was accurately reflected on his own face. + </p> + <p> + If ever two men had good cause for being thrown completely off their + balance, Allan and the rector were those two. The letter which had struck + them both with the same shock of astonishment did, beyond all question, + contain an announcement which, on a first discovery of it, was simply + incredible. The news was from Norfolk, and was to this effect. In little + more than one week’s time death had mown down no less than three lives in + the family at Thorpe Ambrose, and Allan Armadale was at that moment heir + to an estate of eight thousand a year! + </p> + <p> + A second perusal of the letter enabled the rector and his companion to + master the details which had escaped them on a first reading. + </p> + <p> + The writer was the family lawyer at Thorpe Ambrose. After announcing to + Allan the deaths of his cousin Arthur at the age of twenty-five, of his + uncle Henry at the age of forty-eight, and of his cousin John at the age + of twenty-one, the lawyer proceeded to give a brief abstract of the terms + of the elder Mr. Blanchard’s will. The claims of male issue were, as is + not unusual in such cases, preferred to the claims of female issue. + Failing Arthur and his issue male, the estate was left to Henry and his + issue male. Failing them, it went to the issue male of Henry’s sister; + and, in default of such issue, to the next heir male. As events had + happened, the two young men, Arthur and John, had died unmarried, and + Henry Blanchard had died, leaving no surviving child but a daughter. Under + these circumstances, Allan was the next heir male pointed at by the will, + and was now legally successor to the Thorpe Ambrose estate. Having made + this extraordinary announcement, the lawyer requested to be favored with + Mr. Armadale’s instructions, and added, in conclusion, that he would be + happy to furnish any further particulars that were desired. + </p> + <p> + It was useless to waste time in wondering at an event which neither Allan + nor his mother had ever thought of as even remotely possible. The only + thing to be done was to go back to England at once. The next day found the + travelers installed once more in their London hotel, and the day after the + affair was placed in the proper professional hands. The inevitable + corresponding and consulting ensued, and one by one the all-important + particulars flowed in, until the measure of information was pronounced to + be full. + </p> + <p> + This was the strange story of the three deaths: + </p> + <p> + At the time when Mr. Brock had written to Mrs. Armadale’s relatives to + announce the news of her decease (that is to say, in the middle of the + month of January), the family at Thorpe Ambrose numbered five persons—Arthur + Blanchard (in possession of the estate), living in the great house with + his mother; and Henry Blanchard, the uncle, living in the neighborhood, a + widower with two children, a son and a daughter. To cement the family + connection still more closely, Arthur Blanchard was engaged to be married + to his cousin. The wedding was to be celebrated with great local + rejoicings in the coming summer, when the young lady had completed her + twentieth year. + </p> + <p> + The month of February had brought changes with it in the family position. + Observing signs of delicacy in the health of his son, Mr. Henry Blanchard + left Norfolk, taking the young man with him, under medical advice, to try + the climate of Italy. Early in the ensuing month of March, Arthur + Blanchard also left Thorpe Ambrose, for a few days only, on business which + required his presence in London. The business took him into the City. + Annoyed by the endless impediments in the streets, he returned westward by + one of the river steamers, and, so returning, met his death. + </p> + <p> + As the steamer left the wharf, he noticed a woman near him who had shown a + singular hesitation in embarking, and who had been the last of the + passengers to take her place in the vessel. She was neatly dressed in + black silk, with a red Paisley shawl over her shoulders, and she kept her + face hidden behind a thick veil. Arthur Blanchard was struck by the rare + grace and elegance of her figure, and he felt a young man’s passing + curiosity to see her face. She neither lifted her veil nor turned her head + his way. After taking a few steps hesitatingly backward and forward on the + deck, she walked away on a sudden to the stern of the vessel. In a minute + more there was a cry of alarm from the man at the helm, and the engines + were stopped immediately. The woman had thrown herself overboard. + </p> + <p> + The passengers all rushed to the side of the vessel to look. Arthur + Blanchard alone, without an instant’s hesitation, jumped into the river. + He was an excellent swimmer, and he reached the woman as she rose again to + the surface, after sinking for the first time. Help was at hand, and they + were both brought safely ashore. The woman was taken to the nearest police + station, and was soon restored to her senses, her preserver giving his + name and address, as usual in such cases, to the inspector on duty, who + wisely recommended him to get into a warm bath, and to send to his + lodgings for dry clothes. Arthur Blanchard, who had never known an hour’s + illness since he was a child, laughed at the caution, and went back in a + cab. The next day he was too ill to attend the examination before the + magistrate. A fortnight afterward he was a dead man. + </p> + <p> + The news of the calamity reached Henry Blanchard and his son at Milan, and + within an hour of the time when they received it they were on their way + back to England. The snow on the Alps had loosened earlier than usual that + year, and the passes were notoriously dangerous. The father and son, + traveling in their own carriage, were met on the mountain by the mail + returning, after sending the letters on by hand. Warnings which would have + produced their effect under any ordinary circumstances were now vainly + addressed to the two Englishmen. Their impatience to be at home again, + after the catastrophe which had befallen their family, brooked no delay. + Bribes lavishly offered to the postilions, tempted them to go on. The + carriage pursued its way, and was lost to view in the mist. When it was + seen again, it was disinterred from the bottom of a precipice—the + men, the horses, and the vehicle all crushed together under the wreck and + ruin of an avalanche. + </p> + <p> + So the three lives were mown down by death. So, in a clear sequence of + events, a woman’s suicide-leap into a river had opened to Allan Armadale + the succession to the Thorpe Ambrose estates. + </p> + <p> + Who was the woman? The man who saved her life never knew. The magistrate + who remanded her, the chaplain who exhorted her, the reporter who + exhibited her in print, never knew. It was recorded of her with surprise + that, though most respectably dressed, she had nevertheless described + herself as being “in distress.” She had expressed the deepest contrition, + but had persisted in giving a name which was on the face of it a false + one; in telling a commonplace story, which was manifestly an invention; + and in refusing to the last to furnish any clew to her friends. A lady + connected with a charitable institution (“interested by her extreme + elegance and beauty”) had volunteered to take charge of her, and to bring + her into a better frame of mind. The first day’s experience of the + penitent had been far from cheering, and the second day’s experience had + been conclusive. She had left the institution by stealth; and—though + the visiting clergyman, taking a special interest in the case, had caused + special efforts to be made—all search after her, from that time + forth, had proved fruitless. + </p> + <p> + While this useless investigation (undertaken at Allan’s express desire) + was in progress, the lawyers had settled the preliminary formalities + connected with the succession to the property. All that remained was for + the new master of Thorpe Ambrose to decide when he would personally + establish himself on the estate of which he was now the legal possessor. + </p> + <p> + Left necessarily to his own guidance in this matter, Allan settled it for + himself in his usual hot-headed, generous way. He positively declined to + take possession until Mrs. Blanchard and her niece (who had been permitted + thus far, as a matter of courtesy, to remain in their old home) had + recovered from the calamity that had befallen them, and were fit to decide + for themselves what their future proceedings should be. A private + correspondence followed this resolution, comprehending, on Allan’s side, + unlimited offers of everything he had to give (in a house which he had not + yet seen), and, on the ladies’ side, a discreetly reluctant readiness to + profit by the young gentleman’s generosity in the matter of time. To the + astonishment of his legal advisers, Allan entered their office one + morning, accompanied by Mr. Brock, and announced, with perfect composure, + that the ladies had been good enough to take his own arrangements off his + hands, and that, in deference to their convenience, he meant to defer + establishing himself at Thorpe Ambrose till that day two months. The + lawyers stared at Allan, and Allan, returning the compliment, stared at + the lawyers. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth are you wondering at, gentlemen?” he inquired, with a + boyish bewilderment in his good-humored blue eyes. “Why shouldn’t I give + the ladies their two months, if the ladies want them? Let the poor things + take their own time, and welcome. My rights? and my position? Oh, pooh! + pooh! I’m in no hurry to be squire of the parish; it’s not in my way. What + do I mean to do for the two months? What I should have done anyhow, + whether the ladies had stayed or not; I mean to go cruising at sea. That’s + what <i>I</i> like! I’ve got a new yacht at home in Somersetshire—a + yacht of my own building. And I’ll tell you what, sir,” continued Allan, + seizing the head partner by the arm in the fervor of his friendly + intentions, “you look sadly in want of a holiday in the fresh air, and you + shall come along with me on the trial trip of my new vessel. And your + partners, too, if they like. And the head clerk, who is the best fellow I + ever met with in my life. Plenty of room—we’ll all shake down + together on the floor, and we’ll give Mr. Brock a rug on the cabin table. + Thorpe Ambrose be hanged! Do you mean to say, if you had built a vessel + yourself (as I have), you would go to any estate in the three kingdoms, + while your own little beauty was sitting like a duck on the water at home, + and waiting for you to try her? You legal gentlemen are great hands at + argument. What do you think of that argument? I think it’s unanswerable—and + I’m off to Somersetshire to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + With those words, the new possessor of eight thousand a year dashed into + the head clerk’s office, and invited that functionary to a cruise on the + high seas, with a smack on the shoulder which was heard distinctly by his + masters in the next room. The firm looked in interrogative wonder at Mr. + Brock. A client who could see a position among the landed gentry of + England waiting for him, without being in a hurry to occupy it at the + earliest possible opportunity, was a client of whom they possessed no + previous experience. + </p> + <p> + “He must have been very oddly brought up,” said the lawyers to the rector. + </p> + <p> + “Very oddly,” said the rector to the lawyers. + </p> + <p> + A last leap over one month more brought Mr. Brock to the present time—to + the bedroom at Castletown, in which he was sitting thinking, and to the + anxiety which was obstinately intruding itself between him and his night’s + rest. That anxiety was no unfamiliar enemy to the rector’s peace of mind. + It had first found him out in Somersetshire six months since, and it had + now followed him to the Isle of Man under the inveterately obtrusive form + of Ozias Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + The change in Allan’s future prospects had worked no corresponding + alteration in his perverse fancy for the castaway at the village inn. In + the midst of the consultations with the lawyers he had found time to visit + Midwinter, and on the journey back with the rector there was Allan’s + friend in the carriage, returning with them to Somersetshire by Allan’s + own invitation. + </p> + <p> + The ex-usher’s hair had grown again on his shaven skull, and his dress + showed the renovating influence of an accession of pecuniary means, but in + all other respects the man was unchanged. He met Mr. Brock’s distrust with + the old uncomplaining resignation to it; he maintained the same suspicious + silence on the subject of his relatives and his early life; he spoke of + Allan’s kindness to him with the same undisciplined fervor of gratitude + and surprise. “I have done what I could, sir,” he said to Mr. Brock, while + Allan was asleep in the railway carriage. “I have kept out of Mr. + Armadale’s way, and I have not even answered his last letter to me. More + than that is more than I can do. I don’t ask you to consider my own + feeling toward the only human creature who has never suspected and never + ill-treated me. I can resist my own feeling, but I can’t resist the young + gentleman himself. There’s not another like him in the world. If we are to + be parted again, it must be his doing or yours—not mine. The dog’s + master has whistled,” said this strange man, with a momentary outburst of + the hidden passion in him, and a sudden springing of angry tears in his + wild brown eyes, “and it is hard, sir, to blame the dog when the dog + comes.” + </p> + <p> + Once more Mr. Brock’s humanity got the better of Mr. Brock’s caution. He + determined to wait, and see what the coming days of social intercourse + might bring forth. + </p> + <p> + The days passed; the yacht was rigged and fitted for sea; a cruise was + arranged to the Welsh coast—and Midwinter the Secret was the same + Midwinter still. Confinement on board a little vessel of five-and-thirty + tons offered no great attraction to a man of Mr. Brock’s time of life. But + he sailed on the trial trip of the yacht nevertheless, rather than trust + Allan alone with his new friend. + </p> + <p> + Would the close companionship of the three on their cruise tempt the man + into talking of his own affairs? No; he was ready enough on other + subjects, especially if Allan led the way to them. But not a word escaped + him about himself. Mr. Brock tried him with questions about his recent + inheritance, and was answered as he had been answered once already at the + Somersetshire inn. It was a curious coincidence, Midwinter admitted, that + Mr. Armadale’s prospects and his own prospects should both have + unexpectedly changed for the better about the same time. But there the + resemblance ended. It was no large fortune that had fallen into his lap, + though it was enough for his wants. It had not reconciled him with his + relations, for the money had not come to him as a matter of kindness, but + as a matter of right. As for the circumstance which had led to his + communicating with his family, it was not worth mentioning, seeing that + the temporary renewal of intercourse which had followed had produced no + friendly results. Nothing had come of it but the money—and, with the + money, an anxiety which troubled him sometimes, when he woke in the small + hours of the morning. + </p> + <p> + At those last words he became suddenly silent, as if for once his + well-guarded tongue had betrayed him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock seized the opportunity, and bluntly asked him what the nature of + the anxiety might be. Did it relate to money? No; it related to a Letter + which had been waiting for him for many years. Had he received the letter? + Not yet; it had been left under charge of one of the partners in the firm + which had managed the business of his inheritance for him; the partner had + been absent from England; and the letter, locked up among his own private + papers, could not be got at till he returned. He was expected back toward + the latter part of that present May, and, if Midwinter could be sure where + the cruise would take them to at the close of the month, he thought he + would write and have the letter forwarded. Had he any family reasons to be + anxious about it? None that he knew of; he was curious to see what had + been waiting for him for many years, and that was all. So he answered the + rector’s questions, with his tawny face turned away over the low bulwark + of the yacht, and his fishing-line dragging in his supple brown hands. + </p> + <p> + Favored by wind and weather, the little vessel had done wonders on her + trial trip. Before the period fixed for the duration of the cruise had + half expired, the yacht was as high up on the Welsh coast as Holyhead; and + Allan, eager for adventure in unknown regions, had declared boldly for an + extension of the voyage northward to the Isle of Man. Having ascertained + from reliable authority that the weather really promised well for a cruise + in that quarter, and that, in the event of any unforeseen necessity for + return, the railway was accessible by the steamer from Douglas to + Liverpool, Mr. Brock agreed to his pupil’s proposal. By that night’s post + he wrote to Allan’s lawyers and to his own rectory, indicating Douglas in + the Isle of Man as the next address to which letters might be forwarded. + At the post-office he met Midwinter, who had just dropped a letter into + the box. Remembering what he had said on board the yacht, Mr. Brock + concluded that they had both taken the same precaution, and had ordered + their correspondence to be forwarded to the same place. + </p> + <p> + Late the next day they set sail for the Isle of Man. + </p> + <p> + For a few hours all went well; but sunset brought with it the signs of a + coming change. With the darkness the wind rose to a gale, and the question + whether Allan and his journeymen had or had not built a stout sea-boat was + seriously tested for the first time. All that night, after trying vainly + to bear up for Holyhead, the little vessel kept the sea, and stood her + trial bravely. The next morning the Isle of Man was in view, and the yacht + was safe at Castletown. A survey by daylight of hull and rigging showed + that all the damage done might be set right again in a week’s time. The + cruising party had accordingly remained at Castletown, Allan being + occupied in superintending the repairs, Mr. Brock in exploring the + neighborhood, and Midwinter in making daily pilgrimages on foot to Douglas + and back to inquire for letters. + </p> + <p> + The first of the cruising party who received a letter was Allan. “More + worries from those everlasting lawyers,” was all he said, when he had read + the letter, and had crumpled it up in his pocket. The rector’s turn came + next, before the week’s sojourn at Castletown had expired. On the fifth + day he found a letter from Somersetshire waiting for him at the hotel. It + had been brought there by Midwinter, and it contained news which entirely + overthrew all Mr. Brock’s holiday plans. The clergyman who had undertaken + to do duty for him in his absence had been unexpectedly summoned home + again; and Mr. Brock had no choice (the day of the week being Friday) but + to cross the next morning from Douglass to Liverpool, and get back by + railway on Saturday night in time for Sunday’s service. + </p> + <p> + Having read his letter, and resigned himself to his altered circumstances + as patiently as he might, the rector passed next to a question that + pressed for serious consideration in its turn. Burdened with his heavy + responsibility toward Allan, and conscious of his own undiminished + distrust of Allan’s new friend, how was he to act, in the emergency that + now beset him, toward the two young men who had been his companions on the + cruise? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock had first asked himself that awkward question on the Friday + afternoon, and he was still trying vainly to answer it, alone in his own + room, at one o’clock on the Saturday morning. It was then only the end of + May, and the residence of the ladies at Thorpe Ambrose (unless they chose + to shorten it of their own accord) would not expire till the middle of + June. Even if the repairs of the yacht had been completed (which was not + the case), there was no possible pretense for hurrying Allan back to + Somersetshire. But one other alternative remained—to leave him where + he was. In other words, to leave him, at the turning-point of his life, + under the sole influence of a man whom he had first met with as a castaway + at a village inn, and who was still, to all practical purposes, a total + stranger to him. + </p> + <p> + In despair of obtaining any better means of enlightenment to guide his + decision, Mr. Brock reverted to the impression which Midwinter had + produced on his own mind in the familiarity of the cruise. + </p> + <p> + Young as he was, the ex-usher had evidently lived a varied life. He could + speak of books like a man who had really enjoyed them; he could take his + turn at the helm like a sailor who knew his duty; he could cook, and climb + the rigging, and lay the cloth for dinner, with an odd delight in the + exhibition of his own dexterity. The display of these, and other qualities + like them, as his spirits rose with the cruise, had revealed the secret of + his attraction for Allan plainly enough. But had all disclosures rested + there? Had the man let no chance light in on his character in the rector’s + presence? Very little; and that little did not set him forth in a morally + alluring aspect. His way in the world had lain evidently in doubtful + places; familiarity with the small villainies of vagabonds peeped out of + him now and then; and, more significant still, he habitually slept the + light, suspicious sleep of a man who has been accustomed to close his eyes + in doubt of the company under the same roof with him. Down to the very + latest moment of the rector’s experience of him—down to that present + Friday night—his conduct had been persistently secret and + unaccountable to the very last. After bringing Mr. Brock’s letter to the + hotel, he had mysterious disappeared from the house without leaving any + message for his companions, and without letting anybody see whether he had + or had not received a letter himself. At nightfall he had come back + stealthily in the darkness, had been caught on the stairs by Allan, eager + to tell him of the change in the rector’s plans, had listened to the news + without a word of remark! and had ended by sulkily locking himself into + his own room. What was there in his favor to set against such revelations + of his character as these—against his wandering eyes, his obstinate + reserve with the rector, his ominous silence on the subject of family and + friends? Little or nothing: the sum of all his merits began and ended with + his gratitude to Allan. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock left his seat on the side of the bed, trimmed his candle, and, + still lost in his own thoughts, looked out absently at the night. The + change of place brought no new ideas with it. His retrospect over his own + past life had amply satisfied him that his present sense of responsibility + rested on no merely fanciful grounds, and, having brought him to that + point, had left him there, standing at the window, and seeing nothing but + the total darkness in his own mind faithfully reflected by the total + darkness of the night. + </p> + <p> + “If I only had a friend to apply to!” thought the rector. “If I could only + find some one to help me in this miserable place!” + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the aspiration crossed his mind, it was suddenly + answered by a low knock at the door, and a voice said softly in the + passage outside, “Let me come in.” + </p> + <p> + After an instant’s pause to steady his nerves, Mr. Brock opened the door, + and found himself, at one o’clock in the morning, standing face to face on + the threshold of his own bedroom with Ozias Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill?” asked the rector, as soon as his astonishment would allow + him to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I have come here to make a clean breast of it!” was the strange answer. + “Will you let me in?” + </p> + <p> + With those words he walked into the room, his eyes on the ground, his lips + ashy pale, and his hand holding something hidden behind him. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the light under your door,” he went on, without looking up, and + without moving his hand, “and I know the trouble on your mind which is + keeping you from your rest. You are going away to-morrow morning, and you + don’t like leaving Mr. Armadale alone with a stranger like me.” + </p> + <p> + Startled as he was, Mr. Brock saw the serious necessity of being plain + with a man who had come at that time, and had said those words to him. + </p> + <p> + “You have guessed right,” he answered. “I stand in the place of a father + to Allan Armadale, and I am naturally unwilling to leave him, at his age, + with a man whom I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + Ozias Midwinter took a step forward to the table. His wandering eyes + rested on the rector’s New Testament, which was one of the objects lying + on it. + </p> + <p> + “You have read that Book, in the years of a long life, to many + congregations,” he said. “Has it taught you mercy to your miserable + fellow-creatures?” + </p> + <p> + Without waiting to be answered, he looked Mr. Brock in the face for the + first time, and brought his hidden hand slowly into view. + </p> + <p> + “Read that,” he said; “and, for Christ’s sake, pity me when you know who I + am.” + </p> + <p> + He laid a letter of many pages on the table. It was the letter that Mr. + Neal had posted at Wildbad nineteen years since. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0009" id="H2_4_0009"></a> II. THE MAN REVEALED. + </h2> + <p> + THE first cool breathings of the coming dawn fluttered through the open + window as Mr. Brock read the closing lines of the Confession. He put it + from him in silence, without looking up. The first shock of discovery had + struck his mind, and had passed away again. At his age, and with his + habits of thought, his grasp was not strong enough to hold the whole + revelation that had fallen on him. All his heart, when he closed the + manuscript, was with the memory of the woman who had been the beloved + friend of his later and happier life; all his thoughts were busy with the + miserable secret of her treason to her own father which the letter had + disclosed. + </p> + <p> + He was startled out of the narrow limits of his own little grief by the + vibration of the table at which he sat, under a hand that was laid on it + heavily. The instinct of reluctance was strong in him; but he conquered + it, and looked up. There, silently confronting him in the mixed light of + the yellow candle flame and the faint gray dawn, stood the castaway of the + village inn—the inheritor of the fatal Armadale name. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock shuddered as the terror of the present time and the darker + terror yet of the future that might be coming rushed back on him at the + sight of the man’s face. The man saw it, and spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “Is my father’s crime looking at you out of my eyes?” he asked. “Has the + ghost of the drowned man followed me into the room?” + </p> + <p> + The suffering and the passion that he was forcing back shook the hand that + he still kept on the table, and stifled the voice in which he spoke until + it sank to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish to treat you otherwise than justly and kindly,” answered + Mr. Brock. “Do me justice on my side, and believe that I am incapable of + cruelly holding you responsible for your father’s crime.” + </p> + <p> + The reply seemed to compose him. He bowed his head in silence, and took up + the confession from the table. + </p> + <p> + “Have you read this through?” he asked, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Every word of it, from first to last.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I dealt openly with you so far. Has Ozias Midwinter—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you still call yourself by that name,” interrupted Mr. Brock, “now + your true name is known to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Since I have read my father’s confession,” was the answer, “I like my + ugly alias better than ever. Allow me to repeat the question which I was + about to put to you a minute since: Has Ozias Midwinter done his best thus + far to enlighten Mr. Brock?” + </p> + <p> + The rector evaded a direct reply. “Few men in your position,” he said, + “would have had the courage to show me that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be too sure, sir, of the vagabond you picked up at the inn till you + know a little more of him than you know now. You have got the secret of my + birth, but you are not in possession yet of the story of my life. You + ought to know it, and you shall know it, before you leave me alone with + Mr. Armadale. Will you wait, and rest a little while, or shall I tell it + you now?” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mr. Brock, still as far away as ever from knowing the real + character of the man before him. + </p> + <p> + Everything Ozias Midwinter said, everything Ozias Midwinter did, was + against him. He had spoken with a sardonic indifference, almost with an + insolence of tone, which would have repelled the sympathies of any man who + heard him. And now, instead of placing himself at the table, and + addressing his story directly to the rector, he withdrew silently and + ungraciously to the window-seat. There he sat, his face averted, his hands + mechanically turning the leaves of his father’s letter till he came to the + last. With his eyes fixed on the closing lines of the manuscript, and with + a strange mixture of recklessness and sadness in his voice, he began his + promised narrative in these words: + </p> + <p> + “The first thing you know of me,” he said, “is what my father’s confession + has told you already. He mentions here that I was a child, asleep on his + breast, when he spoke his last words in this world, and when a stranger’s + hand wrote them down for him at his deathbed. That stranger’s name, as you + may have noticed, is signed on the cover—‘Alexander Neal, Writer to + the Signet, Edinburgh.’ The first recollection I have is of Alexander Neal + beating me with a horsewhip (I dare say I deserved it), in the character + of my stepfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you no recollection of your mother at the same time?” asked Mr. + Brock. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I remember her having shabby old clothes made up to fit me, and + having fine new frocks bought for her two children by her second husband. + I remember the servants laughing at me in my old things, and the horsewhip + finding its way to my shoulders again for losing my temper and tearing my + shabby clothes. My next recollection gets on to a year or two later. I + remember myself locked up in a lumber-room, with a bit of bread and a mug + of water, wondering what it was that made my mother and my stepfather seem + to hate the very sight of me. I never settled that question till + yesterday, and then I solved the mystery, when my father’s letter was put + into my hands. My mother knew what had really happened on board the French + timber-ship, and my stepfather knew what had really happened, and they + were both well aware that the shameful secret which they would fain have + kept from every living creature was a secret which would be one day + revealed to <i>me</i>. There was no help for it—the confession was + in the executor’s hands, and there was I, an ill-conditioned brat, with my + mother’s negro blood in my face, and my murdering father’s passions in my + heart, inheritor of their secret in spite of them! I don’t wonder at the + horsewhip now, or the shabby old clothes, or the bread and water in the + lumber-room. Natural penalties all of them, sir, which the child was + beginning to pay already for the father’s sin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock looked at the swarthy, secret face, still obstinately turned + away from him. “Is this the stark insensibility of a vagabond,” he asked + himself, “or the despair, in disguise, of a miserable man?” + </p> + <p> + “School is my next recollection,” the other went on—“a cheap place + in a lost corner of Scotland. I was left there, with a bad character to + help me at starting. I spare you the story of the master’s cane in the + schoolroom, and the boys’ kicks in the playground. I dare say there was + ingrained ingratitude in my nature; at any rate, I ran away. The first + person who met me asked my name. I was too young and too foolish to know + the importance of concealing it, and, as a matter of course, I was taken + back to school the same evening. The result taught me a lesson which I + have not forgotten since. In a day or two more, like the vagabond I was, I + ran away for the second time. The school watch-dog had had his + instructions, I suppose: he stopped me before I got outside the gate. Here + is his mark, among the rest, on the back of my hand. His master’s marks I + can’t show you; they are all on my back. Can you believe in my perversity? + There was a devil in me that no dog could worry out. I ran away again as + soon as I left my bed, and this time I got off. At nightfall I found + myself (with a pocketful of the school oatmeal) lost on a moor. I lay down + on the fine soft heather, under the lee of a great gray rock. Do you think + I felt lonely? Not I! I was away from the master’s cane, away from my + schoolfellows’ kicks, away from my mother, away from my stepfather; and I + lay down that night under my good friend the rock, the happiest boy in all + Scotland!” + </p> + <p> + Through the wretched childhood which that one significant circumstance + disclosed, Mr. Brock began to see dimly how little was really strange, how + little really unaccountable, in the character of the man who was now + speaking to him. + </p> + <p> + “I slept soundly,” Midwinter continued, “under my friend the rock. When I + woke in the morning, I found a sturdy old man with a fiddle sitting on one + side of me, and two performing dogs on the other. Experience had made me + too sharp to tell the truth when the man put his first questions. He + didn’t press them; he gave me a good breakfast out of his knapsack, and he + let me romp with the dogs. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said, when he had got + my confidence in this manner, ‘you want three things, my man: you want a + new father, a new family, and a new name. I’ll be your father. I’ll let + you have the dogs for your brothers; and, if you’ll promise to be very + careful of it, I’ll give you my own name into the bargain. Ozias + Midwinter, Junior, you have had a good breakfast; if you want a good + dinner, come along with me!’ He got up, the dogs trotted after him, and I + trotted after the dogs. Who was my new father? you will ask. A half-breed + gypsy, sir; a drunkard, a ruffian, and a thief—and the best friend I + ever had! Isn’t a man your friend who gives you your food, your shelter, + and your education? Ozias Midwinter taught me to dance the Highland fling, + to throw somersaults, to walk on stilts, and to sing songs to his fiddle. + Sometimes we roamed the country, and performed at fairs. Sometimes we + tried the large towns, and enlivened bad company over its cups. I was a + nice, lively little boy of eleven years old, and bad company, the women + especially, took a fancy to me and my nimble feet. I was vagabond enough + to like the life. The dogs and I lived together, ate, and drank, and slept + together. I can’t think of those poor little four-footed brothers of mine, + even now, without a choking in the throat. Many is the beating we three + took together; many is the hard day’s dancing we did together; many is the + night we have slept together, and whimpered together, on the cold + hill-side. I’m not trying to distress you, sir; I’m only telling you the + truth. The life with all its hardships was a life that fitted me, and the + half-breed gypsy who gave me his name, ruffian as he was, was a ruffian I + liked.” + </p> + <p> + “A man who beat you!” exclaimed Mr. Brock, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t I tell you just now, sir, that I lived with the dogs? and did you + ever hear of a dog who liked his master the worse for beating him? + Hundreds of thousands of miserable men, women, and children would have + liked that man (as I liked him) if he had always given them what he always + gave me—plenty to eat. It was stolen food mostly, and my new gypsy + father was generous with it. He seldom laid the stick on us when he was + sober; but it diverted him to hear us yelp when he was drunk. He died + drunk, and enjoyed his favorite amusement with his last breath. One day + (when I had been two years in his service), after giving us a good dinner + out on the moor, he sat down with his back against a stone, and called us + up to divert himself with his stick. He made the dogs yelp first, and then + he called to me. I didn’t go very willingly; he had been drinking harder + than usual, and the more he drank the better he liked his after-dinner + amusement. He was in high good-humor that day, and he hit me so hard that + he toppled over, in his drunken state, with the force of his own blow. He + fell with his face in a puddle, and lay there without moving. I and the + dogs stood at a distance, and looked at him: we thought he was feigning, + to get us near and have another stroke at us. He feigned so long that we + ventured up to him at last. It took me some time to pull him over; he was + a heavy man. When I did get him on his back, he was dead. We made all the + outcry we could; but the dogs were little, and I was little, and the place + was lonely; and no help came to us. I took his fiddle and his stick; I + said to my two brothers, ‘Come along, we must get our own living now;’ and + we went away heavy-hearted, and left him on the moor. Unnatural as it may + seem to you, I was sorry for him. I kept his ugly name through all my + after-wanderings, and I have enough of the old leaven left in me to like + the sound of it still. Midwinter or Armadale, never mind my name now, we + will talk of that afterward; you must know the worst of me first.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not the best of you?” said Mr. Brock, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir; but I am here to tell the truth. We will get on, if you + please, to the next chapter in my story. The dogs and I did badly, after + our master’s death; our luck was against us. I lost one of my little + brothers—the best performer of the two; he was stolen, and I never + recovered him. My fiddle and my stilts were taken from me next, by main + force, by a tramp who was stronger than I. These misfortunes drew Tommy + and me—I beg your pardon, sir, I mean the dog—closer together + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I think we had some kind of dim foreboding on both sides that we had not + done with our misfortunes yet; anyhow, it was not very long before we were + parted forever. We were neither of us thieves (our master had been + satisfied with teaching us to dance); but we both committed an invasion of + the rights of property, for all that. Young creatures, even when they are + half starved, cannot resist taking a run sometimes on a fine morning. + Tommy and I could not resist taking a run into a gentleman’s plantation; + the gentleman preserved his game; and the gentleman’s keeper knew his + business. I heard a gun go off; you can guess the rest. God preserve me + from ever feeling such misery again as I felt when I lay down by Tommy, + and took him, dead and bloody, in my arms! The keeper attempted to part + us; I bit him, like the wild animal I was. He tried the stick on me next; + he might as well have tried it on one of the trees. The noise reached the + ears of two young ladies riding near the place—daughters of the + gentleman on whose property I was a trespasser. They were too well brought + up to lift their voices against the sacred right of preserving game, but + they were kind-hearted girls, and they pitied me, and took me home with + them. I remember the gentlemen of the house (keen sportsmen all of them) + roaring with laughter as I went by the windows, crying, with my little + dead dog in my arms. Don’t suppose I complain of their laughter; it did me + good service; it roused the indignation of the two ladies. One of them + took me into her own garden, and showed me a place where I might bury my + dog under the flowers, and be sure that no other hands should ever disturb + him again. The other went to her father, and persuaded him to give the + forlorn little vagabond a chance in the house, under one of the upper + servants. Yes! you have been cruising in company with a man who was once a + foot-boy. I saw you look at me, when I amused Mr. Armadale by laying the + cloth on board the yacht. Now you know why I laid it so neatly, and forgot + nothing. It has been my good fortune to see something of society; I have + helped to fill its stomach and black its boots. My experience of the + servants’ hall was not a long one. Before I had worn out my first suit of + livery, there was a scandal in the house. It was the old story; there is + no need to tell it over again for the thousandth time. Loose money left on + a table, and not found there again; all the servants with characters to + appeal to except the foot-boy, who had been rashly taken on trial. Well! + well! I was lucky in that house to the last; I was not prosecuted for + taking what I had not only never touched, but never even seen: I was only + turned out. One morning I went in my old clothes to the grave where I had + buried Tommy. I gave the place a kiss; I said good-by to my little dead + dog; and there I was, out in the world again, at the ripe age of thirteen + years!” + </p> + <p> + “In that friendless state, and at that tender age,” said Mr. Brock, “did + no thought cross your mind of going home again?” + </p> + <p> + “I went home again, sir, that very night—I slept on the hill-side. + What other home had I? In a day or two’s time I drifted back to the large + towns and the bad company, the great open country was so lonely to me, now + I had lost the dogs! Two sailors picked me up next. I was a handy lad, and + I got a cabin-boy’s berth on board a coasting-vessel. A cabin-boy’s berth + means dirt to live in, offal to eat, a man’s work on a boy’s shoulders, + and the rope’s-end at regular intervals. The vessel touched at a port in + the Hebrides. I was as ungrateful as usual to my best benefactors; I ran + away again. Some women found me, half dead of starvation, in the northern + wilds of the Isle of Skye. It was near the coast and I took a turn with + the fishermen next. There was less of the rope’s-end among my new masters; + but plenty of exposure to wind and weather, and hard work enough to have + killed a boy who was not a seasoned tramp like me. I fought through it + till the winter came, and then the fishermen turned me adrift again. I + don’t blame them; food was scarce, and mouths were many. With famine + staring the whole community in the face, why should they keep a boy who + didn’t belong to them? A great city was my only chance in the winter-time; + so I went to Glasgow, and all but stepped into the lion’s mouth as soon as + I got there. I was minding an empty cart on the Broomielaw, when I heard + my stepfather’s voice on the pavement side of the horse by which I was + standing. He had met some person whom he knew, and, to my terror and + surprise, they were talking about me. Hidden behind the horse, I heard + enough of their conversation to know that I had narrowly escaped discovery + before I went on board the coasting-vessel. I had met at that time with + another vagabond boy of my own age; we had quarreled and parted. The day + after, my stepfather’s inquiries were made in that very district, and it + became a question with him (a good personal description being unattainable + in either case) which of the two boys he should follow. One of them, he + was informed, was known as “Brown,” and the other as “Midwinter.” Brown + was just the common name which a cunning runaway boy would be most likely + to assume; Midwinter, just the remarkable name which he would be most + likely to avoid. The pursuit had accordingly followed Brown, and had + allowed me to escape. I leave you to imagine whether I was not doubly and + trebly determined to keep my gypsy master’s name after that. But my + resolution did not stop here. I made up my mind to leave the country + altogether. After a day or two’s lurking about the outward-bound vessels + in port, I found out which sailed first, and hid myself on board. Hunger + tried hard to force me out before the pilot had left; but hunger was not + new to me, and I kept my place. The pilot was out of the vessel when I + made my appearance on deck, and there was nothing for it but to keep me or + throw me overboard. The captain said (I have no doubt quite truly) that he + would have preferred throwing me overboard; but the majesty of the law + does sometimes stand the friend even of a vagabond like me. In that way I + came back to a sea-life. In that way I learned enough to make me handy and + useful (as I saw you noticed) on board Mr. Armadale’s yacht. I sailed more + than one voyage, in more than one vessel, to more than one part of the + world, and I might have followed the sea for life, if I could only have + kept my temper under every provocation that could be laid on it. I had + learned a great deal; but, not having learned that, I made the last part + of my last voyage home to the port of Bristol in irons; and I saw the + inside of a prison for the first time in my life, on a charge of mutinous + conduct to one of my officers. You have heard me with extraordinary + patience, sir, and I am glad to tell you, in return, that we are not far + now from the end of my story. You found some books, if I remember right, + when you searched my luggage at the Somersetshire inn?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “Those books mark the next change in my life—and the last, before I + took the usher’s place at the school. My term of imprisonment was not a + long one. Perhaps my youth pleaded for me; perhaps the Bristol magistrates + took into consideration the time I had passed in irons on board ship. + Anyhow, I was just turned seventeen when I found myself out on the world + again. I had no friends to receive me; I had no place to go to. A sailor’s + life, after what had happened, was a life I recoiled from in disgust. I + stood in the crowd on the bridge at Bristol, wondering what I should do + with my freedom now I had got it back. Whether I had altered in the + prison, or whether I was feeling the change in character that comes with + coming manhood, I don’t know; but the old reckless enjoyment of the old + vagabond life seemed quite worn out of my nature. An awful sense of + loneliness kept me wandering about Bristol, in horror of the quiet + country, till after nightfall. I looked at the lights kindling in the + parlor windows, with a miserable envy of the happy people inside. A word + of advice would have been worth something to me at that time. Well! I got + it: a policeman advised me to move on. He was quite right; what else could + I do? I looked up at the sky, and there was my old friend of many a + night’s watch at sea, the north star. ‘All points of the compass are alike + to me,’ I thought to myself; ‘I’ll go <i>your</i> way.’ Not even the star + would keep me company that night. It got behind a cloud, and left me alone + in the rain and darkness. I groped my way to a cart-shed, fell asleep, and + dreamed of old times, when I served my gypsy master and lived with the + dogs. God! what I would have given when I woke to have felt Tommy’s little + cold muzzle in my hand! Why am I dwelling on these things? Why don’t I get + on to the end? You shouldn’t encourage me, sir, by listening, so + patiently. After a week more of wandering, without hope to help me, or + prospects to look to, I found myself in the streets of Shrewsbury, staring + in at the windows of a book-seller’s shop. An old man came to the shop + door, looked about him, and saw me. ‘Do you want a job?’ he asked. ‘And + are you not above doing it cheap?’ The prospect of having something to do, + and some human creature to speak a word to, tempted me, and I did a day’s + dirty work in the book-seller’s warehouse for a shilling. More work + followed at the same rate. In a week I was promoted to sweep out the shop + and put up the shutters. In no very long time after, I was trusted to + carry the books out; and when quarter-day came, and the shop-man left, I + took his place. Wonderful luck! you will say; here I had found my way to a + friend at last. I had found my way to one of the most merciless misers in + England; and I had risen in the little world of Shrewsbury by the purely + commercial process of underselling all my competitors. The job in the + warehouse had been declined at the price by every idle man in the town, + and I did it. The regular porter received his weekly pittance under weekly + protest. I took two shillings less, and made no complaint. The shop-man + gave warning on the ground that he was underfed as well as underpaid. I + received half his salary, and lived contentedly on his reversionary + scraps. Never were two men so well suited to each other as that + book-seller and I. <i>His</i> one object in life was to find somebody who + would work for him at starvation wages. <i>My</i> one object in life was + to find somebody who would give me an asylum over my head. Without a + single sympathy in common—without a vestige of feeling of any sort, + hostile or friendly, growing up between us on either side—without + wishing each other good-night when we parted on the house stairs, or + good-morning when we met at the shop counter, we lived alone in that + house, strangers from first to last, for two whole years. A dismal + existence for a lad of my age, was it not? You are a clergyman and a + scholar—surely you can guess what made the life endurable to me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock remembered the well-worn volumes which had been found in the + usher’s bag. “The books made it endurable to you,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the castaway kindled with a new light. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he said, “the books—the generous friends who met me without + suspicion—the merciful masters who never used me ill! The only years + of my life that I can look back on with something like pride are the years + I passed in the miser’s house. The only unalloyed pleasure I have ever + tasted is the pleasure that I found for myself on the miser’s shelves. + Early and late, through the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, + I drank at the fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught. + There were few customers to serve, for the books were mostly of the solid + and scholarly kind. No responsibilities rested on me, for the accounts + were kept by my master, and only the small sums of money were suffered to + pass through my hands. He soon found out enough of me to know that my + honesty was to be trusted, and that my patience might be counted on, treat + me as he might. The one insight into <i>his</i> character which I + obtained, on my side, widened the distance between us to its last limits. + He was a confirmed opium-eater in secret—a prodigal in laudanum, + though a miser in all besides. He never confessed his frailty, and I never + told him I had found it out. He had his pleasure apart from me, and I had + my pleasure apart from <i>him</i>. Week after week, month after month, + there we sat, without a friendly word ever passing between us—I, + alone with my book at the counter; he, alone with his ledger in the + parlor, dimly visible to me through the dirty window-pane of the glass + door, sometimes poring over his figures, sometimes lost and motionless for + hours in the ecstasy of his opium trance. Time passed, and made no + impression on us; the seasons of two years came and went, and found us + still unchanged. One morning, at the opening of the third year, my master + did not appear, as usual, to give me my allowance for breakfast. I went + upstairs, and found him helpless in his bed. He refused to trust me with + the keys of the cupboard, or to let me send for a doctor. I bought a + morsel of bread, and went back to my books, with no more feeling for <i>him</i> + (I honestly confess it) than he would have had for <i>me</i> under the + same circumstances. An hour or two later I was roused from my reading by + an occasional customer of ours, a retired medical man. He went upstairs. I + was glad to get rid of him and return to my books. He came down again, and + disturbed me once more. ‘I don’t much like you, my lad,’ he said; ‘but I + think it my duty to say that you will soon have to shift for yourself. You + are no great favorite in the town, and you may have some difficulty in + finding a new place. Provide yourself with a written character from your + master before it is too late.’ He spoke to me coldly. I thanked him coldly + on my side, and got my character the same day. Do you think my master let + me have it for nothing? Not he! He bargained with me on his deathbed. I + was his creditor for a month’s salary, and he wouldn’t write a line of my + testimonial until I had first promised to forgive him the debt. Three days + afterward he died, enjoying to the last the happiness of having + overreached his shop-man. ‘Aha!’ he whispered, when the doctor formally + summoned me to take leave of him, ‘I got you cheap!’ Was Ozias Midwinter’s + stick as cruel as that? I think not. Well! there I was, out on the world + again, but surely with better prospects this time. I had taught myself to + read Latin, Greek, and German; and I had got my written character to speak + for me. All useless! The doctor was quite right; I was not liked in the + town. The lower order of the people despised me for selling my services to + the miser at the miser’s price. As for the better classes, I did with them + (God knows how!) what I have always done with everybody except Mr. + Armadale—I produced a disagreeable impression at first sight; I + couldn’t mend it afterward; and there was an end of me in respectable + quarters. It is quite likely I might have spent all my savings, my puny + little golden offspring of two years’ miserable growth, but for a school + advertisement which I saw in a local paper. The heartlessly mean terms + that were offered encouraged me to apply; and I got the place. How I + prospered in it, and what became of me next, there is no need to tell you. + The thread of my story is all wound off; my vagabond life stands stripped + of its mystery; and you know the worst of me at last.” + </p> + <p> + A moment of silence followed those closing words. Midwinter rose from the + window-seat, and came back to the table with the letter from Wildbad in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “My father’s confession has told you who I am; and my own confession has + told you what my life has been,” he said, addressing Mr. Brock, without + taking the chair to which the rector pointed. “I promised to make a clean + breast of it when I first asked leave to enter this room. Have I kept my + word?” + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible to doubt it,” replied Mr. Brock. “You have established + your claim on my confidence and my sympathy. I should be insensible, + indeed, if I could know what I now know of your childhood and your youth, + and not feel something of Allan’s kindness for Allan’s friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Midwinter, simply and gravely. + </p> + <p> + He sat down opposite Mr. Brook at the table for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “In a few hours you will have left this place,” he proceeded. “If I can + help you to leave it with your mind at ease, I will. There is more to be + said between us than we have said up to this time. My future relations + with Mr. Armadale are still left undecided; and the serious question + raised by my father’s letter is a question which we have neither of us + faced yet.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and looked with a momentary impatience at the candle still + burning on the table, in the morning light. The struggle to speak with + composure, and to keep his own feelings stoically out of view, was + evidently growing harder and harder to him. + </p> + <p> + “It may possibly help your decision,” he went on, “if I tell you how I + determined to act toward Mr. Armadale—in the matter of the + similarity of our names—when I first read this letter, and when I + had composed myself sufficiently to be able to think at all.” He stopped, + and cast a second impatient look at the lighted candle. “Will you excuse + the odd fancy of an odd man?” he asked, with a faint smile. “I want to put + out the candle: I want to speak of the new subject, in the new light.” + </p> + <p> + He extinguished the candle as he spoke, and let the first tenderness of + the daylight flow uninterruptedly into the room. + </p> + <p> + “I must once more ask your patience,” he resumed, “if I return for a + moment to myself and my circumstances. I have already told you that my + stepfather made an attempt to discover me some years after I had turned my + back on the Scotch school. He took that step out of no anxiety of his own, + but simply as the agent of my father’s trustees. In the exercise of their + discretion, they had sold the estates in Barbadoes (at the time of the + emancipation of the slaves, and the ruin of West Indian property) for what + the estates would fetch. Having invested the proceeds, they were bound to + set aside a sum for my yearly education. This responsibility obliged them + to make the attempt to trace me—a fruitless attempt, as you already + know. A little later (as I have been since informed) I was publicly + addressed by an advertisement in the newspapers, which I never saw. Later + still, when I was twenty-one, a second advertisement appeared (which I did + see) offering a reward for evidence of my death. If I was alive, I had a + right to my half share of the proceeds of the estates on coming of age; if + dead, the money reverted to my mother. I went to the lawyers, and heard + from them what I have just told you. After some difficulty in proving my + identity—and after an interview with my stepfather, and a message + from my mother, which has hopelessly widened the old breach between us—my + claim was allowed; and my money is now invested for me in the funds, under + the name that is really my own.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock drew eagerly nearer to the table. He saw the end now to which + the speaker was tending + </p> + <p> + “Twice a year,” Midwinter pursued, “I must sign my own name to get my own + income. At all other times, and under all other circumstances, I may hide + my identity under any name I please. As Ozias Midwinter, Mr. Armadale + first knew me; as Ozias Midwinter he shall know me to the end of my days. + Whatever may be the result of this interview—whether I win your + confidence or whether I lose it—of one thing you may feel sure: your + pupil shall never know the horrible secret which I have trusted to your + keeping. This is no extraordinary resolution; for, as you know already, it + costs me no sacrifice of feeling to keep my assumed name. There is nothing + in my conduct to praise; it comes naturally out of the gratitude of a + thankful man. Review the circumstances for yourself, sir, and set my own + horror of revealing them to Mr. Armadale out of the question. If the story + of the names is ever told, there can be no limiting it to the disclosure + of my father’s crime; it must go back to the story of Mrs. Armadale’s + marriage. I have heard her son talk of her; I know how he loves her + memory. As God is my witness, he shall never love it less dearly through + <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Simply as the words were spoken, they touched the deepest sympathies in + the rector’s nature: they took his thoughts back to Mrs. Armadale’s + deathbed. There sat the man against whom she had ignorantly warned him in + her son’s interests; and that man, of his own free-will, had laid on + himself the obligation of respecting her secret for her son’s sake! The + memory of his own past efforts to destroy the very friendship out of which + this resolution had sprung rose and reproached Mr. Brock. He held out his + hand to Midwinter for the first time. “In her name, and in her son’s + name,” he said, warmly, “I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Without replying, Midwinter spread the confession open before him on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have said all that it was my duty to say,” he began, “before we + could approach the consideration of this letter. Whatever may have + appeared strange in my conduct toward you and toward Mr. Armadale may be + now trusted to explain itself. You can easily imagine the natural + curiosity and surprise that I must have felt (ignorant as I then was of + the truth) when the sound of Mr. Armadale’s name first startled me as the + echo of my own. You will readily understand that I only hesitated to tell + him I was his namesake, because I hesitated to damage my position—in + your estimation, if not in his—by confessing that I had come among + you under an assumed name. And, after all that you have just heard of my + vagabond life and my low associates, you will hardly wonder at the + obstinate silence I maintained about myself, at a time when I did not feel + the sense of responsibility which my father’s confession has laid on me. + We can return to these small personal explanations, if you wish it, at + another time; they cannot be suffered to keep us from the greater + interests which we must settle before you leave this place. We may come + now—” His voice faltered, and he suddenly turned his face toward the + window, so as to hide it from the rector’s view. “We may come now,” he + repeated, his hand trembling visibly as it held the page, “to the murder + on board the timber-ship, and to the warning that has followed me from my + father’s grave.” + </p> + <p> + Softly—as if he feared they might reach Allan, sleeping in the + neighboring room—he read the last terrible words which the + Scotchman’s pen had written at Wildbad, as they fell from his father’s + lips: + </p> + <p> + “Avoid the widow of the man I killed—if the widow still lives. Avoid + the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the way to the marriage—if the + maid is still in her service. And, more than all, avoid the man who bears + the same name as your own. Offend your best benefactor, if that + benefactor’s influence has connected you one with the other. Desert the + woman who loves you, if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide + yourself from him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas + between you; be ungrateful; be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent + to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof and + breathe the same air with that man. Never let the two Allan Armadales meet + in this world; never, never, never!” + </p> + <p> + After reading those sentences, he pushed the manuscript from him, without + looking up. The fatal reserve which he had been in a fair way of + conquering but a few minutes since, possessed itself of him once more. + Again his eyes wandered; again his voice sank in tone. A stranger who had + heard his story, and who saw him now, would have said, “His look is + lurking, his manner is bad; he is, every inch of him, his father’s son.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a question to ask you,” said Mr. Brock, breaking the silence + between them, on his side. “Why have you just read that passage in your + father’s letter?” + </p> + <p> + “To force me into telling you the truth,” was the answer. “You must know + how much there is of my father in me before you trust me to be Mr. + Armadale’s friend. I got my letter yesterday, in the morning. Some inner + warning troubled me, and I went down on the sea-shore by myself before I + broke the seal. Do you believe the dead can come back to the world they + once lived in? I believe my father came back in that bright morning light, + through the glare of that broad sunshine and the roar of that joyful sea, + and watched me while I read. When I got to the words that you have just + heard, and when I knew that the very end which he had died dreading was + the end that had really come, I felt the horror that had crept over him in + his last moments creeping over me. I struggled against myself, as <i>he</i> + would have had me struggle. I tried to be all that was most repellent to + my own gentler nature; I tried to think pitilessly of putting the + mountains and the seas between me and the man who bore my name. Hours + passed before I could prevail on myself to go back and run the risk of + meeting Allan Armadale in this house. When I did get back, and when he met + me at night on the stairs, I thought I was looking him in the face as <i>my</i> + father looked <i>his</i> father in the face when the cabin door closed + between them. Draw your own conclusions, sir. Say, if you like, that the + inheritance of my father’s heathen belief in fate is one of the + inheritances he has left to me. I won’t dispute it; I won’t deny that all + through yesterday <i>his</i> superstition was <i>my</i> superstition. The + night came before I could find my way to calmer and brighter thoughts. But + I did find my way. You may set it down in my favor that I lifted myself at + last above the influence of this horrible letter. Do you know what helped + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you reason with yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t reason about what I feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you quiet your mind by prayer?” + </p> + <p> + “I was not fit to pray.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet something guided you to the better feeling and the truer view?” + </p> + <p> + “Something did.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” + </p> + <p> + “My love for Allan Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + He cast a doubting, almost a timid look at Mr. Brock as he gave that + answer, and, suddenly leaving the table, went back to the window-seat. + </p> + <p> + “Have I no right to speak of him in that way?” he asked, keeping his face + hidden from the rector. “Have I not known him long enough; have I not done + enough for him yet? Remember what my experience of other men had been when + I first saw his hand held out to me—when I first heard his voice + speaking to me in my sick-room. What had I known of strangers’ hands all + through my childhood? I had only known them as hands raised to threaten + and to strike me. His hand put my pillow straight, and patted me on the + shoulder, and gave me my food and drink. What had I known of other men’s + voices, when I was growing up to be a man myself? I had only known them as + voices that jeered, voices that cursed, voices that whispered in corners + with a vile distrust. <i>His</i> voice said to me, ‘Cheer up, Midwinter! + we’ll soon bring you round again. You’ll be strong enough in a week to go + out for a drive with me in our Somersetshire lanes.’ Think of the gypsy’s + stick; think of the devils laughing at me when I went by their windows + with my little dead dog in my arms; think of the master who cheated me of + my month’s salary on his deathbed—and ask your own heart if the + miserable wretch whom Allan Armadale has treated as his equal and his + friend has said too much in saying that he loves him? I do love him! It <i>will</i> + come out of me; I can’t keep it back. I love the very ground he treads on! + I would give my life—yes, the life that is precious to me now, + because his kindness has made it a happy one—I tell you I would give + my life—” + </p> + <p> + The next words died away on his lips; the hysterical passion rose, and + conquered him. He stretched out one of his hands with a wild gesture of + entreaty to Mr. Brock; his head sank on the window-sill and he burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + Even then the hard discipline of the man’s life asserted itself. He + expected no sympathy, he counted on no merciful human respect for human + weakness. The cruel necessity of self-suppression was present to his mind, + while the tears were pouring over his cheeks. “Give me a minute,” he said, + faintly. “I’ll fight it down in a minute; I won’t distress you in this way + again.” + </p> + <p> + True to his resolution, in a minute he had fought it down. In a minute + more he was able to speak calmly. + </p> + <p> + “We will get back, sir, to those better thoughts which have brought me + from my room to yours,” he resumed. “I can only repeat that I should never + have torn myself from the hold which this letter fastened on me, if I had + not loved Allan Armadale with all that I have in me of a brother’s love. I + said to myself, ‘If the thought of leaving him breaks my heart, the + thought of leaving him is wrong!’ That was some hours since, and I am in + the same mind still. I can’t believe—I won’t believe—that a + friendship which has grown out of nothing but kindness on one side, and + nothing but gratitude on the other, is destined to lead to an evil end. + Judge, you who are a clergyman, between the dead father, whose word is in + these pages, and the living son, whose word is now on his lips! What is it + appointed me to do, now that I am breathing the same air, and living under + the same roof with the son of the man whom my father killed—to + perpetuate my father’s crime by mortally injuring him, or to atone for my + father’s crime by giving him the devotion of my whole life? The last of + those two faiths is my faith, and shall be my faith, happen what may. In + the strength of that better conviction, I have come here to trust you with + my father’s secret, and to confess the wretched story of my own life. In + the strength of that better conviction, I can face you resolutely with the + one plain question, which marks the one plain end of all that I have come + here to say. Your pupil stands at the starting-point of his new career, in + a position singularly friendless; his one great need is a companion of his + own age on whom he can rely. The time has come, sir, to decide whether I + am to be that companion or not. After all you have heard of Ozias + Midwinter, tell me plainly, will you trust him to be Allan Armadale’s + friend?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock met that fearlessly frank question by a fearless frankness on + his side. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you love Allan,” he said, “and I believe you have spoken the + truth. A man who has produced that impression on me is a man whom I am + bound to trust. I trust you.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter started to his feet, his dark face flushing deep; his eyes fixed + brightly and steadily, at last, on the rector’s face. “A light!” he + exclaimed, tearing the pages of his father’s letter, one by one, from the + fastening that held them. “Let us destroy the last link that holds us to + the horrible past! Let us see this confession a heap of ashes before we + part!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said Mr. Brock. “Before you burn it, there is a reason for looking + at it once more.” + </p> + <p> + The parted leaves of the manuscript dropped from Midwinter’s hands. Mr. + Brock took them up, and sorted them carefully until he found the last + page. + </p> + <p> + “I view your father’s superstition as you view it,” said the rector. “But + there is a warning given you here, which you will do well (for Allan’s + sake and for your own sake) not to neglect. The last link with the past + will not be destroyed when you have burned these pages. One of the actors + in this story of treachery and murder is not dead yet. Read those words.” + </p> + <p> + He pushed the page across the table, with his finger on one sentence. + Midwinter’s agitation misled him. He mistook the indication, and read, + “Avoid the widow of the man I killed, if the widow still lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that sentence,” said the rector. “The next.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter read it: “Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the way to + the marriage, if the maid is still in her service.” + </p> + <p> + “The maid and the mistress parted,” said Mr. Brock, “at the time of the + mistress’s marriage. The maid and the mistress met again at Mrs. + Armadale’s residence in Somersetshire last year. I myself met the woman in + the village, and I myself know that her visit hastened Mrs. Armadale’s + death. Wait a little, and compose yourself; I see I have startled you.” + </p> + <p> + He waited as he was bid, his color fading away to a gray paleness and the + light in his clear brown eyes dying out slowly. What the rector had said + had produced no transient impression on him; there was more than doubt, + there was alarm in his face, as he sat lost in his own thought. Was the + struggle of the past night renewing itself already? Did he feel the horror + of his hereditary superstition creeping over him again? + </p> + <p> + “Can you put me on my guard against her?” he asked, after a long interval + of silence. “Can you tell me her name?” + </p> + <p> + “I can only tell you what Mrs. Armadale told me,” answered Mr. Brock. “The + woman acknowledged having been married in the long interval since she and + her mistress had last met. But not a word more escaped her about her past + life. She came to Mrs. Armadale to ask for money, under a plea of + distress. She got the money, and she left the house, positively refusing, + when the question was put to her, to mention her married name.” + </p> + <p> + “You saw her yourself in the village. What was she like?” + </p> + <p> + “She kept her veil down. I can’t tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell me what you <i>did</i> see?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I saw, as she approached me, that she moved very gracefully, + that she had a beautiful figure, and that she was a little over the middle + height. I noticed, when she asked me the way to Mrs. Armadale’s house, + that her manner was the manner of a lady, and that the tone of her voice + was remarkably soft and winning. Lastly, I remembered afterward that she + wore a thick black veil, a black bonnet, a black silk dress, and a red + Paisley shawl. I feel all the importance of your possessing some better + means of identifying her than I can give you. But unhappily—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. Midwinter was leaning eagerly across the table, and + Midwinter’s hand was laid suddenly on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that you know the woman?” asked Mr. Brock, surprised at + the sudden change in his manner. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I said, then, that has startled you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the woman who threw herself from the river steamer?” + asked the other—“the woman who caused that succession of deaths + which opened Allan Armadale’s way to the Thorpe Ambrose estate?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember the description of her in the police report,” answered the + rector. + </p> + <p> + “<i>That</i> woman,” pursued Midwinter, “moved gracefully, and had a + beautiful figure. <i>That</i> woman wore a black veil, a black bonnet, a + black silk gown, and a red Paisley shawl—” He stopped, released his + hold of Mr. Brock’s arm, and abruptly resumed his chair. “Can it be the + same?” he said to himself in a whisper. “<i>Is</i> there a fatality that + follows men in the dark? And is it following <i>us</i> in that woman’s + footsteps?” + </p> + <p> + If the conjecture was right, the one event in the past which had appeared + to be entirely disconnected with the events that had preceded it was, on + the contrary, the one missing link which made the chain complete. Mr. + Brock’s comfortable common sense instinctively denied that startling + conclusion. He looked at Midwinter with a compassionate smile. + </p> + <p> + “My young friend,” he said, kindly, “have you cleared your mind of all + superstition as completely as you think? Is what you have just said worthy + of the better resolution at which you arrived last night?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s head drooped on his breast; the color rushed back over his + face; he sighed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You are beginning to doubt my sincerity,” he said. “I can’t blame you.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe in your sincerity as firmly as ever,” answered Mr. Brock. “I + only doubt whether you have fortified the weak places in your nature as + strongly as you yourself suppose. Many a man has lost the battle against + himself far oftener than you have lost it yet, and has nevertheless won + his victory in the end. I don’t blame you, I don’t distrust you. I only + notice what has happened, to put you on your guard against yourself. Come! + come! Let your own better sense help you; and you will agree with me that + there is really no evidence to justify the suspicion that the woman whom I + met in Somersetshire, and the woman who attempted suicide in London, are + one and the same. Need an old man like me remind a young man like you that + there are thousands of women in England with beautiful figures—thousands + of women who are quietly dressed in black silk gowns and red Paisley + shawls?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter caught eagerly at the suggestion; too eagerly, as it might have + occurred to a harder critic on humanity than Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, sir,” he said, “and I am quite wrong. Tens of + thousands of women answer the description, as you say. I have been wasting + time on my own idle fancies, when I ought to have been carefully gathering + up facts. If this woman ever attempts to find her way to Allan, I must be + prepared to stop her.” He began searching restlessly among the manuscript + leaves scattered about the table, paused over one of the pages, and + examined it attentively. “This helps me to something positive,” he went + on; “this helps me to a knowledge of her age. She was twelve at the time + of Mrs. Armadale’s marriage; add a year, and bring her to thirteen; add + Allan’s age (twenty-two), and we make her a woman of five-and-thirty at + the present time. I know her age; and I know that she has her own reasons + for being silent about her married life. This is something gained at the + outset, and it may lead, in time, to something more.” He looked up + brightly again at Mr. Brock. “Am I in the right way now, sir? Am I doing + my best to profit by the caution which you have kindly given me?” + </p> + <p> + “You are vindicating your own better sense,” answered the rector, + encouraging him to trample down his own imagination, with an Englishman’s + ready distrust of the noblest of the human faculties. “You are paving the + way for your own happier life.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I?” said the other, thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + He searched among the papers once more, and stopped at another of the + scattered pages. + </p> + <p> + “The ship!” he exclaimed, suddenly, his color changing again, and his + manner altering on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “What ship?” asked the rector. + </p> + <p> + “The ship in which the deed was done,” Midwinter answered, with the first + signs of impatience that he had shown yet. “The ship in which my father’s + murderous hand turned the lock of the cabin door.” + </p> + <p> + “What of it?” said Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + He appeared not to hear the question; his eyes remained fixed intently on + the page that he was reading. + </p> + <p> + “A French vessel, employed in the timber trade,” he said, still speaking + to himself—“a French vessel, named <i>La Grace de Dieu</i>. If my + father’s belief had been the right belief—if the fatality had been + following me, step by step, from my father’s grave, in one or other of my + voyages, I should have fallen in with that ship.” He looked up again at + Mr. Brock. “I am quite sure about it now,” he said. “Those women are two, + and not one.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you have come to that conclusion,” he said. “But I wish you had + reached it in some other way.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter started passionately to his feet, and, seizing on the pages of + the manuscript with both hands, flung them into the empty fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake let me burn it!” he exclaimed. “As long as there is a page + left, I shall read it. And, as long as I read it, my father gets the + better of me, in spite of myself!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brock pointed to the match-box. In another moment the confession was + in flames. When the fire had consumed the last morsel of paper, Midwinter + drew a deep breath of relief. + </p> + <p> + “I may say, like Macbeth: ‘Why, so, being gone, I am a man again!’” he + broke out with a feverish gayety. “You look fatigued, sir; and no wonder,” + he added, in a lower tone. “I have kept you too long from your rest—I + will keep you no longer. Depend on my remembering what you have told me; + depend on my standing between Allan and any enemy, man or woman, who comes + near him. Thank you, Mr. Brock; a thousand thousand times, thank you! I + came into this room the most wretched of living men; I can leave it now as + happy as the birds that are singing outside!” + </p> + <p> + As he turned to the door, the rays of the rising sun streamed through the + window, and touched the heap of ashes lying black in the black fireplace. + The sensitive imagination of Midwinter kindled instantly at the sight. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he said, joyously. “The promise of the Future shining over the + ashes of the Past!” + </p> + <p> + An inexplicable pity for the man, at the moment of his life when he needed + pity least, stole over the rector’s heart when the door had closed, and he + was left by himself again. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” he said, with an uneasy surprise at his own compassionate + impulse. “Poor fellow!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0010" id="H2_4_0010"></a> III. DAY AND NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + The morning hours had passed; the noon had come and gone; and Mr. Brock + had started on the first stage of his journey home. + </p> + <p> + After parting from the rector in Douglas Harbor, the two young men had + returned to Castletown, and had there separated at the hotel door, Allan + walking down to the waterside to look after his yacht, and Midwinter + entering the house to get the rest that he needed after a sleepless night. + </p> + <p> + He darkened his room; he closed his eyes, but no sleep came to him. On + this first day of the rector’s absence, his sensitive nature extravagantly + exaggerated the responsibility which he now held in trust for Mr. Brock. A + nervous dread of leaving Allan by himself, even for a few hours only, kept + him waking and doubting, until it became a relief rather than a hardship + to rise from the bed again, and, following in Allan’s footsteps, to take + the way to the waterside which led to the yacht. + </p> + <p> + The repairs of the little vessel were nearly completed. It was a breezy, + cheerful day; the land was bright, the water was blue, the quick waves + leaped crisply in the sunshine, the men were singing at their work. + Descending to the cabin, Midwinter discovered his friend busily occupied + in attempting to set the place to rights. Habitually the least systematic + of mortals, Allan now and then awoke to an overwhelming sense of the + advantages of order, and on such occasions a perfect frenzy of tidiness + possessed him. He was down on his knees, hotly and wildly at work, when + Midwinter looked in on him; and was fast reducing the neat little world of + the cabin to its original elements of chaos, with a misdirected energy + wonderful to see. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a mess!” said Allan, rising composedly on the horizon of his own + accumulated litter. “Do you know, my dear fellow, I begin to wish I had + let well alone!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter smiled, and came to his friend’s assistance with the natural + neat-handedness of a sailor. + </p> + <p> + The first object that he encountered was Allan’s dressing-case, turned + upside down, with half the contents scattered on the floor, and with a + duster and a hearth-broom lying among them. Replacing the various objects + which formed the furniture of the dressing-case one by one, Midwinter + lighted unexpectedly on a miniature portrait, of the old-fashioned oval + form, primly framed in a setting of small diamonds. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t seem to set much value on this,” he said. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Allan bent over him, and looked at the miniature. “It belonged to my + mother,” he answered; “and I set the greatest value on it. It is a + portrait of my father.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter put the miniature abruptly, into Allan’s hands, and withdrew to + the opposite side of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “You know best where the things ought to be put in your own + dressing-case,” he said, keeping his back turned on Allan. “I’ll make the + place tidy on this side of the cabin, and you shall make the place tidy on + the other.” + </p> + <p> + He began setting in order the litter scattered about him on the cabin + table and on the floor. But it seemed as if fate had decided that his + friend’s personal possessions should fall into his hands that morning, + employ them where he might. One among the first objects which he took up + was Allan’s tobacco jar, with the stopper missing, and with a letter + (which appeared by the bulk of it to contain inclosures) crumpled into the + mouth of the jar in the stopper’s place. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know that you had put this here?” he asked. “Is the letter of any + importance?” + </p> + <p> + Allan recognized it instantly. It was the first of the little series of + letters which had followed the cruising party to the Isle of Man—the + letter which young Armadale had briefly referred to as bringing him “more + worries from those everlasting lawyers,” and had then dismissed from + further notice as recklessly as usual. + </p> + <p> + “This is what comes of being particularly careful,” said Allan; “here is + an instance of my extreme thoughtfulness. You may not think it but I put + the letter there on purpose. Every time I went to the jar, you know, I was + sure to see the letter; and every time I saw the letter, I was sure to say + to myself, ‘This must be answered.’ There’s nothing to laugh at; it was a + perfectly sensible arrangement, if I could only have remembered where I + put the jar. Suppose I tie a knot in my pocket-handkerchief this time? You + have a wonderful memory, my dear fellow. Perhaps you’ll remind me in the + course of the day, in case I forget the knot next.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter saw his first chance, since Mr. Brock’s departure, of usefully + filling Mr. Brock’s place. + </p> + <p> + “Here is your writing-case,” he said; “why not answer the letter at once? + If you put it away again, you may forget it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true,” returned Allan. “But the worst of it is, I can’t quite make + up my mind what answer to write. I want a word of advice. Come and sit + down here, and I’ll tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + With his loud boyish laugh—echoed by Midwinter, who caught the + infection of his gayety—he swept a heap of miscellaneous + incumbrances off the cabin sofa, and made room for his friend and himself + to take their places. In the high flow of youthful spirits, the two sat + down to their trifling consultation over a letter lost in a tobacco jar. + It was a memorable moment to both of them, lightly as they thought of it + at the time. Before they had risen again from their places, they had taken + the first irrevocable step together on the dark and tortuous road of their + future lives. + </p> + <p> + Reduced to plain facts, the question on which Allan now required his + friend’s advice may be stated as follows: + </p> + <p> + While the various arrangements connected with the succession to Thorpe + Ambrose were in progress of settlement, and while the new possessor of the + estate was still in London, a question had necessarily arisen relating to + the person who should be appointed to manage the property. The steward + employed by the Blanchard family had written, without loss of time, to + offer his services. Although a perfectly competent and trustworthy man, he + failed to find favor in the eyes of the new proprietor. Acting, as usual, + on his first impulses, and resolved, at all hazards, to install Midwinter + as a permanent inmate at Thorpe Ambrose, Allan had determined that the + steward’s place was the place exactly fitted for his friend, for the + simple reason that it would necessarily oblige his friend to live with him + on the estate. He had accordingly written to decline the proposal made to + him without consulting Mr. Brock, whose disapproval he had good reason to + fear; and without telling Midwinter, who would probably (if a chance were + allowed him of choosing) have declined taking a situation which his + previous training had by no means fitted him to fill. + </p> + <p> + Further correspondence had followed this decision, and had raised two new + difficulties which looked a little embarrassing on the face of them, but + which Allan, with the assistance of his lawyer, easily contrived to solve. + The first difficulty, of examining the outgoing steward’s books, was + settled by sending a professional accountant to Thorpe Ambrose; and the + second difficulty, of putting the steward’s empty cottage to some + profitable use (Allan’s plans for his friend comprehending Midwinter’s + residence under his own roof), was met by placing the cottage on the list + of an active house agent in the neighboring county town. In this state the + arrangements had been left when Allan quitted London. He had heard and + thought nothing more of the matter, until a letter from his lawyers had + followed him to the Isle of Man, inclosing two proposals to occupy the + cottage, both received on the same day, and requesting to hear, at his + earliest convenience, which of the two he was prepared to accept. + </p> + <p> + Finding himself, after having conveniently forgotten the subject for some + days past, placed face to face once more with the necessity for decision, + Allan now put the two proposals into his friend’s hands, and, after a + rambling explanation of the circumstances of the case, requested to be + favored with a word of advice. Instead of examining the proposals, + Midwinter unceremoniously put them aside, and asked the two very natural + and very awkward questions of who the new steward was to be, and why he + was to live in Allan’s house? + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you who, and I’ll tell you why, when we get to Thorpe Ambrose,” + said Allan. “In the meantime we’ll call the steward X. Y. Z., and we’ll + say he lives with me, because I’m devilish sharp, and I mean to keep him + under my own eye. You needn’t look surprised. I know the man thoroughly + well; he requires a good deal of management. If I offered him the + steward’s place beforehand, his modesty would get in his way, and he would + say ‘No.’ If I pitch him into it neck and crop, without a word of warning + and with nobody at hand to relieve him of the situation, he’ll have + nothing for it but to consult my interests, and say ‘Yes.’ X. Y. Z. is not + at all a bad fellow, I can tell you. You’ll see him when we go to Thorpe + Ambrose; and I rather think you and he will get on uncommonly well + together.” + </p> + <p> + The humorous twinkle in Allan’s eye, the sly significance in Allan’s + voice, would have betrayed his secret to a prosperous man. Midwinter was + as far from suspecting it as the carpenters who were at work above them on + the deck of the yacht. + </p> + <p> + “Is there no steward now on the estate?” he asked, his face showing + plainly that he was far from feeling satisfied with Allan’s answer. “Is + the business neglected all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort!” returned Allan. “The business is going with ‘a wet + sheet and a flowing sea, and a wind that follows free.’ I’m not joking; + I’m only metaphorical. A regular accountant has poked his nose into the + books, and a steady-going lawyer’s clerk attends at the office once a + week. That doesn’t look like neglect, does it? Leave the new steward alone + for the present, and just tell me which of those two tenants you would + take, if you were in my place.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter opened the proposals, and read them attentively. + </p> + <p> + The first proposal was from no less a person than the solicitor at Thorpe + Ambrose, who had first informed Allan at Paris of the large fortune that + had fallen into his hands. This gentleman wrote personally to say that he + had long admired the cottage, which was charmingly situated within the + limits of the Thorpe Ambrose grounds. He was a bachelor, of studious + habits, desirous of retiring to a country seclusion after the wear and + tear of his business hours; and he ventured to say that Mr. Armadale, in + accepting him as a tenant, might count on securing an unobtrusive + neighbor, and on putting the cottage into responsible and careful hands. + </p> + <p> + The second proposal came through the house agent, and proceeded from a + total stranger. The tenant who offered for the cottage, in this case, was + a retired officer in the army—one Major Milroy. His family merely + consisted of an invalid wife and an only child—a young lady. His + references were unexceptionable; and he, too, was especially anxious to + secure the cottage, as the perfect quiet of the situation was exactly what + was required by Mrs. Milroy in her feeble state of health. + </p> + <p> + “Well, which profession shall I favor?” asked Allan. “The army or the + law?” + </p> + <p> + “There seems to me to be no doubt about it,” said Midwinter. “The lawyer + has been already in correspondence with you; and the lawyer’s claim is, + therefore, the claim to be preferred.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would say that. In all the thousands of times I have asked + other people for advice, I never yet got the advice I wanted. Here’s this + business of letting the cottage as an instance. I’m all on the other side + myself. I want to have the major.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Young Armadale laid his forefinger on that part of the agent’s letter + which enumerated Major Milroy’s family, and which contained the three + words—“a young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “A bachelor of studious habits walking about my grounds,” said Allan, “is + not an interesting object; a young lady is. I have not the least doubt + Miss Milroy is a charming girl. Ozias Midwinter of the serious + countenance! think of her pretty muslin dress flitting about among your + trees and committing trespasses on your property; think of her adorable + feet trotting into your fruit-garden, and her delicious fresh lips kissing + your ripe peaches; think of her dimpled hands among your early violets, + and her little cream-colored nose buried in your blush-roses. What does + the studious bachelor offer me in exchange for the loss of all this? He + offers me a rheumatic brown object in gaiters and a wig. No! no! Justice + is good, my dear friend; but, believe me, Miss Milroy is better.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you be serious about any mortal thing, Allan?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try to be, if you like. I know I ought to take the lawyer; but what + can I do if the major’s daughter keeps running in my head?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter returned resolutely to the just and sensible view of the matter, + and pressed it on his friend’s attention with all the persuasion of which + he was master. After listening with exemplary patience until he had done, + Allan swept a supplementary accumulation of litter off the cabin table, + and produced from his waistcoat pocket a half-crown coin. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got an entirely new idea,” he said. “Let’s leave it to chance.” + </p> + <p> + The absurdity of the proposal—as coming from a landlord—was + irresistible. Midwinter’s gravity deserted him. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll spin,” continued Allan, “and you shall call. We must give precedence + to the army, of course; so we’ll say Heads, the major; Tails, the lawyer. + One spin to decide. Now, then, look out!” + </p> + <p> + He spun the half-crown on the cabin table. + </p> + <p> + “Tails!” cried Midwinter, humoring what he believed to be one of Allan’s + boyish jokes. + </p> + <p> + The coin fell on the table with the Head uppermost. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say you are really in earnest!” said Midwinter, as the + other opened his writing-case and dipped his pen in the ink. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I am, though!” replied Allan. “Chance is on my side, and Miss + Milroy’s; and you’re outvoted, two to one. It’s no use arguing. The major + has fallen uppermost, and the major shall have the cottage. I won’t leave + it to the lawyers; they’ll only be worrying me with more letters. I’ll + write myself.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote his answers to the two proposals, literally in two minutes. One + to the house agent: “Dear sir, I accept Major Milroy’s offer; let him come + in when he pleases. Yours truly, Allan Armadale.” And one to the lawyer: + “Dear sir, I regret that circumstances prevent me from accepting your + proposal. Yours truly,” etc. “People make a fuss about letter-writing,” + Allan remarked, when he had done. “<i>I</i> find it easy enough.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote the addresses on his two notes, and stamped them for the post, + whistling gayly. While he had been writing, he had not noticed how his + friend was occupied. When he had done, it struck him that a sudden silence + had fallen on the cabin; and, looking up, he observed that Midwinter’s + whole attention was strangely concentrated on the half crown as it lay + head uppermost on the table. Allan suspended his whistling in + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth are you doing?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I was only wondering,” replied Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “What about?” persisted Allan. + </p> + <p> + “I was wondering,” said the other, handing him back the half-crown, + “whether there is such a thing as chance.” + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the two notes were posted; and Allan, whose close + superintendence of the repairs of the yacht had hitherto allowed him but + little leisure time on shore, had proposed to while away the idle hours by + taking a walk in Castletown. Even Midwinter’s nervous anxiety to deserve + Mr. Brock’s confidence in him could detect nothing objectionable in this + harmless proposal, and the young men set forth together to see what they + could make of the metropolis of the Isle of Man. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if there is a place on the habitable globe which, regarded + as a sight-seeing investment offering itself to the spare attention of + strangers, yields so small a percentage of interest in return as + Castletown. Beginning with the waterside, there was an inner harbor to + see, with a drawbridge to let vessels through; an outer harbor, ending in + a dwarf lighthouse; a view of a flat coast to the right, and a view of a + flat coast to the left. In the central solitudes of the city, there was a + squat gray building called “the castle”; also a memorial pillar dedicated + to one Governor Smelt, with a flat top for a statue, and no statue + standing on it; also a barrack, holding the half-company of soldiers + allotted to the island, and exhibiting one spirit-broken sentry at its + lonely door. The prevalent color of the town was faint gray. The few shops + open were parted at frequent intervals by other shops closed and deserted + in despair. The weary lounging of boatmen on shore was trebly weary here; + the youth of the district smoked together in speechless depression under + the lee of a dead wall; the ragged children said mechanically: “Give us a + penny,” and before the charitable hand could search the merciful pocket, + lapsed away again in misanthropic doubt of the human nature they + addressed. The silence of the grave overflowed the churchyard, and filled + this miserable town. But one edifice, prosperous to look at, rose + consolatory in the desolation of these dreadful streets. Frequented by the + students of the neighboring “College of King William,” this building was + naturally dedicated to the uses of a pastry-cook’s shop. Here, at least + (viewed through the friendly medium of the window), there was something + going on for a stranger to see; for here, on high stools, the pupils of + the college sat, with swinging legs and slowly moving jaws, and, hushed in + the horrid stillness of Castletown, gorged their pastry gravely, in an + atmosphere of awful silence. + </p> + <p> + “Hang me if I can look any longer at the boys and the tarts!” said Allan, + dragging his friend away from the pastry-cook’s shop. “Let’s try if we + can’t find something else to amuse us in the next street.” + </p> + <p> + The first amusing object which the next street presented was a + carver-and-gilder’s shop, expiring feebly in the last stage of commercial + decay. The counter inside displayed nothing to view but the recumbent head + of a boy, peacefully asleep in the unbroken solitude of the place. In the + window were exhibited to the passing stranger three forlorn little + fly-spotted frames; a small posting-bill, dusty with long-continued + neglect, announcing that the premises were to let; and one colored print, + the last of a series illustrating the horrors of drunkenness, on the + fiercest temperance principles. The composition—representing an + empty bottle of gin, an immensely spacious garret, a perpendicular + Scripture reader, and a horizontal expiring family—appealed to + public favor, under the entirely unobjectionable title of “The Hand of + Death.” Allan’s resolution to extract amusement from Castletown by main + force had resisted a great deal, but it failed him at this stage of the + investigations. He suggested trying an excursion to some other place. + Midwinter readily agreeing, they went back to the hotel to make inquiries. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the mixed influence of Allan’s ready gift of familiarity, and + total want of method in putting his questions, a perfect deluge of + information flowed in on the two strangers, relating to every subject but + the subject which had actually brought them to the hotel. They made + various interesting discoveries in connection with the laws and + constitution of the Isle of Man, and the manners and customs of the + natives. To Allan’s delight, the Manxmen spoke of England as of a + well-known adjacent island, situated at a certain distance from the + central empire of the Isle of Man. It was further revealed to the two + Englishmen that this happy little nation rejoiced in laws of its own, + publicly proclaimed once a year by the governor and the two head judges, + grouped together on the top of an ancient mound, in fancy costumes + appropriate to the occasion. Possessing this enviable institution, the + island added to it the inestimable blessing of a local parliament, called + the House of Keys, an assembly far in advance of the other parliament + belonging to the neighboring island, in this respect—that the + members dispensed with the people, and solemnly elected each other. With + these and many more local particulars, extracted from all sorts and + conditions of men in and about the hotel, Allan whiled away the weary time + in his own essentially desultory manner, until the gossip died out of + itself, and Midwinter (who had been speaking apart with the landlord) + quietly recalled him to the matter in hand. The finest coast scenery in + the island was said to be to the westward and the southward, and there was + a fishing town in those regions called Port St. Mary, with a hotel at + which travelers could sleep. If Allan’s impressions of Castletown still + inclined him to try an excursion to some other place, he had only to say + so, and a carriage would be produced immediately. Allan jumped at the + proposal, and in ten minutes more he and Midwinter were on their way to + the western wilds of the island. + </p> + <p> + With trifling incidents, the day of Mr. Brock’s departure had worn on thus + far. With trifling incidents, in which not even Midwinter’s nervous + watchfulness could see anything to distrust, it was still to proceed, + until the night came—a night which one at least of the two + companions was destined to remember to the end of his life. + </p> + <p> + Before the travelers had advanced two miles on their road, an accident + happened. The horse fell, and the driver reported that the animal had + seriously injured himself. There was no alternative but to send for + another carriage to Castletown, or to get on to Port St. Mary on foot. + </p> + <p> + Deciding to walk, Midwinter and Allan had not gone far before they were + overtaken by a gentleman driving alone in an open chaise. He civilly + introduced himself as a medical man, living close to Port St. Mary, and + offered seats in his carriage. Always ready to make new acquaintances, + Allan at once accepted the proposal. He and the doctor (whose name was + ascertained to be Hawbury) became friendly and familiar before they had + been five minutes in the chaise together; Midwinter, sitting behind them, + reserved and silent, on the back seat. They separated just outside Port + St. Mary, before Mr. Hawbury’s house, Allan boisterously admiring the + doctor’s neat French windows and pretty flower-garden and lawn, and + wringing his hand at parting as if they had known each other from boyhood + upward. Arrived in Port St. Mary, the two friends found themselves in a + second Castletown on a smaller scale. But the country round, wild, open, + and hilly, deserved its reputation. A walk brought them well enough on + with the day—still the harmless, idle day that it had been from the + first—to see the evening near at hand. After waiting a little to + admire the sun, setting grandly over hill, and heath, and crag, and + talking, while they waited, of Mr. Brock and his long journey home, they + returned to the hotel to order their early supper. Nearer and nearer the + night, and the adventure which the night was to bring with it, came to the + two friends; and still the only incidents that happened were incidents to + be laughed at, if they were noticed at all. The supper was badly cooked; + the waiting-maid was impenetrably stupid; the old-fashioned bell-rope in + the coffee-room had come down in Allan’s hands, and, striking in its + descent a painted china shepherdess on the chimney-piece, had laid the + figure in fragments on the floor. Events as trifling as these were still + the only events that had happened, when the twilight faded, and the + lighted candles were brought into the room. + </p> + <p> + Finding Midwinter, after the double fatigue of a sleepless night and a + restless day, but little inclined for conversation, Allan left him resting + on the sofa, and lounged into the passage of the hotel, on the chance of + discovering somebody to talk to. Here another of the trivial incidents of + the day brought Allan and Mr. Hawbury together again, and helped—whether + happily or not, yet remained to be seen—to strengthen the + acquaintance between them on either side. + </p> + <p> + The “bar” of the hotel was situated at one end of the passage, and the + landlady was in attendance there, mixing a glass of liquor for the doctor, + who had just looked in for a little gossip. On Allan’s asking permission + to make a third in the drinking and the gossiping, Mr. Hawbury civilly + handed him the glass which the landlady had just filled. It contained cold + brandy-and-water. A marked change in Allan’s face, as he suddenly drew + back and asked for whisky instead, caught the doctor’s medical eye. “A + case of nervous antipathy,” said Mr. Hawbury, quietly taking the glass + away again. The remark obliged Allan to acknowledge that he had an + insurmountable loathing (which he was foolish enough to be a little + ashamed of mentioning) to the smell and taste of brandy. No matter with + what diluting liquid the spirit was mixed, the presence of it, instantly + detected by his organs of taste and smell, turned him sick and faint if + the drink touched his lips. Starting from this personal confession, the + talk turned on antipathies in general; and the doctor acknowledged, on his + side, that he took a professional interest in the subject, and that he + possessed a collection of curious cases at home, which his new + acquaintance was welcome to look at, if Allan had nothing else to do that + evening, and if he would call, when the medical work of the day was over, + in an hour’s time. + </p> + <p> + Cordially accepting the invitation (which was extended to Midwinter also, + if he cared to profit by it), Allan returned to the coffee-room to look + after his friend. Half asleep and half awake, Midwinter was still + stretched on the sofa, with the local newspaper just dropping out of his + languid hand. + </p> + <p> + “I heard your voice in the passage,” he said, drowsily. “Whom were you + talking to?” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor,” replied Allan. “I am going to smoke a cigar with him, in an + hour’s time. Will you come too?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter assented with a weary sigh. Always shyly unwilling to make new + acquaintances, fatigue increased the reluctance he now felt to become Mr. + Hawbury’s guest. As matters stood, however, there was no alternative but + to go; for, with Allan’s constitutional imprudence, there was no safely + trusting him alone anywhere, and more especially in a stranger’s house. + Mr. Brock would certainly not have left his pupil to visit the doctor + alone; and Midwinter was still nervously conscious that he occupied Mr. + Brock’s place. + </p> + <p> + “What shall we do till it’s time to go?” asked Allan, looking about him. + “Anything in this?” he added, observing the fallen newspaper, and picking + it up from the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I’m too tired to look. If you find anything interesting, read it out,” + said Midwinter, thinking that the reading might help to keep him awake. + </p> + <p> + Part of the newspaper, and no small part of it, was devoted to extracts + from books recently published in London. One of the works most largely + laid under contribution in this manner was of the sort to interest Allan: + it was a highly spiced narrative of Traveling Adventures in the wilds of + Australia. Pouncing on an extract which described the sufferings of the + traveling-party, lost in a trackless wilderness, and in danger of dying by + thirst, Allan announced that he had found something to make his friend’s + flesh creep, and began eagerly to read the passage aloud. + </p> + <p> + Resolute not to sleep, Midwinter followed the progress of the adventure, + sentence by sentence, without missing a word. The consultation of the lost + travelers, with death by thirst staring them in the face; the resolution + to press on while their strength lasted; the fall of a heavy shower, the + vain efforts made to catch the rainwater, the transient relief experienced + by sucking their wet clothes; the sufferings renewed a few hours after; + the night advance of the strongest of the party, leaving the weakest + behind; the following a flight of birds when morning dawned; the discovery + by the lost men of the broad pool of water that saved their lives—all + this Midwinter’s fast-failing attention mastered painfully, Allan’s voice + growing fainter and fainter on his ear with every sentence that was read. + Soon the next words seemed to drop away gently, and nothing but the slowly + sinking sound of the voice was left. Then the light in the room darkened + gradually, the sound dwindled into delicious silence, and the last waking + impressions of the weary Midwinter came peacefully to an end. + </p> + <p> + The next event of which he was conscious was a sharp ringing at the closed + door of the hotel. He started to his feet, with the ready alacrity of a + man whose life has accustomed him to wake at the shortest notice. An + instant’s look round showed him that the room was empty, and a glance at + his watch told him that it was close on midnight. The noise made by the + sleepy servant in opening the door, and the tread the next moment of quick + footsteps in the passage, filled him with a sudden foreboding of something + wrong. As he hurriedly stepped forward to go out and make inquiry, the + door of the coffee-room opened, and the doctor stood before him. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to disturb you,” said Mr. Hawbury. “Don’t be alarmed; there’s + nothing wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is my friend?” asked Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “At the pier head,” answered the doctor. “I am, to a certain extent, + responsible for what he is doing now; and I think some careful person, + like yourself, ought to be with him.” + </p> + <p> + The hint was enough for Midwinter. He and the doctor set out for the pier + immediately, Mr. Hawbury mentioning on the way the circumstances under + which he had come to the hotel. + </p> + <p> + Punctual to the appointed hour Allan had made his appearance at the + doctor’s house, explaining that he had left his weary friend so fast + asleep on the sofa that he had not had the heart to wake him. The evening + had passed pleasantly, and the conversation had turned on many subjects, + until, in an evil hour, Mr. Hawbury had dropped a hint which showed that + he was fond of sailing, and that he possessed a pleasure-boat of his own + in the harbor. Excited on the instant by his favorite topic, Allan had + left his host no hospitable alternative but to take him to the pier head + and show him the boat. The beauty of the night and the softness of the + breeze had done the rest of the mischief; they had filled Allan with + irresistible longings for a sail by moonlight. Prevented from accompanying + his guest by professional hindrances which obliged him to remain on shore, + the doctor, not knowing what else to do, had ventured on disturbing + Midwinter, rather than take the responsibility of allowing Mr. Armadale + (no matter how well he might be accustomed to the sea) to set off on a + sailing trip at midnight entirely by himself. + </p> + <p> + The time taken to make this explanation brought Midwinter and the doctor + to the pier head. There, sure enough, was young Armadale in the boat, + hoisting the sail, and singing the sailor’s “Yo-heave-ho!” at the top of + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, old boy!” cried Allan. “You’re just in time for a frolic by + moonlight!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suggested a frolic by daylight, and an adjournment to bed in the + meantime. + </p> + <p> + “Bed!” cried Allan, on whose harum-scarum high spirits Mr. Hawbury’s + hospitality had certainly not produced a sedative effect. “Hear him, + doctor! one would think he was ninety! Bed, you drowsy old dormouse! Look + at that, and think of bed if you can!” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the sea. The moon was shining in the cloudless heaven; the + night-breeze blew soft and steady from the land; the peaceful waters + rippled joyfully in the silence and the glory of the night. Midwinter + turned to the doctor with a wise resignation to circumstances: he had seen + enough to satisfy him that all words of remonstrance would be words simply + thrown away. + </p> + <p> + “How is the tide?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hawbury told him. + </p> + <p> + “Are there oars in the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I am well used to the sea,” said Midwinter, descending the pier steps. + “You may trust me to take care of my friend, and to take care of the + boat.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, doctor!” shouted Allan. “Your whisky-and-water is delicious—your + boat’s a little beauty—and you’re the best fellow I ever met in my + life!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor laughed and waved his hand, and the boat glided out from the + harbor, with Midwinter at the helm. + </p> + <p> + As the breeze then blew, they were soon abreast of the westward headland, + bounding the Bay of Poolvash, and the question was started whether they + should run out to sea or keep along the shore. The wisest proceeding, in + the event of the wind failing them, was to keep by the land. Midwinter + altered the course of the boat, and they sailed on smoothly in a + south-westerly direction, abreast of the coast. + </p> + <p> + Little by little the cliffs rose in height, and the rocks, massed wild and + jagged, showed rifted black chasms yawning deep in their seaward sides. + Off the bold promontory called Spanish Head, Midwinter looked ominously at + his watch. But Allan pleaded hard for half an hour more, and for a glance + at the famous channel of the Sound, which they were now fast nearing, and + of which he had heard some startling stories from the workmen employed on + his yacht. The new change which Midwinter’s compliance with this request + rendered it necessary to make in the course of the boat brought her close + to the wind; and revealed, on one side, the grand view of the southernmost + shores of the Isle of Man, and, on the other, the black precipices of the + islet called the Calf, separated from the mainland by the dark and + dangerous channel of the Sound. + </p> + <p> + Once more Midwinter looked at his watch. “We have gone far enough,” he + said. “Stand by the sheet!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Allan, from the bows of the boat. “Good God! here’s a + wrecked ship right ahead of us!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter let the boat fall off a little, and looked where the other + pointed. + </p> + <p> + There, stranded midway between the rocky boundaries on either side of the + Sound—there, never again to rise on the living waters from her grave + on the sunken rock; lost and lonely in the quiet night; high, and dark, + and ghostly in the yellow moonshine, lay the Wrecked Ship. + </p> + <p> + “I know the vessel,” said Allan, in great excitement. “I heard my workmen + talking of her yesterday. She drifted in here, on a pitch-dark night, when + they couldn’t see the lights; a poor old worn-out merchantman, Midwinter, + that the ship-brokers have bought to break up. Let’s run in and have a + look at her.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter hesitated. All the old sympathies of his sea-life strongly + inclined him to follow Allan’s suggestion; but the wind was falling light, + and he distrusted the broken water and the swirling currents of the + channel ahead. “This is an ugly place to take a boat into when you know + nothing about it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” returned Allan. “It’s as light as day, and we float in two + feet of water.” + </p> + <p> + Before Midwinter could answer, the current caught the boat, and swept them + onward through the channel straight toward the wreck. + </p> + <p> + “Lower the sail,” said Midwinter, quietly, “and ship the oars. We are + running down on her fast enough now, whether we like it or not.” + </p> + <p> + Both well accustomed to the use of the oar, they brought the course of the + boat under sufficient control to keep her on the smoothest side of the + channel—the side which was nearest to the Islet of the Calf. As they + came swiftly up with the wreck, Midwinter resigned his oar to Allan; and, + watching his opportunity, caught a hold with the boat-hook on the + fore-chains of the vessel. The next moment they had the boat safely in + hand, under the lee of the wreck. + </p> + <p> + The ship’s ladder used by the workmen hung over the fore-chains. Mounting + it, with the boat’s rope in his teeth, Midwinter secured one end, and + lowered the other to Allan in the boat. “Make that fast,” he said, “and + wait till I see if it’s all safe on board.” With those words, he + disappeared behind the bulwark. + </p> + <p> + “Wait?” repeated Allan, in the blankest astonishment at his friend’s + excessive caution. “What on earth does he mean? I’ll be hanged if I wait. + Where one of us goes, the other goes too!” + </p> + <p> + He hitched the loose end of the rope round the forward thwart of the boat, + and, swinging himself up the ladder, stood the next moment on the deck. + “Anything very dreadful on board?” he inquired sarcastically, as he and + his friend met. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter smiled. “Nothing whatever,” he replied. “But I couldn’t be sure + that we were to have the whole ship to ourselves till I got over the + bulwark and looked about me.” + </p> + <p> + Allan took a turn on the deck, and surveyed the wreck critically from stem + to stern. + </p> + <p> + “Not much of a vessel,” he said; “the Frenchmen generally build better + ships than this.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter crossed the deck, and eyed Allan in a momentary silence. + </p> + <p> + “Frenchmen?” he repeated, after an interval. “Is this vessel French?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “The men I have got at work on the yacht told me. They know all about + her.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter came a little nearer. His swarthy face began to look, to Allan’s + eyes, unaccountably pale in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + “Did they mention what trade she was engaged in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the timber trade.” + </p> + <p> + As Allan gave that answer, Midwinter’s lean brown hand clutched him fast + by the shoulder, and Midwinter’s teeth chattered in his head like the + teeth of a man struck by a sudden chill. + </p> + <p> + “Did they tell you her name?” he asked, in a voice that dropped suddenly + to a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “They did, I think. But it has slipped my memory.—Gently, old + fellow; these long claws of yours are rather tight on my shoulder.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the name—?” He stopped, removed his hand, and dashed away the + great drops that were gathering on his forehead. “Was the name <i>La Grace + de Dieu</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “How the deuce did you come to know it? That’s the name, sure enough. <i>La + Grace de Dieu</i>.” + </p> + <p> + At one bound, Midwinter leaped on the bulwark of the wreck. + </p> + <p> + “The boat!” he cried, with a scream of horror that rang far and wide + through the stillness of the night, and brought Allan instantly to his + side. + </p> + <p> + The lower end of the carelessly hitched rope was loose on the water, and + ahead, in the track of the moonlight, a small black object was floating + out of view. The boat was adrift. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0012" id="H2_4_0012"></a> IV. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST. + </h2> + <p> + One stepping back under the dark shelter of the bulwark, and one standing + out boldly in the yellow light of the moon, the two friends turned face to + face on the deck of the timber-ship, and looked at each other in silence. + The next moment Allan’s inveterate recklessness seized on the grotesque + side of the situation by main force. He seated himself astride on the + bulwark, and burst out boisterously into his loudest and heartiest laugh. + </p> + <p> + “All my fault,” he said; “but there’s no help for it now. Here we are, + hard and fast in a trap of our own setting; and there goes the last of the + doctor’s boat! Come out of the dark, Midwinter; I can’t half see you + there, and I want to know what’s to be done next.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter neither answered nor moved. Allan left the bulwark, and, + mounting the forecastle, looked down attentively at the waters of the + Sound. + </p> + <p> + “One thing is pretty certain,” he said. “With the current on that side, + and the sunken rocks on this, we can’t find our way out of the scrape by + swimming, at any rate. So much for the prospect at this end of the wreck. + Let’s try how things look at the other. Rouse up, messmate!” he called + out, cheerfully, as he passed Midwinter. “Come and see what the old tub of + a timber-ship has got to show us astern.” He sauntered on, with his hands + in his pockets, humming the chorus of a comic song. + </p> + <p> + His voice had produced no apparent effect on his friend; but, at the light + touch of his hand in passing, Midwinter started, and moved out slowly from + the shadow of the bulwark. “Come along!” cried Allan, suspending his + singing for a moment, and glancing back. Still, without a word of answer, + the other followed. Thrice he stopped before he reached the stern end of + the wreck: the first time, to throw aside his hat, and push back his hair + from his forehead and temples; the second time, reeling, giddy, to hold + for a moment by a ring-bolt close at hand; the last time (though Allan was + plainly visible a few yards ahead), to look stealthily behind him, with + the furtive scrutiny of a man who believes that other footsteps are + following him in the dark. “Not yet!” he whispered to himself, with eyes + that searched the empty air. “I shall see him astern, with his hand on the + lock of the cabin door.” + </p> + <p> + The stern end of the wreck was clear of the ship-breakers’ lumber, + accumulated in the other parts of the vessel. Here, the one object that + rose visible on the smooth surface of the deck was the low wooden + structure which held the cabin door and roofed in the cabin stairs. The + wheel-house had been removed, the binnacle had been removed, but the cabin + entrance, and all that had belonged to it, had been left untouched. The + scuttle was on, and the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + On gaining the after-part of the vessel, Allan walked straight to the + stern, and looked out to sea over the taffrail. No such thing as a boat + was in view anywhere on the quiet, moon-brightened waters. Knowing + Midwinter’s sight to be better than his own, he called out, “Come up here, + and see if there’s a fisherman within hail of us.” Hearing no reply, he + looked back. Midwinter had followed him as far as the cabin, and had + stopped there. He called again in a louder voice, and beckoned + impatiently. Midwinter had heard the call, for he looked up, but still he + never stirred from his place. There he stood, as if he had reached the + utmost limits of the ship and could go no further. + </p> + <p> + Allan went back and joined him. It was not easy to discover what he was + looking at, for he kept his face turned away from the moonlight; but it + seemed as if his eyes were fixed, with a strange expression of inquiry, on + the cabin door. “What is there to look at there?” Allan asked. “Let’s see + if it’s locked.” As he took a step forward to open the door, Midwinter’s + hand seized him suddenly by the coat collar and forced him back. The + moment after, the hand relaxed without losing its grasp, and trembled + violently, like the hand of a man completely unnerved. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to consider myself in custody?” asked Allan, half astonished and + half amused. “Why in the name of wonder do you keep staring at the cabin + door? Any suspicious noises below? It’s no use disturbing the rats—if + that’s what you mean—we haven’t got a dog with us. Men? Living men + they can’t be; for they would have heard us and come on deck. Dead men? + Quite impossible! No ship’s crew could be drowned in a land-locked place + like this, unless the vessel broke up under them—and here’s the + vessel as steady as a church to speak for herself. Man alive, how your + hand trembles! What is there to scare you in that rotten old cabin? What + are you shaking and shivering about? Any company of the supernatural sort + on board? Mercy preserve us! (as the old women say) do you see a ghost?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>I see two</i>!” answered the other, driven headlong into speech and + action by a maddening temptation to reveal the truth. “Two!” he repeated, + his breath bursting from him in deep, heavy gasps, as he tried vainly to + force back the horrible words. “The ghost of a man like you, drowning in + the cabin! And the ghost of a man like me, turning the lock of the door on + him!” + </p> + <p> + Once more young Armadale’s hearty laughter rang out loud and long through + the stillness of the night. + </p> + <p> + “Turning the lock of the door, is he?” said Allan, as soon as his + merriment left him breath enough to speak. “That’s a devilish unhandsome + action, Master Midwinter, on the part of your ghost. The least I can do, + after that, is to let mine out of the cabin, and give him the run of the + ship.” + </p> + <p> + With no more than a momentary exertion of his superior strength, he freed + himself easily from Midwinter’s hold. “Below there!” he called out, gayly, + as he laid his strong hand on the crazy lock, and tore open the cabin + door. “Ghost of Allan Armadale, come on deck!” In his terrible ignorance + of the truth, he put his head into the doorway and looked down, laughing, + at the place where his murdered father had died. “Pah!” he exclaimed, + stepping back suddenly, with a shudder of disgust. “The air is foul + already; and the cabin is full of water.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. The sunken rocks on which the vessel lay wrecked had burst + their way through her lower timbers astern, and the water had welled up + through the rifted wood. Here, where the deed had been done, the fatal + parallel between past and present was complete. What the cabin had been in + the time of the fathers, that the cabin was now in the time of the sons. + </p> + <p> + Allan pushed the door to again with his foot, a little surprised at the + sudden silence which appeared to have fallen on his friend from the moment + when he had laid his hand on the cabin lock. When he turned to look, the + reason of the silence was instantly revealed. Midwinter had dropped on the + deck. He lay senseless before the cabin door; his face turned up, white + and still, to the moonlight, like the face of a dead man. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Allan was at his side. He looked uselessly round the lonely + limits of the wreck, as he lifted Midwinter’s head on his knee, for a + chance of help, where all chance was ruthlessly cut off. “What am I to + do?” he said to himself, in the first impulse of alarm. “Not a drop of + water near, but the foul water in the cabin.” A sudden recollection + crossed his memory, the florid color rushed back over his face, and he + drew from his pocket a wicker-covered flask. “God bless the doctor for + giving me this before we sailed!” he broke out, fervently, as he poured + down Midwinter’s throat some drops of the raw whisky which the flask + contained. The stimulant acted instantly on the sensitive system of the + swooning man. He sighed faintly, and slowly opened his eyes. “Have I been + dreaming?” he asked, looking up vacantly in Allan’s face. His eyes + wandered higher, and encountered the dismantled masts of the wreck rising + weird and black against the night sky. He shuddered at the sight of them, + and hid his face on Allan’s knee. “No dream!” he murmured to himself, + mournfully. “Oh me, no dream!” + </p> + <p> + “You have been overtired all day,” said Allan, “and this infernal + adventure of ours has upset you. Take some more whisky, it’s sure to do + you good. Can you sit by yourself, if I put you against the bulwark, so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why by myself? Why do you leave me?” asked Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + Allan pointed to the mizzen shrouds of the wreck, which were still left + standing. “You are not well enough to rough it here till the workmen come + off in the morning,” he said. “We must find our way on shore at once, if + we can. I am going up to get a good view all round, and see if there’s a + house within hail of us.” + </p> + <p> + Even in the moment that passed while those few words were spoken, + Midwinter’s eyes wandered back distrustfully to the fatal cabin door. + “Don’t go near it!” he whispered. “Don’t try to open it, for God’s sake!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” returned Allan, humoring him. “When I come down from the + rigging, I’ll come back here.” He said the words a little constrainedly, + noticing, for the first time while he now spoke, an underlying distress in + Midwinter’s face, which grieved and perplexed him. “You’re not angry with + me?” he said, in his simple, sweet-tempered way. “All this is my fault, I + know; and I was a brute and a fool to laugh at you, when I ought to have + seen you were ill. I am so sorry, Midwinter. Don’t be angry with me!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter slowly raised his head. His eyes rested with a mournful + interest, long and tender, on Allan’s anxious face. + </p> + <p> + “Angry?” he repeated, in his lowest, gentlest tones. “Angry with <i>you</i>?—Oh, + my poor boy, were you to blame for being kind to me when I was ill in the + old west-country inn? And was I to blame for feeling your kindness + thankfully? Was it our fault that we never doubted each other, and never + knew that we were traveling together blindfold on the way that was to lead + us here? The cruel time is coming, Allan, when we shall rue the day we + ever met. Shake hands, brother, on the edge of the precipice—shake + hands while we are brothers still!” + </p> + <p> + Allan turned away quickly, convinced that his mind had not yet recovered + the shock of the fainting fit. “Don’t forget the whisky!” he said, + cheerfully, as he sprang into the rigging, and mounted to the mizzen-top. + </p> + <p> + It was past two, the moon was waning, and the darkness that comes before + dawn was beginning to gather round the wreck. Behind Allan, as he now + stood looking out from the elevation of the mizzen-top, spread the broad + and lonely sea. Before him were the low, black, lurking rocks, and the + broken waters of the channel, pouring white and angry into the vast calm + of the westward ocean beyond. On the right hand, heaved back grandly from + the water-side, were the rocks and precipices, with their little + table-lands of grass between; the sloping downs, and upward-rolling heath + solitudes of the Isle of Man. On the left hand rose the craggy sides of + the Islet of the Calf, here rent wildly into deep black chasms, there + lying low under long sweeping acclivities of grass and heath. No sound + rose, no light was visible, on either shore. The black lines of the + topmost masts of the wreck looked shadowy and faint in the darkening + mystery of the sky; the land breeze had dropped; the small shoreward waves + fell noiseless: far or near, no sound was audible but the cheerless + bubbling of the broken water ahead, pouring through the awful hush of + silence in which earth and ocean waited for the coming day. + </p> + <p> + Even Allan’s careless nature felt the solemn influence of the time. The + sound of his own voice startled him when he looked down and hailed his + friend on deck. + </p> + <p> + “I think I see one house,” he said. “Here-away, on the mainland to the + right.” He looked again, to make sure, at a dim little patch of white, + with faint white lines behind it, nestling low in a grassy hollow, on the + main island. “It looks like a stone house and inclosure,” he resumed. + “I’ll hail it, on the chance.” He passed his arm round a rope to steady + himself, made a speaking-trumpet of his hands, and suddenly dropped them + again without uttering a sound. “It’s so awfully quiet,” he whispered to + himself. “I’m half afraid to call out.” He looked down again on deck. “I + shan’t startle you, Midwinter, shall I?” he said, with an uneasy laugh. He + looked once more at the faint white object, in the grassy hollow. “It + won’t do to have come up here for nothing,” he thought, and made a + speaking-trumpet of his hands again. This time he gave the hail with the + whole power of his lungs. “On shore there!” he shouted, turning his face + to the main island. “Ahoy-hoy-hoy!” + </p> + <p> + The last echoes of his voice died away and were lost. No sound answered + him but the cheerless bubbling of the broken water ahead. + </p> + <p> + He looked down again at his friend, and saw the dark figure of Midwinter + rise erect, and pace the deck backward and forward, never disappearing out + of sight of the cabin when it retired toward the bows of the wreck, and + never passing beyond the cabin when it returned toward the stern. “He is + impatient to get away,” thought Allan; “I’ll try again.” He hailed the + land once more, and, taught by previous experience, pitched his voice in + its highest key. + </p> + <p> + This time another sound than the sound of the bubbling water answered him. + The lowing of frightened cattle rose from the building in the grassy + hollow, and traveled far and drearily through the stillness of the morning + air. Allan waited and listened. If the building was a farmhouse the + disturbance among the beasts would rouse the men. If it was only a + cattle-stable, nothing more would happen. The lowing of the frightened + brutes rose and fell drearily, the minutes passed, and nothing happened. + </p> + <p> + “Once more!” said Allan, looking down at the restless figure pacing + beneath him. For the third time he hailed the land. For the third time he + waited and listened. + </p> + <p> + In a pause of silence among the cattle, he heard behind him, on the + opposite shore of the channel, faint and far among the solitudes of the + Islet of the Calf, a sharp, sudden sound, like the distant clash of a + heavy door-bolt drawn back. Turning at once in the new direction, he + strained his eyes to look for a house. The last faint rays of the waning + moonlight trembled here and there on the higher rocks, and on the steeper + pinnacles of ground, but great strips of darkness lay dense and black over + all the land between; and in that darkness the house, if house there were, + was lost to view. + </p> + <p> + “I have roused somebody at last,” Allan called out, encouragingly, to + Midwinter, still walking to and fro on the deck, strangely indifferent to + all that was passing above and beyond him. “Look out for the answering, + hail!” And with his face set toward the islet, Allan shouted for help. + </p> + <p> + The shout was not answered, but mimicked with a shrill, shrieking + derision, with wilder and wilder cries, rising out of the deep distant + darkness, and mingling horribly the expression of a human voice with the + sound of a brute’s. A sudden suspicion crossed Allan’s mind, which made + his head swim and turned his hand cold as it held the rigging. In + breathless silence he looked toward the quarter from which the first + mimicry of his cry for help had come. After a moment’s pause the shrieks + were renewed, and the sound of them came nearer. Suddenly a figure, which + seemed the figure of a man, leaped up black on a pinnacle of rock, and + capered and shrieked in the waning gleam of the moonlight. The screams of + a terrified woman mingled with the cries of the capering creature on the + rock. A red spark flashed out in the darkness from a light kindled in an + invisible window. The hoarse shouting of a man’s voice in anger was heard + through the noise. A second black figure leaped up on the rock, struggled + with the first figure, and disappeared with it in the darkness. The cries + grew fainter and fainter, the screams of the woman were stilled, the + hoarse voice of the man was heard again for a moment, hailing the wreck in + words made unintelligible by the distance, but in tones plainly expressive + of rage and fear combined. Another moment, and the clang of the door-bolt + was heard again, the red spark of light was quenched in darkness, and all + the islet lay quiet in the shadows once more. The lowing of the cattle on + the main-land ceased, rose again, stopped. Then, cold and cheerless as + ever, the eternal bubbling of the broken water welled up through the great + gap of silence—the one sound left, as the mysterious stillness of + the hour fell like a mantle from the heavens, and closed over the wreck. + </p> + <p> + Allan descended from his place in the mizzen-top, and joined his friend + again on deck. + </p> + <p> + “We must wait till the ship-breakers come off to their work,” he said, + meeting Midwinter halfway in the course of his restless walk. “After what + has happened, I don’t mind confessing that I’ve had enough of hailing the + land. Only think of there being a madman in that house ashore, and of my + waking him! Horrible, wasn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter stood still for a moment, and looked at Allan, with the + perplexed air of a man who hears circumstances familiarly mentioned to + which he is himself a total stranger. He appeared, if such a thing had + been possible, to have passed over entirely without notice all that had + just happened on the Islet of the Calf. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is horrible <i>out</i> of this ship,” he said. “Everything is + horrible <i>in</i> it.” + </p> + <p> + Answering in those strange words, he turned away again, and went on with + his walk. + </p> + <p> + Allan picked up the flask of whisky lying on the deck near him, and + revived his spirits with a dram. “Here’s one thing on board that isn’t + horrible,” he retorted briskly, as he screwed on the stopper of the flask; + “and here’s another,” he added, as he took a cigar from his case and lit + it. “Three o’clock!” he went on, looking at his watch, and settling + himself comfortably on deck with his back against the bulwark. “Daybreak + isn’t far off; we shall have the piping of the birds to cheer us up before + long. I say, Midwinter, you seem to have quite got over that unlucky + fainting fit. How you do keep walking! Come here and have a cigar, and + make yourself comfortable. What’s the good of tramping backward and + forward in that restless way?” + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting,” said Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “Waiting! What for?” + </p> + <p> + “For what is to happen to you or to me—or to both of us—before + we are out of this ship.” + </p> + <p> + “With submission to your superior judgment, my dear fellow, I think quite + enough has happened already. The adventure will do very well as it stands + now; more of it is more than I want.” He took another dram of whisky, and + rambled on, between the puffs of his cigar, in his usual easy way. “I’ve + not got your fine imagination, old boy; and I hope the next thing that + happens will be the appearance of the workmen’s boat. I suspect that queer + fancy of yours has been running away with you while you were down here all + by yourself. Come, now, what were you thinking of while I was up in the + mizzen-top frightening the cows?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suddenly stopped. “Suppose I tell you?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you do?” + </p> + <p> + The torturing temptation to reveal the truth, roused once already by his + companion’s merciless gayety of spirit, possessed itself of Midwinter for + the second time. He leaned back in the dark against the high side of the + ship, and looked down in silence at Allan’s figure, stretched comfortably + on the deck. “Rouse him,” the fiend whispered, subtly, “from that ignorant + self-possession and that pitiless repose. Show him the place where the + deed was done; let him know it with your knowledge, and fear it with your + dread. Tell him of the letter you burned, and of the words no fire can + destroy which are living in your memory now. Let him see your mind as it + was yesterday, when it roused your sinking faith in your own convictions, + to look back on your life at sea, and to cherish the comforting + remembrance that, in all your voyages, you had never fallen in with this + ship. Let him see your mind as it is now, when the ship has got you at the + turning-point of your new life, at the outset of your friendship with the + one man of all men whom your father warned you to avoid. Think of those + death-bed words, and whisper them in his ear, that he may think of them, + too: ‘Hide yourself from him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and + the seas between you; be ungrateful, be unforgiving; be all that is most + repellent to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof + and breathe the same air with that man.’” So the tempter counseled. So, + like a noisome exhalation from the father’s grave, the father’s influence + rose and poisoned the mind of the son. + </p> + <p> + The sudden silence surprised Allan; he looked back drowsily over his + shoulder. “Thinking again!” he exclaimed, with a weary yawn. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter stepped out from the shadow, and came nearer to Allan than he + had come yet. “Yes,” he said, “thinking of the past and the future.” + </p> + <p> + “The past and the future?” repeated Allan, shifting himself comfortably + into a new position. “For my part, I’m dumb about the past. It’s a sore + subject with me: the past means the loss of the doctor’s boat. Let’s talk + about the future. Have you been taking a practical view? as dear old Brock + calls it. Have you been considering the next serious question that + concerns us both when we get back to the hotel—the question of + breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + After an instant’s hesitation, Midwinter took a step nearer. “I have been + thinking of your future and mine,” he said; “I have been thinking of the + time when your way in life and my way in life will be two ways instead of + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the daybreak!” cried Allan. “Look up at the masts; they’re + beginning to get clear again already. I beg your pardon. What were you + saying?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter made no reply. The struggle between the hereditary superstition + that was driving him on, and the unconquerable affection for Allan that + was holding him back, suspended the next words on his lips. He turned + aside his face in speechless suffering. “Oh, my father!” he thought, + “better have killed me on that day when I lay on your bosom, than have let + me live for this.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that about the future?” persisted Allan. “I was looking for the + daylight; I didn’t hear.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter controlled himself, and answered: “You have treated me with your + usual kindness,” he said, “in planning to take me with you to Thorpe + Ambrose. I think, on reflection, I had better not intrude myself where I + am not known and not expected.” His voice faltered, and he stopped again. + The more he shrank from it, the clearer the picture of the happy life that + he was resigning rose on his mind. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s thoughts instantly reverted to the mystification about the new + steward which he had practiced on his friend when they were consulting + together in the cabin of the yacht. “Has he been turning it over in his + mind?” wondered Allan; “and is he beginning at last to suspect the truth? + I’ll try him.—Talk as much nonsense, my dear fellow, as you like,” + he rejoined, “but don’t forget that you are engaged to see me established + at Thorpe Ambrose, and to give me your opinion of the new steward.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suddenly stepped forward again, close to Allan. + </p> + <p> + “I am not talking about your steward or your estate,” he burst out + passionately; “I am talking about myself. Do you hear? Myself! I am not a + fit companion for you. You don’t know who I am.” He drew back into the + shadowy shelter of the bulwark as suddenly as he had come out from it. “O + God! I can’t tell him,” he said to himself, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, and for a moment only, Allan was surprised. “Not know who + you are?” Even as he repeated the words, his easy goodhumor got the + upper-hand again. He took up the whisky flask, and shook it significantly. + “I say,” he resumed, “how much of the doctor’s medicine did you take while + I was up in the mizzen-top?” + </p> + <p> + The light tone which he persisted in adopting stung Midwinter to the last + pitch of exasperation. He came out again into the light, and stamped his + foot angrily on the deck. “Listen to me!” he said. “You don’t know half + the low things I have done in my lifetime. I have been a tradesman’s + drudge; I have swept out the shop and put up the shutters; I have carried + parcels through the street, and waited for my master’s money at his + customers’ doors.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never done anything half as useful,” returned Allan, composedly. + “Dear old boy, what an industrious fellow you have been in your time!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been a vagabond and a blackguard in my time,” returned the other, + fiercely; “I’ve been a street tumbler, a tramp, a gypsy’s boy! I’ve sung + for half-pence with dancing dogs on the high-road! I’ve worn a foot-boy’s + livery, and waited at table! I’ve been a common sailors’ cook, and a + starving fisherman’s Jack-of-all-trades! What has a gentleman in your + position in common with a man in mine? Can you take <i>me</i> into the + society at Thorpe Ambrose? Why, my very name would be a reproach to you. + Fancy the faces of your new neighbors when their footmen announce Ozias + Midwinter and Allan Armadale in the same breath!” He burst into a harsh + laugh, and repeated the two names again, with a scornful bitterness of + emphasis which insisted pitilessly on the marked contrast between them. + </p> + <p> + Something in the sound of his laughter jarred painfully even on Allan’s + easy nature. He raised himself on the deck and spoke seriously for the + first time. “A joke’s a joke, Midwinter,” he said, “as long as you don’t + carry it too far. I remember your saying something of the same sort to me + once before when I was nursing you in Somersetshire. You forced me to ask + you if I deserved to be kept at arms-length by <i>you</i> of all the + people in the world. Don’t force me to say so again. Make as much fun of + me as you please, old fellow, in any other way. <i>That</i> way hurts me.” + </p> + <p> + Simple as the words were, and simply as they had been spoken, they + appeared to work an instant revolution in Midwinter’s mind. His + impressible nature recoiled as from some sudden shock. Without a word of + reply, he walked away by himself to the forward part of the ship. He sat + down on some piled planks between the masts, and passed his hand over his + head in a vacant, bewildered way. Though his father’s belief in fatality + was his own belief once more—though there was no longer the shadow + of a doubt in his mind that the woman whom Mr. Brock had met in + Somersetshire, and the woman who had tried to destroy herself in London, + were one and the same—though all the horror that mastered him when + he first read the letter from Wildbad had now mastered him again, Allan’s + appeal to their past experience of each other had come home to his heart, + with a force more irresistible than the force of his superstition itself. + In the strength of that very superstition, he now sought the pretext which + might encourage him to sacrifice every less generous feeling to the one + predominant dread of wounding the sympathies of his friend. “Why distress + him?” he whispered to himself. “We are not the end here: there is the + Woman behind us in the dark. Why resist him when the mischief’s done, and + the caution comes too late? What <i>is</i> to be <i>will</i> be. What have + I to do with the future? and what has he?” + </p> + <p> + He went back to Allan, sat down by his side, and took his hand. “Forgive + me,” he said, gently; “I have hurt you for the last time.” Before it was + possible to reply, he snatched up the whisky flask from the deck. “Come!” + he exclaimed, with a sudden effort to match his friend’s cheerfulness, + “you have been trying the doctor’s medicine, why shouldn’t I?” + </p> + <p> + Allan was delighted. “This is something like a change for the better,” he + said; “Midwinter is himself again. Hark! there are the birds. Hail, + smiling morn! smiling morn!” He sang the words of the glee in his old, + cheerful voice, and clapped Midwinter on the shoulder in his old, hearty + way. “How did you manage to clear your head of those confounded megrims? + Do you know you were quite alarming about something happening to one or + other of us before we were out of this ship?” + </p> + <p> + “Sheer nonsense!” returned Midwinter, contemptuously. “I don’t think my + head has ever been quite right since that fever; I’ve got a bee in my + bonnet, as they say in the North. Let’s talk of something else. About + those people you have let the cottage to? I wonder whether the agent’s + account of Major Milroy’s family is to be depended on? There might be + another lady in the household besides his wife and his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” cried Allan, “<i>you’re</i> beginning to think of nymphs among the + trees, and flirtations in the fruit-garden, are you? Another lady, eh? + Suppose the major’s family circle won’t supply another? We shall have to + spin that half-crown again, and toss up for which is to have the first + chance with Miss Milroy.” + </p> + <p> + For once Midwinter spoke as lightly and carelessly as Allan himself. “No, + no,” he said, “the major’s landlord has the first claim to the notice of + the major’s daughter. I’ll retire into the background, and wait for the + next lady who makes her appearance at Thorpe Ambrose.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I’ll have an address to the women of Norfolk posted in the + park to that effect,” said Allan. “Are you particular to a shade about + size or complexion? What’s your favorite age?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter trifled with his own superstition, as a man trifles with the + loaded gun that may kill him, or with the savage animal that may maim him + for life. He mentioned the age (as he had reckoned it himself) of the + woman in the black gown and the red Paisley shawl. + </p> + <p> + “Five-and-thirty,” he said. + </p> + <p> + As the words passed his lips, his factitious spirits deserted him. He left + his seat, impenetrably deaf to all Allan’s efforts at rallying him on his + extraordinary answer, and resumed his restless pacing of the deck in dead + silence. Once more the haunting thought which had gone to and fro with him + in the hour of darkness went to and fro with him now in the hour of + daylight. + </p> + <p> + Once more the conviction possessed itself of his mind that something was + to happen to Allan or to himself before they left the wreck. + </p> + <p> + Minute by minute the light strengthened in the eastern sky; and the + shadowy places on the deck of the timber-ship revealed their barren + emptiness under the eye of day. As the breeze rose again, the sea began to + murmur wakefully in the morning light. Even the cold bubbling of the + broken water changed its cheerless note, and softened on the ear as the + mellowing flood of daylight poured warm over it from the rising sun. + Midwinter paused near the forward part of the ship, and recalled his + wandering attention to the passing time. The cheering influences of the + hour were round him, look where he might. The happy morning smile of the + summer sky, so brightly merciful to the old and weary earth, lavished its + all-embracing beauty even on the wreck. The dew that lay glittering on the + inland fields lay glittering on the deck, and the worn and rusted rigging + was gemmed as brightly as the fresh green leaves on shore. Insensibly, as + he looked round, Midwinter’s thoughts reverted to the comrade who had + shared with him the adventure of the night. He returned to the after-part + of the ship, spoke to Allan as he advanced. Receiving no answer, he + approached the recumbent figure and looked closer at it. Left to his own + resources, Allan had let the fatigues of the night take their own way with + him. His head had sunk back; his hat had fallen off; he lay stretched at + full length on the deck of the timber-ship, deeply and peacefully asleep. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter resumed his walk; his mind lost in doubt; his own past thoughts + seeming suddenly to have grown strange to him. How darkly his forebodings + had distrusted the coming time, and how harmlessly that time had come! The + sun was mounting in the heavens, the hour of release was drawing nearer + and nearer, and of the two Armadales imprisoned in the fatal ship, one was + sleeping away the weary time, and the other was quietly watching the + growth of the new day. + </p> + <p> + The sun climbed higher; the hour wore on. With the latent distrust of the + wreck which still clung to him, Midwinter looked inquiringly on either + shore for signs of awakening human life. The land was still lonely. The + smoke wreaths that were soon to rise from cottage chimneys had not risen + yet. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s thought he went back again to the after-part of the + vessel, to see if there might be a fisherman’s boat within hail astern of + them. Absorbed for the moment by the new idea, he passed Allan hastily, + after barely noticing that he still lay asleep. One step more would have + brought him to the taffrail, when that step was suspended by a sound + behind him, a sound like a faint groan. He turned, and looked at the + sleeper on the deck. He knelt softly, and looked closer. + </p> + <p> + “It has come!” he whispered to himself. “Not to <i>me</i>—but to <i>him</i>.” + </p> + <p> + It had come, in the bright freshness of the morning; it had come, in the + mystery and terror of a Dream. The face which Midwinter had last seen in + perfect repose was now the distorted face of a suffering man. The + perspiration stood thick on Allan’s forehead, and matted his curling hair. + His partially opened eyes showed nothing but the white of the eyeball + gleaming blindly. His outstretched hands scratched and struggled on the + deck. From moment to moment he moaned and muttered helplessly; but the + words that escaped him were lost in the grinding and gnashing of his + teeth. There he lay—so near in the body to the friend who bent over + him; so far away in the spirit, that the two might have been in different + worlds—there he lay, with the morning sunshine on his face, in the + torture of his dream. + </p> + <p> + One question, and one only, rose in the mind of the man who was looking at + him. What had the fatality which had imprisoned him in the wreck decreed + that he should see? + </p> + <p> + Had the treachery of Sleep opened the gates of the grave to that one of + the two Armadales whom the other had kept in ignorance of the truth? Was + the murder of the father revealing itself to the son—there, on the + very spot where the crime had been committed—in the vision of a + dream? + </p> + <p> + With that question overshadowing all else in his mind, the son of the + homicide knelt on the deck, and looked at the son of the man whom his + father’s hand had slain. + </p> + <p> + The conflict between the sleeping body and the waking mind was + strengthening every moment. The dreamer’s helpless groaning for + deliverance grew louder; his hands raised themselves, and clutched at the + empty air. Struggling with the all-mastering dread that still held him, + Midwinter laid his hand gently on Allan’s forehead. Light as the touch + was, there were mysterious sympathies in the dreaming man that answered + it. His groaning ceased, and his hands dropped slowly. There was an + instant of suspense and Midwinter looked closer. His breath just fluttered + over the sleeper’s face. Before the next breath had risen to his lips, + Allan suddenly sprang up on his knees—sprang up, as if the call of a + trumpet had rung on his ear, awake in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “You have been dreaming,” said Midwinter, as the other looked at him + wildly, in the first bewilderment of waking. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s eyes began to wander about the wreck, at first vacantly, then with + a look of angry surprise. “Are we here still?” he said, as Midwinter + helped him to his feet. “Whatever else I do on board this infernal ship,” + he added, after a moment, “I won’t go to sleep again!” + </p> + <p> + As he said those words, his friend’s eyes searched his face in silent + inquiry. They took a turn together on the deck. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me your dream,” said Midwinter, with a strange tone of suspicion in + his voice, and a strange appearance of abruptness in his manner. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t tell it yet,” returned Allan. “Wait a little till I’m my own man + again.” + </p> + <p> + They took another turn on the deck. Midwinter stopped, and spoke once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me for a moment, Allan,” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was something of the trouble left by the dream, and something of + natural surprise at the strange request just addressed to him, in Allan’s + face, as he turned it full on the speaker; but no shadow of ill-will, no + lurking lines of distrust anywhere. Midwinter turned aside quickly, and + hid, as he best might, an irrepressible outburst of relief. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look a little upset?” asked Allan, taking his arm, and leading him + on again. “Don’t make yourself nervous about me if I do. My head feels + wild and giddy, but I shall soon get over it.” + </p> + <p> + For the next few minutes they walked backward and forward in silence, the + one bent on dismissing the terror of the dream from his thoughts, the + other bent on discovering what the terror of the dream might be. Relieved + of the dread that had oppressed it, the superstitious nature of Midwinter + had leaped to its next conclusion at a bound. What if the sleeper had been + visited by another revelation than the revelation of the Past? What if the + dream had opened those unturned pages in the book of the Future which told + the story of his life to come? The bare doubt that it might be so + strengthened tenfold Midwinter’s longing to penetrate the mystery which + Allan’s silence still kept a secret from him. + </p> + <p> + “Is your head more composed?” he asked. “Can you tell me your dream now?” + </p> + <p> + While he put the question, a last memorable moment in the Adventure of the + Wreck was at hand. + </p> + <p> + They had reached the stern, and were just turning again when Midwinter + spoke. As Allan opened his lips to answer, he looked out mechanically to + sea. Instead of replying, he suddenly ran to the taffrail, and waved his + hat over his head, with a shout of exultation. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter joined him, and saw a large six-oared boat pulling straight for + the channel of the Sound. A figure, which they both thought they + recognized, rose eagerly in the stern-sheets and returned the waving of + Allan’s hat. The boat came nearer, the steersman called to them + cheerfully, and they recognized the doctor’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God you’re both above water!” said Mr. Hawbury, as they met him on + the deck of the timber-ship. “Of all the winds of heaven, which wind blew + you here?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at Midwinter as he made the inquiry, but it was Allan who told + him the story of the night, and Allan who asked the doctor for information + in return. The one absorbing interest in Midwinter’s mind—the + interest of penetrating the mystery of the dream—kept him silent + throughout. Heedless of all that was said or done about him, he watched + Allan, and followed Allan, like a dog, until the time came for getting + down into the boat. Mr. Hawbury’s professional eye rested on him + curiously, noting his varying color, and the incessant restlessness of his + hands. “I wouldn’t change nervous systems with that man for the largest + fortune that could be offered me,” thought the doctor as he took the + boat’s tiller, and gave the oarsmen their order to push off from the + wreck. + </p> + <p> + Having reserved all explanations on his side until they were on their way + back to Port St. Mary, Mr. Hawbury next addressed himself to the + gratification of Allan’s curiosity. The circumstances which had brought + him to the rescue of his two guests of the previous evening were simple + enough. The lost boat had been met with at sea by some fishermen of Port + Erin, on the western side of the island, who at once recognized it as the + doctor’s property, and at once sent a messenger to make inquiry, at the + doctor’s house. The man’s statement of what had happened had naturally + alarmed Mr. Hawbury for the safety of Allan and his friend. He had + immediately secured assistance, and, guided by the boatman’s advice, had + made first for the most dangerous place on the coast—the only place, + in that calm weather, in which an accident could have happened to a boat + sailed by experienced men—the channel of the Sound. After thus + accounting for his welcome appearance on the scene, the doctor hospitably + insisted that his guests of the evening should be his guests of the + morning as well. It would still be too early when they got back for the + people at the hotel to receive them, and they would find bed and breakfast + at Mr. Hawbury’s house. + </p> + <p> + At the first pause in the conversation between Allan and the doctor, + Midwinter, who had neither joined in the talk nor listened to the talk, + touched his friend on the arm. “Are you better?” he asked, in a whisper. + “Shall you soon be composed enough to tell me what I want to know?” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s eyebrows contracted impatiently; the subject of the dream, and + Midwinter’s obstinacy in returning to it, seemed to be alike distasteful + to him. He hardly answered with his usual good humor. “I suppose I shall + have no peace till I tell you,” he said, “so I may as well get it over at + once.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” returned Midwinter, with a look at the doctor and his oarsmen. “Not + where other people can hear it—not till you and I are alone.” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to see the last, gentlemen, of your quarters for the night,” + interposed the doctor, “now is your time! The coast will shut the vessel + out in a minute more.” + </p> + <p> + In silence on the one side and on the other, the two Armadales looked + their last at the fatal ship. Lonely and lost they had found the wreck in + the mystery of the summer night; lonely and lost they left the wreck in + the radiant beauty of the summer morning. + </p> + <p> + An hour later the doctor had seen his guests established in their + bedrooms, and had left them to take their rest until the breakfast hour + arrived. + </p> + <p> + Almost as soon as his back was turned, the doors of both rooms opened + softly, and Allan and Midwinter met in the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Can you sleep after what has happened?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter shook his head. “You were coming to my room, were you not?” he + said. “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To ask you to keep me company. What were you coming to <i>my</i> room + for?” + </p> + <p> + “To ask you to tell me your dream.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the dream! I want to forget all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And <i>I</i> want to know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Both paused; both refrained instinctively from saying more. For the first + time since the beginning of their friendship they were on the verge of a + disagreement, and that on the subject of the dream. Allan’s good temper + just stopped them on the brink. + </p> + <p> + “You are the most obstinate fellow alive,” he said; “but if you will know + all about it, you must know all about it, I suppose. Come into my room, + and I’ll tell you.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way, and Midwinter followed. The door closed and shut them in + together. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0013" id="H2_4_0013"></a> V. THE SHADOW OF THE FUTURE. + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. Hawbury joined his guests in the breakfast-room, the strange + contrast of character between them which he had noticed already was + impressed on his mind more strongly than ever. One of them sat at the + well-spread table, hungry and happy, ranging from dish to dish, and + declaring that he had never made such a breakfast in his life. The other + sat apart at the window; his cup thanklessly deserted before it was empty, + his meat left ungraciously half-eaten on his plate. The doctor’s morning + greeting to the two accurately expressed the differing impressions which + they had produced on his mind. + </p> + <p> + He clapped Allan on the shoulder, and saluted him with a joke. He bowed + constrainedly to Midwinter, and said, “I am afraid you have not recovered + the fatigues of the night.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s not the night, doctor, that has damped his spirits,” said Allan. + “It’s something I have been telling him. It is not my fault, mind. If I + had only known beforehand that he believed in dreams, I wouldn’t have + opened my lips.” + </p> + <p> + “Dreams?” repeated the doctor, looking at Midwinter directly, and + addressing him under a mistaken impression of the meaning of Allan’s + words. “With your constitution, you ought to be well used to dreaming by + this time.” + </p> + <p> + “This way, doctor; you have taken the wrong turning!” cried Allan. “I’m + the dreamer, not he. Don’t look astonished; it wasn’t in this comfortable + house; it was on board that confounded timber-ship. The fact is, I fell + asleep just before you took us off the wreck; and it’s not to be denied + that I had a very ugly dream. Well, when we got back here—” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you trouble Mr. Hawbury about a matter that cannot possibly + interest him?” asked Midwinter, speaking for the first time, and speaking + very impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” returned the doctor, rather sharply; “so far as I + have heard, the matter does interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right, doctor!” said Allan. “Be interested, I beg and pray; I want + you to clear his head of the nonsense he has got in it now. What do you + think? He will have it that my dream is a warning to me to avoid certain + people; and he actually persists in saying that one of those people is—himself! + Did you ever hear the like of it? I took great pains; I explained the + whole thing to him. I said, warning be hanged; it’s all indigestion! You + don’t know what I ate and drank at the doctor’s supper-table; I do. Do you + think he would listen to me? Not he. You try him next; you’re a + professional man, and he must listen to you. Be a good fellow, doctor, and + give me a certificate of indigestion; I’ll show you my tongue with + pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “The sight of your face is quite enough,” said Mr. Hawbury. “I certify, on + the spot, that you never had such a thing as an indigestion in your life. + Let’s hear about the dream, and see what we can make of it, if you have no + objection, that is to say.” + </p> + <p> + Allan pointed at Midwinter with his fork. + </p> + <p> + “Apply to my friend, there,” he said; “he has got a much better account of + it than I can give you. If you’ll believe me, he took it all down in + writing from my own lips; and he made me sign it at the end, as if it was + my ‘last dying speech and confession’ before I went to the gallows. Out + with it, old boy—I saw you put it in your pocket-book—out with + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you really in earnest?” asked Midwinter, producing his pocketbook + with a reluctance which was almost offensive under the circumstances, for + it implied distrust of the doctor in the doctor’s own house. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hawbury’s color rose. “Pray don’t show it to me, if you feel the least + unwillingness,” he said, with the elaborate politeness of an offended man. + </p> + <p> + “Stuff and nonsense!” cried Allan. “Throw it over here!” + </p> + <p> + Instead of complying with that characteristic request, Midwinter took the + paper from the pocket-book, and, leaving his place, approached Mr. + Hawbury. “I beg your pardon,” he said, as he offered the doctor the + manuscript with his own hand. His eyes dropped to the ground, and his face + darkened, while he made the apology. “A secret, sullen fellow,” thought + the doctor, thanking him with formal civility; “his friend is worth ten + thousand of him.” Midwinter went back to the window, and sat down again in + silence, with the old impenetrable resignation which had once puzzled Mr. + Brock. + </p> + <p> + “Read that, doctor,” said Allan, as Mr. Hawbury opened the written paper. + “It’s not told in my roundabout way; but there’s nothing added to it, and + nothing taken away. It’s exactly what I dreamed, and exactly what I should + have written myself, if I had thought the thing worth putting down on + paper, and if I had had the knack of writing—which,” concluded + Allan, composedly stirring his coffee, “I haven’t, except it’s letters; + and I rattle <i>them</i> off in no time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hawbury spread the manuscript before him on the breakfast-table, and + read these lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “ALLAN ARMADALE’S DREAM. +</pre> + <p> + “Early on the morning of June the first, eighteen hundred and fifty-one, I + found myself (through circumstances which it is not important to mention + in this place) left alone with a friend of mine—a young man about my + own age—on board the French timber-ship named <i>La Grace de Dieu</i>, + which ship then lay wrecked in the channel of the Sound between the + main-land of the Isle of Man and the islet called the Calf. Having not + been in bed the previous night, and feeling overcome by fatigue, I fell + asleep on the deck of the vessel. I was in my usual good health at the + time, and the morning was far enough advanced for the sun to have risen. + Under these circumstances, and at that period of the day, I passed from + sleeping to dreaming. As clearly as I can recollect it, after the lapse of + a few hours, this was the succession of events presented to me by the + dream: + </p> + <p> + “1. The first event of which I was conscious was the appearance of my + father. He took me silently by the hand; and we found ourselves in the + cabin of a ship. + </p> + <p> + “2. Water rose slowly over us in the cabin; and I and my father sank + through the water together. + </p> + <p> + “3. An interval of oblivion followed; and then the sense came to me of + being left alone in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “4. I waited. + </p> + <p> + “5. The darkness opened, and showed me the vision—as in a picture—of + a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. Above the farther margin + of the pool I saw the cloudless western sky, red with the light of sunset. + </p> + <p> + “6. On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of a Woman. + </p> + <p> + “7. It was the shadow only. No indication was visible to me by which I + could identify it, or compare it with any living creature. The long robe + showed me that it was the shadow of a woman, and showed me nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “8. The darkness closed again—remained with me for an interval—and + opened for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “9. I found myself in a room, standing before a long window. The only + object of furniture or of ornament that I saw (or that I can now remember + having seen) was a little statue placed near me. The window opened on a + lawn and flower-garden; and the rain was pattering heavily against the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “10. I was not alone in the room. Standing opposite to me at the window + was the Shadow of a Man. + </p> + <p> + “11. I saw no more of it; I knew no more of it than I saw and knew of the + shadow of the woman. But the shadow of the man moved. It stretched out its + arm toward the statue; and the statue fell in fragments on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “12. With a confused sensation in me, which was partly anger and partly + distress, I stooped to look at the fragments. When I rose again, the + Shadow had vanished, and I saw no more. + </p> + <p> + “13. The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me the Shadow of + the Woman and the Shadow of the Man together. + </p> + <p> + “14. No surrounding scene (or none that I can now call to mind) was + visible to me. + </p> + <p> + “15. The Man-Shadow was the nearest; the Woman-Shadow stood back. From + where she stood, there came a sound as of the pouring of a liquid softly. + I saw her touch the shadow of the man with one hand, and with the other + give him a glass. He took the glass, and gave it to me. In the moment when + I put it to my lips, a deadly faintness mastered me from head to foot. + When I came to my senses again, the Shadows had vanished, and the third + vision was at an end. + </p> + <p> + “16. The darkness closed over me again; and the interval of oblivion + followed. + </p> + <p> + “17. I was conscious of nothing more, till I felt the morning sun shine on + my face, and heard my friend tell me that I had awakened from a dream....” + </p> + <p> + After reading the narrative attentively to the last line (under which + appeared Allan’s signature), the doctor looked across the breakfast-table + at Midwinter, and tapped his fingers on the manuscript with a satirical + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Many men, many opinions,” he said. “I don’t agree with either of you + about this dream. Your theory,” he added, looking at Allan, with a smile, + “we have disposed of already: the supper that <i>you</i> can’t digest is a + supper which has yet to be discovered. My theory we will come to + presently; your friend’s theory claims attention first.” He turned again + to Midwinter, with his anticipated triumph over a man whom he disliked a + little too plainly visible in his face and manner. “If I understand + rightly,” he went on, “you believe that this dream is a warning! + supernaturally addressed to Mr. Armadale, of dangerous events that are + threatening him, and of dangerous people connected with those events whom + he would do wisely to avoid. May I inquire whether you have arrived at + this conclusion as an habitual believer in dreams, or as having reasons of + your own for attaching especial importance to this one dream in + particular?” + </p> + <p> + “You have stated what my conviction is quite accurately,” returned + Midwinter, chafing under the doctor’s looks and tones. “Excuse me if I ask + you to be satisfied with that admission, and to let me keep my reasons to + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s exactly what he said to me,” interposed Allan. “I don’t believe he + has got any reasons at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Gently! gently!” said Mr. Hawbury. “We can discuss the subject without + intruding ourselves into anybody’s secrets. Let us come to my own method + of dealing with the dream next. Mr. Midwinter will probably not be + surprised to hear that I look at this matter from an essentially practical + point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be at all surprised,” retorted Midwinter. “The view of a + medical man, when he has a problem in humanity to solve, seldom ranges + beyond the point of his dissecting-knife.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor was a little nettled on his side. “Our limits are not quite so + narrow as that,” he said; “but I willingly grant you that there are some + articles of your faith in which we doctors don’t believe. For example, we + don’t believe that a reasonable man is justified in attaching a + supernatural interpretation to any phenomenon which comes within the range + of his senses, until he has certainly ascertained that there is no such + thing as a natural explanation of it to be found in the first instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Come; that’s fair enough, I’m sure,” exclaimed Allan. “He hit you hard + with the ‘dissecting-knife,’ doctor; and now you have hit him back again + with your ‘natural explanation.’ Let’s have it.” + </p> + <p> + “By all means,” said Mr. Hawbury. “Here it is. There is nothing at all + extraordinary in my theory of dreams: it is the theory accepted by the + great mass of my profession. A dream is the reproduction, in the sleeping + state of the brain, of images and impressions produced on it in the waking + state; and this reproduction is more or less involved, imperfect, or + contradictory, as the action of certain faculties in the dreamer is + controlled more or less completely by the influence of sleep. Without + inquiring further into this latter part of the subject—a very + curious and interesting part of it—let us take the theory, roughly + and generally, as I have just stated it, and apply it at once to the dream + now under consideration.” He took up the written paper from the table, and + dropped the formal tone (as of a lecturer addressing an audience) into + which he had insensibly fallen. “I see one event already in this dream,” + he resumed, “which I know to be the reproduction of a waking impression + produced on Mr. Armadale in my own presence. If he will only help me by + exerting his memory, I don’t despair of tracing back the whole succession + of events set down here to something that he has said or thought, or seen + or done, in the four-and-twenty hours, or less, which preceded his falling + asleep on the deck of the timber-ship.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll exert my memory with the greatest pleasure,” said Allan. “Where + shall we start from?” + </p> + <p> + “Start by telling me what you did yesterday, before I met you and your + friend on the road to this place,” replied Mr. Hawbury. “We will say, you + got up and had your breakfast. What next?” + </p> + <p> + “We took a carriage next,” said Allan, “and drove from Castletown to + Douglas to see my old friend, Mr. Brock, off by the steamer to Liverpool. + We came back to Castletown and separated at the hotel door. Midwinter went + into the house, and I went on to my yacht in the harbor. By-the-bye, + doctor, remember you have promised to go cruising with us before we leave + the Isle of Man.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks; but suppose we keep to the matter in hand. What next?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated. In both senses of the word his mind was at sea already. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do on board the yacht?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know! I put the cabin to rights—thoroughly to rights. I give + you my word of honor, I turned every blessed thing topsy-turvy. And my + friend there came off in a shore-boat and helped me. Talking of boats, I + have never asked you yet whether your boat came to any harm last night. If + there’s any damage done, I insist on being allowed to repair it.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor abandoned all further attempts at the cultivation of Allan’s + memory in despair. + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if we shall be able to reach our object conveniently in this + way,” he said. “It will be better to take the events of the dream in their + regular order, and to ask the questions that naturally suggest themselves + as we go on. Here are the first two events to begin with. You dream that + your father appears to you—that you and he find yourselves in the + cabin of a ship—that the water rises over you, and that you sink in + it together. Were you down in the cabin of the wreck, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t be down there,” replied Allan, “as the cabin was full of + water. I looked in and saw it, and shut the door again.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Mr. Hawbury. “Here are the waking impressions clear + enough, so far. You have had the cabin in your mind; and you have had the + water in your mind; and the sound of the channel current (as I well know + without asking) was the last sound in your ears when you went to sleep. + The idea of drowning comes too naturally out of such impressions as these + to need dwelling on. Is there anything else before we go on? Yes; there is + one more circumstance left to account for.” + </p> + <p> + “The most important circumstance of all,” remarked Midwinter, joining in + the conversation, without stirring from his place at the window. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the appearance of Mr. Armadale’s father? I was just coming to + that,” answered Mr. Hawbury. “Is your father alive?” he added, addressing + himself to Allan once more. + </p> + <p> + “My father died before I was born.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor started. “This complicates it a little,” he said. “How did you + know that the figure appearing to you in the dream was the figure of your + father?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated again. Midwinter drew his chair a little away from the + window, and looked at the doctor attentively for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “Was your father in your thoughts before you went to sleep?” pursued Mr. + Hawbury. “Was there any description of him—any portrait of him at + home—in your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course there was!” cried Allan, suddenly seizing the lost + recollection. “Midwinter! you remember the miniature you found on the + floor of the cabin when we were putting the yacht to rights? You said I + didn’t seem to value it; and I told you I did, because it was a portrait + of my father—” + </p> + <p> + “And was the face in the dream like the face in the miniature?” asked Mr. + Hawbury. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly like! I say, doctor, this is beginning to get interesting!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say now?” asked Mr. Hawbury, turning toward the window again. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter hurriedly left his chair, and placed himself at the table with + Allan. Just as he had once already taken refuge from the tyranny of his + own superstition in the comfortable common sense of Mr. Brock, so, with + the same headlong eagerness, with the same straightforward sincerity of + purpose, he now took refuge in the doctor’s theory of dreams. “I say what + my friend says,” he answered, flushing with a sudden enthusiasm; “this is + beginning to get interesting. Go on; pray go on.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at his strange guest more indulgently than he had looked + yet. “You are the only mystic I have met with,” he said, “who is willing + to give fair evidence fair play. I don’t despair of converting you before + our inquiry comes to an end. Let us get on to the next set of events,” he + resumed, after referring for a moment to the manuscript. “The interval of + oblivion which is described as succeeding the first of the appearances in + the dream may be easily disposed of. It means, in plain English, the + momentary cessation of the brain’s intellectual action, while a deeper + wave of sleep flows over it, just as the sense of being alone in the + darkness, which follows, indicates the renewal of that action, previous to + the reproduction of another set of impressions. Let us see what they are. + A lonely pool, surrounded by an open country; a sunset sky on the further + side of the pool; and the shadow of a woman on the near side. Very good; + now for it, Mr. Armadale! How did that pool get into your head? The open + country you saw on your way from Castletown to this place. But we have no + pools or lakes hereabouts; and you can have seen none recently elsewhere, + for you came here after a cruise at sea. Must we fall back on a picture, + or a book, or a conversation with your friend?” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at Midwinter. “I don’t remember talking about pools or + lakes,” he said. “Do you?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering the question, Midwinter suddenly appealed to the + doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got the last number of the Manx newspaper?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The doctor produced it from the sideboard. Midwinter turned to the page + containing those extracts from the recently published “Travels in + Australia,” which had roused Allan’s, interest on the previous evening, + and the reading of which had ended by sending his friend to sleep. There—in + the passage describing the sufferings of the travelers from thirst, and + the subsequent discovery which saved their lives—there, appearing at + the climax of the narrative, was the broad pool of water which had figured + in Allan’s dream! + </p> + <p> + “Don’t put away the paper,” said the doctor, when Midwinter had shown it + to him, with the necessary explanation. “Before we are at the end of the + inquiry, it is quite possible we may want that extract again. We have got + at the pool. How about the sunset? Nothing of that sort is referred to in + the newspaper extract. Search your memory again, Mr. Armadale; we want + your waking impression of a sunset, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + Once more, Allan was at a loss for an answer; and, once more, Midwinter’s + ready memory helped him through the difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “I think I can trace our way back to this impression, as I traced our way + back to the other,” he said, addressing the doctor. “After we got here + yesterday afternoon, my friend and I took a long walk over the hills—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it!” interposed Allan. “I remember. The sun was setting as we came + back to the hotel for supper, and it was such a splendid red sky, we both + stopped to look at it. And then we talked about Mr. Brock, and wondered + how far he had got on his journey home. My memory may be a slow one at + starting, doctor; but when it’s once set going, stop it if you can! I + haven’t half done yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait one minute, in mercy to Mr. Midwinter’s memory and mine,” said the + doctor. “We have traced back to your waking impressions the vision of the + open country, the pool, and the sunset. But the Shadow of the Woman has + not been accounted for yet. Can you find us the original of this + mysterious figure in the dream landscape?” + </p> + <p> + Allan relapsed into his former perplexity, and Midwinter waited for what + was to come, with his eyes fixed in breathless interest on the doctor’s + face. For the first time there was unbroken silence in the room. Mr. + Hawbury looked interrogatively from Allan to Allan’s friend. Neither of + them answered him. Between the shadow and the shadow’s substance there was + a great gulf of mystery, impenetrable alike to all three of them. + </p> + <p> + “Patience,” said the doctor, composedly. “Let us leave the figure by the + pool for the present and try if we can’t pick her up again as we go on. + Allow me to observe, Mr. Midwinter, that it is not very easy to identify a + shadow; but we won’t despair. This impalpable lady of the lake may take + some consistency when we next meet with her.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter made no reply. From that moment his interest in the inquiry + began to flag. + </p> + <p> + “What is the next scene in the dream?” pursued Mr. Hawbury, referring to + the manuscript. “Mr. Armadale finds himself in a room. He is standing + before a long window opening on a lawn and flower-garden, and the rain is + pattering against the glass. The only thing he sees in the room is a + little statue; and the only company he has is the Shadow of a Man standing + opposite to him. The Shadow stretches out its arm, and the statue falls in + fragments on the floor; and the dreamer, in anger and distress at the + catastrophe (observe, gentlemen, that here the sleeper’s reasoning faculty + wakes up a little, and the dream passes rationally, for a moment, from + cause to effect), stoops to look at the broken pieces. When he looks up + again, the scene has vanished. That is to say, in the ebb and flow of + sleep, it is the turn of the flow now, and the brain rests a little. + What’s the matter, Mr. Armadale? Has that restive memory of yours run away + with you again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Allan. “I’m off at full gallop. I’ve run the broken statue to + earth; it’s nothing more nor less than a china shepherdess I knocked off + the mantel-piece in the hotel coffee-room, when I rang the bell for supper + last night. I say, how well we get on; don’t we? It’s like guessing a + riddle. Now, then, Midwinter! your turn next.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the doctor. “My turn, if you please. I claim the long window, + the garden, and the lawn, as my property. You will find the long window, + Mr. Armadale, in the next room. If you look out, you’ll see the garden and + lawn in front of it; and, if you’ll exert that wonderful memory of yours, + you will recollect that you were good enough to take special and + complimentary notice of my smart French window and my neat garden, when I + drove you and your friend to Port St. Mary yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” rejoined Allan; “so I did. But what about the rain that + fell in the dream? I haven’t seen a drop of rain for the last week.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hawbury hesitated. The Manx newspaper which had been left on the table + caught his eye. “If we can think of nothing else,” he said, “let us try if + we can’t find the idea of the rain where we found the idea of the pool.” + He looked through the extract carefully. “I have got it!” he exclaimed. + “Here is rain described as having fallen on these thirsty Australian + travelers, before they discovered the pool. Behold the shower, Mr. + Armadale, which got into your mind when you read the extract to your + friend last night! And behold the dream, Mr. Midwinter, mixing up separate + waking impressions just as usual!” + </p> + <p> + “Can you find the waking impression which accounts for the human figure at + the window?” asked Midwinter; “or are we to pass over the Shadow of the + Man as we have passed over the Shadow of the Woman already?” + </p> + <p> + He put the question with scrupulous courtesy of manner, but with a tone of + sarcasm in his voice which caught the doctor’s ear, and set up the + doctor’s controversial bristles on the instant. + </p> + <p> + “When you are picking up shells on the beach, Mr. Midwinter, you usually + begin with the shells that lie nearest at hand,” he rejoined. “We are + picking up facts now; and those that are easiest to get at are the facts + we will take first. Let the Shadow of the Man and the Shadow of the Woman + pair off together for the present; we won’t lose sight of them, I promise + you. All in good time, my dear sir; all in good time!” + </p> + <p> + He, too, was polite, and he, too, was sarcastic. The short truce between + the opponents was at an end already. Midwinter returned significantly to + his former place by the window. The doctor instantly turned his back on + the window more significantly still. Allan, who never quarreled with + anybody’s opinion, and never looked below the surface of anybody’s + conduct, drummed cheerfully on the table with the handle of his knife. “Go + on, doctor!” he called out; “my wonderful memory is as fresh as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” said Mr. Hawbury, referring again to the narrative of the dream. + “Do you remember what happened when you and I were gossiping with the + landlady at the bar of the hotel last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do! You were kind enough to hand me a glass of + brandy-and-water, which the landlady had just mixed for your own drinking. + And I was obliged to refuse it because, as I told you, the taste of brandy + always turns me sick and faint, mix it how you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so,” returned the doctor. “And here is the incident reproduced in + the dream. You see the man’s shadow and the woman’s shadow together this + time. You hear the pouring out of liquid (brandy from the hotel bottle, + and water from the hotel jug); the glass is handed by the woman-shadow + (the landlady) to the man-shadow (myself); the man-shadow hands it to you + (exactly what I did); and the faintness (which you had previously + described to me) follows in due course. I am shocked to identify these + mysterious appearances, Mr. Midwinter, with such miserably unromantic + originals as a woman who keeps a hotel, and a man who physics a country + district. But your friend himself will tell you that the glass of + brandy-and-water was prepared by the landlady, and that it reached him by + passing from her hand to mine. We have picked up the shadows, exactly as I + anticipated; and we have only to account now—which may be done in + two words—for the manner of their appearance in the dream. After + having tried to introduce the waking impression of the doctor and the + landlady separately, in connection with the wrong set of circumstances, + the dreaming mind comes right at the third trial, and introduces the + doctor and the landlady together, in connection with the right set of + circumstances. There it is in a nutshell!—Permit me to hand you back + the manuscript, with my best thanks for your very complete and striking + confirmation of the rational theory of dreams.” Saying those words, Mr. + Hawbury returned the written paper to Midwinter, with the pitiless + politeness of a conquering man. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! not a point missed anywhere from beginning to end! By + Jupiter!” cried Allan, with the ready reverence of intense ignorance. + “What a thing science is!” + </p> + <p> + “Not a point missed, as you say,” remarked the doctor, complacently. “And + yet I doubt if we have succeeded in convincing your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “You have <i>not</i> convinced me,” said Midwinter. “But I don’t presume + on that account to say that you are wrong.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke quietly, almost sadly. The terrible conviction of the + supernatural origin of the dream, from which he had tried to escape, had + possessed itself of him again. All his interest in the argument was at an + end; all his sensitiveness to its irritating influences was gone. In the + case of any other man, Mr. Hawbury would have been mollified by such a + concession as his adversary had now made to him; but he disliked Midwinter + too cordially to leave him in the peaceable enjoyment of an opinion of his + own. + </p> + <p> + “Do you admit,” asked the doctor, more pugnaciously than ever, “that I + have traced back every event of the dream to a waking impression which + preceded it in Mr. Armadale’s mind?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish to deny that you have done so,” said Midwinter, + resignedly. + </p> + <p> + “Have I identified the shadows with their living originals?” + </p> + <p> + “You have identified them to your own satisfaction, and to my friend’s + satisfaction. Not to mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to yours? Can <i>you</i> identify them?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I can only wait till the living originals stand revealed in the + future.” + </p> + <p> + “Spoken like an oracle, Mr. Midwinter! Have you any idea at present of who + those living originals may be?” + </p> + <p> + “I have. I believe that coming events will identify the Shadow of the + Woman with a person whom my friend has not met with yet; and the Shadow of + the Man with myself.” + </p> + <p> + Allan attempted to speak. The doctor stopped him. “Let us clearly + understand this,” he said to Midwinter. “Leaving your own case out of the + question for the moment, may I ask how a shadow, which has no + distinguishing mark about it, is to be identified with a living woman whom + your friend doesn’t know?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s color rose a little. He began to feel the lash of the doctor’s + logic. + </p> + <p> + “The landscape picture of the dream has its distinguishing marks,” he + replied; “and in that landscape the living woman will appear when the + living woman is first seen.” + </p> + <p> + “The same thing will happen, I suppose,” pursued the doctor, “with the + man-shadow which you persist in identifying with yourself. You will be + associated in the future with a statue broken in your friend’s presence, + with a long window looking out on a garden, and with a shower of rain + pattering against the glass? Do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “I say that.” + </p> + <p> + “And so again, I presume, with the next vision? You and the mysterious + woman will be brought together in some place now unknown, and will present + to Mr. Armadale some liquid yet unnamed, which will turn him faint?—Do + you seriously tell me you believe this?” + </p> + <p> + “I seriously tell you I believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “And, according to your view, these fulfillments of the dream will mark + the progress of certain coming events, in which Mr. Armadale’s happiness, + or Mr. Armadale’s safety, will be dangerously involved?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my firm conviction.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor rose, laid aside his moral dissecting-knife, considered for a + moment, and took it up again. + </p> + <p> + “One last question,” he said. “Have you any reason to give for going out + of your way to adopt such a mystical view as this, when an unanswerably + rational explanation of the dream lies straight before you?” + </p> + <p> + “No reason,” replied Midwinter, “that I can give, either to you or to my + friend.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at his watch with the air of a man who is suddenly + reminded that he has been wasting his time. + </p> + <p> + “We have no common ground to start from,” he said; “and if we talk till + doomsday, we should not agree. Excuse my leaving you rather abruptly. It + is later than I thought; and my morning’s batch of sick people are waiting + for me in the surgery. I have convinced <i>your</i> mind, Mr. Armadale, at + any rate; so the time we have given to this discussion has not been + altogether lost. Pray stop here, and smoke your cigar. I shall be at your + service again in less than an hour.” He nodded cordially to Allan, bowed + formally to Midwinter, and quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, Allan left his place at the + table, and appealed to his friend, with that irresistible heartiness of + manner which had always found its way to Midwinter’s sympathies, from the + first day when they met at the Somersetshire inn. + </p> + <p> + “Now the sparring-match between you and the doctor is over,” said Allan, + “I have got two words to say on my side. Will you do something for my sake + which you won’t do for your own?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s face brightened instantly. “I will do anything you ask me,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Will you let the subject of the dream drop out of our talk + altogether from this time forth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go a step further? Will you leave off thinking about the dream?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s hard to leave off thinking about it, Allan. But I will try.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good fellow! Now give me that trumpery bit of paper, and let’s + tear it up, and have done with it.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to snatch the manuscript out of his friend’s hand; but Midwinter + was too quick for him, and kept it beyond his reach. + </p> + <p> + “Come! come!” pleaded Allan. “I’ve set my heart on lighting my cigar with + it.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter hesitated painfully. It was hard to resist Allan; but he did + resist him. “I’ll wait a little,” he said, “before you light your cigar + with it.” + </p> + <p> + “How long? Till to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Till we leave the Isle of Man?” + </p> + <p> + “Longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it—give me a plain answer to a plain question! How long <i>will</i> + you wait?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter carefully restored the paper to its place in his pocketbook. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll wait,” he said, “till we get to Thorpe Ambrose.” + </p> + <p> + THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK. + </p> + <hr /> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0014" id="H2_4_0014"></a> BOOK THE SECOND + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0015" id="H2_4_0015"></a> I. LURKING MISCHIEF. + </h2> + <h3> + 1. <i>From Ozias Midwinter to Mr. Brock</i>. + </h3> + <p> + “Thorpe Ambrose, June 15, 1851. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MR. BROCK—Only an hour since we reached this house, just as + the servants were locking up for the night. Allan has gone to bed, worn + out by our long day’s journey, and has left me in the room they call the + library, to tell you the story of our journey to Norfolk. Being better + seasoned than he is to fatigues of all kinds, my eyes are quite wakeful + enough for writing a letter, though the clock on the chimney-piece points + to midnight, and we have been traveling since ten in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “The last news you had of us was news sent by Allan from the Isle of Man. + If I am not mistaken, he wrote to tell you of the night we passed on board + the wrecked ship. Forgive me, dear Mr. Brock, if I say nothing on that + subject until time has helped me to think of it with a quieter mind. The + hard fight against myself must all be fought over again; but I will win it + yet, please God; I will, indeed. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to trouble you with any account of our journeyings about + the northern and western districts of the island, or of the short cruises + we took when the repairs of the yacht were at last complete. It will be + better if I get on at once to the morning of yesterday, the fourteenth. We + had come in with the night-tide to Douglas Harbor, and, as soon as the + post-office was open; Allan, by my advice, sent on shore for letters. The + messenger returned with one letter only, and the writer of it proved to be + the former mistress of Thorpe Ambrose—Mrs. Blanchard. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be informed, I think, of the contents of this letter, for it + has seriously influenced Allan’s plans. He loses everything, sooner or + later, as you know, and he has lost the letter already. So I must give you + the substance of what Mrs. Blanchard wrote to him, as plainly as I can. + </p> + <p> + “The first page announced the departure of the ladies from Thorpe Ambrose. + They left on the day before yesterday, the thirteenth, having, after much + hesitation, finally decided on going abroad, to visit some old friends + settled in Italy, in the neighborhood of Florence. It appears to be quite + possible that Mrs. Blanchard and her niece may settle there, too, if they + can find a suitable house and grounds to let. They both like the Italian + country and the Italian people, and they are well enough off to please + themselves. The elder lady has her jointure, and the younger is in + possession of all her father’s fortune. + </p> + <p> + “The next page of the letter was, in Allan’s opinion, far from a pleasant + page to read. + </p> + <p> + “After referring, in the most grateful terms, to the kindness which had + left her niece and herself free to leave their old home at their own time, + Mrs. Blanchard added that Allan’s considerate conduct had produced such a + strongly favorable impression among the friends and dependents of the + family that they were desirous of giving him a public reception on his + arrival among them. A preliminary meeting of the tenants on the estate and + the principal persons in the neighboring town had already been held to + discuss the arrangements, and a letter might be expected shortly from the + clergyman inquiring when it would suit Mr. Armadale’s convenience to take + possession personally and publicly of his estates in Norfolk. + </p> + <p> + “You will now be able to guess the cause of our sudden departure from the + Isle of Man. The first and foremost idea in your old pupil’s mind, as soon + as he had read Mrs. Blanchard’s account of the proceedings at the meeting, + was the idea of escaping the public reception, and the one certain way he + could see of avoiding it was to start for Thorpe Ambrose before the + clergyman’s letter could reach him. + </p> + <p> + “I tried hard to make him think a little before he acted on his first + impulse in this matter; but he only went on packing his portmanteau in his + own impenetrably good-humored way. In ten minutes his luggage was ready, + and in five minutes more he had given the crew their directions for taking + the yacht back to Somersetshire. The steamer to Liverpool was alongside of + us in the harbor, and I had really no choice but to go on board with him + or to let him go by himself. I spare you the account of our stormy voyage, + of our detention at Liverpool, and of the trains we missed on our journey + across the country. You know that we have got here safely, and that is + enough. What the servants think of the new squire’s sudden appearance + among them, without a word of warning, is of no great consequence. What + the committee for arranging the public reception may think of it when the + news flies abroad to-morrow is, I am afraid, a more serious matter. + </p> + <p> + “Having already mentioned the servants, I may proceed to tell you that the + latter part of Mrs. Blanchard’s letter was entirely devoted to instructing + Allan on the subject of the domestic establishment which she has left + behind her. It seems that all the servants, indoors and out (with three + exceptions), are waiting here, on the chance that Allan will continue them + in their places. Two of these exceptions are readily accounted for: Mrs. + Blanchard’s maid and Miss Blanchard’s maid go abroad with their + mistresses. The third exceptional case is the case of the upper housemaid; + and here there is a little hitch. In plain words, the housemaid has been + sent away at a moment’s notice, for what Mrs. Blanchard rather + mysteriously describes as ‘levity of conduct with a stranger.’ + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you will laugh at me, but I must confess the truth. I have + been made so distrustful (after what happened to us in the Isle of Man) of + even the most trifling misadventures which connect themselves in any way + with Allan’s introduction to his new life and prospects, that I have + already questioned one of the men-servants here about this apparently + unimportant matter of the housemaid’s going away in disgrace. + </p> + <p> + “All I can learn is that a strange man had been noticed hanging + suspiciously about the grounds; that the housemaid was so ugly a woman as + to render it next to a certainty that he had some underhand purpose to + serve in making himself agreeable to her; and that he has not as yet been + seen again in the neighborhood since the day of her dismissal. So much for + the one servant who has been turned out at Thorpe Ambrose. I can only hope + there is no trouble for Allan brewing in that quarter. As for the other + servants who remain, Mrs. Blanchard describes them, both men and women, as + perfectly trustworthy, and they will all, no doubt, continue to occupy + their present places. + </p> + <p> + “Having now done with Mrs. Blanchard’s letter, my next duty is to beg you, + in Allan’s name and with Allan’s love, to come here and stay with him at + the earliest moment when you can leave Somersetshire. Although I cannot + presume to think that my own wishes will have any special influence in + determining you to accept this invitation, I must nevertheless acknowledge + that I have a reason of my own for earnestly desiring to see you here. + Allan has innocently caused me a new anxiety about my future relations + with him, and I sorely need your advice to show me the right way of + setting that anxiety at rest. + </p> + <p> + “The difficulty which now perplexes me relates to the steward’s place at + Thorpe Ambrose. Before to-day I only knew that Allan had hit on some plan + of his own for dealing with this matter, rather strangely involving, among + other results, the letting of the cottage which was the old steward’s + place of abode, in consequence of the new steward’s contemplated residence + in the great house. A chance word in our conversation on the journey here + led Allan into speaking out more plainly than he had spoken yet, and I + heard to my unutterable astonishment that the person who was at the bottom + of the whole arrangement about the steward was no other than myself! + </p> + <p> + “It is needless to tell you how I felt this new instance of Allan’s + kindness. The first pleasure of hearing from his own lips that I had + deserved the strongest proof he could give of his confidence in me was + soon dashed by the pain which mixes itself with all pleasure—at + least, with all that I have ever known. Never has my past life seemed so + dreary to look back on as it seems now, when I feel how entirely it has + unfitted me to take the place of all others that I should have liked to + occupy in my friend’s service. I mustered courage to tell him that I had + none of the business knowledge and business experience which his steward + ought to possess. He generously met the objection by telling me that I + could learn; and he has promised to send to London for the person who has + already been employed for the time being in the steward’s office, and who + will, therefore, be perfectly competent to teach me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you, too, think I can learn? If you do, I will work day and night to + instruct myself. But if (as I am afraid) the steward’s duties are of far + too serious a kind to be learned off-hand by a man so young and so + inexperienced as I am, then pray hasten your journey to Thorpe Ambrose, + and exert your influence over Allan personally. Nothing less will induce + him to pass me over, and to employ a steward who is really fit to take the + place. Pray, pray act in this matter as you think best for Allan’s + interests. Whatever disappointment I may feel, <i>he</i> shall not see it. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, dear Mr. Brock, + </p> + <p> + “Gratefuly yours, + </p> + <p> + “OZIAS MIDWINTER. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I open the envelope again to add one word more. If you have + heard or seen anything since your return to Somersetshire of the woman in + the black dress and the red shawl, I hope you will not forget, when you + write, to let me know it. + </p> + <p> + “O. M.” + </p> + <p> + 2. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies’ Toilet Repository, Diana Street, Pimlico, + </p> + <p> + “Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—To save the post, I write to you, after a long day’s + worry at my place of business, on the business letter-paper, having news + since we last met which it seems advisable to send you at the earliest + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “To begin at the beginning. After carefully considering the thing, I am + quite sure you will do wisely with young Armadale if you hold your tongue + about Madeira and all that happened there. Your position was, no doubt, a + very strong one with his mother. You had privately helped her in playing a + trick on her own father; you had been ungratefully dismissed, at a + pitiably tender age, as soon as you had served her purpose; and, when you + came upon her suddenly, after a separation of more than twenty years, you + found her in failing health, with a grown-up son, whom she had kept in + total ignorance of the true story of her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any such advantages as these with the young gentleman who has + survived her? If he is not a born idiot he will decline to believe your + shocking aspersions on the memory of his mother; and—seeing that you + have no proofs at this distance of time to meet him with—there is an + end of your money-grubbing in the golden Armadale diggings. Mind, I don’t + dispute that the old lady’s heavy debt of obligation, after what you did + for her in Madeira, is not paid yet; and that the son is the next person + to settle with you, now the mother has slipped through your fingers. Only + squeeze him the right way, my dear, that’s what I venture to suggest—squeeze + him the right way. + </p> + <p> + “And which is the right way? That question brings me to my news. + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought again of that other notion of yours of trying your hand + on this lucky young gentleman, with nothing but your own good looks and + your own quick wits to help you? The idea hung on my mind so strangely + after you were gone that it ended in my sending a little note to my + lawyer, to have the will under which young Armadale has got his fortune + examined at Doctor’s Commons. The result turns out to be something + infinitely more encouraging than either you or I could possibly have hoped + for. After the lawyer’s report to me, there cannot be a moment’s doubt of + what you ought to do. In two words, Lydia, take the bull by the horns—and + marry him! + </p> + <p> + “I am quite serious. He is much better worth the venture than you suppose. + Only persuade him to make you Mrs. Armadale, and you may set all + after-discoveries at flat defiance. As long as he lives, you can make your + own terms with him; and, if he dies, the will entitles you, in spite of + anything he can say or do—with children or without them—to an + income chargeable on his estate of <i>twelve hundred a year for life</i>. + There is no doubt about this; the lawyer himself has looked at the will. + Of course, Mr. Blanchard had his son and his son’s widow in his eye when + he made the provision. But, as it is not limited to any one heir by name, + and not revoked anywhere, it now holds as good with young Armadale as it + would have held under other circumstances with Mr. Blanchard’s son. What a + chance for you, after all the miseries and the dangers you have gone + through, to be mistress of Thorpe Ambrose, if he lives; to have an income + for life, if he dies! Hook him, my poor dear; hook him at any sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you will make the same objection when you read this which you + made when we were talking about it the other day; I mean the objection of + your age. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my good creature, just listen to me. The question is—not + whether you were five-and-thirty last birthday; we will own the dreadful + truth, and say you were—but whether you do look, or don’t look, your + real age. My opinion on this matter ought to be, and is, one of the best + opinions in London. I have had twenty years experience among our charming + sex in making up battered old faces and wornout old figures to look like + new, and I say positively you don’t look a day over thirty, if as much. If + you will follow my advice about dressing, and use one or two of my + applications privately, I guarantee to put you back three years more. I + will forfeit all the money I shall have to advance for you in this matter, + if, when I have ground you young again in my wonderful mill, you look more + than seven-and-twenty in any man’s eyes living—except, of course, + when you wake anxious in the small hours of the morning; and then, my + dear, you will be old and ugly in the retirement of your own room, and it + won’t matter. + </p> + <p> + “‘But,’ you may say, ‘supposing all this, here I am, even with your art to + help me, looking a good six years older than he is; and that is against me + at starting.’ Is it? Just think again. Surely, your own experience must + have shown you that the commonest of all common weaknesses, in young + fellows of this Armadale’s age, is to fall in love with women older than + themselves. Who are the men who really appreciate us in the bloom of our + youth (I’m sure I have cause to speak well of the bloom of youth; I made + fifty guineas to-day by putting it on the spotted shoulders of a woman old + enough to be your mother)—who are the men, I say, who are ready to + worship us when we are mere babies of seventeen? The gay young gentlemen + in the bloom of their own youth? No! The cunning old wretches who are on + the wrong side of forty. + </p> + <p> + “And what is the moral of this, as the story-books say? + </p> + <p> + “The moral is that the chances, with such a head as you have got on your + shoulders, are all in your favor. If you feel your present forlorn + position, as I believe you do; if you know what a charming woman (in the + men’s eyes) you can still be when you please; and if all your resolution + has really come back, after that shocking outbreak of desperation on board + the steamer (natural enough, I own, under the dreadful provocation laid on + you), you will want no further persuasion from me to try this experiment. + Only to think of how things turn out! If the other young booby had not + jumped into the river after you, <i>this</i> young booby would never have + had the estate. It really looks as if fate had determined that you were to + be Mrs. Armadale, of Thorpe Ambrose; and who can control his fate, as the + poet says? + </p> + <p> + “Send me one line to say Yes or No; and believe me your attached old + friend, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 3. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + Richmond, Thursday. + </p> + <p> + ‘YOU OLD WRETCH—I won’t say Yes or No till I have had a long, long + look at my glass first. If you had any real regard for anybody but your + wicked old self, you would know that the bare idea of marrying again + (after what I have gone through) is an idea that makes my flesh creep. + </p> + <p> + “But there can be no harm in your sending me a little more information + while I am making up my mind. You have got twenty pounds of mine still + left out of those things you sold for me; send ten pounds here for my + expenses, in a post-office order, and use the other ten for making private + inquiries at Thorpe Ambrose. I want to know when the two Blanchard women + go away, and when young Armadale stirs up the dead ashes in the family + fire-place. Are you quite sure he will turn out as easy to manage as you + think? If he takes after his hypocrite of a mother, I can tell you this: + Judas Iscariot has come to life again. + </p> + <p> + “I am very comfortable in this lodging. There are lovely flowers in the + garden, and the birds wake me in the morning delightfully. I have hired a + reasonably good piano. The only man I care two straws about—don’t be + alarmed; he was laid in his grave many a long year ago, under the name of + BEETHOVEN—keeps me company, in my lonely hours. The landlady would + keep me company, too, if I would only let her. I hate women. The new + curate paid a visit to the other lodger yesterday, and passed me on the + lawn as he came out. My eyes have lost nothing yet, at any rate, though I + <i>am</i> five-and-thirty; the poor man actually blushed when I looked at + him! What sort of color do you think he would have turned, if one of the + little birds in the garden had whispered in his ear, and told him the true + story of the charming Miss Gwilt? + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mother Oldershaw. I rather doubt whether I am yours, or + anybody’s, affectionately; but we all tell lies at the bottoms of our + letters, don’t we? If you are my attached old friend, I must, of course, + be yours affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “LYDIA GWILT. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Keep your odious powders and paints and washes for the spotted + shoulders of your customers; not one of them shall touch my skin, I + promise you. If you really want to be useful, try and find out some + quieting draught to keep me from grinding my teeth in my sleep. I shall + break them one of these nights; and then what will become of my beauty, I + wonder?” + </p> + <p> + 4. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies’ Toilet Repository, Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—It is a thousand pities your letter was not addressed + to Mr. Armadale; your graceful audacity would have charmed him. It doesn’t + affect me; I am so well used to audacity in my way of life, you know. Why + waste your sparkling wit, my love, on your own impenetrable Oldershaw? It + only splutters and goes out. Will you try and be serious this next time? I + have news for you from Thorpe Ambrose, which is beyond a joke, and which + must not be trifled with. + </p> + <p> + “An hour after I got your letter I set the inquiries on foot. Not knowing + what consequences they might lead to, I thought it safest to begin in the + dark. Instead of employing any of the people whom I have at my own + disposal (who know you and know me), I went to the Private Inquiry Office + in Shadyside Place, and put the matter in the inspector’s hands, in the + character of a perfect stranger, and without mentioning you at all. This + was not the cheapest way of going to work, I own; but it was the safest + way, which is of much greater consequence. + </p> + <p> + “The inspector and I understood each other in ten minutes; and the right + person for the purpose—the most harmless looking young man you ever + saw in your life—was produced immediately. He left for Thorpe + Ambrose an hour after I saw him. I arranged to call at the office on the + afternoons of Saturday, Monday, and to-day for news. There was no news + till to-day; and there I found our confidential agent just returned to + town, and waiting to favor me with a full account of his trip to Norfolk. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, let me quiet your mind about those two questions of yours; + I have got answers to both the one and the other. The Blanchard women go + away to foreign parts on the thirteenth, and young Armadale is at this + moment cruising somewhere at sea in his yacht. There is talk at Thorpe + Ambrose of giving him a public reception, and of calling a meeting of the + local grandees to settle it all. The speechifying and fuss on these + occasions generally wastes plenty of time, and the public reception is not + thought likely to meet the new squire much before the end of the month. + </p> + <p> + “If our messenger had done no more for us than this, I think he would have + earned his money. But the harmless young man is a regular Jesuit at a + private inquiry, with this great advantage over all the Popish priests I + have ever seen, that he has not got his slyness written in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Having to get his information through the female servants in the usual + way, he addressed himself, with admirable discretion, to the ugliest woman + in the house. ‘When they are nice-looking, and can pick and choose,’ as he + neatly expressed it to me, ‘they waste a great deal of valuable time in + deciding on a sweetheart. When they are ugly, and haven’t got the ghost of + a chance of choosing, they snap at a sweetheart, if he comes their way, + like a starved dog at a bone.’ Acting on these excellent principles, our + confidential agent succeeded, after certain unavoidable delays, in + addressing himself to the upper housemaid at Thorpe Ambrose, and took full + possession of her confidence at the first interview. Bearing his + instructions carefully in mind, he encouraged the woman to chatter, and + was favored, of course, with all the gossip of the servants’ hall. The + greater part of it (as repeated to me) was of no earthly importance. But I + listened patiently, and was rewarded by a valuable discovery at last. Here + it is. + </p> + <p> + “It seems there is an ornamental cottage in the grounds at Thorpe Ambrose. + For some reason unknown, young Armadale has chosen to let it, and a tenant + has come in already. He is a poor half-pay major in the army, named + Milroy, a meek sort of man, by all accounts, with a turn for occupying + himself in mechanical pursuits, and with a domestic incumbrance in the + shape of a bedridden wife, who has not been seen by anybody. Well, and + what of all this? you will ask, with that sparkling impatience which + becomes you so well. My dear Lydia, don’t sparkle! The man’s family + affairs seriously concern us both, for, as ill luck will have it, the man + has got a daughter! + </p> + <p> + “You may imagine how I questioned our agent, and how our agent ransacked + his memory, when I stumbled, in due course, on such a discovery as this. + If Heaven is responsible for women’s chattering tongues, Heaven be + praised! From Miss Blanchard to Miss Blanchard’s maid; from Miss + Blanchard’s maid to Miss Blanchard’s aunt’s maid; from Miss Blanchard’s + aunt’s maid, to the ugly housemaid; from the ugly housemaid to the + harmless-looking young man—so the stream of gossip trickled into the + right reservoir at last, and thirsty Mother Oldershaw has drunk it all up. + </p> + <p> + “In plain English, my dear, this is how it stands. The major’s daughter is + a minx just turned sixteen; lively and nice-looking (hateful little + wretch!), dowdy in her dress (thank Heaven!) and deficient in her manners + (thank Heaven again!). She has been brought up at home. The governess who + last had charge of her left before her father moved to Thorpe Ambrose. Her + education stands woefully in want of a finishing touch, and the major + doesn’t quite know what to do next. None of his friends can recommend him + a new governess and he doesn’t like the notion of sending the girl to + school. So matters rest at present, on the major’s own showing; for so the + major expressed himself at a morning call which the father and daughter + paid to the ladies at the great house. + </p> + <p> + “You have now got my promised news, and you will have little difficulty, I + think, in agreeing with me that the Armadale business must be settled at + once, one way or the other. If, with your hopeless prospects, and with + what I may call your family claim on this young fellow, you decide on + giving him up, I shall have the pleasure of sending you the balance of + your account with me (seven-and-twenty shillings), and shall then be free + to devote myself entirely to my own proper business. If, on the contrary, + you decide to try your luck at Thorpe Ambrose, then (there being no kind + of doubt that the major’s minx will set her cap at the young squire) I + should be glad to hear how you mean to meet the double difficulty of + inflaming Mr. Armadale and extinguishing Miss Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “Affectionately yours, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW. + </p> + <p> + 5. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>(First Answer.)</i> + </p> + <p> + “Richmond, Wednesday Morning. + </p> + <p> + “MRS. OLDERSHAW—Send me my seven-and-twenty shillings, and devote + yourself to your own proper business. Yours, L. G.” + </p> + <p> + 6. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw.</i> + </p> + <p> + <i>(Second Answer.)</i> + </p> + <p> + “Richmond, Wednesday Night. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR OLD LOVE—Keep the seven-and-twenty shillings, and burn my + other letter. I have changed my mind. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote the first time after a horrible night. I write this time after a + ride on horseback, a tumbler of claret, and the breast of a chicken. Is + that explanation enough? Please say Yes, for I want to go back to my + piano. + </p> + <p> + “No; I can’t go back yet; I must answer your question first. But are you + really so very simple as to suppose that I don’t see straight through you + and your letter? You know that the major’s difficulty is our opportunity + as well as I do; but you want me to take the responsibility of making the + first proposal, don’t you? Suppose I take it in your own roundabout way? + Suppose I say, ‘Pray don’t ask me how I propose inflaming Mr. Armadale and + extinguishing Miss Milroy; the question is so shockingly abrupt I really + can’t answer it. Ask me, instead, if it is the modest ambition of my life + to become Miss Milroy’s governess?’ Yes, if you please, Mrs. Oldershaw, + and if you will assist me by becoming my reference. + </p> + <p> + “There it is for you! If some serious disaster happens (which is quite + possible), what a comfort it will be to remember that it was all my fault! + </p> + <p> + “Now I have done this for you, will you do something for me. I want to + dream away the little time I am likely to have left here in my own way. Be + a merciful Mother Oldershaw, and spare me the worry of looking at the Ins + and Outs, and adding up the chances For and Against, in this new venture + of mine. Think for me, in short, until I am obliged to think for myself. + </p> + <p> + “I had better not write any more, or I shall say something savage that you + won’t like. I am in one of my tempers to-night. I want a husband to vex, + or a child to beat, or something of that sort. Do you ever like to see the + summer insects kill themselves in the candle? I do, sometimes. Good-night, + Mrs. Jezebel. The longer you can leave me here the better. The air agrees + with me, and I am looking charmingly. + </p> + <p> + “L. G.” + </p> + <p> + 7. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—Some persons in my situation might be a little + offended at the tone of your last letter. But I am so fondly attached to + you! And when I love a person, it is so very hard, my dear, for that + person to offend me! Don’t ride quite so far, and only drink half a + tumblerful of claret next time. I say no more. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we leave off our fencing-match and come to serious matters now? How + curiously hard it always seems to be for women to understand each other, + especially when they have got their pens in their hands! But suppose we + try. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, to begin with: I gather from your letter that you have wisely + decided to try the Thorpe Ambrose experiment, and to secure, if you can, + an excellent position at starting by becoming a member of Major Milroy’s + household. If the circumstances turn against you, and some other woman + gets the governess’s place (about which I shall have something more to say + presently), you will then have no choice but to make Mr. Armadale’s + acquaintance in some other character. In any case, you will want my + assistance; and the first question, therefore, to set at rest between us + is the question of what I am willing to do, and what I can do, to help + you. + </p> + <p> + “A woman, my dear Lydia, with your appearance, your manners, your + abilities, and your education, can make almost any excursions into society + that she pleases if she only has money in her pocket and a respectable + reference to appeal to in cases of emergency. As to the money, in the + first place. I will engage to find it, on condition of your remembering my + assistance with adequate pecuniary gratitude if you win the Armadale + prize. Your promise so to remember me, embodying the terms in plain + figures, shall be drawn out on paper by my own lawyer, so that we can sign + and settle at once when I see you in London. + </p> + <p> + “Next, as to the reference. + </p> + <p> + “Here, again, my services are at your disposal, on another condition. It + is this: that you present yourself at Thorpe Ambrose, under the name to + which you have returned ever since that dreadful business of your + marriage; I mean your own maiden name of Gwilt. I have only one motive in + insisting on this; I wish to run no needless risks. My experience, as + confidential adviser of my customers, in various romantic cases of private + embarrassment, has shown me that an assumed name is, nine times out of + ten, a very unnecessary and a very dangerous form of deception. Nothing + could justify your assuming a name but the fear of young Armadale’s + detecting you—a fear from which we are fortunately relieved by his + mother’s own conduct in keeping your early connection with her a profound + secret from her son and from everybody. + </p> + <p> + “The next, and last, perplexity to settle relates, my dear, to the chances + for and against your finding your way, in the capacity of governess, into + Major Milroy’s house. Once inside the door, with your knowledge of music + and languages, if you can keep your temper, you may be sure of keeping the + place. The only doubt, as things are now, is whether you can get it. + </p> + <p> + “In the major’s present difficulty about his daughter’s education, the + chances are, I think, in favor of his advertising for a governess. Say he + does advertise, what address will he give for applicants to write to? + </p> + <p> + “If he gives an address in London, good-by to all chances in your favor at + once; for this plain reason, that we shall not be able to pick out his + advertisement from the advertisements of other people who want + governesses, and who will give them addresses in London as well. If, on + the other hand, our luck helps us, and he refers his correspondents to a + shop, post-office, or what not <i>at Thorpe Ambrose</i>, there we have our + advertiser as plainly picked out for us as we can wish. In this last case, + I have little or no doubt—with me for your reference—of your + finding your way into the major’s family circle. We have one great + advantage over the other women who will answer the advertisement. Thanks + to my inquiries on the spot, I know Major Milroy to be a poor man; and we + will fix the salary you ask at a figure that is sure to tempt him. As for + the style of the letter, if you and I together can’t write a modest and + interesting application for the vacant place, I should like to know who + can? + </p> + <p> + “All this, however, is still in the future. For the present my advice is, + stay where you are, and dream to your heart’s content, till you hear from + me again. I take in <i>The Times</i> regularly, and you may trust my wary + eye not to miss the right advertisement. We can luckily give the major + time, without doing any injury to our own interests; for there is no fear + just yet of the girl’s getting the start of you. The public reception, as + we know, won’t be ready till near the end of the month; and we may safely + trust young Armadale’s vanity to keep him out of his new house until his + flatterers are all assembled to welcome him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s odd, isn’t it, to think how much depends on this half-pay officer’s + decision? For my part, I shall wake every morning now with the same + question in my mind: If the major’s advertisment appears, which will the + major say—Thorpe Ambrose, or London? + </p> + <p> + “Ever, my dear Lydia, affectionately yours, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0016" id="H2_4_0016"></a> II. ALLAN AS A LANDED + GENTLEMAN. + </h2> + <p> + Early on the morning after his first night’s rest at Thorpe Ambrose, Allan + rose and surveyed the prospect from his bedroom window, lost in the dense + mental bewilderment of feeling himself to be a stranger in his own house. + </p> + <p> + The bedroom looked out over the great front door, with its portico, its + terrace and flight of steps beyond, and, further still, the broad sweep of + the well-timbered park to close the view. The morning mist nestled lightly + about the distant trees; and the cows were feeding sociably, close to the + iron fence which railed off the park from the drive in front of the house. + “All mine!” thought Allan, staring in blank amazement at the prospect of + his own possessions. “Hang me if I can beat it into my head yet. All + mine!” + </p> + <p> + He dressed, left his room, and walked along the corridor which led to the + staircase and hall, opening the doors in succession as he passed them. + </p> + <p> + The rooms in this part of the house were bedrooms and dressing-rooms, + light, spacious, perfectly furnished; and all empty, except the one + bed-chamber next to Allan’s, which had been appropriated to Midwinter. He + was still sleeping when his friend looked in on him, having sat late into + the night writing his letter to Mr. Brock. Allan went on to the end of the + first corridor, turned at right angles into a second, and, that passed, + gained the head of the great staircase. “No romance here,” he said to + himself, looking down the handsomely carpeted stone stairs into the bright + modern hall. “Nothing to startle Midwinter’s fidgety nerves in this + house.” There was nothing, indeed; Allan’s essentially superficial + observation had not misled him for once. The mansion of Thorpe Ambrose + (built after the pulling down of the dilapidated old manor-house) was + barely fifty years old. Nothing picturesque, nothing in the slightest + degree suggestive of mystery and romance, appeared in any part of it. It + was a purely conventional country house—the product of the classical + idea filtered judiciously through the commercial English mind. Viewed on + the outer side, it presented the spectacle of a modern manufactory trying + to look like an ancient temple. Viewed on the inner side, it was a marvel + of luxurious comfort in every part of it, from basement to roof. “And + quite right, too,” thought Allan, sauntering contentedly down the broad, + gently graduated stairs. “Deuce take all mystery and romance! Let’s be + clean and comfortable, that’s what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Arrived in the hall, the new master of Thorpe Ambrose hesitated, and + looked about him, uncertain which way to turn next. + </p> + <p> + The four reception-rooms on the ground-floor opened into the hall, two on + either side. Allan tried the nearest door on his right hand at a venture, + and found himself in the drawing-room. Here the first sign of life + appeared, under life’s most attractive form. A young girl was in solitary + possession of the drawing-room. The duster in her hand appeared to + associate her with the domestic duties of the house; but at that + particular moment she was occupied in asserting the rights of nature over + the obligations of service. In other words, she was attentively + contemplating her own face in the glass over the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “There! there! don’t let me frighten you,” said Allan, as the girl started + away from the glass, and stared at him in unutterable confusion. “I quite + agree with you, my dear; your face is well worth looking at. Who are you? + Oh, the housemaid. And what’s your name? Susan, eh? Come! I like your + name, to begin with. Do you know who I am, Susan? I’m your master, though + you may not think it. Your character? Oh, yes! Mrs. Blanchard gave you a + capital character. You shall stop here; don’t be afraid. And you’ll be a + good girl, Susan, and wear smart little caps and aprons and bright + ribbons, and you’ll look nice and pretty, and dust the furniture, won’t + you?” With this summary of a housemaid’s duties, Allan sauntered back into + the hall, and found more signs of life in that quarter. A man-servant + appeared on this occasion, and bowed, as became a vassal in a linen + jacket, before his liege lord in a wide-awake hat. + </p> + <p> + “And who may you be?” asked Allan. “Not the man who let us in last night? + Ah, I thought not. The second footman, eh? Character? Oh, yes; capital + character. Stop here, of course. You can valet me, can you? Bother + valeting me! I like to put on my own clothes, and brush them, too, when + they <i>are</i> on; and, if I only knew how to black my own boots, by + George, I should like to do it! What room’s this? Morning-room, eh? And + here’s the dining-room, of course. Good heavens, what a table! it’s as + long as my yacht, and longer. I say, by-the-by, what’s your name? Richard, + is it? Well, Richard, the vessel I sail in is a vessel of my own building! + What do you think of that? You look to me just the right sort of man to be + my steward on board. If you’re not sick at sea—oh, you <i>are</i> + sick at sea? Well, then, we’ll say nothing more about it. And what room is + this? Ah, yes; the library, of course—more in Mr. Midwinter’s way + than mine. Mr. Midwinter is the gentleman who came here with me last + night; and mind this, Richard, you’re all to show him as much attention as + you show me. Where are we now? What’s this door at the back? Billiard-room + and smoking-room, eh? Jolly. Another door! and more stairs! Where do they + go to? and who’s this coming up? Take your time, ma’am; you’re not quite + so young as you were once—take your time.” + </p> + <p> + The object of Allan’s humane caution was a corpulent elderly woman of the + type called “motherly.” Fourteen stairs were all that separated her from + the master of the house; she ascended them with fourteen stoppages and + fourteen sighs. Nature, various in all things, is infinitely various in + the female sex. There are some women whose personal qualities reveal the + Loves and the Graces; and there are other women whose personal qualities + suggest the Perquisites and the Grease Pot. This was one of the other + women. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see you looking so well, ma’am,” said Allan, when the cook, in + the majesty of her office, stood proclaimed before him. “Your name is + Gripper, is it? I consider you, Mrs. Gripper, the most valuable person in + the house. For this reason, that nobody in the house eats a heartier + dinner every day than I do. Directions? Oh, no; I’ve no directions to + give. I leave all that to you. Lots of strong soup, and joints done with + the gravy in them—there’s my notion of good feeding, in two words. + Steady! Here’s somebody else. Oh, to be sure—the butler! Another + valuable person. We’ll go right through all the wine in the cellar, Mr. + Butler; and if I can’t give you a sound opinion after that, we’ll + persevere boldly, and go right through it again. Talking of wine—halloo! + here are more of them coming up stairs. There! there! don’t trouble + yourselves. You’ve all got capital characters, and you shall all stop here + along with me. What was I saying just now? Something about wine; so it + was. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Butler, it isn’t every day that a new master + comes to Thorpe Ambrose; and it’s my wish that we should all start + together on the best possible terms. Let the servants have a grand + jollification downstairs to celebrate my arrival, and give them what they + like to drink my health in. It’s a poor heart, Mrs. Gripper, that never + rejoices, isn’t it? No; I won’t look at the cellar now: I want to go out, + and get a breath of fresh air before breakfast. Where’s Richard? I say, + have I got a garden here? Which side of the house is it! That side, eh? + You needn’t show me round. I’ll go alone, Richard, and lose myself, if I + can, in my own property.” + </p> + <p> + With those words Allan descended the terrace steps in front of the house, + whistling cheerfully. He had met the serious responsibility of settling + his domestic establishment to his own entire satisfaction. “People talk of + the difficulty of managing their servants,” thought Allan. “What on earth + do they mean? I don’t see any difficulty at all.” He opened an ornamental + gate leading out of the drive at the side of the house, and, following the + footman’s directions, entered the shrubbery that sheltered the Thorpe + Ambrose gardens. “Nice shady sort of place for a cigar,” said Allan, as he + sauntered along with his hands in his pockets “I wish I could beat it into + my head that it really belongs to <i>me</i>.” + </p> + <p> + The shrubbery opened on the broad expanse of a flower garden, flooded + bright in its summer glory by the light of the morning sun. + </p> + <p> + On one side, an archway, broken through, a wall, led into the fruit + garden. On the other, a terrace of turf led to ground on a lower level, + laid out as an Italian garden. Wandering past the fountains and statues, + Allan reached another shrubbery, winding its way apparently to some remote + part of the grounds. Thus far, not a human creature had been visible or + audible anywhere; but, as he approached the end of the second shrubbery, + it struck him that he heard something on the other side of the foliage. He + stopped and listened. There were two voices speaking distinctly—an + old voice that sounded very obstinate, and a young voice that sounded very + angry. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use, miss,” said the old voice. “I mustn’t allow it, and I won’t + allow it. What would Mr. Armadale say?” + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Armadale is the gentleman I take him for, you old brute!” replied + the young voice, “he would say, ‘Come into my garden, Miss Milroy, as + often as you like, and take as many nosegays as you please.’” Allan’s + bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously. Inspired by a sudden idea, he + stole softly to the end of the shrubbery, darted round the corner of it, + and, vaulting over a low ring fence, found himself in a trim little + paddock, crossed by a gravel walk. At a short distance down the wall stood + a young lady, with her back toward him, trying to force her way past an + impenetrable old man, with a rake in his hand, who stood obstinately in + front of her, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + “Come into my garden, Miss Milroy, as often as you like, and take as many + nosegays as you please,” cried Allan, remorselessly repeating her own + words. + </p> + <p> + The young lady turned round, with a scream; her muslin dress, which she + was holding up in front, dropped from her hand, and a prodigious lapful of + flowers rolled out on the gravel walk. + </p> + <p> + Before another word could be said, the impenetrable old man stepped + forward, with the utmost composure, and entered on the question of his own + personal interests, as if nothing whatever had happened, and nobody was + present but his new master and himself. + </p> + <p> + “I bid you humbly welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir,” said this ancient of + the gardens. “My name is Abraham Sage. I’ve been employed in the grounds + for more than forty years; and I hope you’ll be pleased to continue me in + my place.” + </p> + <p> + So, with vision inexorably limited to the horizon of his own prospects, + spoke the gardener, and spoke in vain. Allan was down on his knees on the + gravel walk, collecting the fallen flowers, and forming his first + impressions of Miss Milroy from the feet upward. + </p> + <p> + She was pretty; she was not pretty; she charmed, she disappointed, she + charmed again. Tried by recognized line and rule, she was too short and + too well developed for her age. And yet few men’s eyes would have wished + her figure other than it was. Her hands were so prettily plump and dimpled + that it was hard to see how red they were with the blessed exuberance of + youth and health. Her feet apologized gracefully for her old and ill + fitting shoes; and her shoulders made ample amends for the misdemeanor in + muslin which covered them in the shape of a dress. Her dark-gray eyes were + lovely in their clear softness of color, in their spirit, tenderness, and + sweet good humor of expression; and her hair (where a shabby old garden + hat allowed it to be seen) was of just that lighter shade of brown which + gave value by contrast to the darker beauty of her eyes. But these + attractions passed, the little attendant blemishes and imperfections of + this self-contradictory girl began again. Her nose was too short, her + mouth was too large, her face was too round and too rosy. The dreadful + justice of photography would have had no mercy on her; and the sculptors + of classical Greece would have bowed her regretfully out of their studios. + Admitting all this, and more, the girdle round Miss Milroy’s waist was the + girdle of Venus nevertheless; and the passkey that opens the general heart + was the key she carried, if ever a girl possessed it yet. Before Allan had + picked up his second handful of flowers, Allan was in love with her. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t! pray don’t, Mr. Armadale!” she said, receiving the flowers under + protest, as Allan vigorously showered them back into the lap of her dress. + “I am so ashamed! I didn’t mean to invite myself in that bold way into + your garden; my tongue ran away with me—it did, indeed! What can I + say to excuse myself? Oh, Mr. Armadale, what must you think of me?” + </p> + <p> + Allan suddenly saw his way to a compliment, and tossed it up to her + forthwith, with the third handful of flowers. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I think, Miss Milroy,” he said, in his blunt, boyish + way. “I think the luckiest walk I ever took in my life was the walk this + morning that brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + He looked eager and handsome. He was not addressing a woman worn out with + admiration, but a girl just beginning a woman’s life; and it did him no + harm, at any rate, to speak in the character of master of Thorpe Ambrose. + The penitential expression on Miss Milroy’s face gently melted away; she + looked down, demure and smiling, at the flowers in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “I deserve a good scolding,” she said. “I don’t deserve compliments, Mr. + Armadale—least of all from <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you do!” cried the headlong Allan, getting briskly on his legs. + “Besides, it isn’t a compliment; it’s true. You are the prettiest—I + beg your pardon, Miss Milroy! <i>my</i> tongue ran away with me that + time.” + </p> + <p> + Among the heavy burdens that are laid on female human nature, perhaps the + heaviest, at the age of sixteen, is the burden of gravity. Miss Milroy + struggled, tittered, struggled again, and composed herself for the time + being. + </p> + <p> + The gardener, who still stood where he had stood from the first, immovably + waiting for his next opportunity, saw it now, and gently pushed his + personal interests into the first gap of silence that had opened within + his reach since Allan’s appearance on the scene. + </p> + <p> + “I humbly bid you welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir,” said Abraham Sage, + beginning obstinately with his little introductory speech for the second + time. “My name—” + </p> + <p> + Before he could deliver himself of his name, Miss Milroy looked + accidentally in the horticulturist’s pertinacious face, and instantly lost + her hold on her gravity beyond recall. Allan, never backward in following + a boisterous example of any sort, joined in her laughter with right + goodwill. The wise man of the gardens showed no surprise, and took no + offense. He waited for another gap of silence, and walked in again gently + with his personal interests the moment the two young people stopped to + take breath. + </p> + <p> + “I have been employed in the grounds,” proceeded Abraham Sage, + irrepressibly, “for more than forty years—” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be employed in the grounds for forty more, if you’ll only hold + your tongue and take yourself off!” cried Allan, as soon as he could + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly, sir,” said the gardener, with the utmost politeness, + but with no present signs either of holding his tongue or of taking + himself off. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + Abraham Sage carefully cleared his throat, and shifted his rake from one + hand to the other. He looked down the length of his own invaluable + implement, with a grave interest and attention, seeing, apparently, not + the long handle of a rake, but the long perspective of a vista, with a + supplementary personal interest established at the end of it. “When more + convenient, sir,” resumed this immovable man, “I should wish respectfully + to speak to you about my son. Perhaps it may be more convenient in the + course of the day? My humble duty, sir, and my best thanks. My son is + strictly sober. He is accustomed to the stables, and he belongs to the + Church of England—without incumbrances.” Having thus planted his + offspring provisionally in his master’s estimation, Abraham Sage + shouldered his invaluable rake, and hobbled slowly out of view. + </p> + <p> + “If that’s a specimen of a trustworthy old servant,” said Allan, “I think + I’d rather take my chance of being cheated by a new one. <i>You</i> shall + not be troubled with him again, Miss Milroy, at any rate. All the + flower-beds in the garden are at your disposal, and all the fruit in the + fruit season, if you’ll only come here and eat it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Armadale, how very, very kind you are. How can I thank you?” + </p> + <p> + Allan saw his way to another compliment—an elaborate compliment, in + the shape of a trap, this time. + </p> + <p> + “You can do me the greatest possible favor,” he said. “You can assist me + in forming an agreeable impression of my own grounds.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! how?” asked Miss Milroy, innocently. + </p> + <p> + Allan judiciously closed the trap on the spot in these words: “By taking + me with you, Miss Milroy, on your morning walk.” He spoke, smiled, and + offered his arm. + </p> + <p> + She saw the way, on her side, to a little flirtation. She rested her hand + on his arm, blushed, hesitated, and suddenly took it away again. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think it’s quite right, Mr. Armadale,” she said, devoting herself + with the deepest attention to her collection of flowers. “Oughtn’t we to + have some old lady here? Isn’t it improper to take your arm until I know + you a little better than I do now? I am obliged to ask; I have had so + little instruction; I have seen so little of society, and one of papa’s + friends once said my manners were too bold for my age. What do <i>you</i> + think?” + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s a very good thing your papa’s friend is not here now,” + answered the outspoken Allan; “I should quarrel with him to a dead + certainty. As for society, Miss Milroy, nobody knows less about it than I + do; but if we <i>had</i> an old lady here, I must say myself I think she + would be uncommonly in the way. Won’t you?” concluded Allan, imploringly + offering his arm for the second time. “Do!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy looked up at him sidelong from her flowers “You are as bad as + the gardener, Mr. Armadale!” She looked down again in a flutter of + indecision. “I’m sure it’s wrong,” she said, and took his arm the instant + afterward without the slightest hesitation. + </p> + <p> + They moved away together over the daisied turf of the paddock, young and + bright and happy, with the sunlight of the summer morning shining + cloudless over their flowery path. + </p> + <p> + “And where are we going to, now?” asked Allan. “Into another garden?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed gayly. “How very odd of you, Mr. Armadale, not to know, when + it all belongs to you! Are you really seeing Thorpe Ambrose this morning + for the first time? How indescribably strange it must feel! No, no; don’t + say any more complimentary things to me just yet. You may turn my head if + you do. We haven’t got the old lady with us; and I really must take care + of myself. Let me be useful; let me tell you all about your own grounds. + We are going out at that little gate, across one of the drives in the + park, and then over the rustic bridge, and then round the corner of the + plantation—where do you think? To where I live, Mr. Armadale; to the + lovely little cottage that you have let to papa. Oh, if you only knew how + lucky we thought ourselves to get it!” + </p> + <p> + She paused, looked up at her companion, and stopped another compliment on + the incorrigible Allan’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll drop your arm,” she said coquettishly, “if you do! We <i>were</i> + lucky to get the cottage, Mr. Armadale. Papa said he felt under an + obligation to you for letting it, the day we got in. And <i>I</i> said I + felt under an obligation, no longer ago than last week.” + </p> + <p> + “You, Miss Milroy!” exclaimed Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It may surprise you to hear it; but if you hadn’t let the cottage to + papa, I believe I should have suffered the indignity and misery of being + sent to school.” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s memory reverted to the half-crown that he had spun on the + cabin-table of the yacht, at Castletown. “If she only knew that I had + tossed up for it!” he thought, guiltily. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you don’t understand why I should feel such a horror of going + to school,” pursued Miss Milroy, misinterpreting the momentary silence on + her companion’s side. “If I had gone to school in early life—I mean + at the age when other girls go—I shouldn’t have minded it now. But I + had no such chance at the time. It was the time of mamma’s illness and of + papa’s unfortunate speculation; and as papa had nobody to comfort him but + me, of course I stayed at home. You needn’t laugh; I was of some use, I + can tell you. I helped papa over his trouble, by sitting on his knee after + dinner, and asking him to tell me stories of all the remarkable people he + had known when he was about in the great world, at home and abroad. + Without me to amuse him in the evening, and his clock to occupy him in the + daytime—” + </p> + <p> + “His clock?” repeated Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I ought to have told you. Papa is an extraordinary mechanical + genius. You will say so, too, when you see his clock. It’s nothing like so + large, of course, but it’s on the model of the famous clock at Strasbourg. + Only think, he began it when I was eight years old; and (though I was + sixteen last birthday) it isn’t finished yet! Some of our friends were + quite surprised he should take to such a thing when his troubles began. + But papa himself set that right in no time; he reminded them that Louis + the Sixteenth took to lock-making when <i>his</i> troubles began, and then + everybody was perfectly satisfied.” She stopped, and changed color + confusedly. “Oh, Mr. Armadale,” she said, in genuine embarrassment this + time, “here is my unlucky tongue running away with me again! I am talking + to you already as if I had known you for years! This is what papa’s friend + meant when he said my manners were too bold. It’s quite true; I have a + dreadful way of getting familiar with people, if—” She checked + herself suddenly, on the brink of ending the sentence by saying, “if I + like them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; do go on!” pleaded Allan. “It’s a fault of mine to be familiar, + too. Besides, we <i>must</i> be familiar; we are such near neighbors. I’m + rather an uncultivated sort of fellow, and I don’t know quite how to say + it; but I want your cottage to be jolly and friendly with my house, and my + house to be jolly and friendly with your cottage. There’s my meaning, all + in the wrong words. Do go on, Miss Milroy; pray go on!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled and hesitated. “I don’t exactly remember where I was,” she + replied, “I only remember I had something I wanted to tell you. This + comes, Mr. Armadale, of my taking your arm. I should get on so much + better, if you would only consent to walk separately. You won’t? Well, + then, will you tell me what it was I wanted to say? Where was I before I + went wandering off to papa’s troubles and papa’s clock?” + </p> + <p> + “At school!” replied Allan, with a prodigious effort of memory. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Not</i> at school, you mean,” said Miss Milroy; “and all through <i>you</i>. + Now I can go on again, which is a great comfort. I am quite serious, Mr. + Armadale, in saying that I should have been sent to school, if you had + said No when papa proposed for the cottage. This is how it happened. When + we began moving in, Mrs. Blanchard sent us a most kind message from the + great house to say that her servants were at our disposal, if we wanted + any assistance. The least papa and I could do, after that, was to call and + thank her. We saw Mrs. Blanchard and Miss Blanchard. Mistress was + charming, and miss looked perfectly lovely in her mourning. I’m sure you + admire her? She’s tall and pale and graceful—quite your idea of + beauty, I should think?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing like it,” began Allan. “My idea of beauty at the present moment—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy felt it coming, and instantly took her hand off his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I mean I have never seen either Mrs. Blanchard or her niece,” added + Allan, precipitately correcting himself. + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy tempered justice with mercy, and put her hand back again. + </p> + <p> + “How extraordinary that you should never have seen them!” she went on. + “Why, you are a perfect stranger to everything and everybody at Thorpe + Ambrose! Well, after Miss Blanchard and I had sat and talked a little + while, I heard my name on Mrs. Blanchard’s lips and instantly held my + breath. She was asking papa if I had finished my education. Out came + papa’s great grievance directly. My old governess, you must know, left us + to be married just before we came here, and none of our friends could + produce a new one whose terms were reasonable. ‘I’m told, Mrs. Blanchard, + by people who understand it better than I do,’ says papa, ‘that + advertising is a risk. It all falls on me, in Mrs. Milroy’s state of + health, and I suppose I must end in sending my little girl to school. Do + you happen to know of a school within the means of a poor man?’ Mrs. + Blanchard shook her head; I could have kissed her on the spot for doing + it. ‘All my experience, Major Milroy,’ says this perfect angel of a woman, + ‘is in favor of advertising. My niece’s governess was originally obtained + by an advertisement, and you may imagine her value to us when I tell you + she lived in our family for more than ten years.’ I could have gone down + on both my knees and worshipped Mrs. Blanchard then and there; and I only + wonder I didn’t! Papa was struck at the time—I could see that—and + he referred to it again on the way home. ‘Though I have been long out of + the world, my dear,’ says papa, ‘I know a highly-bred woman and a sensible + woman when I see her. Mrs. Blanchard’s experience puts advertising in a + new light; I must think about it.’ He has thought about it, and (though he + hasn’t openly confessed it to me) I know that he decided to advertise, no + later than last night. So, if papa thanks you for letting the cottage, Mr. + Armadale, I thank you, too. But for you, we should never have known + darling Mrs. Blanchard; and but for darling Mrs. Blanchard, I should have + been sent to school.” + </p> + <p> + Before Allan could reply, they turned the corner of the plantation, and + came in sight of the cottage. Description of it is needless; the civilized + universe knows it already. It was the typical cottage of the + drawing-master’s early lessons in neat shading and the broad pencil touch—with + the trim thatch, the luxuriant creepers, the modest lattice-windows, the + rustic porch, and the wicker bird-cage, all complete. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it lovely?” said Miss Milroy. “Do come in!” + </p> + <p> + “May I?” asked Allan. “Won’t the major think it too early?” + </p> + <p> + “Early or late, I am sure papa will be only too glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way briskly up the garden path, and opened the parlor door. As + Allan followed her into the little room, he saw, at the further end of it, + a gentleman sitting alone at an old-fashioned writing-table, with his back + turned to his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Papa! a surprise for you!” said Miss Milroy, rousing him from his + occupation. “Mr. Armadale has come to Thorpe Ambrose; and I have brought + him here to see you.” + </p> + <p> + The major started; rose, bewildered for the moment; recovered himself + immediately, and advanced to welcome his young landlord, with hospitable, + outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + A man with a larger experience of the world and a finer observation of + humanity than Allan possessed would have seen the story of Major Milroy’s + life written in Major Milroy’s face. The home troubles that had struck him + were plainly betrayed in his stooping figure and his wan, deeply wrinkled + cheeks, when he first showed himself on rising from his chair. The + changeless influence of one monotonous pursuit and one monotonous habit of + thought was next expressed in the dull, dreamy self-absorption of his + manner and his look while his daughter was speaking to him. The moment + after, when he had roused himself to welcome his guest, was the moment + which made the self-revelation complete. Then there flickered in the + major’s weary eyes a faint reflection of the spirit of his happier youth. + Then there passed over the major’s dull and dreamy manner a change which + told unmistakably of social graces and accomplishments, learned at some + past time in no ignoble social school; a man who had long since taken his + patient refuge from trouble in his own mechanical pursuit; a man only + roused at intervals to know himself again for what he once had been. So + revealed to all eyes that could read him aright, Major Milroy now stood + before Allan, on the first morning of an acquaintance which was destined + to be an event in Allan’s life. + </p> + <p> + “I am heartily glad to see you, Mr. Armadale,” he said, speaking in the + changeless quiet, subdued tone peculiar to most men whose occupations are + of the solitary and monotonous kind. “You have done me one favor already + by taking me as your tenant, and you now do me another by paying this + friendly visit. If you have not breakfasted already, let me waive all + ceremony on my side, and ask you to take your place at our little table.” + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure, Major Milroy, if I am not in the way,” + replied Allan, delighted at his reception. “I was sorry to hear from Miss + Milroy that Mrs. Milroy is an invalid. Perhaps my being here unexpectedly; + perhaps the sight of a strange face—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your hesitation, Mr. Armadale,” said the major; “but it is + quite unnecessary. Mrs. Milroy’s illness keeps her entirely confined to + her own room. Have we got everything we want on the table, my love?” he + went on, changing the subject so abruptly that a closer observer than + Allan might have suspected it was distasteful to him. “Will you come and + make tea?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy’s attention appeared to be already pre-engaged; she made no + reply. While her father and Allan had been exchanging civilities, she had + been putting the writing-table in order, and examining the various objects + scattered on it with the unrestrained curiosity of a spoiled child. The + moment after the major had spoken to her, she discovered a morsel of paper + hidden between the leaves of the blotting-book, snatched it up, looked at + it, and turned round instantly, with an exclamation of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Do my eyes deceive me, papa?” she asked. “Or were you really and truly + writing the advertisement when I came in?” + </p> + <p> + “I had just finished it,” replied her father. “But, my dear, Mr. Armadale + is here—we are waiting for breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale knows all about it,” rejoined Miss Milroy. “I told him in + the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said Allan. “Pray, don’t make a stranger of me, major! If it’s + about the governess, I’ve got something (in an indirect sort of way) to do + with it too.” + </p> + <p> + Major Milroy smiled. Before he could answer, his daughter, who had been + reading the advertisement, appealed to him eagerly, for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa,” she said, “there’s one thing here I don’t like at all! Why do + you put grandmamma’s initials at the end? Why do you tell them to write to + grandmamma’s house in London?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear! your mother can do nothing in this matter, as you know. And as + for me (even if I went to London), questioning strange ladies about their + characters and accomplishments is the last thing in the world that I am + fit to do. Your grandmamma is on the spot; and your grandmamma is the + proper person to receive the letters, and to make all the necessary + inquires.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to see the letters myself,” persisted the spoiled child. “Some + of them are sure to be amusing—” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t apologize for this very unceremonious reception of you, Mr. + Armadale,” said the major, turning to Allan, with a quaint and quiet + humor. “It may be useful as a warning, if you ever chance to marry and + have a daughter, not to begin, as I have done, by letting her have her own + way.” + </p> + <p> + Allan laughed, and Miss Milroy persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” she went on, “I should like to help in choosing which letters + we answer, and which we don’t. I think I ought to have some voice in the + selection of my own governess. Why not tell them, papa, to send their + letters down here—to the post-office or the stationer’s, or anywhere + you like? When you and I have read them, we can send up the letters we + prefer to grandmamma; and she can ask all the questions, and pick out the + best governess, just as you have arranged already, without leaving ME + entirely in the dark, which I consider (don’t you, Mr. Armadale?) to be + quite inhuman. Let me alter the address, papa; do, there’s a darling!” + </p> + <p> + “We shall get no breakfast, Mr. Armadale, if I don’t say Yes,” said the + major good-humoredly. “Do as you like, my dear,” he added, turning to his + daughter. “As long as it ends in your grandmamma’s managing the matter for + us, the rest is of very little consequence.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy took up her father’s pen, drew it through the last line of the + advertisement, and wrote the altered address with her own hand as follows: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Apply, by letter, to M., Post-office, Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said, bustling to her place at the breakfast-table. “The + advertisement may go to London now; and, if a governess <i>does</i> come + of it, oh, papa, who in the name of wonder will she be? Tea or coffee, Mr. + Armadale? I’m really ashamed of having kept you waiting. But it is such a + comfort,” she added, saucily, “to get all one’s business off one’s mind + before breakfast!” + </p> + <p> + Father, daughter, and guest sat down together sociably at the little round + table, the best of good neighbors and good friends already. + </p> + <p> + Three days later, one of the London newsboys got <i>his</i> business off + his mind before breakfast. His district was Diana Street, Pimlico; and the + last of the morning’s newspapers which he disposed of was the newspaper he + left at Mrs. Oldershaw’s door. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0017" id="H2_4_0017"></a> III. THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY. + </h2> + <p> + More than an hour after Allan had set forth on his exploring expedition + through his own grounds, Midwinter rose, and enjoyed, in his turn, a full + view by daylight of the magnificence of the new house. + </p> + <p> + Refreshed by his long night’s rest, he descended the great staircase as + cheerfully as Allan himself. One after another, he, too, looked into the + spacious rooms on the ground floor in breathless astonishment at the + beauty and the luxury which surrounded him. “The house where I lived in + service when I was a boy, was a fine one,” he thought, gayly; “but it was + nothing to this! I wonder if Allan is as surprised and delighted as I am?” + The beauty of the summer morning drew him out through the open hall door, + as it had drawn his friend out before him. He ran briskly down the steps, + humming the burden of one of the old vagabond tunes which he had danced to + long since in the old vagabond time. Even the memories of his wretched + childhood took their color, on that happy morning, from the bright medium + through which he looked back at them. “If I was not out of practice,” he + thought to himself, as he leaned on the fence and looked over at the park, + “I could try some of my old tumbling tricks on that delicious grass.” He + turned, noticed two of the servants talking together near the shrubbery, + and asked for news of the master of the house. + </p> + <p> + The men pointed with a smile in the direction of the gardens; Mr. Armadale + had gone that way more than an hour since, and had met (as had been + reported) with Miss Milroy in the grounds. Midwinter followed the path + through the shrubbery, but, on reaching the flower garden, stopped, + considered a little, and retraced his steps. “If Allan has met with the + young lady,” he said to himself, “Allan doesn’t want me.” He laughed as he + drew that inevitable inference, and turned considerately to explore the + beauties of Thorpe Ambrose on the other side of the house. + </p> + <p> + Passing the angle of the front wall of the building, he descended some + steps, advanced along a paved walk, turned another angle, and found + himself in a strip of garden ground at the back of the house. + </p> + <p> + Behind him was a row of small rooms situated on the level of the servants’ + offices. In front of him, on the further side of the little garden, rose a + wall, screened by a laurel hedge, and having a door at one end of it, + leading past the stables to a gate that opened on the high-road. + Perceiving that he had only discovered thus far the shorter way to the + house, used by the servants and trades-people, Midwinter turned back + again, and looked in at the window of one of the rooms on the basement + story as he passed it. Were these the servants’ offices? No; the offices + were apparently in some other part of the ground-floor; the window he had + looked in at was the window of a lumber-room. The next two rooms in the + row were both empty. The fourth window, when he approached it, presented a + little variety. It served also as a door; and it stood open to the garden + at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Attracted by the book-shelves which he noticed on one of the walls, + Midwinter stepped into the room. + </p> + <p> + The books, few in number, did not detain him long; a glance at their backs + was enough without taking them down. The Waverley Novels, Tales by Miss + Edgeworth, and by Miss Edgeworth’s many followers, the Poems of Mrs. + Hemans, with a few odd volumes of the illustrated gift-books of the + period, composed the bulk of the little library. Midwinter turned to leave + the room, when an object on one side of the window, which he had not + previously noticed, caught his attention and stopped him. It was a + statuette standing on a bracket—a reduced copy of the famous Niobe + of the Florence Museum. He glanced from the statuette to the window, with + a sudden doubt which set his heart throbbing fast. It was a French window. + He looked out with a suspicion which he had not felt yet. The view before + him was the view of a lawn and garden. For a moment his mind struggled + blindly to escape the conclusion which had seized it, and struggled in + vain. Here, close round him and close before him—here, forcing him + mercilessly back from the happy present to the horrible past, was the room + that Allan had seen in the Second Vision of the Dream. + </p> + <p> + He waited, thinking and looking round him while he thought. There was + wonderfully little disturbance in his face and manner; he looked steadily + from one to the other of the few objects in the room, as if the discovery + of it had saddened rather than surprised him. Matting of some foreign sort + covered the floor. Two cane chairs and a plain table comprised the whole + of the furniture. The walls were plainly papered, and bare—broken to + the eye in one place by a door leading into the interior of the house; in + another, by a small stove; in a third, by the book-shelves which Midwinter + had already noticed. He returned to the books, and this time he took some + of them down from the shelves. + </p> + <p> + The first that he opened contained lines in a woman’s handwriting, traced + in ink that had faded with time. He read the inscription—“Jane + Armadale, from her beloved father. Thorpe Ambrose, October, 1828.” In the + second, third, and fourth volumes that he opened, the same inscription + re-appeared. His previous knowledge of dates and persons helped him to + draw the true inference from what he saw. The books must have belonged to + Allan’s mother; and she must have inscribed them with her name, in the + interval of time between her return to Thorpe Ambrose from Madeira and the + birth of her son. Midwinter passed on to a volume on another shelf—one + of a series containing the writings of Mrs. Hemans. In this case, the + blank leaf at the beginning of the book was filled on both sides with a + copy of verses, the writing being still in Mrs. Armadale’s hand. The + verses were headed “Farewell to Thorpe Ambrose,” and were dated “March, + 1829”—two months only after Allan had been born. + </p> + <p> + Entirely without merit in itself, the only interest of the little poem was + in the domestic story that it told. + </p> + <p> + The very room in which Midwinter then stood was described—with the + view on the garden, the window made to open on it, the bookshelves, the + Niobe, and other more perishable ornaments which Time had destroyed. Here, + at variance with her brothers, shrinking from her friends, the widow of + the murdered man had, on her own acknowledgment, secluded herself, without + other comfort than the love and forgiveness of her father, until her child + was born. The father’s mercy and the father’s recent death filled many + verses, happily too vague in their commonplace expression of penitence and + despair to give any hint of the marriage story in Madeira to any reader + who looked at them ignorant of the truth. A passing reference to the + writer’s estrangement from her surviving relatives, and to her approaching + departure from Thorpe Ambrose, followed. Last came the assertion of the + mother’s resolution to separate herself from all her old associations; to + leave behind her every possession, even to the most trifling thing she + had, that could remind her of the miserable past; and to date her new life + in the future from the birthday of the child who had been spared to + console her—who was now the one earthly object that could still + speak to her of love and hope. So the old story of passionate feeling that + finds comfort in phrases rather than not find comfort at all was told once + again. So the poem in the faded ink faded away to its end. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter put the book back with a heavy sigh, and opened no other volume + on the shelves. “Here in the country house, or there on board the wreck,” + he said, bitterly, “the traces of my father’s crime follow me, go where I + may.” He advanced toward the window, stopped, and looked back into the + lonely, neglected little room. “Is <i>this</i> chance?” he asked himself. + “The place where his mother suffered is the place he sees in the Dream; + and the first morning in the new house is the morning that reveals it, not + to <i>him</i>, but to me. Oh, Allan! Allan! how will it end?” + </p> + <p> + The thought had barely passed through his mind before he heard Allan’s + voice, from the paved walk at the side of the house, calling to him by his + name. He hastily stepped out into the garden. At the same moment Allan + came running round the corner, full of voluble apologies for having + forgotten, in the society of his new neighbors, what was due to the laws + of hospitality and the claims of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I really haven’t missed you,” said Midwinter; “and I am very, very glad + to hear that the new neighbors have produced such a pleasant impression on + you already.” + </p> + <p> + He tried, as he spoke, to lead the way back by the outside of the house; + but Allan’s flighty attention had been caught by the open window and the + lonely little room. He stepped in immediately. Midwinter followed, and + watched him in breathless anxiety as he looked round. Not the slightest + recollection of the Dream troubled Allan’s easy mind. Not the slightest + reference to it fell from the silent lips of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly the sort of place I should have expected you to hit on!” + exclaimed Allan, gayly. “Small and snug and unpretending. I know you, + Master Midwinter! You’ll be slipping off here when the county families + come visiting, and I rather think on those dreadful occasions you won’t + find me far behind you. What’s the matter? You look ill and out of + spirits. Hungry? Of course you are! unpardonable of me to have kept you + waiting. This door leads somewhere, I suppose; let’s try a short cut into + the house. Don’t be afraid of my not keeping you company at breakfast. I + didn’t eat much at the cottage; I feasted my eyes on Miss Milroy, as the + poets say. Oh, the darling! the darling! she turns you topsy-turvy the + moment you look at her. As for her father, wait till you see his wonderful + clock! It’s twice the size of the famous clock at Strasbourg, and the most + tremendous striker ever heard yet in the memory of man!” + </p> + <p> + Singing the praises of his new friends in this strain at the top of his + voice, Allan hurried Midwinter along the stone passages on the basement + floor, which led, as he had rightly guessed, to a staircase communicating + with the hall. They passed the servants’ offices on the way. At the sight + of the cook and the roaring fire, disclosed through the open kitchen door, + Allan’s mind went off at a tangent, and Allan’s dignity scattered itself + to the four winds of heaven, as usual. + </p> + <p> + “Aha, Mrs. Gripper, there you are with your pots and pans, and your + burning fiery furnace! One had need be Shadrach, Meshach, and the other + fellow to stand over that. Breakfast as soon as ever you like. Eggs, + sausages, bacon, kidneys, marmalade, water-cresses, coffee, and so forth. + My friend and I belong to the select few whom it’s a perfect privilege to + cook for. Voluptuaries, Mrs. Gripper, voluptuaries, both of us. You’ll + see,” continued Allan, as they went on toward the stairs, “I shall make + that worthy creature young again; I’m better than a doctor for Mrs. + Gripper. When she laughs, she shakes her fat sides, and when she shakes + her fat sides, she exerts her muscular system; and when she exerts her + muscular system—Ha! here’s Susan again. Don’t squeeze yourself flat + against the banisters, my dear; if you don’t mind hustling <i>me</i> on + the stairs, I rather like hustling <i>you</i>. She looks like a full-blown + rose when she blushes, doesn’t she? Stop, Susan! I’ve orders to give. Be + very particular with Mr. Midwinter’s room: shake up his bed like mad, and + dust his furniture till those nice round arms of yours ache again. + Nonsense, my dear fellow! I’m not too familiar with them; I’m only keeping + them up to their work. Now, then, Richard! where do we breakfast? Oh, + here. Between ourselves, Midwinter, these splendid rooms of mine are a + size too large for me; I don’t feel as if I should ever be on intimate + terms with my own furniture. My views in life are of the snug and slovenly + sort—a kitchen chair, you know, and a low ceiling. Man wants but + little here below, and wants that little long. That’s not exactly the + right quotation; but it expresses my meaning, and we’ll let alone + correcting it till the next opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” interposed Midwinter, “here is something waiting for + you which you have not noticed yet.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he pointed a little impatiently to a letter lying on the + breakfast-table. He could conceal the ominous discovery which he had made + that morning, from Allan’s knowledge; but he could not conquer the latent + distrust of circumstances which was now raised again in his superstitious + nature—the instinctive suspicion of everything that happened, no + matter how common or how trifling the event, on the first memorable day + when the new life began in the new house. + </p> + <p> + Allan ran his eye over the letter, and tossed it across the table to his + friend. “I can’t make head or tail of it,” he said, “can you?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter read the letter, slowly, aloud. “Sir—I trust you will + pardon the liberty I take in sending these few lines to wait your arrival + at Thorpe Ambrose. In the event of circumstances not disposing you to + place your law business in the hands of Mr. Darch—” He suddenly + stopped at that point, and considered a little. + </p> + <p> + “Darch is our friend the lawyer,” said Allan, supposing Midwinter had + forgotten the name. “Don’t you remember our spinning the half-crown on the + cabin table, when I got the two offers for the cottage? Heads, the major; + tails, the lawyer. This is the lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Without making any reply, Midwinter resumed reading the letter. “In the + event of circumstances not disposing you to place your law business in the + hands of Mr. Darch, I beg to say that I shall be happy to take charge of + your interests, if you feel willing to honor me with your confidence. + Inclosing a reference (should you desire it) to my agents in London, and + again apologizing for this intrusion, I beg to remain, sir, respectfully + yours, A. PEDGIFT, Sen.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances?” repeated Midwinter, as he laid the letter down. “What + circumstances can possibly indispose you to give your law business to Mr. + Darch?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can indispose me,” said Allan. “Besides being the family lawyer + here, Darch was the first to write me word at Paris of my coming in for my + fortune; and, if I have got any business to give, of course he ought to + have it.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter still looked distrustfully at the open letter on the table. “I + am sadly afraid, Allan, there is something wrong already,” he said. “This + man would never have ventured on the application he has made to you, + unless he had some good reason for believing he would succeed. If you wish + to put yourself right at starting, you will send to Mr. Darch this morning + to tell him you are here, and you will take no notice for the present of + Mr. Pedgift’s letter.” + </p> + <p> + Before more could be said on either side, the footman made his appearance + with the breakfast tray. He was followed, after an interval, by the + butler, a man of the essentially confidential kind, with a modulated + voice, a courtly manner, and a bulbous nose. Anybody but Allan would have + seen in his face that he had come into the room having a special + communication to make to his master. Allan, who saw nothing under the + surface, and whose head was running on the lawyer’s letter, stopped him + bluntly with the point-blank question: “Who’s Mr. Pedgift?” + </p> + <p> + The butler’s sources of local knowledge opened confidentially on the + instant. Mr. Pedgift was the second of the two lawyers in the town. Not so + long established, not so wealthy, not so universally looked up to as old + Mr. Darch. Not doing the business of the highest people in the county, and + not mixing freely with the best society, like old Mr. Darch. A very + sufficient man, in his way, nevertheless. Known as a perfectly competent + and respectable practitioner all round the neighborhood. In short, + professionally next best to Mr. Darch; and personally superior to him (if + the expression might be permitted) in this respect—that Darch was a + Crusty One, and Pedgift wasn’t. + </p> + <p> + Having imparted this information, the butler, taking a wise advantage of + his position, glided, without a moment’s stoppage, from Mr. Pedgift’s + character to the business that had brought him into the breakfast-room. + The Midsummer Audit was near at hand; and the tenants were accustomed to + have a week’s notice of the rent-day dinner. With this necessity pressing, + and with no orders given as yet, and no steward in office at Thorpe + Ambrose, it appeared desirable that some confidential person should bring + the matter forward. The butler was that confidential person; and he now + ventured accordingly to trouble his master on the subject. + </p> + <p> + At this point Allan opened his lips to interrupt, and was himself + interrupted before he could utter a word. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” interposed Midwinter, seeing in Allan’s face that he was in danger + of being publicly announced in the capacity of steward. “Wait!” he + repeated, eagerly, “till I can speak to you first.” + </p> + <p> + The butler’s courtly manner remained alike unruffled by Midwinter’s sudden + interference and by his own dismissal from the scene. Nothing but the + mounting color in his bulbous nose betrayed the sense of injury that + animated him as he withdrew. Mr. Armadale’s chance of regaling his friend + and himself that day with the best wine in the cellar trembled in the + balance, as the butler took his way back to the basement story. + </p> + <p> + “This is beyond a joke, Allan,” said Midwinter, when they were alone. + “Somebody must meet your tenants on the rent-day who is really fit to take + the steward’s place. With the best will in the world to learn, it is + impossible for <i>me</i> to master the business at a week’s notice. Don’t, + pray don’t let your anxiety for my welfare put you in a false position + with other people! I should never forgive myself if I was the unlucky + cause—” + </p> + <p> + “Gently gently!” cried Allan, amazed at his friend’s extraordinary + earnestness. “If I write to London by to-night’s post for the man who came + down here before, will that satisfy you?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter shook his head. “Our time is short,” he said; “and the man may + not be at liberty. Why not try in the neighborhood first? You were going + to write to Mr. Darch. Send at once, and see if he can’t help us between + this and post-time.” + </p> + <p> + Allan withdrew to a side-table on which writing materials were placed. + “You shall breakfast in peace, you old fidget,” he replied, and addressed + himself forthwith to Mr. Darch, with his usual Spartan brevity of + epistolary expression. “Dear Sir—Here I am, bag and baggage. Will + you kindly oblige me by being my lawyer? I ask this, because I want to + consult you at once. Please look in in the course of the day, and stop to + dinner if you possibly can. Yours truly. ALLAN ARMADALE.” Having read this + composition aloud with unconcealed admiration of his own rapidity of + literary execution, Allan addressed the letter to Mr. Darch, and rang the + bell. “Here, Richard, take this at once, and wait for an answer. And, I + say, if there’s any news stirring in the town, pick it up and bring it + back with you. See how I manage my servants!” continued Allan, joining his + friend at the breakfast-table. “See how I adapt myself to my new duties! I + haven’t been down here one clear day yet, and I’m taking an interest in + the neighborhood already.” + </p> + <p> + Breakfast over, the two friends went out to idle away the morning under + the shade of a tree in the park. Noon came, and Richard never appeared. + One o’clock struck, and still there were no signs of an answer from Mr. + Darch. Midwinter’s patience was not proof against the delay. He left Allan + dozing on the grass, and went to the house to make inquiries. The town was + described as little more than two miles distant; but the day of the week + happened to be market day, and Richard was being detained no doubt by some + of the many acquaintances whom he would be sure to meet with on that + occasion. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later the truant messenger returned, and was sent out to + report himself to his master under the tree in the park. + </p> + <p> + “Any answer from Mr. Darch?” asked Midwinter, seeing that Allan was too + lazy to put the question for himself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Darch was engaged, sir. I was desired to say that he would send an + answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Any news in the town?” inquired Allan, drowsily, without troubling + himself to open his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; nothing in particular.” + </p> + <p> + Observing the man suspiciously as he made that reply, Midwinter detected + in his face that he was not speaking the truth. He was plainly + embarrassed, and plainly relieved when his master’s silence allowed him to + withdraw. After a little consideration, Midwinter followed, and overtook + the retreating servant on the drive before the house. + </p> + <p> + “Richard,” he said, quietly, “if I was to guess that there <i>is</i> some + news in the town, and that you don’t like telling it to your master, + should I be guessing the truth?” + </p> + <p> + The man started and changed color. “I don’t know how you have found it + out,” he said; “but I can’t deny you have guessed right.” + </p> + <p> + “If you let me hear what the news is, I will take the responsibility on + myself of telling Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + After some little hesitation, and some distrustful consideration, on his + side, of Midwinter’s face, Richard at last prevailed on himself to repeat + what he had heard that day in the town. + </p> + <p> + The news of Allan’s sudden appearance at Thorpe Ambrose had preceded the + servant’s arrival at his destination by some hours. Wherever he went, he + found his master the subject of public discussion. The opinion of Allan’s + conduct among the leading townspeople, the resident gentry of the + neighborhood, and the principal tenants on the estate was unanimously + unfavorable. Only the day before, the committee for managing the public + reception of the new squire had sketched the progress of the procession; + had settled the serious question of the triumphal arches; and had + appointed a competent person to solicit subscriptions for the flags, the + flowers, the feasting, the fireworks, and the band. In less than a week + more the money could have been collected, and the rector would have + written to Mr. Armadale to fix the day. And now, by Allan’s own act, the + public welcome waiting to honor him had been cast back contemptuously in + the public teeth! Everybody took for granted (what was unfortunately true) + that he had received private information of the contemplated proceedings. + Everybody declared that he had purposely stolen into his own house like a + thief in the night (so the phrase ran) to escape accepting the offered + civilities of his neighbors. In brief, the sensitive self-importance of + the little town was wounded to the quick, and of Allan’s once enviable + position in the estimation of the neighborhood not a vestige remained. + </p> + <p> + For a moment, Midwinter faced the messenger of evil tidings in silent + distress. That moment past, the sense of Allan’s critical position roused + him, now the evil was known, to seek the remedy. + </p> + <p> + “Has the little you have seen of your master, Richard, inclined you to + like him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + This time the man answered without hesitation, “A pleasanter and kinder + gentleman than Mr. Armadale no one could wish to serve.” + </p> + <p> + “If you think that,” pursued Midwinter, “you won’t object to give me some + information which will help your master to set himself right with his + neighbors. Come into the house.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way into the library, and, after asking the necessary + questions, took down in writing a list of the names and addresses of the + most influential persons living in the town and its neighborhood. This + done, he rang the bell for the head footman, having previously sent + Richard with a message to the stables directing an open carriage to be + ready in an hour’s time. + </p> + <p> + “When the late Mr. Blanchard went out to make calls in the neighborhood, + it was your place to go with him, was it not?” he asked, when the upper + servant appeared. “Very well. Be ready in an hour’s time, if you please, + to go out with Mr. Armadale.” Having given that order, he left the house + again on his way back to Allan, with the visiting list in his hand. He + smiled a little sadly as he descended the steps. “Who would have + imagined,” he thought, “that my foot-boy’s experience of the ways of + gentlefolks would be worth looking back at one day for Allan’s sake?” + </p> + <p> + The object of the popular odium lay innocently slumbering on the grass, + with his garden hat over his nose, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his + trousers wrinkled half way up his outstretched legs. Midwinter roused him + without hesitation, and remorselessly repeated the servant’s news. + </p> + <p> + Allan accepted the disclosure thus forced on him without the slightest + disturbance of temper. “Oh, hang ‘em!” was all he said. “Let’s have + another cigar.” Midwinter took the cigar out of his hand, and, insisting + on his treating the matter seriously, told him in plain words that he must + set himself right with his offended neighbors by calling on them + personally to make his apologies. Allan sat up on the grass in + astonishment; his eyes opened wide in incredulous dismay. Did Midwinter + positively meditate forcing him into a “chimney-pot hat,” a nicely brushed + frock-coat, and a clean pair of gloves? Was it actually in contemplation + to shut him up in a carriage, with his footman on the box and his + card-case in his hand, and send him round from house to house, to tell a + pack of fools that he begged their pardon for not letting them make a + public show of him? If anything so outrageously absurd as this was really + to be done, it could not be done that day, at any rate. He had promised to + go back to the charming Milroy at the cottage and to take Midwinter with + him. What earthly need had he of the good opinion of the resident gentry? + The only friends he wanted were the friends he had got already. Let the + whole neighborhood turn its back on him if it liked; back or face, the + Squire of Thorpe Ambrose didn’t care two straws about it. + </p> + <p> + After allowing him to run on in this way until his whole stock of + objections was exhausted, Midwinter wisely tried his personal influence + next. He took Allan affectionately by the hand. “I am going to ask a great + favor,” he said. “If you won’t call on these people for your own sake, + will you call on them to please <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Allan delivered himself of a groan of despair, stared in mute surprise at + the anxious face of his friend, and good-humoredly gave way. As Midwinter + took his arm, and led him back to the house, he looked round with rueful + eyes at the cattle hard by, placidly whisking their tails in the pleasant + shade. “Don’t mention it in the neighborhood,” he said; “I should like to + change places with one of my own cows.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter left him to dress, engaging to return when the carriage was at + the door. Allan’s toilet did not promise to be a speedy one. He began it + by reading his own visiting cards; and he advanced it a second stage by + looking into his wardrobe, and devoting the resident gentry to the + infernal regions. Before he could discover any third means of delaying his + own proceedings, the necessary pretext was unexpectedly supplied by + Richard’s appearance with a note in his hand. The messenger had just + called with Mr. Darch’s answer. Allan briskly shut up the wardrobe, and + gave his whole attention to the lawyer’s letter. The lawyer’s letter + rewarded him by the following lines: + </p> + <p> + “SIR—I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of to-day’s + date, honoring me with two proposals; namely, ONE inviting me to act as + your legal adviser, and ONE inviting me to pay you a visit at your house. + In reference to the first proposal, I beg permission to decline it with + thanks. With regard to the second proposal, I have to inform you that + circumstances have come to my knowledge relating to the letting of the + cottage at Thorpe Ambrose which render it impossible for me (in justice to + myself) to accept your invitation. I have ascertained, sir, that my offer + reached you at the same time as Major Milroy’s; and that, with both + proposals thus before you, you gave the preference to a total stranger, + who addressed you through a house agent, over a man who had faithfully + served your relatives for two generations, and who had been the first + person to inform you of the most important event in your life. After this + specimen of your estimate of what is due to the claims of common courtesy + and common justice, I cannot flatter myself that I possess any of the + qualities which would fit me to take my place on the list of your friends. + </p> + <p> + “I remain, sir, your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “JAMES DARCH.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop the messenger!” cried Allan, leaping to his feet, his ruddy face + aflame with indignation. “Give me pen, ink, and paper! By the Lord Harry, + they’re a nice set of people in these parts; the whole neighborhood is in + a conspiracy to bully me!” He snatched up the pen in a fine frenzy of + epistolary inspiration. “Sir—I despise you and your letter.—” + At that point the pen made a blot, and the writer was seized with a + momentary hesitation. “Too strong,” he thought; “I’ll give it to the + lawyer in his own cool and cutting style.” He began again on a clean sheet + of paper. “Sir—You remind me of an Irish bull. I mean that story in + ‘Joe Miller’ where Pat remarked, in the hearing of a wag hard by, that + ‘the reciprocity was all on one side.’ <i>Your</i> reciprocity is all on + one side. You take the privilege of refusing to be my lawyer, and then you + complain of my taking the privilege of refusing to be your landlord.” He + paused fondly over those last words. “Neat!” he thought. “Argument and + hard hitting both in one. I wonder where my knack of writing comes from?” + He went on, and finished the letter in two more sentences. “As for your + casting my invitation back in my teeth, I beg to inform you my teeth are + none the worse for it. I am equally glad to have nothing to say to you, + either in the capacity of a friend or a tenant.—ALLAN ARMADALE.” He + nodded exultantly at his own composition, as he addressed it and sent it + down to the messenger. “Darch’s hide must be a thick one,” he said, “if he + doesn’t feel <i>that</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the wheels outside suddenly recalled him to the business of + the day. There was the carriage waiting to take him on his round of + visits; and there was Midwinter at his post, pacing to and fro on the + drive. + </p> + <p> + “Read that,” cried Allan, throwing out the lawyer’s letter; “I’ve written + him back a smasher.” + </p> + <p> + He bustled away to the wardrobe to get his coat. There was a wonderful + change in him; he felt little or no reluctance to pay the visits now. The + pleasurable excitement of answering Mr. Darth had put him in a fine + aggressive frame of mind for asserting himself in the neighborhood. + “Whatever else they may say of me, they shan’t say I was afraid to face + them.” Heated red-hot with that idea, he seized his hat and gloves, and + hurrying out of the room, met Midwinter in the corridor with the lawyer’s + letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Keep up your spirits!” cried Allan, seeing the anxiety in his friend’s + face, and misinterpreting the motive of it immediately. “If Darch can’t be + counted on to send us a helping hand into the steward’s office, Pedgift + can.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Allan, I was not thinking of that; I was thinking of Mr. Darch’s + letter. I don’t defend this sour-tempered man; but I am afraid we must + admit he has some cause for complaint. Pray don’t give him another chance + of putting you in the wrong. Where is your answer to his letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” replied Allan. “I always strike while the iron’s hot—a word + and a blow, and the blow first, that’s my way. Don’t, there’s a good + fellow, don’t fidget about the steward’s books and the rent-day. Here! + here’s a bunch of keys they gave me last night: one of them opens the room + where the steward’s books are; go in and read them till I come back. I + give you my sacred word of honor I’ll settle it all with Pedgift before + you see me again.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” interposed Midwinter, stopping him resolutely on his way out + to the carriage. “I say nothing against Mr. Pedgift’s fitness to possess + your confidence, for I know nothing to justify me in distrusting him. But + he has not introduced himself to your notice in a very delicate way; and + he has not acknowledged (what is quite clear to my mind) that he knew of + Mr. Darch’s unfriendly feeling toward you when he wrote. Wait a little + before you go to this stranger; wait till we can talk it over together + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” replied Allan. “Haven’t I told you that I always strike while the + iron’s hot? Trust my eye for character, old boy, I’ll look Pedgift through + and through, and act accordingly. Don’t keep me any longer, for Heaven’s + sake. I’m in a fine humor for tackling the resident gentry; and if I don’t + go at once, I’m afraid it may wear off.” + </p> + <p> + With that excellent reason for being in a hurry, Allan boisterously broke + away. Before it was possible to stop him again, he had jumped into the + carriage and had left the house. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0018" id="H2_4_0018"></a> IV. THE MARCH OF EVENTS. + </h2> + <p> + Midwinter’s face darkened when the last trace of the carriage had + disappeared from view. “I have done my best,” he said, as he turned back + gloomily into the house “If Mr. Brock himself were here, Mr. Brock could + do no more!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the bunch of keys which Allan had thrust into his hand, and a + sudden longing to put himself to the test over the steward’s books took + possession of his sensitive self-tormenting nature. Inquiring his way to + the room in which the various movables of the steward’s office had been + provisionally placed after the letting of the cottage, he sat down at the + desk, and tried how his own unaided capacity would guide him through the + business records of the Thorpe Ambrose estate. The result exposed his own + ignorance unanswerably before his own eyes. The ledgers bewildered him; + the leases, the plans, and even the correspondence itself, might have been + written, for all he could understand of them, in an unknown tongue. His + memory reverted bitterly as he left the room again to his two years’ + solitary self-instruction in the Shrewsbury book-seller’s shop. “If I + could only have worked at a business!” he thought. “If I could only have + known that the company of poets and philosophers was company too high for + a vagabond like me!” + </p> + <p> + He sat down alone in the great hall; the silence of it fell heavier and + heavier on his sinking spirits; the beauty of it exasperated him, like an + insult from a purse-proud man. “Curse the place!” he said, snatching up + his hat and stick. “I like the bleakest hillside I ever slept on better + than I like this house!” + </p> + <p> + He impatiently descended the door-steps, and stopped on the drive, + considering, by which direction he should leave the park for the country + beyond. If he followed the road taken by the carriage, he might risk + unsettling Allan by accidentally meeting him in the town. If he went out + by the back gate, he knew his own nature well enough to doubt his ability + to pass the room of the dream without entering it again. But one other way + remained: the way which he had taken, and then abandoned again, in the + morning. There was no fear of disturbing Allan and the major’s daughter + now. Without further hesitation, Midwinter set forth through the gardens + to explore the open country on that side of the estate. + </p> + <p> + Thrown off its balance by the events of the day, his mind was full of that + sourly savage resistance to the inevitable self-assertion of wealth, so + amiably deplored by the prosperous and the rich; so bitterly familiar to + the unfortunate and the poor. “The heather-bell costs nothing!” he + thought, looking contemptuously at the masses of rare and beautiful + flowers that surrounded him; “and the buttercups and daisies are as bright + as the best of you!” He followed the artfully contrived ovals and squares + of the Italian garden with a vagabond indifference to the symmetry of + their construction and the ingenuity of their design. “How many pounds a + foot did <i>you</i> cost?” he said, looking back with scornful eyes at the + last path as he left it. “Wind away over high and low like the sheep-walk + on the mountain side, if you can!” + </p> + <p> + He entered the shrubbery which Allan had entered before him; crossed the + paddock and the rustic bridge beyond; and reached the major’s cottage. His + ready mind seized the right conclusion at the first sight of it; and he + stopped before the garden gate, to look at the trim little residence which + would never have been empty, and would never have been let, but for + Allan’s ill-advised resolution to force the steward’s situation on his + friend. + </p> + <p> + The summer afternoon was warm; the summer air was faint and still. On the + upper and the lower floor of the cottage the windows were all open. From + one of them, on the upper story, the sound of voices was startlingly + audible in the quiet of the park as Midwinter paused on the outer side of + the garden inclosure. The voice of a woman, harsh, high, and angrily + complaining—a voice with all the freshness and the melody gone, and + with nothing but the hard power of it left—was the discordantly + predominant sound. With it, from moment to moment, there mingled the + deeper and quieter tones, soothing and compassionate, of the voice of a + man. Although the distance was too great to allow Midwinter to distinguish + the words that were spoken, he felt the impropriety of remaining within + hearing of the voices, and at once stepped forward to continue his walk. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment, the face of a young girl (easily recognizable as the + face of Miss Milroy, from Allan’s description of her) appeared at the open + window of the room. In spite of himself, Midwinter paused to look at her. + The expression of the bright young face, which had smiled so prettily on + Allan, was weary and disheartened. After looking out absently over the + park, she suddenly turned her head back into the room, her attention + having been apparently struck by something that had just been said in it. + “Oh, mamma, mamma,” she exclaimed, indignantly, “how <i>can</i> you say + such things!” The words were spoken close to the window; they reached + Midwinter’s ears, and hurried him away before he heard more. But the + self-disclosure of Major Milroy’s domestic position had not reached its + end yet. As Midwinter turned the corner of the garden fence, a tradesman’s + boy was handing a parcel in at the wicket gate to the woman servant. + “Well,” said the boy, with the irrepressible impudence of his class, “how + is the missus?” The woman lifted her hand to box his ears. “How is the + missus?” she repeated, with an angry toss of her head, as the boy ran off. + “If it would only please God to take the missus, it would be a blessing to + everybody in the house.” + </p> + <p> + No such ill-omened shadow as this had passed over the bright domestic + picture of the inhabitants of the cottage, which Allan’s enthusiasm had + painted for the contemplation of his friend. It was plain that the secret + of the tenants had been kept from the landlord so far. Five minutes more + of walking brought Midwinter to the park gates. “Am I fated to see nothing + and hear nothing to-day, which can give me heart and hope for the future?” + he thought, as he angrily swung back the lodge gate. “Even the people + Allan has let the cottage to are people whose lives are imbittered by a + household misery which it is <i>my</i> misfortune to have found out!” + </p> + <p> + He took the first road that lay before him, and walked on, noticing + little, immersed in his own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + More than an hour passed before the necessity of turning back entered his + mind. As soon as the idea occurred to him, he consulted his watch, and + determined to retrace his steps, so as to be at the house in good time to + meet Allan on his return. Ten minutes of walking brought him back to a + point at which three roads met, and one moment’s observation of the place + satisfied him that he had entirely failed to notice at the time by which + of the three roads he had advanced. No sign-post was to be seen; the + country on either side was lonely and flat, intersected by broad drains + and ditches. Cattle were grazing here and there, and a windmill rose in + the distance above the pollard willows that fringed the low horizon. But + not a house was to be seen, and not a human creature appeared on the + visible perspective of any one of the three roads. Midwinter glanced back + in the only direction left to look at—the direction of the road + along which he had just been walking. There, to his relief, was the figure + of a man, rapidly advancing toward him, of whom he could ask his way. + </p> + <p> + The figure came on, clad from head to foot in dreary black—a moving + blot on the brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened road. He was a + lean, elderly, miserably respectable man. He wore a poor old black + dress-coat, and a cheap brown wig, which made no pretense of being his own + natural hair. Short black trousers clung like attached old servants round + his wizen legs; and rusty black gaiters hid all they could of his knobbed, + ungainly feet. Black crape added its mite to the decayed and dingy + wretchedness of his old beaver hat; black mohair in the obsolete form of a + stock drearily encircled his neck and rose as high as his haggard jaws. + The one morsel of color he carried about him was a lawyer’s bag of blue + serge, as lean and limp as himself. The one attractive feature in his + clean-shaven, weary old face was a neat set of teeth—teeth (as + honest as his wig) which said plainly to all inquiring eyes, “We pass our + nights on his looking-glass, and our days in his mouth.” + </p> + <p> + All the little blood in the man’s body faintly reddened his fleshless + cheeks as Midwinter advanced to meet him, and asked the way to Thorpe + Ambrose. His weak, watery eyes looked hither and thither in a bewilderment + painful to see. If he had met with a lion instead of a man, and if the few + words addressed to him had been words expressing a threat instead of a + question, he could hardly have looked more confused and alarmed than he + looked now. For the first time in his life, Midwinter saw his own shy + uneasiness in the presence of strangers reflected, with tenfold intensity + of nervous suffering, in the face of another man—and that man old + enough to be his father. + </p> + <p> + “Which do you please to mean, sir—the town or the house? I beg your + pardon for asking, but they both go by the same name in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a timid gentleness of tone, an ingratiatory smile, and an + anxious courtesy of manner, all distressingly suggestive of his being + accustomed to receive rough answers in exchange for his own politeness + from the persons whom he habitually addressed. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware that both the house and the town went by the same name,” + said Midwinter; “I meant the house.” He instinctively conquered his own + shyness as he answered in those words, speaking with a cordiality of + manner which was very rare with him in his intercourse with strangers. + </p> + <p> + The man of miserable respectability seemed to feel the warm return of his + own politeness gratefully; he brightened and took a little courage. His + lean forefinger pointed eagerly to the right road. “That way, sir,” he + said, “and when you come to two roads next, please take the left one of + the two. I am sorry I have business the other way, I mean in the town. I + should have been happy to go with you and show you. Fine summer weather, + sir, for walking? You can’t miss your way if you keep to the left. Oh, + don’t mention it! I’m afraid I have detained you, sir. I wish you a + pleasant walk back, and—good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + By the time he had made an end of speaking (under an impression apparently + that the more he talked the more polite he would be) he had lost his + courage again. He darted away down his own road, as if Midwinter’s attempt + to thank him involved a series of trials too terrible to confront. In two + minutes more, his black retreating figure had lessened in the distance + till it looked again, what it had once looked already, a moving blot on + the brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened road. + </p> + <p> + The man ran strangely in Midwinter’s thoughts while he took his way back + to the house. He was at a loss to account for it. It never occurred to him + that he might have been insensibly reminded of himself, when he saw the + plain traces of past misfortune and present nervous suffering in the poor + wretch’s face. He blindly resented his own perverse interest in this + chance foot passenger on the high-road, as he had resented all else that + had happened to him since the beginning of the day. “Have I made another + unlucky discovery?” he asked himself, impatiently. “Shall I see this man + again, I wonder? Who can he be?” + </p> + <p> + Time was to answer both those questions before many days more had passed + over the inquirer’s head. + </p> + <p> + Allan had not returned when Midwinter reached the house. Nothing had + happened but the arrival of a message of apology from the cottage. “Major + Milroy’s compliments, and he was sorry that Mrs. Milroy’s illness would + prevent his receiving Mr. Armadale that day.” It was plain that Mrs. + Milroy’s occasional fits of suffering (or of ill temper) created no mere + transitory disturbance of the tranquillity of the household. Drawing this + natural inference, after what he had himself heard at the cottage nearly + three hours since, Midwinter withdrew into the library to wait patiently + among the books until his friend came back. + </p> + <p> + It was past six o’clock when the well-known hearty voice was heard again + in the hall. Allan burst into the library, in a state of irrepressible + excitement, and pushed Midwinter back unceremoniously into the chair from + which he was just rising, before he could utter a word. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a riddle for you, old boy!” cried Allan. “Why am I like the + resident manager of the Augean stable, before Hercules was called in to + sweep the litter out? Because I have had my place to keep up, and I’ve + gone and made an infernal mess of it! Why don’t you laugh? By George, he + doesn’t see the point! Let’s try again. Why am I like the resident manager—” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake, Allan, be serious for a moment!” interposed Midwinter. + “You don’t know how anxious I am to hear if you have recovered the good + opinion of your neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what the riddle was intended to tell you!” rejoined Allan. + “But if you will have it in so many words, my own impression is that you + would have done better not to disturb me under that tree in the park. I’ve + been calculating it to a nicety, and I beg to inform you that I have sunk + exactly three degrees lower in the estimation of the resident gentry since + I had the pleasure of seeing you last.” + </p> + <p> + “You <i>will</i> have your joke out,” said Midwinter, bitterly. “Well, if + I can’t laugh, I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, I’m not joking; I really mean what I say. You shall hear + what happened; you shall have a report in full of my first visit. It will + do, I can promise you, as a sample for all the rest. Mind this, in the + first place, I’ve gone wrong with the best possible intentions. When I + started for these visits, I own I was angry with that old brute of a + lawyer, and I certainly had a notion of carrying things with a high hand. + But it wore off somehow on the road; and the first family I called on, I + went in, as I tell you, with the best possible intentions. Oh, dear, dear! + there was the same spick-and-span reception-room for me to wait in, with + the neat conservatory beyond, which I saw again and again and again at + every other house I went to afterward. There was the same choice selection + of books for me to look at—a religious book, a book about the Duke + of Wellington, a book about sporting, and a book about nothing in + particular, beautifully illustrated with pictures. Down came papa with his + nice white hair, and mamma with her nice lace cap; down came young mister + with the pink face and straw-colored whiskers, and young miss with the + plump cheeks and the large petticoats. Don’t suppose there was the least + unfriendliness on my side; I always began with them in the same way—I + insisted on shaking hands all round. That staggered them to begin with. + When I came to the sore subject next—the subject of the public + reception—I give you my word of honor I took the greatest possible + pains with my apologies. It hadn’t the slightest effect; they let my + apologies in at one ear and out at the other, and then waited to hear + more. Some men would have been disheartened: I tried another way with + them; I addressed myself to the master of the house, and put it pleasantly + next. ‘The fact is,’ I said, ‘I wanted to escape the speechifying—my + getting up, you know, and telling you to your face you’re the best of men, + and I beg to propose your health; and your getting up and telling me to my + face I’m the best of men, and you beg to thank me; and so on, man after + man, praising each other and pestering each other all round the table.’ + That’s how I put it, in an easy, light-handed, convincing sort of way. Do + you think any of them took it in the same friendly spirit? Not one! It’s + my belief they had got their speeches ready for the reception, with the + flags and the flowers, and that they’re secretly angry with me for + stopping their open mouths just as they were ready to begin. Anyway, + whenever we came to the matter of the speechifying (whether they touched + it first or I), down I fell in their estimation the first of those three + steps I told you of just now. Don’t suppose I made no efforts to get up + again! I made desperate efforts. I found they were all anxious to know + what sort of life I had led before I came in for the Thorpe Ambrose + property, and I did my best to satisfy them. And what came of that, do you + think? Hang me, if I didn’t disappoint them for the second time! When they + found out that I had actually never been to Eton or Harrow, or Oxford or + Cambridge, they were quite dumb with astonishment. I fancy they thought me + a sort of outlaw. At any rate, they all froze up again; and down I fell + the second step in their estimation. Never mind! I wasn’t to be beaten; I + had promised you to do my best, and I did it. I tried cheerful small-talk + about the neighborhood next. The women said nothing in particular; the + men, to my unutterable astonishment, all began to condole with me. I + shouldn’t be able to find a pack of hounds, they said, within twenty miles + of my house; and they thought it only right to prepare me for the + disgracefully careless manner in which the Thorpe Ambrose covers had been + preserved. I let them go on condoling with me, and then what do you think + I did? I put my foot in it again. ‘Oh, don’t take that to heart!’ I said; + ‘I don’t care two straws about hunting or shooting, either. When I meet + with a bird in my walk, I can’t for the life of me feel eager to kill it; + I rather like to see the bird flying about and enjoying itself.’ You + should have seen their faces! They had thought me a sort of outlaw before; + now they evidently thought me mad. Dead silence fell upon them all; and + down I tumbled the third step in the general estimation. It was just the + same at the next house, and the next and the next. The devil possessed us + all, I think. It <i>would</i> come out, now in one way, and now in + another, that I couldn’t make speeches—that I had been brought up + without a university education—and that I could enjoy a ride on + horseback without galloping after a wretched stinking fox or a poor + distracted little hare. These three unlucky defects of mine are not + excused, it seems, in a country gentleman (especially when he has dodged a + public reception to begin with). I think I got on best, upon the whole, + with the wives and daughters. The women and I always fell, sooner or + later, on the subject of Mrs. Blanchard and her niece. We invariably + agreed that they had done wisely in going to Florence; and the only reason + we had to give for our opinion was that we thought their minds would be + benefited after their sad bereavement, by the contemplation of the + masterpieces of Italian art. Every one of the ladies—I solemnly + declare it—at every house I went to, came sooner or later to Mrs. + and Miss Blanchard’s bereavement and the masterpieces of Italian art. What + we should have done without that bright idea to help us, I really don’t + know. The one pleasant thing at any of the visits was when we all shook + our heads together, and declared that the masterpieces would console them. + As for the rest of it, there’s only one thing more to be said. What I + might be in other places I don’t know: I’m the wrong man in the wrong + place here. Let me muddle on for the future in my own way, with my own few + friends; and ask me anything else in the world, as long as you don’t ask + me to make any more calls on my neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + With that characteristic request, Allan’s report of his exploring + expedition among the resident gentry came to a close. For a moment + Midwinter remained silent. He had allowed Allan to run on from first to + last without uttering a word on his side. The disastrous result of the + visits—coming after what had happened earlier in the day; and + threatening Allan, as it did, with exclusion from all local sympathies at + the very outset of his local career—had broken down Midwinter’s + power of resisting the stealthily depressing influence of his own + superstition. It was with an effort that he now looked up at Allan; it was + with an effort that he roused himself to answer. + </p> + <p> + “It shall be as you wish,” he said, quietly. “I am sorry for what has + happened; but I am not the less obliged to you, Allan, for having done + what I asked you.” + </p> + <p> + His head sank on his breast, and the fatalist resignation which had once + already quieted him on board the wreck now quieted him again. “What <i>must</i> + be, <i>will</i> be,” he thought once more. “What have I to do with the + future, and what has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up!” said Allan. “<i>Your</i> affairs are in a thriving condition, + at any rate. I paid one pleasant visit in the town, which I haven’t told + you of yet. I’ve seen Pedgift, and Pedgift’s son, who helps him in the + office. They’re the two jolliest lawyers I ever met with in my life; and, + what’s more, they can produce the very man you want to teach you the + steward’s business.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter looked up quickly. Distrust of Allan’s discovery was plainly + written in his face already; but he said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I thought of you,” Allan proceeded, “as soon as the two Pedgifts and I + had had a glass of wine all round to drink to our friendly connection. The + finest sherry I ever tasted in my life; I’ve ordered some of the same—but + that’s not the question just now. In two words I told these worthy fellows + your difficulty, and in two seconds old Pedgift understood all about it. + ‘I have got the man in my office,’ he said, ‘and before the audit-day + comes, I’ll place him with the greatest pleasure at your friend’s + disposal.’” + </p> + <p> + At this last announcement, Midwinter’s distrust found its expression in + words. He questioned Allan unsparingly. + </p> + <p> + The man’s name, it appeared was Bashwood. He had been some time (how long, + Allan could not remember) in Mr. Pedgift’s service. He had been previously + steward to a Norfolk gentleman (name forgotten) in the westward district + of the county. He had lost the steward’s place, through some domestic + trouble, in connection with his son, the precise nature of which Allan was + not able to specify. Pedgift vouched for him, and Pedgift would send him + to Thorpe Ambrose two or three days before the rent-day dinner. He could + not be spared, for office reasons, before that time. There was no need to + fidget about it; Pedgift laughed at the idea of there being any difficulty + with the tenants. Two or three day’s work over the steward’s books with a + man to help Midwinter who practically understood that sort of thing would + put him all right for the audit; and the other business would keep till + afterward. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen this Mr. Bashwood yourself, Allan?” asked Midwinter, still + obstinately on his guard. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Allan “he was out—out with the bag, as young Pedgift + called it. They tell me he’s a decent elderly man. A little broken by his + troubles, and a little apt to be nervous and confused in his manner with + strangers; but thoroughly competent and thoroughly to be depended on—those + are Pedgift’s own words.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter paused and considered a little, with a new interest in the + subject. The strange man whom he had just heard described, and the strange + man of whom he had asked his way where the three roads met, were + remarkably like each other. Was this another link in the fast-lengthening + chain of events? Midwinter grew doubly determined to be careful, as the + bare doubt that it might be so passed through his mind. + </p> + <p> + “When Mr. Bashwood comes,” he said, “will you let me see him, and speak to + him, before anything definite is done?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will!” rejoined Allan. He stopped and looked at his watch. + “And I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you, old boy, in the meantime,” he + added; “I’ll introduce you to the prettiest girl in Norfolk! There’s just + time to run over to the cottage before dinner. Come along, and be + introduced to Miss Milroy.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t introduce me to Miss Milroy to-day,” replied Midwinter; and he + repeated the message of apology which had been brought from the major that + afternoon. Allan was surprised and disappointed; but he was not to be + foiled in his resolution to advance himself in the good graces of the + inhabitants of the cottage. After a little consideration he hit on a means + of turning the present adverse circumstances to good account. “I’ll show a + proper anxiety for Mrs. Milroy’s recovery,” he said, gravely. “I’ll send + her a basket of strawberries, with my best respects, to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing more happened to mark the end of that first day in the new house. + </p> + <p> + The one noticeable event of the next day was another disclosure of Mrs. + Milroy’s infirmity of temper. Half an hour after Allan’s basket of + strawberries had been delivered at the cottage, it was returned to him + intact (by the hands of the invalid lady’s nurse), with a short and sharp + message, shortly and sharply delivered. “Mrs. Milroy’s compliments and + thanks. Strawberries invariably disagreed with her.” If this curiously + petulant acknowledgment of an act of politeness was intended to irritate + Allan, it failed entirely in accomplishing its object. Instead of being + offended with the mother, he sympathized with the daughter. “Poor little + thing,” was all he said, “she must have a hard life of it with such a + mother as that!” + </p> + <p> + He called at the cottage himself later in the day, but Miss Milroy was not + to be seen; she was engaged upstairs. The major received his visitor in + his working apron—far more deeply immersed in his wonderful clock, + and far less readily accessible to outer influences, than Allan had seen + him at their first interview. His manner was as kind as before; but not a + word more could be extracted from him on the subject of his wife than that + Mrs. Milroy “had not improved since yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + The two next days passed quietly and uneventfully. Allan persisted in + making his inquiries at the cottage; but all he saw of the major’s + daughter was a glimpse of her on one occasion at a window on the bedroom + floor. Nothing more was heard from Mr. Pedgift; and Mr. Bashwood’s + appearance was still delayed. Midwinter declined to move in the matter + until time enough had passed to allow of his first hearing from Mr. Brock, + in answer to the letter which he had addressed to the rector on the night + of his arrival at Thorpe Ambrose. He was unusually silent and quiet, and + passed most of his hours in the library among the books. The time wore on + wearily. The resident gentry acknowledged Allan’s visit by formally + leaving their cards. Nobody came near the house afterward; the weather was + monotonously fine. Allan grew a little restless and dissatisfied. He began + to resent Mrs. Milroy’s illness; he began to think regretfully of his + deserted yacht. + </p> + <p> + The next day—the twentieth—brought some news with it from the + outer world. A message was delivered from Mr. Pedgift, announcing that his + clerk, Mr. Bashwood, would personally present himself at Thorpe Ambrose on + the following day; and a letter in answer to Midwinter was received from + Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + The letter was dated the 18th, and the news which it contained raised not + Allan’s spirits only, but Midwinter’s as well. + </p> + <p> + On the day on which he wrote, Mr. Brock announced that he was about to + journey to London; having been summoned thither on business connected with + the interests of a sick relative, to whom he stood in the position of + trustee. The business completed, he had good hope of finding one or other + of his clerical friends in the metropolis who would be able and willing to + do duty for him at the rectory; and, in that case, he trusted to travel on + from London to Thorpe Ambrose in a week’s time or less. Under these + circumstances, he would leave the majority of the subjects on which + Midwinter had written to him to be discussed when they met. But as time + might be of importance, in relation to the stewardship of the Thorpe + Ambrose estate, he would say at once that he saw no reason why Midwinter + should not apply his mind to learning the steward’s duties, and should not + succeed in rendering himself invaluably serviceable in that way to the + interests of his friend. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Midwinter reading and re-reading the rector’s cheering letter, as + if he was bent on getting every sentence in it by heart, Allan went out + rather earlier than usual, to make his daily inquiry at the cottage—or, + in plainer words, to make a fourth attempt at improving his acquaintance + with Miss Milroy. The day had begun encouragingly, and encouragingly it + seemed destined to go on. When Allan turned the corner of the second + shrubbery, and entered the little paddock where he and the major’s + daughter had first met, there was Miss Milroy herself loitering to and fro + on the grass, to all appearance on the watch for somebody. + </p> + <p> + She gave a little start when Allan appeared, and came forward without + hesitation to meet him. She was not in her best looks. Her rosy complexion + had suffered under confinement to the house, and a marked expression of + embarrassment clouded her pretty face. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how to confess it, Mr. Armadale,” she said, speaking + eagerly, before Allan could utter a word, “but I certainly ventured here + this morning in the hope of meeting with you. I have been very much + distressed; I have only just heard, by accident, of the manner in which + mamma received the present of fruit you so kindly sent to her. Will you + try to excuse her? She has been miserably ill for years, and she is not + always quite herself. After your being so very, very kind to me (and to + papa), I really could not help stealing out here in the hope of seeing + you, and telling you how sorry I was. Pray forgive and forget, Mr. + Armadale—pray do!” her voice faltered over the last words, and, in + her eagerness to make her mother’s peace with him, she laid her hand on + his arm. + </p> + <p> + Allan was himself a little confused. Her earnestness took him by surprise, + and her evident conviction that he had been offended honestly distressed + him. Not knowing what else to do, he followed his instincts, and possessed + himself of her hand to begin with. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Milroy, if you say a word more you will distress <i>me</i> + next,” he rejoined, unconsciously pressing her hand closer and closer, in + the embarrassment of the moment. “I never was in the least offended; I + made allowances—upon my honor I did—for poor Mrs. Milroy’s + illness. Offended!” cried Allan, reverting energetically to the old + complimentary strain. “I should like to have my basket of fruit sent back + every day—if I could only be sure of its bringing you out into the + paddock the first thing in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Some of Miss Milroy’s missing color began to appear again in her cheeks. + “Oh, Mr. Armadale, there is really no end to your kindness,” she said; + “you don’t know how you relieve me!” She paused; her spirits rallied with + as happy a readiness of recovery as if they had been the spirits of a + child; and her native brightness of temper sparkled again in her eyes, as + she looked up, shyly smiling in Allan’s face. “Don’t you think,” she + asked, demurely, “that it is almost time now to let go of my hand?” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met. Allan followed his instincts for the second time. Instead + of releasing her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it. All the + missing tints of the rosier sort returned to Miss Milroy’s complexion on + the instant. She snatched away her hand as if Allan had burned it. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure <i>that’s</i> wrong, Mr. Armadale,” she said, and turned her + head aside quickly, for she was smiling in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “I meant it as an apology for—for holding your hand too long,” + stammered Allan. “An apology can’t be wrong—can it?” + </p> + <p> + There are occasions, though not many, when the female mind accurately + appreciates an appeal to the force of pure reason. This was one of the + occasions. An abstract proposition had been presented to Miss Milroy, and + Miss Milroy was convinced. If it was meant as an apology, that, she + admitted, made all the difference. “I only hope,” said the little coquet, + looking at him slyly, “you’re not misleading me. Not that it matters much + now,” she added, with a serious shake of her head. “If we have committed + any improprieties, Mr. Armadale, we are not likely to have the opportunity + of committing many more.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re not going away?” exclaimed Allan, in great alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Worse than that, Mr. Armadale. My new governess is coming.” + </p> + <p> + “Coming?” repeated Allan. “Coming already?” + </p> + <p> + “As good as coming, I ought to have said—only I didn’t know you + wished me to be so very particular. We got the answers to the + advertisements this morning. Papa and I opened them and read them together + half an hour ago; and we both picked out the same letter from all the + rest. I picked it out, because it was so prettily expressed; and papa + picked it out because the terms were so reasonable. He is going to send + the letter up to grandmamma in London by to-day’s post, and, if she finds + everything satisfactory on inquiry, the governess is to be engaged You + don’t know how dreadfully nervous I am getting about it already; a strange + governess is such an awful prospect. But it is not quite so bad as going + to school; and I have great hopes of this new lady, because she writes + such a nice letter! As I said to papa, it almost reconciles me to her + horrid, unromantic name.” + </p> + <p> + “What is her name?” asked Allan. “Brown? Grubb? Scraggs? Anything of that + sort?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! Nothing quite so horrible as that. Her name is Gwilt. + Dreadfully unpoetical, isn’t it? Her reference must be a respectable + person, though; for she lives in the same part of London as grandmamma. + Stop, Mr. Armadale! we are going the wrong way. No; I can’t wait to look + at those lovely flowers of yours this morning, and, many thanks, I can’t + accept your arm. I have stayed here too long already. Papa is waiting for + his breakfast; and I must run back every step of the way. Thank you for + making those kind allowances for mamma; thank you again and again, and + good-by!” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t you shake hands?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + She gave him her hand. “No more apologies, if you please, Mr. Armadale,” + she said, saucily. Once more their eyes met, and once more the plump, + dimpled little hand found its way to Allan’s lips. “It isn’t an apology + this time!” cried Allan, precipitately defending himself. “It’s—it’s + a mark of respect.” + </p> + <p> + She started back a few steps, and burst out laughing. “You won’t find me + in our grounds again, Mr. Armadale,” she said, merrily, “till I have got + Miss Gwilt to take care of me!” With that farewell, she gathered up her + skirts, and ran back across the paddock at the top of her speed. + </p> + <p> + Allan stood watching her in speechless admiration till she was out of + sight. His second interview with Miss Milroy had produced an extraordinary + effect on him. For the first time since he had become the master of Thorpe + Ambrose, he was absorbed in serious consideration of what he owed to his + new position in life. “The question is,” pondered Allan, “whether I hadn’t + better set myself right with my neighbors by becoming a married man? I’ll + take the day to consider; and if I keep in the same mind about it, I’ll + consult Midwinter to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + When the morning came, and when Allan descended to the breakfast-room, + resolute to consult his friend on the obligations that he owed to his + neighbors in general, and to Miss Milroy in particular, no Midwinter was + to be seen. On making inquiry, it appeared that he had been observed in + the hall; that he had taken from the table a letter which the morning’s + post had brought to him; and that he had gone back immediately to his own + room. Allan at once ascended the stairs again, and knocked at his friend’s + door. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Not just now,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “You have got a letter, haven’t you?” persisted Allan. “Any bad news? + Anything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I’m not very well this morning. Don’t wait breakfast for me; + I’ll come down as soon as I can.” + </p> + <p> + No more was said on either side. Allan returned to the breakfast-room a + little disappointed. He had set his heart on rushing headlong into his + consultation with Midwinter, and here was the consultation indefinitely + delayed. “What an odd fellow he is!” thought Allan. “What on earth can he + be doing, locked in there by himself?” + </p> + <p> + He was doing nothing. He was sitting by the window, with the letter which + had reached him that morning open in his hand. The handwriting was Mr. + Brock’s, and the words written were these: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—I have literally only two minutes before post + time to tell you that I have just met (in Kensington Gardens) with the + woman whom we both only know, thus far, as the woman with the red Paisley + shawl. I have traced her and her companion (a respectable-looking elderly + lady) to their residence—after having distinctly heard Allan’s name + mentioned between them. Depend on my not losing sight of the woman until I + am satisfied that she means no mischief at Thorpe Ambrose; and expect to + hear from me again as soon as I know how this strange discovery is to end. + </p> + <p> + “Very truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK.” + </p> + <p> + After reading the letter for the second time, Midwinter folded it up + thoughtfully, and placed it in his pocket-book, side by side with the + manuscript narrative of Allan’s dream. + </p> + <p> + “Your discovery will not end with <i>you</i>, Mr. Brock,” he said. “Do + what you will with the woman, when the time comes the woman will be here.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0019" id="H2_4_0019"></a> V. MOTHER OLDERSHAW ON HER + GUARD. + </h2> + <p> + 1. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw (Diana Street, Pimlico) to Miss Gwilt (West + Place, Old Brompton)</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies’ Toilet Repository, June 20th, + </p> + <p> + “Eight in the Evening. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—About three hours have passed, as well as I can + remember, since I pushed you unceremoniously inside my house in West + Place, and, merely telling you to wait till you saw me again, banged the + door to between us, and left you alone in the hall. I know your sensitive + nature, my dear, and I am afraid you have made up your mind by this time + that never yet was a guest treated so abominably by her hostess as I have + treated you. + </p> + <p> + “The delay that has prevented me from explaining my strange conduct is, + believe me, a delay for which I am not to blame. One of the many delicate + little difficulties which beset so essentially confidential a business as + mine occurred here (as I have since discovered) while we were taking the + air this afternoon in Kensington Gardens. I see no chance of being able to + get back to you for some hours to come, and I have a word of very urgent + caution for your private ear, which has been too long delayed already. So + I must use the spare minutes as they come, and write. + </p> + <p> + “Here is caution the first. On no account venture outside the door again + this evening, and be very careful, while the daylight lasts, not to show + yourself at any of the front windows. I have reason to fear that a certain + charming person now staying with me may possibly be watched. Don’t be + alarmed, and don’t be impatient; you shall know why. + </p> + <p> + “I can only explain myself by going back to our unlucky meeting in the + Gardens with that reverend gentleman who was so obliging as to follow us + both back to my house. + </p> + <p> + “It crossed my mind, just as we were close to the door, that there might + be a motive for the parson’s anxiety to trace us home, far less creditable + to his taste, and far more dangerous to both of us, than the motive you + supposed him to have. In plainer words, Lydia, I rather doubted whether + you had met with another admirer; and I strongly suspected that you had + encountered another enemy instead. There was no time to tell you this. + There was only time to see you safe into the house, and to make sure of + the parson (in case my suspicions were right) by treating him as he had + treated us; I mean, by following him in his turn. + </p> + <p> + “I kept some little distance behind him at first, to turn the thing over + in my mind, and to be satisfied that my doubts were not misleading me. We + have no concealments from each other; and you shall know what my doubts + were. + </p> + <p> + “I was not surprised at <i>your</i> recognizing <i>him</i>; he is not at + all a common-looking old man; and you had seen him twice in Somersetshire—once + when you asked your way of him to Mrs. Armadale’s house, and once when you + saw him again on your way back to the railroad. But I was a little puzzled + (considering that you had your veil down on both those occasions, and your + veil down also when we were in the Gardens) at his recognizing <i>you</i>. + I doubted his remembering your figure in a summer dress after he had only + seen it in a winter dress; and though we were talking when he met us, and + your voice is one among your many charms, I doubted his remembering your + voice, either. And yet I felt persuaded that he knew you. ‘How?’ you will + ask. My dear, as ill-luck would have it, we were speaking at the time of + young Armadale. I firmly believe that the name was the first thing that + struck him; and when he heard <i>that</i>, your voice certainly and your + figure perhaps, came back to his memory. ‘And what if it did?’ you may + say. Think again, Lydia, and tell me whether the parson of the place where + Mrs. Armadale lived was not likely to be Mrs. Armadale’s friend? If he <i>was</i> + her friend, the very first person to whom she would apply for advice after + the manner in which you frightened her, and after what you most + injudiciously said on the subject of appealing to her son, would be the + clergyman of the parish—and the magistrate, too, as the landlord at + the inn himself told you. + </p> + <p> + “You will now understand why I left you in that extremely uncivil manner, + and I may go on to what happened next. + </p> + <p> + “I followed the old gentleman till he turned into a quiet street, and then + accosted him, with respect for the Church written (I flatter myself) in + every line of my face. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you excuse me,’ I said, ‘if I venture to inquire, sir, whether you + recognized the lady who was walking with me when you happened to pass us + in the Gardens?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you excuse my asking, ma’am, why you put that question?’ was all + the answer I got. + </p> + <p> + “‘I will endeavor to tell you, sir,’ I said. ‘If my friend is not an + absolute stranger to you, I should wish to request your attention to a + very delicate subject, connected with a lady deceased, and with her son + who survives her.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was staggered; I could see that. But he was sly enough at the same + time to hold his tongue and wait till I said something more. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I am wrong, sir, in thinking that you recognized my friend,’ I went + on, ‘I beg to apologize. But I could hardly suppose it possible that a + gentleman in your profession would follow a lady home who was a total + stranger to him.’ + </p> + <p> + “There I had him. He colored up (fancy that, at his age!), and owned the + truth, in defense of his own precious character. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have met with the lady once before, and I acknowledge that I + recognized her in the Gardens,’ he said. ‘You will excuse me if I decline + entering into the question of whether I did or did not purposely follow + her home. If you wish to be assured that your friend is not an absolute + stranger to me, you now have that assurance; and if you have anything + particular to say to me, I leave you to decide whether the time has come + to say it.’ + </p> + <p> + “He waited, and looked about. I waited, and looked about. He said the + street was hardly a fit place to speak of a delicate subject in. I said + the street was hardly a fit place to speak of a delicate subject in. He + didn’t offer to take me to where he lived. I didn’t offer to take him to + where I lived. Have you ever seen two strange cats, my dear, nose to nose + on the tiles? If you have, you have seen the parson and me done to the + life. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, ma’am,’ he said, at last, ‘shall we go on with our conversation in + spite of circumstances?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes, sir,’ I said; ‘we are both of us, fortunately, of an age to set + circumstances at defiance’ (I had seen the old wretch looking at my gray + hair, and satisfying himself that his character was safe if he <i>was</i> + seen with me). + </p> + <p> + “After all this snapping and snarling, we came to the point at last. I + began by telling him that I feared his interest in you was not of the + friendly sort. He admitted that much—of course, in defense of his + own character once more. I next repeated to him everything you had told me + about your proceedings in Somersetshire, when we first found that he was + following us home. Don’t be alarmed my dear—I was acting on + principle. If you want to make a dish of lies digestible, always give it a + garnish of truth. Well, having appealed to the reverend gentleman’s + confidence in this matter, I next declared that you had become an altered + woman since he had seen you last. I revived that dead wretch, your husband + (without mentioning names, of course), established him (the first place I + thought of) in business at the Brazils, and described a letter which he + had written, offering to forgive his erring wife, if she would repent and + go back to him. I assured the parson that your husband’s noble conduct had + softened your obdurate nature; and then, thinking I had produced the right + impression, I came boldly to close quarters with him. I said, ‘At the very + time when you met us, sir, my unhappy friend was speaking in terms of + touching, self-reproach of her conduct to the late Mrs. Armadale. She + confided to me her anxiety to make some atonement, if possible, to Mrs. + Armadale’s son; and it is at her entreaty (for she cannot prevail on + herself to face you) that I now beg to inquire whether Mr. Armadale is + still in Somersetshire, and whether he would consent to take back in small + installments the sum of money which my friend acknowledges that she + received by practicing on Mrs. Armadale’s fears.’ Those were my very + words. A neater story (accounting so nicely for everything) was never + told; it was a story to melt a stone. But this Somersetshire parson is + harder than stone itself. I blush for <i>him</i>, my dear, when I assure + you that he was evidently insensible enough to disbelieve every word I + said about your reformed character, your husband in the Brazils, and your + penitent anxiety to pay the money back. It is really a disgrace that such + a man should be in the Church; such cunning as his is in the last degree + unbecoming in a member of a sacred profession. + </p> + <p> + “‘Does your friend propose to join her husband by the next steamer?’ was + all he condescended to say, when I had done. + </p> + <p> + “I acknowledge I was angry. I snapped at him. I said, ‘Yes, she does.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How am I to communicate with her?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I snapped at him again. ‘By letter—through me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘At what address, ma’am?’ + </p> + <p> + “There, I had him once more. ‘You have found my address out for yourself, + sir,’ I said. ‘The directory will tell you my name, if you wish to find + that out for yourself also; otherwise, you are welcome to my card.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Many thanks, ma’am. If your friend wishes to communicate with Mr. + Armadale, I will give you <i>my</i> card in return.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Thank you, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Thank you, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Good-afternoon, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Good-afternoon, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + “So we parted. I went my way to an appointment at my place of business, + and he went his in a hurry; which is of itself suspicious. What I can’t + get over is his heartlessness. Heaven help the people who send for <i>him</i> + to comfort them on their death-beds! + </p> + <p> + “The next consideration is, What are we to do? If we don’t find out the + right way to keep this old wretch in the dark, he may be the ruin of us at + Thorpe Ambrose just as we are within easy reach of our end in view. Wait + up till I come to you, with my mind free, I hope, from the other + difficulty which is worrying me here. Was there ever such ill luck as + ours? Only think of that man deserting his congregation, and coming to + London just at the very time when we have answered Major Milroy’s + advertisement, and may expect the inquiries to be made next week! I have + no patience with him; his bishop ought to interfere. + </p> + <p> + “Affectionately yours, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 2. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + “West Place, June 20th. + </p> + <p> + “MY POOR OLD DEAR—How very little you know of my sensitive nature, + as you call it! Instead of feeling offended when you left me, I went to + your piano, and forgot all about you till your messenger came. Your letter + is irresistible; I have been laughing over it till I am quite out of + breath. Of all the absurd stories I ever read, the story you addressed to + the Somersetshire clergyman is the most ridiculous. And as for your + interview with him in the street, it is a perfect sin to keep it to + ourselves. The public ought really to enjoy it in the form of a farce at + one of the theaters. + </p> + <p> + “Luckily for both of us (to come to serious matters), your messenger is a + prudent person. He sent upstairs to know if there was an answer. In the + midst of my merriment I had presence of mind enough to send downstairs and + say ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + “Some brute of a man says, in some book which I once read, that no woman + can keep two separate trains of ideas in her mind at the same time. I + declare you have almost satisfied me that the man is right. What! when you + have escaped unnoticed to your place of business, and when you suspect + this house to be watched, you propose to come back here, and to put it in + the parson’s power to recover the lost trace of you! What madness! Stop + where you are; and when you have got over your difficulty at Pimlico (it + is some woman’s business, of course; what worries women are!), be so good + as to read what I have got to say about our difficulty at Brompton. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, the house (as you supposed) is watched. + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour after you left me, loud voices in the street interrupted me + at the piano, and I went to the window. There was a cab at the house + opposite, where they let lodgings; and an old man, who looked like a + respectable servant, was wrangling with the driver about his fare. An + elderly gentleman came out of the house, and stopped them. An elderly + gentleman returned into the house, and appeared cautiously at the front + drawing-room window. You know him, you worthy creature; he had the bad + taste, some few hours since, to doubt whether you were telling him the + truth. Don’t be afraid, he didn’t see me. When he looked up, after + settling with the cab driver, I was behind the curtain. I have been behind + the curtain once or twice since; and I have seen enough to satisfy me that + he and his servant will relieve each other at the window, so as never to + lose sight of your house here, night or day. That the parson suspects the + real truth is of course impossible. But that he firmly believes I mean + some mischief to young Armadale, and that you have entirely confirmed him + in that conviction, is as plain as that two and two make four. And this + has happened (as you helplessly remind me) just when we have answered the + advertisement, and when we may expect the major’s inquiries to be made in + a few days’ time. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, here is a terrible situation for two women to find themselves in? + A fiddlestick’s end for the situation! We have got an easy way out of it—thanks, + Mother Oldershaw, to what I myself forced you to do, not three hours + before the Somersetshire clergyman met with us. + </p> + <p> + “Has that venomous little quarrel of ours this morning—after we had + pounced on the major’s advertisement in the newspaper—quite slipped + out of your memory? Have you forgotten how I persisted in my opinion that + you were a great deal too well known in London to appear safely as my + reference in your own name, or to receive an inquiring lady or gentleman + (as you were rash enough to propose) in your own house? Don’t you remember + what a passion you were in when I brought our dispute to an end by + declining to stir a step in the matter, unless I could conclude my + application to Major Milroy by referring him to an address at which you + were totally unknown, and to a name which might be anything you pleased, + as long as it was not yours? What a look you gave me when you found there + was nothing for it but to drop the whole speculation or to let me have my + own way! How you fumed over the lodging hunting on the other side of the + Park! and how you groaned when you came back, possessed of furnished + apartments in respectable Bayswater, over the useless expense I had put + you to! + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of those furnished apartments <i>now</i>, you obstinate + old woman? Here we are, with discovery threatening us at our very door, + and with no hope of escape unless we can contrive to disappear from the + parson in the dark. And there are the lodgings in Bayswater, to which no + inquisitive strangers have traced either you or me, ready and waiting to + swallow us up—the lodgings in which we can escape all further + molestation, and answer the major’s inquiries at our ease. Can you see, at + last, a little further than your poor old nose? Is there anything in the + world to prevent your safe disappearance from Pimlico to-night, and your + safe establishment at the new lodgings, in the character of my respectable + reference, half an hour afterward? Oh, fie, fie, Mother Oldershaw! Go down + on your wicked old knees, and thank your stars that you had a she-devil + like me to deal with this morning! + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we come now to the only difficulty worth mentioning—<i>my</i> + difficulty. Watched as I am in this house, how am I to join you without + bringing the parson or the parson’s servant with me at my heels? + </p> + <p> + “Being to all intents and purposes a prisoner here, it seems to me that I + have no choice but to try the old prison plan of escape: a change of + clothes. I have been looking at your house-maid. Except that we are both + light, her face and hair and my face and hair are as unlike each other as + possible. But she is as nearly as can be my height and size; and (if she + only knew how to dress herself, and had smaller feet) her figure is a very + much better one than it ought to be for a person in her station in life. + </p> + <p> + “My idea is to dress her in the clothes I wore in the Gardens to-day; to + send her out, with our reverend enemy in full pursuit of her; and, as soon + as the coast is clear, to slip away myself and join you. The thing would + be quite impossible, of course, if I had been seen with my veil up; but, + as events have turned out, it is one advantage of the horrible exposure + which followed my marriage that I seldom show myself in public, and never, + of course, in such a populous place as London, without wearing a thick + veil and keeping that veil down. If the house-maid wears my dress, I don’t + really see why the house-maid may not be counted on to represent me to the + life. + </p> + <p> + “The one question is, Can the woman be trusted? If she can, send me a + line, telling her, on your authority, that she is to place herself at my + disposal. I won’t say a word till I have heard from you first. + </p> + <p> + “Let me have my answer to-night. As long as we were only talking about my + getting the governess’s place, I was careless enough how it ended. But now + that we have actually answered Major Milroy’s advertisement, I am in + earnest at last. I mean to be Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose; and woe to + the man or woman who tries to stop me! Yours, + </p> + <p> + “LYDIA GWILT. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I open my letter again to say that you need have no fear of + your messenger being followed on his return to Pimlico. He will drive to a + public-house where he is known, will dismiss the cab at the door, and will + go out again by a back way which is only used by the landlord and his + friends.—L. G.” + </p> + <p> + 3. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street, 10 o’clock. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—You have written me a heartless letter. If you had + been in my trying position, harassed as I was when I wrote to you, I + should have made allowances for my friend when I found my friend not so + sharp as usual. But the vice of the present age is a want of consideration + for persons in the decline of life. Morally speaking, you are in a sad + state, my dear; and you stand much in need of a good example. You shall + have a good example—I forgive you. + </p> + <p> + “Having now relieved my mind by the performance of a good action, suppose + I show you next (though I protest against the vulgarity of the expression) + that I <i>can</i> see a little further than my poor old nose? + </p> + <p> + “I will answer your question about the house-maid first. You may trust her + implicitly. She has had her troubles, and has learned discretion. She also + looks your age; though it is only her due to say that, in this particular, + she has some years the advantage of you. I inclose the necessary + directions which will place her entirely at your disposal. + </p> + <p> + “And what comes next? + </p> + <p> + “Your plan for joining me at Bayswater comes next. It is very well as far + as it goes; but it stands sadly in need of a little judicious improvement. + There is a serious necessity (you shall know why presently) for deceiving + the parson far more completely than you propose to deceive him. I want him + to see the house-maid’s face under circumstances which will persuade him + that it is <i>your</i> face. And then, going a step further, I want him to + see the house-maid leave London, under the impression that he has seen <i>you</i> + start on the first stage of your journey to the Brazils. He didn’t believe + in that journey when I announced it to him this afternoon in the street. + He may believe in it yet, if you follow the directions I am now going to + give you. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow is Saturday. Send the housemaid out in your walking dress of + to-day, just as you propose; but don’t stir out yourself, and don’t go + near the window. Desire the woman to keep her veil down, to take half an + hour’s walk (quite unconscious, of course, of the parson or his servant at + her heels), and then to come back to you. As soon as she appears, send her + instantly to the open window, instructing her to lift her veil carelessly + and look out. Let her go away again after a minute or two, take off her + bonnet and shawl, and then appear once more at the window, or, better + still, in the balcony outside. She may show herself again occasionally + (not too often) later in the day. And to-morrow—as we have a + professional gentleman to deal with—by all means send her to church. + If these proceedings don’t persuade the parson that the house-maid’s face + is your face, and if they don’t make him readier to believe in your + reformed character than he was when I spoke to him, I have lived sixty + years, my love, in this vale of tears to mighty little purpose. + </p> + <p> + “The next day is Monday. I have looked at the shipping advertisements, and + I find that a steamer leaves Liverpool for the Brazils on Tuesday. Nothing + could be more convenient; we will start you on your voyage under the + parson’s own eyes. You may manage it in this way: + </p> + <p> + “At one o’clock send out the man who cleans the knives and forks to get a + cab; and when he has brought it up to the door, let him go back and get a + second cab, which he is to wait in himself, round the corner, in the + square. Let the house-maid (still in your dress) drive off, with the + necessary boxes, in the first cab to the North-western Railway. When she + is gone, slip out yourself to the cab waiting round the corner, and come + to me at Bayswater. They may be prepared to follow the house-maid’s cab, + because they have seen it at the door; but they won’t be prepared to + follow your cab, because it has been hidden round the corner. When the + house-maid has got to the station, and has done her best to disappear in + the crowd (I have chosen the mixed train at 2:10, so as to give her every + chance), you will be safe with me; and whether they do or do not find out + that she does not really start for Liverpool won’t matter by that time. + They will have lost all trace of you; and they may follow the house-maid + half over London, if they like. She has my instructions (inclosed) to + leave the empty boxes to find their way to the lost luggage office and to + go to her friends in the City, and stay there till I write word that I + want her again. + </p> + <p> + “And what is the object of all this? + </p> + <p> + “My dear Lydia, the object is your future security (and mine). We may + succeed or we may fail, in persuading the parson that you have actually + gone to the Brazils. If we succeed, we are relieved of all fear of him. If + we fail, he will warn young Armadale to be careful <i>of a woman like my + house-maid, and not of a woman like you</i>. This last gain is a very + important one; for we don’t know that Mrs. Armadale may not have told him + your maiden name. In that event, the ‘Miss Gwilt’ whom he will describe as + having slipped through his fingers here will be so entirely unlike the + ‘Miss Gwilt’ established at Thorpe Ambrose, as to satisfy everybody that + it is not a case of similarity of persons, but only a case of similarity + of names. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say now to my improvement on your idea? Are my brains not + quite so addled as you thought them when you wrote? Don’t suppose I’m at + all overboastful about my own ingenuity. Cleverer tricks than this trick + of mine are played off on the public by swindlers, and are recorded in the + newspapers every week. I only want to show you that my assistance is not + less necessary to the success of the Armadale speculation now than it was + when I made our first important discoveries, by means of the + harmless-looking young man and the private inquiry office in Shadyside + Place. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing more to say that I know of, except that I am just going + to start for the new lodging, with a box directed in my new name. The last + expiring moments of Mother Oldershaw, of the Toilet Repository, are close + at hand, and the birth of Miss Gwilt’s respectable reference, Mrs. + Mandeville, will take place in a cab in five minutes’ time. I fancy I must + be still young at heart, for I am quite in love already with my romantic + name; it sounds almost as pretty as Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, + doesn’t it? + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, my dear, and pleasant dreams. If any accident happens between + this and Monday, write to me instantly by post. If no accident happens you + will be with me in excellent time for the earliest inquiries that the + major can possibly make. My last words are, don’t go out, and don’t + venture near the front windows till Monday comes. + </p> + <p> + “Affectionately yours, + </p> + <p> + “M. O.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0020" id="H2_4_0020"></a> VI. MIDWINTER IN DISGUISE. + </h2> + <p> + Toward noon on the day of the twenty-first, Miss Milroy was loitering in + the cottage garden—released from duty in the sick-room by an + improvement in her mother’s health—when her attention was attracted + by the sound of voices in the park. One of the voices she instantly + recognized as Allan’s; the other was strange to her. She put aside the + branches of a shrub near the garden palings, and, peeping through, saw + Allan approaching the cottage gate, in company with a slim, dark, + undersized man, who was talking and laughing excitably at the top of his + voice. Miss Milroy ran indoors to warn her father of Mr. Armadale’s + arrival, and to add that he was bringing with him a noisy stranger, who + was, in all probability, the friend generally reported to be staying with + the squire at the great house. + </p> + <p> + Had the major’s daughter guessed right? Was the squire’s loud-talking, + loud-laughing companion the shy, sensitive Midwinter of other times? It + was even so. In Allan’s presence, that morning, an extraordinary change + had passed over the ordinarily quiet demeanor of Allan’s friend. + </p> + <p> + When Midwinter had first appeared in the breakfast-room, after putting + aside Mr. Brock’s startling letter, Allan had been too much occupied to + pay any special attention to him. The undecided difficulty of choosing the + day for the audit dinner had pressed for a settlement once more, and had + been fixed at last (under the butler’s advice) for Saturday, the + twenty-eighth of the month. It was only on turning round to remind + Midwinter of the ample space of time which the new arrangement allowed for + mastering the steward’s books, that even Allan’s flighty attention had + been arrested by a marked change in the face that confronted him. He had + openly noticed the change in his usual blunt manner, and had been + instantly silenced by a fretful, almost an angry, reply. The two had sat + down together to breakfast without the usual cordiality, and the meal had + proceeded gloomily, till Midwinter himself broke the silence by bursting + into the strange outbreak of gayety which had revealed in Allan’s eyes a + new side to the character of his friend. + </p> + <p> + As usual with most of Allan’s judgments, here again the conclusion was + wrong. It was no new side to Midwinter’s character that now presented + itself—it was only a new aspect of the one ever-recurring struggle + of Midwinter’s life. + </p> + <p> + Irritated by Allan’s discovery of the change in him, and dreading the next + questions that Allan’s curiosity might put, Midwinter had roused himself + to efface, by main force, the impression which his own altered appearance + had produced. It was one of those efforts which no men compass so + resolutely as the men of his quick temper and his sensitive feminine + organization. With his whole mind still possessed by the firm belief that + the Fatality had taken one great step nearer to Allan and himself since + the rector’s adventure in Kensington Gardens—with his face still + betraying what he had suffered, under the renewed conviction that his + father’s death-bed warning was now, in event after event, asserting its + terrible claim to part him, at any sacrifice, from the one human creature + whom he loved—with the fear still busy at his heart that the first + mysterious vision of Allan’s Dream might be a vision realized, before the + new day that now saw the two Armadales together was a day that had passed + over their heads—with these triple bonds, wrought by his own + superstition, fettering him at that moment as they had never fettered him + yet, he mercilessly spurred his resolution to the desperate effort of + rivaling, in Allan’s presence, the gayety and good spirits of Allan + himself. + </p> + <p> + He talked and laughed, and heaped his plate indiscriminately from every + dish on the breakfast-table. He made noisily merry with jests that had no + humor, and stories that had no point. He first astonished Allan, then + amused him, then won his easily encouraged confidence on the subject of + Miss Milroy. He shouted with laughter over the sudden development of + Allan’s views on marriage, until the servants downstairs began to think + that their master’s strange friend had gone mad. Lastly, he had accepted + Allan’s proposal that he should be presented to the major’s daughter, and + judge of her for himself, as readily, nay, more readily than it would have + been accepted by the least diffident man living. There the two now stood + at the cottage gate—Midwinter’s voice rising louder and louder over + Allan’s—Midwinter’s natural manner disguised (how madly and + miserably none but he knew!) in a coarse masquerade of boldness—the + outrageous, the unendurable boldness of a shy man. + </p> + <p> + They were received in the parlor by the major’s daughter, pending the + arrival of the major himself. + </p> + <p> + Allan attempted to present his friend in the usual form. To his + astonishment, Midwinter took the words flippantly out of his lips, and + introduced himself to Miss Milroy with a confident look, a hard laugh, and + a clumsy assumption of ease which presented him at his worst. His + artificial spirits, lashed continuously into higher and higher + effervescence since the morning, were now mounting hysterically beyond his + own control. He looked and spoke with that terrible freedom of license + which is the necessary consequence, when a diffident man has thrown off + his reserve, of the very effort by which he has broken loose from his own + restraints. He involved himself in a confused medley of apologies that + were not wanted, and of compliments that might have overflattered the + vanity of a savage. He looked backward and forward from Miss Milroy to + Allan, and declared jocosely that he understood now why his friend’s + morning walks were always taken in the same direction. He asked her + questions about her mother, and cut short the answers she gave him by + remarks on the weather. In one breath, he said she must feel the day + insufferably hot, and in another he protested that he quite envied her in + her cool muslin dress. + </p> + <p> + The major came in. + </p> + <p> + Before he could say two words, Midwinter overwhelmed him with the same + frenzy of familiarity, and the same feverish fluency of speech. He + expressed his interest in Mrs. Milroy’s health in terms which would have + been exaggerated on the lips of a friend of the family. He overflowed into + a perfect flood of apologies for disturbing the major at his mechanical + pursuits. He quoted Allan’s extravagant account of the clock, and + expressed his own anxiety to see it in terms more extravagant still. He + paraded his superficial book knowledge of the great clock at Strasbourg, + with far-fetched jests on the extraordinary automaton figures which that + clock puts in motion—on the procession of the Twelve Apostles, which + walks out under the dial at noon, and on the toy cock, which crows at St. + Peter’s appearance—and this before a man who had studied every wheel + in that complex machinery, and who had passed whole years of his life in + trying to imitate it. “I hear you have outnumbered the Strasbourg + apostles, and outcrowed the Strasbourg cock,” he exclaimed, with the tone + and manner of a friend habitually privileged to waive all ceremony; “and I + am dying, absolutely dying, major, to see your wonderful clock!” + </p> + <p> + Major Milroy had entered the room with his mind absorbed in his own + mechanical contrivances as usual. But the sudden shock of Midwinter’s + familiarity was violent enough to recall him instantly to himself, and to + make him master again, for the time, of his social resources as a man of + the world. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me for interrupting you,” he said, stopping Midwinter for the + moment, by a look of steady surprise. “I happen to have seen the clock at + Strasbourg; and it sounds almost absurd in my ears (if you will pardon me + for saying so) to put my little experiment in any light of comparison with + that wonderful achievement. There is nothing else of the kind like it in + the world!” He paused, to control his own mounting enthusiasm; the clock + at Strasbourg was to Major Milroy what the name of Michael Angelo was to + Sir Joshua Reynolds. “Mr. Armadale’s kindness has led him to exaggerate a + little,” pursued the major, smiling at Allan, and passing over another + attempt of Midwinter’s to seize on the talk, as if no such attempt had + been made. “But as there does happen to be this one point of resemblance + between the great clock abroad and the little clock at home, that they + both show what they can do on the stroke of noon, and as it is close on + twelve now, if you still wish to visit my workshop, Mr. Midwinter, the + sooner I show you the way to it the better.” He opened the door, and + apologized to Midwinter, with marked ceremony, for preceding him out of + the room. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of my friend?” whispered Allan, as he and Miss Milroy + followed. + </p> + <p> + “Must I tell you the truth, Mr. Armadale?” she whispered back. + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I don’t like him at all!” + </p> + <p> + “He’s the best and dearest fellow in the world,” rejoined the outspoken + Allan. “You’ll like him better when you know him better—I’m sure you + will!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy made a little grimace, implying supreme indifference to + Midwinter, and saucy surprise at Allan’s earnest advocacy of the merits of + his friend. “Has he got nothing more interesting to say to me than <i>that</i>,” + she wondered, privately, “after kissing my hand twice yesterday morning?” + </p> + <p> + They were all in the major’s workroom before Allan had the chance of + trying a more attractive subject. There, on the top of a rough wooden + case, which evidently contained the machinery, was the wonderful clock. + The dial was crowned by a glass pedestal placed on rock-work in carved + ebony; and on the top of the pedestal sat the inevitable figure of Time, + with his everlasting scythe in his hand. Below the dial was a little + platform, and at either end of it rose two miniature sentry-boxes, with + closed doors. Externally, this was all that appeared, until the magic + moment came when the clock struck twelve noon. + </p> + <p> + It wanted then about three minutes to twelve; and Major Milroy seized the + opportunity of explaining what the exhibition was to be, before the + exhibition began. + </p> + <p> + “At the first words, his mind fell back again into its old absorption over + the one employment of his life. He turned to Midwinter (who had persisted + in talking all the way from the parlor, and who was talking still) without + a trace left in his manner of the cool and cutting composure with which he + had spoken but a few minutes before. The noisy, familiar man, who had been + an ill-bred intruder in the parlor, became a privileged guest in the + workshop, for <i>there</i> he possessed the all-atoning social advantage + of being new to the performances of the wonderful clock. + </p> + <p> + “At the first stroke of twelve, Mr. Midwinter,” said the major, quite + eagerly, “keep your eye on the figure of Time: he will move his scythe, + and point it downward to the glass pedestal. You will next see a little + printed card appear behind the glass, which will tell you the day of the + month and the day of the week. At the last stroke of the clock, Time will + lift his scythe again into its former position, and the chimes will ring a + peal. The peal will be succeeded by the playing of a tune—the + favorite march of my old regiment—and then the final performance of + the clock will follow. The sentry-boxes, which you may observe at each + side, will both open at the same moment. In one of them you will see the + sentinel appear; and from the other a corporal and two privates will march + across the platform to relieve the guard, and will then disappear, leaving + the new sentinel at his post. I must ask your kind allowances for this + last part of the performance. The machinery is a little complicated, and + there are defects in it which I am ashamed to say I have not yet succeeded + in remedying as I could wish. Sometimes the figures go all wrong, and + sometimes they go all right. I hope they may do their best on the occasion + of your seeing them for the first time.” + </p> + <p> + As the major, posted near his clock, said the last words, his little + audience of three, assembled at the opposite end of the room, saw the + hour-hand and the minute-hand on the dial point together to twelve. The + first stroke sounded, and Time, true to the signal, moved his scythe. The + day of the month and the day of the week announced themselves in print + through the glass pedestal next; Midwinter applauding their appearance + with a noisy exaggeration of surprise, which Miss Milroy mistook for + coarse sarcasm directed at her father’s pursuits, and which Allan (seeing + that she was offended) attempted to moderate by touching the elbow of his + friend. Meanwhile, the performances of the clock went on. At the last + stroke of twelve, Time lifted his scythe again, the chimes rang, the march + tune of the major’s old regiment followed; and the crowning exhibition of + the relief of the guard announced itself in a preliminary trembling of the + sentry-boxes, and a sudden disappearance of the major at the back of the + clock. + </p> + <p> + The performance began with the opening of the sentry-box on the right-hand + side of the platform, as punctually as could be desired; the door on the + other side, however, was less tractable—it remained obstinately + closed. Unaware of this hitch in the proceedings, the corporal and his two + privates appeared in their places in a state of perfect discipline, + tottered out across the platform, all three trembling in every limb, + dashed themselves headlong against the closed door on the other side, and + failed in producing the smallest impression on the immovable sentry + presumed to be within. An intermittent clicking, as of the major’s keys + and tools at work, was heard in the machinery. The corporal and his two + privates suddenly returned, backward, across the platform, and shut + themselves up with a bang inside their own door. Exactly at the same + moment, the other door opened for the first time, and the provoking sentry + appeared with the utmost deliberation at his post, waiting to be relieved. + He was allowed to wait. Nothing happened in the other box but an + occasional knocking inside the door, as if the corporal and his privates + were impatient to be let out. The clicking of the major’s tools was heard + again among the machinery; the corporal and his party, suddenly restored + to liberty, appeared in a violent hurry, and spun furiously across the + platform. Quick as they were, however, the hitherto deliberate sentry on + the other side now perversely showed himself to be quicker still. He + disappeared like lightning into his own premises, the door closed smartly + after him, the corporal and his privates dashed themselves headlong + against it for the second time, and the major, appearing again round the + corner of the clock, asked his audience innocently “if they would be good + enough to tell him whether anything had gone wrong?” + </p> + <p> + The fantastic absurdity of the exhibition, heightened by Major Milroy’s + grave inquiry at the end of it, was so irresistibly ludicrous that the + visitors shouted with laughter; and even Miss Milroy, with all her + consideration for her father’s sensitive pride in his clock, could not + restrain herself from joining in the merriment which the catastrophe of + the puppets had provoked. But there are limits even to the license of + laughter; and these limits were ere long so outrageously overstepped by + one of the little party as to have the effect of almost instantly + silencing the other two. The fever of Midwinter’s false spirits flamed out + into sheer delirium as the performance of the puppets came to an end. His + paroxysms of laughter followed each other with such convulsive violence + that Miss Milroy started back from him in alarm, and even the patient + major turned on him with a look which said plainly, Leave the room! Allan, + wisely impulsive for once in his life, seized Midwinter by the arm, and + dragged him out by main force into the garden, and thence into the park + beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! what has come to you!” he exclaimed, shrinking back from + the tortured face before him, as he stopped and looked close at it for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + For the moment, Midwinter was incapable of answering. The hysterical + paroxysm was passing from one extreme to the other. He leaned against a + tree, sobbing and gasping for breath, and stretched out his hand in mute + entreaty to Allan to give him time. + </p> + <p> + “You had better not have nursed me through my fever,” he said, faintly, as + soon as he could speak. “I’m mad and miserable, Allan; I have never + recovered it. Go back and ask them to forgive me; I am ashamed to go and + ask them myself. I can’t tell how it happened; I can only ask your pardon + and theirs.” He turned aside his head quickly so as to conceal his face. + “Don’t stop here,” he said; “don’t look at me; I shall soon get over it.” + Allan still hesitated, and begged hard to be allowed to take him back to + the house. It was useless. “You break my heart with your kindness,” he + burst out, passionately. “For God’s sake, leave me by my self!” + </p> + <p> + Allan went back to the cottage, and pleaded there for indulgence to + Midwinter, with an earnestness and simplicity which raised him immensely + in the major’s estimation, but which totally failed to produce the same + favorable impression on Miss Milroy. Little as she herself suspected it, + she was fond enough of Allan already to be jealous of Allan’s friend. + </p> + <p> + “How excessively absurd!” she thought, pettishly. “As if either papa or I + considered such a person of the slightest consequence!” + </p> + <p> + “You will kindly suspend your opinion, won’t you, Major Milroy?” said + Allan, in his hearty way, at parting. + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure!” replied the major, cordially shaking hands. + </p> + <p> + “And you, too, Miss Milroy?” added Allan. + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy made a mercilessly formal bow. “<i>My</i> opinion, Mr. + Armadale, is not of the slightest consequence.” + </p> + <p> + Allan left the cottage, sorely puzzled to account for Miss Milroy’s sudden + coolness toward him. His grand idea of conciliating the whole neighborhood + by becoming a married man underwent some modification as he closed the + garden gate behind him. The virtue called Prudence and the Squire of + Thorpe Ambrose became personally acquainted with each other, on this + occasion, for the first time; and Allan, entering headlong as usual on the + high-road to moral improvement, actually decided on doing nothing in a + hurry! + </p> + <p> + A man who is entering on a course of reformation ought, if virtue is its + own reward, to be a man engaged in an essentially inspiriting pursuit. But + virtue is not always its own reward; and the way that leads to reformation + is remarkably ill-lighted for so respectable a thoroughfare. Allan seemed + to have caught the infection of his friend’s despondency. As he walked + home, he, too, began to doubt—in his widely different way, and for + his widely different reasons—whether the life at Thorpe Ambrose was + promising quite as fairly for the future as it had promised at first. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0021" id="H2_4_0021"></a> VII. THE PLOT THICKENS. + </h2> + <p> + Two messages were waiting for Allan when he returned to the house. One had + been left by Midwinter. “He had gone out for a long walk, and Mr. Armadale + was not to be alarmed if he did not get back till late in the day.” The + other message had been left by “a person from Mr. Pedgift’s office,” who + had called, according to appointment, while the two gentlemen were away at + the major’s. “Mr. Bashwood’s respects, and he would have the honor of + waiting on Mr. Armadale again in the course of the evening.” + </p> + <p> + Toward five o’clock, Midwinter returned, pale and silent. Allan hastened + to assure him that his peace was made at the cottage; and then, to change + the subject, mentioned Mr. Bashwood’s message. Midwinter’s mind was so + preoccupied or so languid that he hardly seemed to remember the name. + Allan was obliged to remind him that Bashwood was the elderly clerk, whom + Mr. Pedgift had sent to be his instructor in the duties of the steward’s + office. He listened without making any remark, and withdrew to his room, + to rest till dinner-time. + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Allan went into the library, to try if he could while + away the time over a book. + </p> + <p> + He took many volumes off the shelves, and put a few of them back again; + and there he ended. Miss Milroy contrived in some mysterious manner to + get, in this case, between the reader and the books. Her formal bow and + her merciless parting speech dwelt, try how he might to forget them, on + Allan’s mind; he began to grow more and more anxious as the idle hour wore + on, to recover his lost place in her favor. To call again that day at the + cottage, and ask if he had been so unfortunate as to offend her, was + impossible. To put the question in writing with the needful nicety of + expression proved, on trying the experiment, to be a task beyond his + literary reach. After a turn or two up and down the room, with his pen in + his mouth, he decided on the more diplomatic course (which happened, in + this case, to be the easiest course, too), of writing to Miss Milroy as + cordially as if nothing had happened, and of testing his position in her + good graces by the answer that she sent him back. An invitation of some + kind (including her father, of course, but addressed directly to herself) + was plainly the right thing to oblige her to send a written reply; but + here the difficulty occurred of what the invitation was to be. A ball was + not to be thought of, in his present position with the resident gentry. A + dinner-party, with no indispensable elderly lady on the premises to + receive Miss Milroy—except Mrs. Gripper, who could only receive her + in the kitchen—was equally out of the question. What was the + invitation to be? Never backward, when he wanted help, in asking for it + right and left in every available direction, Allan, feeling himself at the + end of his own resources, coolly rang the bell, and astonished the servant + who answered it by inquiring how the late family at Thorpe Ambrose used to + amuse themselves, and what sort of invitations they were in the habit of + sending to their friends. + </p> + <p> + “The family did what the rest of the gentry did, sir,” said the man, + staring at his master in utter bewilderment. “They gave dinner-parties and + balls. And in fine summer weather, sir, like this, they sometimes had + lawn-parties and picnics—” + </p> + <p> + “That’ll do!” shouted Allan. “A picnic’s just the thing to please her. + Richard, you’re an invaluable man; you may go downstairs again.” + </p> + <p> + Richard retired wondering, and Richard’s master seized his ready pen. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS MILROY—Since I left you it has suddenly struck me that we + might have a picnic. A little change and amusement (what I should call a + good shaking-up, if I wasn’t writing to a young lady) is just the thing + for you, after being so long indoors lately in Mrs. Milroy’s room. A + picnic is a change, and (when the wine is good) amusement, too. Will you + ask the major if he will consent to the picnic, and come? And if you have + got any friends in the neighborhood who like a picnic, pray ask them too, + for I have got none. It shall be your picnic, but I will provide + everything and take everybody. You shall choose the day, and we will + picnic where you like. I have set my heart on this picnic. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, ever yours, + </p> + <p> + “ALLAN ARMADALE.” + </p> + <p> + On reading over his composition before sealing it up, Allan frankly + acknowledged to himself, this time, that it was not quite faultless. + “‘Picnic’ comes in a little too often,” he said. “Never mind; if she likes + the idea, she won’t quarrel with that.” He sent off the letter on the + spot, with strict instructions to the messenger to wait for a reply. + </p> + <p> + In half an hour the answer came back on scented paper, without an erasure + anywhere, fragrant to smell, and beautiful to see. + </p> + <p> + The presentation of the naked truth is one of those exhibitions from which + the native delicacy of the female mind seems instinctively to revolt. + Never were the tables turned more completely than they were now turned on + Allan by his fair correspondent. Machiavelli himself would never have + suspected, from Miss Milroy’s letter, how heartily she had repented her + petulance to the young squire as soon as his back was turned, and how + extravagantly delighted she was when his invitation was placed in her + hands. Her letter was the composition of a model young lady whose emotions + are all kept under parental lock and key, and served out for her + judiciously as occasion may require. “Papa,” appeared quite as frequently + in Miss Milroy’s reply as “picnic” had appeared in Allan’s invitation. + “Papa” had been as considerately kind as Mr. Armadale in wishing to + procure her a little change and amusement, and had offered to forego his + usual quiet habits and join the picnic. With “papa’s” sanction, therefore, + she accepted, with much pleasure, Mr. Armadale’s proposal; and, at + “papa’s” suggestion, she would presume on Mr. Armadale’s kindness to add + two friends of theirs recently settled at Thorpe Ambrose, to the picnic + party—a widow lady and her son; the latter in holy orders and in + delicate health. If Tuesday next would suit Mr. Armadale, Tuesday next + would suit “papa”—being the first day he could spare from repairs + which were required by his clock. The rest, by “papa’s” advice, she would + beg to leave entirely in Mr. Armadale’s hands; and, in the meantime, she + would remain, with “papa’s” compliments, Mr. Armadale’s truly—ELEANOR + MILROY. + </p> + <p> + Who would ever have supposed that the writer of that letter had jumped for + joy when Allan’s invitation arrived? Who would ever have suspected that + there was an entry already in Miss Milroy’s diary, under that day’s date, + to this effect: “The sweetest, dearest letter from <i>I-know-who</i>; I’ll + never behave unkindly to him again as long as I live?” As for Allan, he + was charmed with the sweet success of his maneuver. Miss Milroy had + accepted his invitation; consequently, Miss Milroy was not offended with + him. It was on the tip of his tongue to mention the correspondence to his + friend when they met at dinner. But there was something in Midwinter’s + face and manner (even plain enough for Allan to see) which warned him to + wait a little before he said anything to revive the painful subject of + their visit to the cottage. By common consent they both avoided all topics + connected with Thorpe Ambrose, not even the visit from Mr. Bashwood, which + was to come with the evening, being referred to by either of them. All + through the dinner they drifted further and further back into the old + endless talk of past times about ships and sailing. When the butler + withdrew from his attendance at table, he came downstairs with a nautical + problem on his mind, and asked his fellow-servants if they any of them + knew the relative merits “on a wind” and “off a wind” of a schooner and a + brig. + </p> + <p> + The two young men had sat longer at table than usual that day. When they + went out into the garden with their cigars, the summer twilight fell gray + and dim on lawn and flower bed, and narrowed round them by slow degrees + the softly fading circle of the distant view. The dew was heavy, and, + after a few minutes in the garden, they agreed to go back to the drier + ground on the drive in front of the house. + </p> + <p> + They were close to the turning which led into the shrubbery, when there + suddenly glided out on them, from behind the foliage, a softly stepping + black figure—a shadow, moving darkly through the dim evening light. + Midwinter started back at the sight of it, and even the less finely strung + nerves of his friend were shaken for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil are you?” cried Allan. + </p> + <p> + The figure bared its head in the gray light, and came slowly a step + nearer. Midwinter advanced a step on his side, and looked closer. It was + the man of the timid manners and the mourning garments, of whom he had + asked the way to Thorpe Ambrose where the three roads met. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” repeated Allan. + </p> + <p> + “I humbly beg your pardon, sir,” faltered the stranger, stepping back + again, confusedly. “The servants told me I should find Mr. Armadale—” + </p> + <p> + “What, are you Mr. Bashwood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you please, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for speaking to you so roughly,” said Allan; “but the + fact is, you rather startled me. My name is Armadale (put on your hat, + pray), and this is my friend, Mr. Midwinter, who wants your help in the + steward’s office.” + </p> + <p> + “We hardly stand in need of an introduction,” said Midwinter. “I met Mr. + Bashwood out walking a few days since, and he was kind enough to direct me + when I had lost my way.” + </p> + <p> + “Put on your hat,” reiterated Allan, as Mr. Bashwood, still bareheaded, + stood bowing speechlessly, now to one of the young men, and now to the + other. “My good sir, put on your hat, and let me show you the way back to + the house. Excuse me for noticing it,” added Allan, as the man, in sheer + nervous helplessness, let his hat fall, instead of putting it back on his + head; “but you seem a little out of sorts; a glass of good wine will do + you no harm before you and my friend come to business. Whereabouts did you + meet with Mr. Bashwood, Midwinter, when you lost your way?” + </p> + <p> + “I am too ignorant of the neighborhood to know. I must refer you to Mr. + Bashwood.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, tell us where it was,” said Allan, trying, a little too abruptly, + to set the man at his ease, as they all three walked back to the house. + </p> + <p> + The measure of Mr. Bashwood’s constitutional timidity seemed to be filled + to the brim by the loudness of Allan’s voice and the bluntness of Allan’s + request. He ran over in the same feeble flow of words with which he had + deluged Midwinter on the occasion when they first met. + </p> + <p> + “It was on the road, sir,” he began, addressing himself alternately to + Allan, whom he called, “sir,” and to Midwinter, whom he called by his + name, “I mean, if you please, on the road to Little Gill Beck. A singular + name, Mr. Midwinter, and a singular place; I don’t mean the village; I + mean the neighborhood—I mean the ‘Broads’ beyond the neighborhood. + Perhaps you may have heard of the Norfolk Broads, sir? What they call + lakes in other parts of England, they call Broads here. The Broads are + quite numerous; I think they would repay a visit. You would have seen the + first of them, Mr. Midwinter, if you had walked on a few miles from where + I had the honor of meeting you. Remarkably numerous, the Broads, sir—situated + between this and the sea. About three miles from the sea, Mr. Midwinter—about + three miles. Mostly shallow, sir, with rivers running between them. + Beautiful; solitary. Quite a watery country, Mr. Midwinter; quite + separate, as it were, in itself. Parties sometimes visit them, sir—pleasure + parties in boats. It’s quite a little network of lakes, or, perhaps—yes, + perhaps, more correctly, pools. There is good sport in the cold weather. + The wild fowl are quite numerous. Yes; the Broads would repay a visit, Mr. + Midwinter. The next time you are walking that way. The distance from here + to Little Gill Beck, and then from Little Gill Beck to Girdler Broad, + which is the first you come to, is altogether not more—” In sheer + nervous inability to leave off, he would apparently have gone on talking + of the Norfolk Broads for the rest of the evening, if one of his two + listeners had not unceremoniously cut him short before he could find his + way into a new sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Are the Broads within an easy day’s drive there and back from this + house?” asked Allan, feeling, if they were, that the place for the picnic + was discovered already. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir; a nice drive—quite a nice easy drive from this + beautiful place!” + </p> + <p> + They were by this time ascending the portico steps, Allan leading the way + up, and calling to Midwinter and Mr. Bashwood to follow him into the + library, where there was a lighted lamp. + </p> + <p> + In the interval which elapsed before the wine made its appearance, + Midwinter looked at his chance acquaintance of the high-road with + strangely mingled feelings of compassion and distrust—of compassion + that strengthened in spite of him; of distrust that persisted in + diminishing, try as he might to encourage it to grow. There, perched + comfortless on the edge of his chair, sat the poor broken-down, nervous + wretch, in his worn black garments, with his watery eyes, his honest old + outspoken wig, his miserable mohair stock, and his false teeth that were + incapable of deceiving anybody—there he sat, politely ill at ease; + now shrinking in the glare of the lamp, now wincing under the shock of + Allan’s sturdy voice; a man with the wrinkles of sixty years in his face, + and the manners of a child in the presence of strangers; an object of pity + surely, if ever there was a pitiable object yet! + </p> + <p> + “Whatever else you’re afraid of, Mr. Bashwood,” cried Allan, pouring out a + glass of wine, “don’t be afraid of that! There isn’t a headache in a + hogshead of it! Make yourself comfortable; I’ll leave you and Mr. + Midwinter to talk your business over by yourselves. It’s all in Mr. + Midwinter’s hands; he acts for me, and settles everything at his own + discretion.” + </p> + <p> + He said those words with a cautious choice of expression very + uncharacteristic of him, and, without further explanation, made abruptly + for the door. Midwinter, sitting near it, noticed his face as he went out. + Easy as the way was into Allan’s favor, Mr. Bashwood, beyond all kind of + doubt, had in some unaccountable manner failed to find it! + </p> + <p> + The two strangely assorted companions were left together—parted + widely, as it seemed on the surface, from any possible interchange of + sympathy; drawn invisibly one to the other, nevertheless, by those + magnetic similarities of temperament which overleap all difference of age + or station, and defy all apparent incongruities of mind and character. + From the moment when Allan left the room, the hidden Influence that works + in darkness began slowly to draw the two men together, across the great + social desert which had lain between them up to this day. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter was the first to approach the subject of the interview. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” he began, “if you have been made acquainted with my position + here, and if you know why it is that I require your assistance?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood—still hesitating and still timid, but manifestly + relieved by Allan’s departure—sat further back in his chair, and + ventured on fortifying himself with a modest little sip of wine. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he replied; “Mr. Pedgift informed me of all—at least I + think I may say so—of all the circumstances. I am to instruct, or + perhaps, I ought to say to advise—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Bashwood; the first word was the best word of the two. I am quite + ignorant of the duties which Mr. Armadale’s kindness has induced him to + intrust to me. If I understand right, there can be no question of your + capacity to instruct me, for you once filled a steward’s situation + yourself. May I inquire where it was?” + </p> + <p> + “At Sir John Mellowship’s, sir, in West Norfolk. Perhaps you would like—I + have got it with me—to see my testimonial? Sir John might have dealt + more kindly with me; but I have no complaint to make; it’s all done and + over now!” His watery eyes looked more watery still, and the trembling in + his hands spread to his lips as he produced an old dingy letter from his + pocket-book and laid it open on the table. + </p> + <p> + The testimonial was very briefly and very coldly expressed, but it was + conclusive as far as it went. Sir John considered it only right to say + that he had no complaint to make of any want of capacity or integrity in + his steward. If Mr. Bashwood’s domestic position had been compatible with + the continued performance of his duties on the estate, Sir John would have + been glad to keep him. As it was, embarrassments caused by the state of + Mr. Bashwood’s personal affairs had rendered it undesirable that he should + continue in Sir John’s service; and on that ground, and that only, his + employer and he had parted. Such was Sir John’s testimony to Mr. + Bashwood’s character. As Midwinter read the last lines, he thought of + another testimonial, still in his own possession—of the written + character which they had given him at the school, when they turned their + sick usher adrift in the world. His superstition (distrusting all new + events and all new faces at Thorpe Ambrose) still doubted the man before + him as obstinately as ever. But when he now tried to put those doubts into + words, his heart upbraided him, and he laid the letter on the table in + silence. + </p> + <p> + The sudden pause in the conversation appeared to startle Mr. Bashwood. He + comforted himself with another little sip of wine, and, leaving the letter + untouched, burst irrepressibly into words, as if the silence was quite + unendurable to him. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to answer any question, sir,” he began. “Mr. Pedgift told me + that I must answer questions, because I was applying for a place of trust. + Mr. Pedgift said neither you nor Mr. Armadale was likely to think the + testimonial sufficient of itself. Sir John doesn’t say—he might have + put it more kindly, but I don’t complain—Sir John doesn’t say what + the troubles were that lost me my place. Perhaps you might wish to know—” + He stopped confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + “If no interests but mine were concerned in the matter,” rejoined + Midwinter, “the testimonial would, I assure you, be quite enough to + satisfy me. But while I am learning my new duties, the person who teaches + me will be really and truly the steward of my friend’s estate. I am very + unwilling to ask you to speak on what may be a painful subject, and I am + sadly inexperienced in putting such questions as I ought to put; but, + perhaps, in Mr. Armadale’s interests, I ought to know something more, + either from yourself, or from Mr. Pedgift, if you prefer it—” He, + too, stopped confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + There was another moment of silence. The night was warm, and Mr. Bashwood, + among his other misfortunes, had the deplorable infirmity of perspiring in + the palms of the hands. He took out a miserable little cotton + pocket-handkerchief, rolled it up into a ball, and softly dabbed it to and + fro, from one hand to the other, with the regularity of a pendulum. + Performed by other men, under other circumstances, the action might have + been ridiculous. Performed by this man, at the crisis of the interview, + the action was horrible. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pedgift’s time is too valuable, sir, to be wasted on me,” he said. “I + will mention what ought to be mentioned myself—if you will please to + allow me. I have been unfortunate in my family. It is very hard to bear, + though it seems not much to tell. My wife—” One of his hands closed + fast on the pocket-handkerchief; he moistened his dry lips, struggled with + himself, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “My wife, sir,” he resumed, “stood a little in my way; she did me (I am + afraid I must confess) some injury with Sir John. Soon after I got the + steward’s situation, she contracted—she took—she fell into + habits (I hardly know how to say it) of drinking. I couldn’t break her of + it, and I couldn’t always conceal it from Sir John’s knowledge. She broke + out, and—and tried his patience once or twice, when he came to my + office on business. Sir John excused it, not very kindly; but still he + excused it. I don’t complain of Sir John! I don’t complain now of my + wife.” He pointed a trembling finger at his miserable crape-covered beaver + hat on the floor. “I’m in mourning for her,” he said, faintly. “She died + nearly a year ago, in the county asylum here.” + </p> + <p> + His mouth began to work convulsively. He took up the glass of wine at his + side, and, instead of sipping it this time, drained it to the bottom. “I’m + not much used to wine, sir,” he said, conscious, apparently, of the flush + that flew into his face as he drank, and still observant of the + obligations of politeness amid all the misery of the recollections that he + was calling up. + </p> + <p> + “I beg, Mr. Bashwood, you will not distress yourself by telling me any + more,” said Midwinter, recoiling from any further sanction on his part of + a disclosure which had already bared the sorrows of the unhappy man before + him to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “I’m much obliged to you, sir,” replied Mr. Bashwood. “But if I don’t + detain you too long, and if you will please to remember that Mr. Pedgift’s + directions to me were very particular—and, besides, I only mentioned + my late wife because if she hadn’t tried Sir John’s patience to begin + with, things might have turned out differently—” He paused, gave up + the disjointed sentence in which he had involved himself, and tried + another. “I had only two children, sir,” he went on, advancing to a new + point in his narrative, “a boy and a girl. The girl died when she was a + baby. My son lived to grow up; and it was my son who lost me my place. I + did my best for him; I got him into a respectable office in London. They + wouldn’t take him without security. I’m afraid it was imprudent; but I had + no rich friends to help me, and I became security. My boy turned out + badly, sir. He—perhaps you will kindly understand what I mean, if I + say he behaved dishonestly. His employers consented, at my entreaty, to + let him off without prosecuting. I begged very hard—I was fond of my + son James—and I took him home, and did my best to reform him. He + wouldn’t stay with me; he went away again to London; he—I beg your + pardon, sir! I’m afraid I’m confusing things; I’m afraid I’m wandering + from the point.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Midwinter, kindly. “If you think it right to tell me this + sad story, tell it in your own way. Have you seen your son since he left + you to go to London?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. He’s in London still, for all I know. When I last heard of him, + he was getting his bread—not very creditably. He was employed, under + the inspector, at the Private Inquiry Office in Shadyside Place.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke those words—apparently (as events then stood) the most + irrelevant to the matter in hand that had yet escaped him; actually (as + events were soon to be) the most vitally important that he had uttered yet—he + spoke those words absently, looking about him in confusion, and trying + vainly to recover the lost thread of his narrative. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter compassionately helped him. “You were telling me,” he said, + “that your son had been the cause of your losing your place. How did that + happen?” + </p> + <p> + “In this way, sir,” said Mr. Bashwood, getting back again excitedly into + the right train of thought. “His employers consented to let him off; but + they came down on his security; and I was the man. I suppose they were not + to blame; the security covered their loss. I couldn’t pay it all out of my + savings; I had to borrow—on the word of a man, sir, I couldn’t help + it—I had to borrow. My creditor pressed me; it seemed cruel, but, if + he wanted the money, I suppose it was only just. I was sold out of house + and home. I dare say other gentlemen would have said what Sir John said; I + dare say most people would have refused to keep a steward who had had the + bailiffs after him, and his furniture sold in the neighborhood. That was + how it ended, Mr. Midwinter. I needn’t detain you any longer—here is + Sir John’s address, if you wish to apply to him.” Midwinter generously + refused to receive the address. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly, sir,” said Mr. Bashwood, getting tremulously on his + legs. “There is nothing more, I think, except—except that Mr. + Pedgift will speak for me, if you wish to inquire into my conduct in his + service. I’m very much indebted to Mr. Pedgift; he’s a little rough with + me sometimes, but, if he hadn’t taken me into his office, I think I should + have gone to the workhouse when I left Sir John, I was so broken down.” He + picked up his dingy old hat from the floor. “I won’t intrude any longer, + sir. I shall be happy to call again if you wish to have time to consider + before you decide-” + </p> + <p> + “I want no time to consider after what you have told me,” replied + Midwinter, warmly, his memory busy, while he spoke, with the time when <i>he</i> + had told <i>his</i> story to Mr. Brock, and was waiting for a generous + word in return, as the man before him was waiting now. “To-day is + Saturday,” he went on. “Can you come and give me my first lesson on Monday + morning? I beg your pardon,” he added, interrupting Mr. Bashwood’s profuse + expressions of acknowledgment, and stopping him on his way out of the + room; “there is one thing we ought to settle, ought we not? We haven’t + spoken yet about your own interest in this matter; I mean, about the + terms.” He referred, a little confusedly, to the pecuniary part of the + subject. Mr. Bashwood (getting nearer and nearer to the door) answered him + more confusedly still. + </p> + <p> + “Anything, sir—anything you think right. I won’t intrude any longer; + I’ll leave it to you and Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + “I will send for Mr. Armadale, if you like,” said Midwinter, following him + into the hall. “But I am afraid he has as little experience in matters of + this kind as I have. Perhaps, if you see no objection, we might be guided + by Mr. Pedgift?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood caught eagerly at the last suggestion, pushing his retreat, + while he spoke, as far as the front door. “Yes, sir—oh, yes, yes! + nobody better than Mr. Pedgift. Don’t—pray don’t disturb Mr. + Armadale!” His watery eyes looked quite wild with nervous alarm as he + turned round for a moment in the light of the hall lamp to make that + polite request. If sending for Allan had been equivalent to unchaining a + ferocious watch-dog, Mr. Bashwood could hardly have been more anxious to + stop the proceeding. “I wish you kindly good-evening, sir,” he went on, + getting out to the steps. “I’m much obliged to you. I will be scrupulously + punctual on Monday morning—I hope—I think—I’m sure you + will soon learn everything I can teach you. It’s not difficult—oh + dear, no—not difficult at all! I wish you kindly good-evening, sir. + A beautiful night; yes, indeed, a beautiful night for a walk home.” + </p> + <p> + With those words, all dropping out of his lips one on the top of the + other, and without noticing, in his agony of embarrassment at effecting + his departure, Midwinter’s outstretched hand, he went noiselessly down the + steps, and was lost in the darkness of the night. + </p> + <p> + As Midwinter turned to re-enter the house, the dining-room door opened and + his friend met him in the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Bashwood gone?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone,” replied Midwinter, “after telling me a very sad story, and + leaving me a little ashamed of myself for having doubted him without any + just cause. I have arranged that he is to give me my first lesson in the + steward’s office on Monday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Allan. “You needn’t be afraid, old boy, of my + interrupting you over your studies. I dare say I’m wrong—but I don’t + like Mr. Bashwood.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say <i>I’m</i> wrong,” retorted the other, a little petulantly. “I + do.” + </p> + <p> + The Sunday morning found Midwinter in the park, waiting to intercept the + postman, on the chance of his bringing more news from Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + At the customary hour the man made his appearance, and placed the expected + letter in Midwinter’s hands. He opened it, far away from all fear of + observation this time, and read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—I write more for the purpose of quieting your + anxiety than because I have anything definite to say. In my last hurried + letter I had no time to tell you that the elder of the two women whom I + met in the Gardens had followed me, and spoken to me in the street. I + believe I may characterize what she said (without doing her any injustice) + as a tissue of falsehoods from beginning to end. At any rate, she + confirmed me in the suspicion that some underhand proceeding is on foot, + of which Allan is destined to be the victim, and that the prime mover in + the conspiracy is the vile woman who helped his mother’s marriage and who + hastened his mother’s death. + </p> + <p> + “Feeling this conviction, I have not hesitated to do, for Allan’s sake, + what I would have done for no other creature in the world. I have left my + hotel, and have installed myself (with my old servant Robert) in a house + opposite the house to which I traced the two women. We are alternately on + the watch (quite unsuspected, I am certain, by the people opposite) day + and night. All my feelings, as a gentleman and a clergyman, revolt from + such an occupation as I am now engaged in; but there is no other choice. I + must either do this violence to my own self-respect, or I must leave + Allan, with his easy nature, and in his assailable position, to defend + himself against a wretch who is prepared, I firmly believe, to take the + most unscrupulous advantage of his weakness and his youth. His mother’s + dying entreaty has never left my memory; and, God help me, I am now + degrading myself in my own eyes in consequence. + </p> + <p> + “There has been some reward already for the sacrifice. This day (Saturday) + I have gained an immense advantage—I have at last seen the woman’s + face. She went out with her veil down as before; and Robert kept her in + view, having my instructions, if she returned to the house, not to follow + her back to the door. She did return to the house; and the result of my + precaution was, as I had expected, to throw her off her guard. I saw her + face unveiled at the window, and afterward again in the balcony. If any + occasion should arise for describing her particularly, you shall have the + description. At present I need only say that she looks the full age + (five-and-thirty) at which you estimated her, and that she is by no means + so handsome a woman as I had (I hardly know why) expected to see. + </p> + <p> + “This is all I can now tell you. If nothing more happens by Monday or + Tuesday next, I shall have no choice but to apply to my lawyers for + assistance; though I am most unwilling to trust this delicate and + dangerous matter in other hands than mine. Setting my own feelings + however, out of the question, the business which has been the cause of my + journey to London is too important to be trifled with much longer as I am + trifling with it now. In any and every case, depend on my keeping you + informed of the progress of events, and believe me yours truly, + </p> + <p> + “DECIMUS BROCK.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter secured the letter as he had secured the letter that preceded it—side + by side in his pocket-book with the narrative of Allan’s Dream. + </p> + <p> + “How many days more?” he asked himself, as he went back to the house. “How + many days more?” + </p> + <p> + Not many. The time he was waiting for was a time close at hand. + </p> + <p> + Monday came, and brought Mr. Bashwood, punctual to the appointed hour. + Monday came, and found Allan immersed in his preparations for the picnic. + He held a series of interviews, at home and abroad, all through the day. + He transacted business with Mrs. Gripper, with the butler, and with the + coachman, in their three several departments of eating, drinking, and + driving. He went to the town to consult his professional advisers on the + subject of the Broads, and to invite both the lawyers, father and son (in + the absence of anybody else in the neighborhood whom he could ask), to + join the picnic. Pedgift Senior (in his department) supplied general + information, but begged to be excused from appearing at the picnic, on the + score of business engagements. Pedgift Junior (in his department) added + all the details; and, casting business engagements to the winds, accepted + the invitation with the greatest pleasure. Returning from the lawyer’s + office, Allan’s next proceeding was to go to the major’s cottage and + obtain Miss Milroy’s approval of the proposed locality for the pleasure + party. This object accomplished, he returned to his own house, to meet the + last difficulty now left to encounter—the difficulty of persuading + Midwinter to join the expedition to the Broads. + </p> + <p> + On first broaching the subject, Allan found his friend impenetrably + resolute to remain at home. Midwinter’s natural reluctance to meet the + major and his daughter after what had happened at the cottage, might + probably have been overcome. But Midwinter’s determination not to allow + Mr. Bashwood’s course of instruction to be interrupted was proof against + every effort that could be made to shake it. After exerting his influence + to the utmost, Allan was obliged to remain contented with a compromise. + Midwinter promised, not very willingly, to join the party toward evening, + at the place appointed for a gypsy tea-making, which was to close the + proceedings of the day. To this extent he would consent to take the + opportunity of placing himself on a friendly footing with the Milroys. + More he could not concede, even to Allan’s persuasion, and for more it + would be useless to ask. + </p> + <p> + The day of the picnic came. The lovely morning, and the cheerful bustle of + preparation for the expedition, failed entirely to tempt Midwinter into + altering his resolution. At the regular hour he left the breakfast-table + to join Mr. Bashwood in the steward’s office. The two were quietly + closeted over the books, at the back of the house, while the packing for + the picnic went on in front. Young Pedgift (short in stature, smart in + costume, and self-reliant in manner) arrived some little time before the + hour for starting, to revise all the arrangements, and to make any final + improvements which his local knowledge might suggest. Allan and he were + still busy in consultation when the first hitch occurred in the + proceedings. The woman-servant from the cottage was reported to be waiting + below for an answer to a note from her young mistress, which was placed in + Allan’s hands. + </p> + <p> + On this occasion Miss Milroy’s emotions had apparently got the better of + her sense of propriety. The tone of the letter was feverish, and the + handwriting wandered crookedly up and down in deplorable freedom from all + proper restraint. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Armadale” (wrote the major’s daughter), “such a misfortune! What + <i>are</i> we to do? Papa has got a letter from grandmamma this morning + about the new governess. Her reference has answered all the questions, and + she’s ready to come at the shortest notice. Grandmamma thinks (how + provoking!) the sooner the better; and she says we may expect her—I + mean the governess—either to-day or to-morrow. Papa says (he <i>will</i> + be so absurdly considerate to everybody!) that we can’t allow Miss Gwilt + to come here (if she comes to-day) and find nobody at home to receive her. + What is to be done? I am ready to cry with vexation. I have got the worst + possible impression (though grandmamma says she is a charming person) of + Miss Gwilt. <i>Can</i> you suggest something, dear Mr. Armadale? I’m sure + papa would give way if you could. Don’t stop to write; send me a message + back. I have got a new hat for the picnic; and oh, the agony of not + knowing whether I am to keep it on or take it off. Yours truly, E. M.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil take Miss Gwilt!” said Allan, staring at his legal adviser in a + state of helpless consternation. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, sir—I don’t wish to interfere,” remarked Pedgift + Junior. “May I ask what’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Allan told him. Mr. Pedgift the younger might have his faults, but a want + of quickness of resource was not among them. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a way out of the difficulty, Mr. Armadale,” he said. “If the + governess comes to-day, let’s have her at the picnic.” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “All the horses and carriages in the Thorpe Ambrose stables are not wanted + for this small party of ours,” proceeded Pedgift Junior. “Of course not! + Very good. If Miss Gwilt comes to-day, she can’t possibly get here before + five o’clock. Good again. You order an open carriage to be waiting at the + major’s door at that time, Mr. Armadale, and I’ll give the man his + directions where to drive to. When the governess comes to the cottage, let + her find a nice little note of apology (along with the cold fowl, or + whatever else they give her after her journey) begging her to join us at + the picnic, and putting a carriage at her own sole disposal to take her + there. Gad, sir!” said young Pedgift, gayly, “she <i>must</i> be a Touchy + One if she thinks herself neglected after that!” + </p> + <p> + “Capital!” cried Allan. “She shall have every attention. I’ll give her the + pony-chaise and the white harness, and she shall drive herself, if she + likes.” + </p> + <p> + He scribbled a line to relieve Miss Milroy’s apprehensions, and gave the + necessary orders for the pony-chaise. Ten minutes later, the carriages for + the pleasure party were at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now we’ve taken all this trouble about her,” said Allan, reverting to the + governess as they left the house, “I wonder, if she does come to-day, + whether we shall see her at the picnic!” + </p> + <p> + “Depends, entirely on her age, sir,” remarked young Pedgift, pronouncing + judgment with the happy confidence in himself which eminently + distinguished him. “If she’s an old one, she’ll be knocked up with the + journey, and she’ll stick to the cold fowl and the cottage. If she’s a + young one, either I know nothing of women, or the pony in the white + harness will bring her to the picnic.” + </p> + <p> + They started for the major’s cottage. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0022" id="H2_4_0022"></a> VIII. THE NORFOLK BROADS. + </h2> + <p> + The little group gathered together in Major Milroy’s parlor to wait for + the carriages from Thorpe Ambrose would hardly have conveyed the idea, to + any previously uninstructed person introduced among them, of a party + assembled in expectation of a picnic. They were almost dull enough, as far + as outward appearances went, to have been a party assembled in expectation + of a marriage. + </p> + <p> + Even Miss Milroy herself, though conscious, of looking her best in her + bright muslin dress and her gayly feathered new hat, was at this + inauspicious moment Miss Milroy under a cloud. Although Allan’s note had + assured her, in Allan’s strongest language, that the one great object of + reconciling the governess’s arrival with the celebration of the picnic was + an object achieved, the doubt still remained whether the plan proposed—whatever + it might be—would meet with her father’s approval. In a word, Miss + Milroy declined to feel sure of her day’s pleasure until the carriage made + its appearance and took her from the door. The major, on his side, arrayed + for the festive occasion in a tight blue frock-coat which he had not worn + for years, and threatened with a whole long day of separation from his old + friend and comrade the clock, was a man out of his element, if ever such a + man existed yet. As for the friends who had been asked at Allan’s request—the + widow lady (otherwise Mrs. Pentecost) and her son (the Reverend Samuel) in + delicate health—two people less capable, apparently of adding to the + hilarity of the day could hardly have been discovered in the length and + breadth of all England. A young man who plays his part in society by + looking on in green spectacles, and listening with a sickly smile, may be + a prodigy of intellect and a mine of virtue, but he is hardly, perhaps, + the right sort of man to have at a picnic. An old lady afflicted with + deafness, whose one inexhaustible subject of interest is the subject of + her son, and who (on the happily rare occasions when that son opens his + lips) asks everybody eagerly, “What does my boy say?” is a person to be + pitied in respect of her infirmities, and a person to be admired in + respect of her maternal devotedness, but not a person, if the thing could + possibly be avoided, to take to a picnic. Such a man, nevertheless, was + the Reverend Samuel Pentecost, and such a woman was the Reverend Samuel’s + mother; and in the dearth of any other producible guests, there they were, + engaged to eat, drink, and be merry for the day at Mr. Armadale’s pleasure + party to the Norfolk Broads. + </p> + <p> + The arrival of Allan, with his faithful follower, Pedgift Junior, at his + heels, roused the flagging spirits of the party at the cottage. The plan + for enabling the governess to join the picnic, if she arrived that day, + satisfied even Major Milroy’s anxiety to show all proper attention to the + lady who was coming into his house. After writing the necessary note of + apology and invitation, and addressing it in her very best handwriting to + the new governess, Miss Milroy ran upstairs to say good-by to her mother, + and returned with a smiling face and a side look of relief directed at her + father, to announce that there was nothing now to keep any of them a + moment longer indoors. The company at once directed their steps to the + garden gate, and were there met face to face by the second great + difficulty of the day. How were the six persons of the picnic to be + divided between the two open carriages that were in waiting for them? + </p> + <p> + Here, again, Pedgift Junior exhibited his invaluable faculty of + contrivance. This highly cultivated young man possessed in an eminent + degree an accomplishment more or less peculiar to all the young men of the + age we live in: he was perfectly capable of taking his pleasure without + forgetting his business. Such a client as the Master of Thorpe Ambrose + fell but seldom in his father’s way, and to pay special but unobtrusive + attention to Allan all through the day was the business of which young + Pedgift, while proving himself to be the life and soul of the picnic, + never once lost sight from the beginning of the merry-making to the end. + He had detected the state of affairs between Miss Milroy and Allan at + glance, and he at once provided for his client’s inclinations in that + quarter by offering, in virtue of his local knowledge, to lead the way in + the first carriage, and by asking Major Milroy and the curate if they + would do him the honor of accompanying him. + </p> + <p> + “We shall pass a very interesting place to a military man, sir,” said + young Pedgift, addressing the major, with his happy and unblushing + confidence—“the remains of a Roman encampment. And my father, sir, + who is a subscriber,” proceeded this rising lawyer, turning to the curate, + “wished me to ask your opinion of the new Infant School buildings at + Little Gill Beck. Would you kindly give it me as we go along?” He opened + the carriage door, and helped in the major and the curate before they + could either of them start any difficulties. The necessary result + followed. Allan and Miss Milroy rode together in the same carriage, with + the extra convenience of a deaf old lady in attendance to keep the + squire’s compliments within the necessary limits. + </p> + <p> + Never yet had Allan enjoyed such an interview with Miss Milroy as the + interview he now obtained on the road to the Broads. + </p> + <p> + The dear old lady, after a little anecdote or two on the subject of her + son, did the one thing wanting to secure the perfect felicity of her two + youthful companions: she became considerately blind for the occasion, as + well as deaf. A quarter of an hour after the carriage left the major’s + cottage, the poor old soul, reposing on snug cushions, and fanned by a + fine summer air, fell peaceably asleep. Allan made love, and Miss Milroy + sanctioned the manufacture of that occasionally precious article of human + commerce, sublimely indifferent on both sides to a solemn bass + accompaniment on two notes, played by the curate’s mother’s unsuspecting + nose. The only interruption to the love-making (the snoring, being a thing + more grave and permanent in its nature, was not interrupted at all) came + at intervals from the carriage ahead. Not satisfied with having the + major’s Roman encampment and the curate’s Infant Schools on his mind, + Pedgift Junior rose erect from time to time in his place, and, + respectfully hailing the hindmost vehicle, directed Allan’s attention, in + a shrill tenor voice, and with an excellent choice of language, to objects + of interest on the road. The only way to quiet him was to answer, which + Allan invariably did by shouting back, “Yes, beautiful,” upon which young + Pedgift disappeared again in the recesses of the leading carriage, and + took up the Romans and the Infants where he had left them last. + </p> + <p> + The scene through which the picnic party was now passing merited far more + attention than it received either from Allan or Allan’s friends. + </p> + <p> + An hour’s steady driving from the major’s cottage had taken young Armadale + and his guests beyond the limits of Midwinter’s solitary walk, and was now + bringing them nearer and nearer to one of the strangest and loveliest + aspects of nature which the inland landscape, not of Norfolk only, but of + all England, can show. Little by little the face of the country began to + change as the carriages approached the remote and lonely district of the + Broads. The wheat fields and turnip fields became perceptibly fewer, and + the fat green grazing grounds on either side grew wider and wider in their + smooth and sweeping range. Heaps of dry rushes and reeds, laid up for the + basket-maker and the thatcher, began to appear at the road-side. The old + gabled cottages of the early part of the drive dwindled and disappeared, + and huts with mud walls rose in their place. With the ancient church + towers and the wind and water mills, which had hitherto been the only + lofty objects seen over the low marshy flat, there now rose all round the + horizon, gliding slow and distant behind fringes of pollard willows, the + sails of invisible boats moving on invisible waters. All the strange and + startling anomalies presented by an inland agricultural district, isolated + from other districts by its intricate surrounding network of pools and + streams—holding its communications and carrying its produce by water + instead of by land—began to present themselves in closer and closer + succession. Nets appeared on cottage pailings; little flat-bottomed boats + lay strangely at rest among the flowers in cottage gardens; farmers’ men + passed to and fro clad in composite costume of the coast and the field, in + sailors’ hats, and fishermen’s boots, and plowmen’s smocks; and even yet + the low-lying labyrinth of waters, embosomed in its mystery of solitude, + was a hidden labyrinth still. A minute more, and the carriages took a + sudden turn from the hard high-road into a little weedy lane. The wheels + ran noiseless on the damp and spongy ground. A lonely outlying cottage + appeared with its litter of nets and boats. A few yards further on, and + the last morsel of firm earth suddenly ended in a tiny creek and quay. One + turn more to the end of the quay—and there, spreading its great + sheet of water, far and bright and smooth, on the right hand and the left—there, + as pure in its spotless blue, as still in its heavenly peacefulness, as + the summer sky above it, was the first of the Norfolk Broads. + </p> + <p> + The carriages stopped, the love-making broke off, and the venerable Mrs. + Pentecost, recovering the use of her senses at a moment’s notice, fixed + her eyes sternly on Allan the instant she woke. + </p> + <p> + “I see in your face, Mr. Armadale,” said the old lady, sharply, “that you + think I have been asleep.” + </p> + <p> + The consciousness of guilt acts differently on the two sexes. In nine + cases out of ten, it is a much more manageable consciousness with a woman + than with a man. All the confusion, on this occasion, was on the man’s + side. While Allan reddened and looked embarrassed, the quick-witted Miss + Milroy instantly embraced the old lady with a burst of innocent laughter. + “He is quite incapable, dear Mrs. Pentecost,” said the little hypocrite, + “of anything so ridiculous as thinking you have been asleep!” + </p> + <p> + “All I wish Mr. Armadale to know,” pursued the old lady, still suspicious + of Allan, “is, that my head being giddy, I am obliged to close my eyes in + a carriage. Closing the eyes, Mr. Armadale, is one thing, and going to + sleep is another. Where is my son?” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Samuel appeared silently at the carriage door, and assisted + his mother to get out (“Did you enjoy the drive, Sammy?” asked the old + lady. “Beautiful scenery, my dear, wasn’t it?”) Young Pedgift, on whom the + arrangements for exploring the Broads devolved, hustled about, giving his + orders to the boatman. Major Milroy, placid and patient, sat apart on an + overturned punt, and privately looked at his watch. Was it past noon + already? More than an hour past. For the first time, for many a long year, + the famous clock at home had struck in an empty workshop. Time had lifted + his wonderful scythe, and the corporal and his men had relieved guard, + with no master’s eye to watch their performances, with no master’s hand to + encourage them to do their best. The major sighed as he put his watch back + in his pocket. “I’m afraid I’m too old for this sort of thing,” thought + the good man, looking about him dreamily. “I don’t find I enjoy it as much + as I thought I should. When are we going on the water, I wonder? Where’s + Neelie?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie—more properly Miss Milroy—was behind one of the + carriages with the promoter of the picnic. They were immersed in the + interesting subject of their own Christian names, and Allan was as near a + pointblank proposal of marriage as it is well possible for a thoughtless + young gentleman of two-and-twenty to be. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the truth,” said Miss Milroy, with her eyes modestly riveted on + the ground. “When you first knew what my name was, you didn’t like it, did + you?” + </p> + <p> + “I like everything that belongs to you,” rejoined Allan, vigorously. “I + think Eleanor is a beautiful name; and yet, I don’t know why, I think the + major made an improvement when he changed it to Neelie.” + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you why, Mr. Armadale,” said the major’s daughter, with great + gravity. “There are some unfortunate people in this world whose names are—how + can I express it?—whose names are misfits. Mine is a misfit. I don’t + blame my parents, for of course it was impossible to know when I was a + baby how I should grow up. But as things are, I and my name don’t fit each + other. When you hear a young lady called Eleanor, you think of a tall, + beautiful, interesting creature directly—the very opposite of <i>me</i>! + With my personal appearance, Eleanor sounds ridiculous; and Neelie, as you + yourself remarked, is just the thing. No! no! don’t say any more; I’m + tired of the subject. I’ve got another name in my head, if we must speak + of names, which is much better worth talking about than mine.” + </p> + <p> + She stole a glance at her companion which said plainly enough, “The name + is yours.” Allan advanced a step nearer to her, and lowered his voice, + without the slightest necessity, to a mysterious whisper. Miss Milroy + instantly resumed her investigation of the ground. She looked at it with + such extraordinary interest that a geologist might have suspected her of + scientific flirtation with the superficial strata. + </p> + <p> + “What name are you thinking of?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy addressed her answer, in the form of a remark, to the + superficial strata—and let them do what they liked with it, in their + capacity of conductors of sound. “If I had been a man,” she said, “I + should so like to have been called Allan!” + </p> + <p> + She felt his eyes on her as she spoke, and, turning her head aside, became + absorbed in the graining of the panel at the back of the carriage. “How + beautiful it is!” she exclaimed, with a sudden outburst of interest in the + vast subject of varnish. “I wonder how they do it?” + </p> + <p> + Man persists, and woman yields. Allan declined to shift the ground from + love-making to coach-making. Miss Milroy dropped the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Call me by my name, if you really like it,” he whispered, persuasively. + “Call me ‘Allan’ for once; just to try.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated with a heightened color and a charming smile, and shook her + head. “I couldn’t just yet,” she answered, softly. + </p> + <p> + “May I call you Neelie? Is it too soon?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again, with a sudden disturbance about the bosom of her + dress, and a sudden flash of tenderness in her dark-gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You know best,” she said, faintly, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The inevitable answer was on the tip of Allan’s tongue. At the very + instant, however, when he opened his lips, the abhorrent high tenor of + Pedgift Junior, shouting for “Mr. Armadale,” rang cheerfully through the + quiet air. At the same moment, from the other side of the carriage, the + lurid spectacles of the Reverend Samuel showed themselves officiously on + the search; and the voice of the Reverend Samuel’s mother (who had, with + great dexterity, put the two ideas of the presence of water and a sudden + movement among the company together) inquired distractedly if anybody was + drowned? Sentiment flies and Love shudders at all demonstrations of the + noisy kind. Allan said: “Damn it,” and rejoined young Pedgift. Miss Milroy + sighed, and took refuge with her father. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done it, Mr. Armadale!” cried young Pedgift, greeting his patron + gayly. “We can all go on the water together; I’ve got the biggest boat on + the Broads. The little skiffs,” he added, in a lower tone, as he led the + way to the quay steps, “besides being ticklish and easily upset, won’t + hold more than two, with the boatman; and the major told me he should feel + it his duty to go with his daughter, if we all separated in different + boats. I thought <i>that</i> would hardly do, sir,” pursued Pedgift + Junior, with a respectfully sly emphasis on the words. “And, besides, if + we had put the old lady into a skiff, with her weight (sixteen stone if + she’s a pound), we might have had her upside down in the water half her + time, which would have occasioned delay, and thrown what you call a damp + on the proceedings. Here’s the boat, Mr. Armadale. What do you think of + it?” + </p> + <p> + The boat added one more to the strangely anomalous objects which appeared + at the Broads. It was nothing less than a stout old lifeboat, passing its + last declining years on the smooth fresh water, after the stormy days of + its youth time on the wild salt sea. A comfortable little cabin for the + use of fowlers in the winter season had been built amidships, and a mast + and sail adapted for inland navigation had been fitted forward. There was + room enough and to spare for the guests, the dinner, and the three men in + charge. Allan clapped his faithful lieutenant approvingly on the shoulder; + and even Mrs. Pentecost, when the whole party were comfortably established + on board, took a comparatively cheerful view of the prospects of the + picnic. “If anything happens,” said the old lady, addressing the company + generally, “there’s one comfort for all of us. My son can swim.” + </p> + <p> + The boat floated out from the creek into the placid waters of the Broad, + and the full beauty of the scene opened on the view. + </p> + <p> + On the northward and westward, as the boat reached the middle of the lake, + the shore lay clear and low in the sunshine, fringed darkly at certain + points by rows of dwarf trees; and dotted here and there, in the opener + spaces, with windmills and reed-thatched cottages, of puddled mud. + Southward, the great sheet of water narrowed gradually to a little group + of close-nestling islands which closed the prospect; while to the east a + long, gently undulating line of reeds followed the windings of the Broad, + and shut out all view of the watery wastes beyond. So clear and so light + was the summer air that the one cloud in the eastern quarter of the heaven + was the smoke cloud left by a passing steamer three miles distant and more + on the invisible sea. When the voices of the pleasure party were still, + not a sound rose, far or near, but the faint ripple at the bows, as the + men, with slow, deliberate strokes of their long poles, pressed the boat + forward softly over the shallow water. The world and the world’s turmoil + seemed left behind forever on the land; the silence was the silence of + enchantment—the delicious interflow of the soft purity of the sky + and the bright tranquillity of the lake. + </p> + <p> + Established in perfect comfort in the boat—the major and his + daughter on one side, the curate and his mother on the other, and Allan + and young Pedgift between the two—the water party floated smoothly + toward the little nest of islands at the end of the Broad. Miss Milroy was + in raptures; Allan was delighted; and the major for once forgot his clock. + Every one felt pleasurably, in their different ways, the quiet and beauty + of the scene. Mrs. Pentecost, in her way, felt it like a clairvoyant—with + closed eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Look behind you, Mr. Armadale,” whispered young Pedgift. “I think the + parson’s beginning to enjoy himself.” + </p> + <p> + An unwonted briskness—portentous apparently of coming speech—did + certainly at that moment enliven the curate’s manner. He jerked his head + from side to side like a bird; he cleared his throat, and clasped his + hands, and looked with a gentle interest at the company. Getting into + spirits seemed, in the case of this excellent person, to be alarmingly + like getting into the pulpit. + </p> + <p> + “Even in this scene of tranquillity,” said the Reverend Samuel, coming out + softly with his first contribution to the society in the shape of a + remark, “the Christian mind—led, so to speak, from one extreme to + another—is forcibly recalled to the unstable nature of all earthly + enjoyments. How if this calm should not last? How if the winds rose and + the waters became agitated?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t alarm yourself about that, sir,” said young Pedgift; “June’s + the fine season here—and you can swim.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pentecost (mesmerically affected, in all probability, by the near + neighborhood of her son) opened her eyes suddenly and asked, with her + customary eagerness. “What does my boy say?” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Samuel repeated his words in the key that suited his mother’s + infirmity. The old lady nodded in high approval, and pursued her son’s + train of thought through the medium of a quotation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed Mrs. Pentecost, with infinite relish, “He rides the + whirlwind, Sammy, and directs the storm!” + </p> + <p> + “Noble words!” said the Reverend Samuel. “Noble and consoling words!” + </p> + <p> + “I say,” whispered Allan, “if he goes on much longer in that way, what’s + to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, papa, it was a risk to ask them,” added Miss Milroy, in + another whisper. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” remonstrated the major. “We knew nobody else in the + neighborhood, and, as Mr. Armadale kindly suggested our bringing our + friends, what could we do?” + </p> + <p> + “We can’t upset the boat,” remarked young Pedgift, with sardonic gravity. + “It’s a lifeboat, unfortunately. May I venture to suggest putting + something into the reverend gentleman’s mouth, Mr. Armadale? It’s close on + three o’clock. What do you say to ringing the dinner-bell, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Never was the right man more entirely in the right place than Pedgift + Junior at the picnic. In ten minutes more the boat was brought to a + stand-still among the reeds; the Thorpe Ambrose hampers were unpacked on + the roof of the cabin; and the current of the curate’s eloquence was + checked for the day. + </p> + <p> + How inestimably important in its moral results—and therefore how + praiseworthy in itself—is the act of eating and drinking! The social + virtues center in the stomach. A man who is not a better husband, father, + and brother after dinner than before is, digestively speaking, an + incurably vicious man. What hidden charms of character disclose + themselves, what dormant amiabilities awaken, when our common humanity + gathers together to pour out the gastric juice! At the opening of the + hampers from Thorpe Ambrose, sweet Sociability (offspring of the happy + union of Civilization and Mrs. Gripper) exhaled among the boating party, + and melted in one friendly fusion the discordant elements of which that + party had hitherto been composed. Now did the Reverend Samuel Pentecost, + whose light had hitherto been hidden under a bushel, prove at last that he + could do something by proving that he could eat. Now did Pedgift Junior + shine brighter than ever he had shone yet in gems of caustic humor and + exquisite fertilities of resource. Now did the squire, and the squire’s + charming guest, prove the triple connection between Champagne that + sparkles, Love that grows bolder, and Eyes whose vocabulary is without the + word No. Now did cheerful old times come back to the major’s memory, and + cheerful old stories not told for years find their way to the major’s + lips. And now did Mrs. Pentecost, coming out wakefully in the whole force + of her estimable maternal character, seize on a supplementary fork, and + ply that useful instrument incessantly between the choicest morsels in the + whole round of dishes, and the few vacant places left available on the + Reverend Samuel’s plate. “Don’t laugh at my son,” cried the old lady, + observing the merriment which her proceedings produced among the company. + “It’s my fault, poor dear—<i>I</i> make him eat!” And there are men + in this world who, seeing virtues such as these developed at the table, as + they are developed nowhere else, can, nevertheless, rank the glorious + privilege of dining with the smallest of the diurnal personal worries + which necessity imposes on mankind—with buttoning your waistcoat, + for example, or lacing your stays! Trust no such monster as this with your + tender secrets, your loves and hatreds, your hopes and fears. His heart is + uncorrected by his stomach, and the social virtues are not in him. + </p> + <p> + The last mellow hours of the day and the first cool breezes of the long + summer evening had met before the dishes were all laid waste, and the + bottles as empty as bottles should be. This point in the proceedings + attained, the picnic party looked lazily at Pedgift Junior to know what + was to be done next. That inexhaustible functionary was equal as ever to + all the calls on him. He had a new amusement ready before the quickest of + the company could so much as ask him what that amusement was to be. + </p> + <p> + “Fond of music on the water, Miss Milroy?” he asked, in his airiest and + pleasantest manner. + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy adored music, both on the water and the land—always + excepting the one case when she was practicing the art herself on the + piano at home. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll get out of the reeds first,” said young Pedgift. He gave his orders + to the boatmen, dived briskly into the little cabin, and reappeared with a + concertina in his hand. “Neat, Miss Milroy, isn’t it?” he observed, + pointing to his initials, inlaid on the instrument in mother-of-pearl. “My + name’s Augustus, like my father’s. Some of my friends knock off the ‘A,’ + and call me ‘Gustus Junior.’ A small joke goes a long way among friends, + doesn’t it, Mr. Armadale? I sing a little to my own accompaniment, ladies + and gentlemen; and, if quite agreeable, I shall be proud and happy to do + my best.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Mrs. Pentecost; “I dote on music.” + </p> + <p> + With this formidable announcement, the old lady opened a prodigious + leather bag, from which she never parted night or day, and took out an + ear-trumpet of the old-fashioned kind—something between a key-bugle + and a French horn. “I don’t care to use the thing generally,” explained + Mrs. Pentecost, “because I’m afraid of its making me deafer than ever. But + I can’t and won’t miss the music. I dote on music. If you’ll hold the + other end, Sammy, I’ll stick it in my ear. Neelie, my dear, tell him to + begin.” + </p> + <p> + Young Pedgift was troubled with no nervous hesitation. He began at once, + not with songs of the light and modern kind, such as might have been + expected from an amateur of his age and character, but with declamatory + and patriotic bursts of poetry, set to the bold and blatant music which + the people of England loved dearly at the earlier part of the present + century, and which, whenever they can get it, they love dearly still. “The + Death of Marmion,” “The Battle of the Baltic,” “The Bay of Biscay,” + “Nelson,” under various vocal aspects, as exhibited by the late Braham—these + were the songs in which the roaring concertina and strident tenor of + Gustus Junior exulted together. “Tell me when you’re tired, ladies and + gentlemen,” said the minstrel solicitor. “There’s no conceit about <i>me</i>. + Will you have a little sentiment by way of variety? Shall I wind up with + ‘The Mistletoe Bough’ and ‘Poor Mary Anne’?” + </p> + <p> + Having favored his audience with those two cheerful melodies, young + Pedgift respectfully requested the rest of the company to follow his vocal + example in turn, offering, in every case, to play “a running + accompaniment” impromptu, if the singer would only be so obliging as to + favor him with the key-note. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, somebody!” cried Mrs. Pentecost, eagerly. “I tell you again, I + dote on music. We haven’t had half enough yet, have we, Sammy?” + </p> + <p> + The Reverend Samuel made no reply. The unhappy man had reasons of his own—not + exactly in his bosom, but a little lower—for remaining silent, in + the midst of the general hilarity and the general applause. Alas for + humanity! Even maternal love is alloyed with mortal fallibility. Owing + much already to his excellent mother, the Reverend Samuel was now + additionally indebted to her for a smart indigestion. + </p> + <p> + Nobody, however, noticed as yet the signs and tokens of internal + revolution in the curate’s face. Everybody was occupied in entreating + everybody else to sing. Miss Milroy appealed to the founder of the feast. + “Do sing something, Mr. Armadale,” she said; “I should so like to hear + you!” + </p> + <p> + “If you once begin, sir,” added the cheerful Pedgift, “you’ll find it get + uncommonly easy as you go on. Music is a science which requires to be + taken by the throat at starting.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” said Allan, in his good-humored way. “I know lots of + tunes, but the worst of it is, the words escape me. I wonder if I can + remember one of Moore’s Melodies? My poor mother used to be fond of + teaching me Moore’s Melodies when I was a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose melodies?” asked Mrs. Pentecost. “Moore’s? Aha! I know Tom Moore by + heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps in that case you will be good enough to help me, ma’am, if my + memory breaks down,” rejoined Allan. “I’ll take the easiest melody in the + whole collection, if you’ll allow me. Everybody knows it—‘Eveleen’s + Bower.’” + </p> + <p> + “I’m familiar, in a general sort of way, with the national melodies of + England, Scotland, and Ireland,” said Pedgift Junior. “I’ll accompany you, + sir, with the greatest pleasure. This is the sort of thing, I think.” He + seated himself cross-legged on the roof of the cabin, and burst into a + complicated musical improvisation wonderful to hear—a mixture of + instrumental flourishes and groans; a jig corrected by a dirge, and a + dirge enlivened by a jig. “That’s the sort of thing,” said young Pedgift, + with his smile of supreme confidence. “Fire away, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pentecost elevated her trumpet, and Allan elevated his voice. “Oh, + weep for the hour when to Eveleen’s Bower—” He stopped; the + accompaniment stopped; the audience waited. “It’s a most extraordinary + thing,” said Allan; “I thought I had the next line on the tip of my + tongue, and it seems to have escaped me. I’ll begin again, if you have no + objection. ‘Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen’s Bower—‘” + </p> + <p> + “‘The lord of the valley with false vows came,’” said Mrs. Pentecost. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma’am,” said Allan. “Now I shall get on smoothly. ‘Oh, weep + for the hour when to Eveleen’s Bower, the lord of the valley with false + vows came. The moon was shining bright—‘” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Mrs. Pentecost. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” remonstrated Allan. “‘The moon was shining + bright—‘” + </p> + <p> + “The moon wasn’t doing anything of the kind,” said Mrs. Pentecost. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior, foreseeing a dispute, persevered <i>sotto voce</i> with + the accompaniment, in the interests of harmony. + </p> + <p> + “Moore’s own words, ma’am,” said Allan, “in my mother’s copy of the + Melodies.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother’s copy was wrong,” retorted Mrs. Pentecost. “Didn’t I tell + you just now that I knew Tom Moore by heart?” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior’s peace-making concertina still flourished and groaned in + the minor key. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what <i>did</i> the moon do?” asked Allan, in despair. + </p> + <p> + “What the moon <i>ought</i> to have done, sir, or Tom Moore wouldn’t have + written it so,” rejoined Mrs. Pentecost. “‘The moon hid her light from the + heaven that night, and wept behind her clouds o’er the maiden’s shame!’ I + wish that young man would leave off playing,” added Mrs. Pentecost, + venting her rising irritation on Gustus Junior. “I’ve had enough of him—he + tickles my ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Proud, I’m sure, ma’am,” said the unblushing Pedgift. “The whole science + of music consists in tickling the ears.” + </p> + <p> + “We seem to be drifting into a sort of argument,” remarked Major Milroy, + placidly. “Wouldn’t it be better if Mr. Armadale went on with his song?” + </p> + <p> + “Do go on, Mr. Armadale!” added the major’s daughter. “Do go on, Mr. + Pedgift!” + </p> + <p> + “One of them doesn’t know the words, and the other doesn’t know the + music,” said Mrs. Pentecost. “Let them go on if they can!” + </p> + <p> + “Sorry to disappoint you, ma’am,” said Pedgift Junior; “I’m ready to go on + myself to any extent. Now, Mr. Armadale!” + </p> + <p> + Allan opened his lips to take up the unfinished melody where he had last + left it. Before he could utter a note, the curate suddenly rose, with a + ghastly face, and a hand pressed convulsively over the middle region of + his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” cried the whole boating party in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “I am exceedingly unwell,” said the Reverend Samuel Pentecost. The boat + was instantly in a state of confusion. “Eveleen’s Bower” expired on + Allan’s lips, and even the irrepressible concertina of Pedgift was + silenced at last. The alarm proved to be quite needless. Mrs. Pentecost’s + son possessed a mother, and that mother had a bag. In two seconds the art + of medicine occupied the place left vacant in the attention of the company + by the art of music. + </p> + <p> + “Rub it gently, Sammy,” said Mrs. Pentecost. “I’ll get out the bottles and + give you a dose. It’s his poor stomach, major. Hold my trumpet, somebody—and + stop the boat. You take that bottle, Neelie, my dear; and you take this + one, Mr. Armadale; and give them to me as I want them. Ah, poor dear, I + know what’s the matter with him! Want of power <i>here</i>, major—cold, + acid, and flabby. Ginger to warm him; soda to correct him; sal volatile to + hold him up. There, Sammy! drink it before it settles; and then go and lie + down, my dear, in that dog-kennel of a place they call the cabin. No more + music!” added Mrs. Pentecost, shaking her forefinger at the proprietor of + the concertina—“unless it’s a hymn, and that I don’t object to.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody appearing to be in a fit frame of mind for singing a hymn, the + all-accomplished Pedgift drew upon his stores of local knowledge, and + produced a new idea. The course of the boat was immediately changed under + his direction. In a few minutes more, the company found themselves in a + little island creek, with a lonely cottage at the far end of it, and a + perfect forest of reeds closing the view all round them. “What do you say, + ladies and gentlemen, to stepping on shore and seeing what a reed-cutter’s + cottage looks like?” suggested young Pedgift. + </p> + <p> + “We say yes, to be sure,” answered Allan. “I think our spirits have been a + little dashed by Mr. Pentecost’s illness and Mrs. Pentecost’s bag,” he + added, in a whisper to Miss Milroy. “A change of this sort is the very + thing we want to set us all going again.” + </p> + <p> + He and young Pedgift handed Miss Milroy out of the boat. The major + followed. Mrs. Pentecost sat immovable as the Egyptian Sphinx, with her + bag on her knees, mounting guard over “Sammy” in the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “We must keep the fun going, sir,” said Allan, as he helped the major over + the side of the boat. “We haven’t half done yet with the enjoyment of the + day.” + </p> + <p> + His voice seconded his hearty belief in his own prediction to such good + purpose that even Mrs. Pentecost heard him, and ominously shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed the curate’s mother, “if you were as old as I am, young + gentleman, you wouldn’t feel quite so sure of the enjoyment of the day!” + </p> + <p> + So, in rebuke of the rashness of youth, spoke the caution of age. The + negative view is notoriously the safe view, all the world over, and the + Pentecost philosophy is, as a necessary consequence, generally in the + right. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0023" id="H2_4_0023"></a> IX. FATE OR CHANCE? + </h2> + <p> + It was close on six o’clock when Allan and his friends left the boat, and + the evening influence was creeping already, in its mystery and its + stillness, over the watery solitude of the Broads. + </p> + <p> + The shore in these wild regions was not like the shore elsewhere. Firm as + it looked, the garden ground in front of the reed-cutter’s cottage was + floating ground, that rose and fell and oozed into puddles under the + pressure of the foot. The boatmen who guided the visitors warned them to + keep to the path, and pointed through gaps in the reeds and pollards to + grassy places, on which strangers would have walked confidently, where the + crust of earth was not strong enough to bear the weight of a child over + the unfathomed depths of slime and water beneath. The solitary cottage, + built of planks pitched black, stood on ground that had been steadied and + strengthened by resting it on piles. A little wooden tower rose at one end + of the roof, and served as a lookout post in the fowling season. From this + elevation the eye ranged far and wide over a wilderness of winding water + and lonesome marsh. If the reed-cutter had lost his boat, he would have + been as completely isolated from all communication with town or village as + if his place of abode had been a light-vessel instead of a cottage. + Neither he nor his family complained of their solitude, or looked in any + way the rougher or the worse for it. His wife received the visitors + hospitably, in a snug little room, with a raftered ceiling, and windows + which looked like windows in a cabin on board ship. His wife’s father told + stories of the famous days when the smugglers came up from the sea at + night, rowing through the net-work of rivers with muffled oars till they + gained the lonely Broads, and sank their spirit casks in the water, far + from the coast-guard’s reach. His wild little children played at + hide-and-seek with the visitors; and the visitors ranged in and out of the + cottage, and round and round the morsel of firm earth on which it stood, + surprised and delighted by the novelty of all they saw. The one person who + noticed the advance of the evening—the one person who thought of the + flying time and the stationary Pentecosts in the boat—was young + Pedgift. That experienced pilot of the Broads looked askance at his watch, + and drew Allan aside at the first opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t wish to hurry you, Mr. Armadale,” said Pedgift Junior; “but the + time is getting on, and there’s a lady in the case.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady?” repeated Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” rejoined young Pedgift. “A lady from London; connected (if + you’ll allow me to jog your memory) with a pony-chaise and white harness.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, the governess!” cried Allan. “Why, we have forgotten all + about her!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be alarmed, sir; there’s plenty of time, if we only get into the + boat again. This is how it stands, Mr. Armadale. We settled, if you + remember, to have the gypsy tea-making at the next ‘Broad’ to this—Hurle + Mere?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Allan. “Hurle Mere is the place where my friend + Midwinter has promised to come and meet us.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurle Mere is where the governess will be, sir, if your coachman follows + my directions,” pursued young Pedgift. “We have got nearly an hour’s + punting to do, along the twists and turns of the narrow waters (which they + call The Sounds here) between this and Hurle Mere; and according to my + calculations we must get on board again in five minutes, if we are to be + in time to meet the governess and to meet your friend.” + </p> + <p> + “We mustn’t miss my friend on any account,” said Allan; “or the governess, + either, of course. I’ll tell the major.” + </p> + <p> + Major Milroy was at that moment preparing to mount the wooden watch-tower + of the cottage to see the view. The ever useful Pedgift volunteered to go + up with him, and rattle off all the necessary local explanations in half + the time which the reed-cutter would occupy in describing his own + neighborhood to a stranger. + </p> + <p> + Allan remained standing in front of the cottage, more quiet and more + thoughtful than usual. His interview with young Pedgift had brought his + absent friend to his memory for the first time since the picnic party had + started. He was surprised that Midwinter, so much in his thoughts on all + other occasions, should have been so long out of his thoughts now. + Something troubled him, like a sense of self-reproach, as his mind + reverted to the faithful friend at home, toiling hard over the steward’s + books, in his interests and for his sake. “Dear old fellow,” thought + Allan, “I shall be so glad to see him at the Mere; the day’s pleasure + won’t be complete till he joins us!” + </p> + <p> + “Should I be right or wrong, Mr. Armadale, if I guessed that you were + thinking of somebody?” asked a voice, softly, behind him. + </p> + <p> + Allan turned, and found the major’s daughter at his side. Miss Milroy (not + unmindful of a certain tender interview which had taken place behind a + carriage) had noticed her admirer standing thoughtfully by himself, and + had determined on giving him another opportunity, while her father and + young Pedgift were at the top of the watch-tower. + </p> + <p> + “You know everything,” said Allan, smiling. “I <i>was</i> thinking of + somebody.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy stole a glance at him—a glance of gentle encouragement. + There could be but one human creature in Mr. Armadale’s mind after what + had passed between them that morning! It would be only an act of mercy to + take him back again at once to the interrupted conversation of a few hours + since on the subject of names. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking of somebody, too,” she said, half-inviting, + half-repelling the coming avowal. “If I tell you the first letter of my + Somebody’s name, will you tell me the first letter of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you anything you like,” rejoined Allan, with the utmost + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + She still shrank coquettishly from the very subject that she wanted to + approach. “Tell me your letter first,” she said, in low tones, looking + away from him. + </p> + <p> + Allan laughed. “M,” he said, “is my first letter.” + </p> + <p> + She started a little. Strange that he should be thinking of her by her + surname instead of her Christian name; but it mattered little as long as + he <i>was</i> thinking of her. + </p> + <p> + “What is your letter?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + She blushed and smiled. “A—if you will have it!” she answered, in a + reluctant little whisper. She stole another look at him, and luxuriously + protracted her enjoyment of the coming avowal once more. “How many + syllables is the name in?” she asked, drawing patterns shyly on the ground + with the end of the parasol. + </p> + <p> + No man with the slightest knowledge of the sex would have been rash + enough, in Allan’s position, to tell her the truth. Allan, who knew + nothing whatever of woman’s natures, and who told the truth right and left + in all mortal emergencies, answered as if he had been under examination in + a court of justice. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a name in three syllables,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Miss Milroy’s downcast eyes flashed up at him like lightning. “Three!” she + repeated in the blankest astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Allan was too inveterately straightforward to take the warning even now. + “I’m not strong at my spelling, I know,” he said, with his lighthearted + laugh. “But I don’t think I’m wrong, in calling Midwinter a name in three + syllables. I was thinking of my friend; but never mind my thoughts. Tell + me who A is—tell me whom <i>you</i> were thinking of?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the first letter of the alphabet, Mr. Armadale, and I beg positively + to inform you of nothing more!” + </p> + <p> + With that annihilating answer the major’s daughter put up her parasol and + walked back by herself to the boat. + </p> + <p> + Allan stood petrified with amazement. If Miss Milroy had actually boxed + his ears (and there is no denying that she had privately longed to devote + her hand to that purpose), he could hardly have felt more bewildered than + he felt now. “What on earth have I done?” he asked himself, helplessly, as + the major and young Pedgift joined him, and the three walked down together + to the water-side. “I wonder what she’ll say to me next?” + </p> + <p> + She said absolutely nothing; she never so much as looked at Allan when he + took his place in the boat. There she sat, with her eyes and her + complexion both much brighter than usual, taking the deepest interest in + the curate’s progress toward recovery; in the state of Mrs. Pentecost’s + spirits; in Pedgift Junior (for whom she ostentatiously made room enough + to let him sit beside her); in the scenery and the reed-cutter’s cottage; + in everybody and everything but Allan—whom she would have married + with the greatest pleasure five minutes since. “I’ll never forgive him,” + thought the major’s daughter. “To be thinking of that ill-bred wretch when + I was thinking of <i>him</i>; and to make me all but confess it before I + found him out! Thank Heaven, Mr. Pedgift is in the boat!” + </p> + <p> + In this frame of mind Miss Neelie applied herself forthwith to the + fascination of Pedgift and the discomfiture of Allan. “Oh, Mr. Pedgift, + how extremely clever and kind of you to think of showing us that sweet + cottage! Lonely, Mr. Armadale? I don’t think it’s lonely at all; I should + like of all things to live there. What would this picnic have been without + you, Mr. Pedgift; you can’t think how I have enjoyed it since we got into + the boat. Cool, Mr. Armadale? What can you possibly mean by saying it’s + cool; it’s the warmest evening we’ve had this summer. And the music, Mr. + Pedgift; how nice it was of you to bring your concertina! I wonder if I + could accompany you on the piano? I would so like to try. Oh, yes, Mr. + Armadale, no doubt you meant to do something musical, too, and I dare say + you sing very well when you know the words; but, to tell you the truth, I + always did, and always shall, hate Moore’s Melodies!” + </p> + <p> + Thus, with merciless dexterity of manipulation, did Miss Milroy work that + sharpest female weapon of offense, the tongue; and thus she would have + used it for some time longer, if Allan had only shown the necessary + jealousy, or if Pedgift had only afforded the necessary encouragement. But + adverse fortune had decreed that she should select for her victims two men + essentially unassailable under existing circumstances. Allan was too + innocent of all knowledge of female subtleties and susceptibilities to + understand anything, except that the charming Neelie was unreasonably out + of temper with him without the slightest cause. The wary Pedgift, as + became one of the quick-witted youth of the present generation, submitted + to female influence, with his eye fixed immovably all the time on his own + interests. Many a young man of the past generation, who was no fool, has + sacrificed everything for love. Not one young man in ten thousand of the + present generation, <i>except</i> the fools, has sacrificed a half-penny. + The daughters of Eve still inherit their mother’s merits and commit their + mother’s faults. But the sons of Adam, in these latter days, are men who + would have handed the famous apple back with a bow, and a “Thanks, no; it + might get me into a scrape.” When Allan—surprised and disappointed—moved + away out of Miss Milroy’s reach to the forward part of the boat, Pedgift + Junior rose and followed him. “You’re a very nice girl,” thought this + shrewdly sensible young man; “but a client’s a client; and I am sorry to + inform you, miss, it won’t do.” He set himself at once to rouse Allan’s + spirits by diverting his attention to a new subject. There was to be a + regatta that autumn on one of the Broads, and his client’s opinion as a + yachtsman might be valuable to the committee. “Something new, I should + think, to you, sir, in a sailing match on fresh water?” he said, in his + most ingratiatory manner. And Allan, instantly interested, answered, + “Quite new. Do tell me about it!” + </p> + <p> + As for the rest of the party at the other end of the boat, they were in a + fair way to confirm Mrs. Pentecost’s doubts whether the hilarity of the + picnic would last the day out. Poor Neelie’s natural feeling of irritation + under the disappointment which Allan’s awkwardness had inflicted on her + was now exasperated into silent and settled resentment by her own keen + sense of humiliation and defeat. The major had relapsed into his + habitually dreamy, absent manner; his mind was turning monotonously with + the wheels of his clock. The curate still secluded his indigestion from + public view in the innermost recesses of the cabin; and the curate’s + mother, with a second dose ready at a moment’s notice, sat on guard at the + door. Women of Mrs. Pentecost’s age and character generally enjoy their + own bad spirits. “This,” sighed the old lady, wagging her head with a + smile of sour satisfaction “is what you call a day’s pleasure, is it? Ah, + what fools we all were to leave our comfortable homes!” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the boat floated smoothly along the windings of the watery + labyrinth which lay between the two Broads. The view on either side was + now limited to nothing but interminable rows of reeds. Not a sound was + heard, far or near; not so much as a glimpse of cultivated or inhabited + land appeared anywhere. “A trifle dreary hereabouts, Mr. Armadale,” said + the ever-cheerful Pedgift. “But we are just out of it now. Look ahead, + sir! Here we are at Hurle Mere.” + </p> + <p> + The reeds opened back on the right hand and the left, and the boat glided + suddenly into the wide circle of a pool. Round the nearer half of the + circle, the eternal reeds still fringed the margin of the water. Round the + further half, the land appeared again, here rolling back from the pool in + desolate sand-hills, there rising above it in a sweep of grassy shore. At + one point the ground was occupied by a plantation, and at another by the + out-buildings of a lonely old red brick house, with a strip of by-road + near, that skirted the garden wall and ended at the pool. The sun was + sinking in the clear heaven, and the water, where the sun’s reflection + failed to tinge it, was beginning to look black and cold. The solitude + that had been soothing, the silence that had felt like an enchantment, on + the other Broad, in the day’s vigorous prime, was a solitude that saddened + here—a silence that struck cold, in the stillness and melancholy of + the day’s decline. + </p> + <p> + The course of the boat was directed across the Mere to a creek in the + grassy shore. One or two of the little flat-bottomed punts peculiar to the + Broads lay in the creek; and the reed cutters to whom the punts belonged, + surprised at the appearance of strangers, came out, staring silently, from + behind an angle of the old garden wall. Not another sign of life was + visible anywhere. No pony-chaise had been seen by the reed cutters; no + stranger, either man or woman, had approached the shores of Hurle Mere + that day. + </p> + <p> + Young Pedgift took another look at his watch, and addressed himself to + Miss Milroy. “You may, or may not, see the governess when you get back to + Thorpe Ambrose,” he said; “but, as the time stands now, you won’t see her + here. You know best, Mr. Armadale,” he added, turning to Allan, “whether + your friend is to be depended on to keep his appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “I am certain he is to be depended on,” replied Allan, looking about him—in + unconcealed disappointment at Midwinter’s absence. + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” pursued Pedgift Junior. “If we light the fire for our gypsy + tea-making on the open ground there, your friend may find us out, sir, by + the smoke. That’s the Indian dodge for picking up a lost man on the + prairie, Miss Milroy and it’s pretty nearly wild enough (isn’t it?) to be + a prairie here!” + </p> + <p> + There are some temptations—principally those of the smaller kind—which + it is not in the defensive capacity of female human nature to resist. The + temptation to direct the whole force of her influence, as the one young + lady of the party, toward the instant overthrow of Allan’s arrangement for + meeting his friend, was too much for the major’s daughter. She turned on + the smiling Pedgift with a look which ought to have overwhelmed him. But + who ever overwhelmed a solicitor? + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s the most lonely, dreary, hideous place I ever saw in my + life!” said Miss Neelie. “If you insist on making tea here, Mr. Pedgift, + don’t make any for me. No! I shall stop in the boat; and, though I am + absolutely dying with thirst, I shall touch nothing till we get back again + to the other Broad!” + </p> + <p> + The major opened his lips to remonstrate. To his daughter’s infinite + delight, Mrs. Pentecost rose from her seat before he could say a word, + and, after surveying the whole landward prospect, and seeing nothing in + the shape of a vehicle anywhere, asked indignantly whether they were going + all the way back again to the place where they had left the carriages in + the middle of the day. On ascertaining that this was, in fact, the + arrangement proposed, and that, from the nature of the country, the + carriages could not have been ordered round to Hurle Mere without, in the + first instance, sending them the whole of the way back to Thorpe Ambrose, + Mrs. Pentecost (speaking in her son’s interests) instantly declared that + no earthly power should induce her to be out on the water after dark. + “Call me a boat!” cried the old lady, in great agitation. “Wherever + there’s water, there’s a night mist, and wherever there’s a night mist, my + son Samuel catches cold. Don’t talk to <i>me</i> about your moonlight and + your tea-making—you’re all mad! Hi! you two men there!” cried Mrs. + Pentecost, hailing the silent reed cutters on shore. “Sixpence apiece for + you, if you’ll take me and my son back in your boat!” + </p> + <p> + Before young Pedgift could interfere, Allan himself settled the difficulty + this time, with perfect patience and good temper. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t think, Mrs. Pentecost, of your going back in any boat but the + boat you have come out in,” he said. “There is not the least need (as you + and Miss Milroy don’t like the place) for anybody to go on shore here but + me. I <i>must</i> go on shore. My friend Midwinter never broke his promise + to me yet; and I can’t consent to leave Hurle Mere as long as there is a + chance of his keeping his appointment. But there’s not the least reason in + the world why I should stand in the way on that account. You have the + major and Mr. Pedgift to take care of you; and you can get back to the + carriages before dark, if you go at once. I will wait here, and give my + friend half an hour more, and then I can follow you in one of the + reed-cutters’ boats.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the most sensible thing, Mr. Armadale, you’ve said to-day,” + remarked Mrs. Pentecost, seating herself again in a violent hurry + </p> + <p> + “Tell them to be quick!” cried the old lady, shaking her fist at the + boatmen. “Tell them to be quick!” + </p> + <p> + Allan gave the necessary directions, and stepped on shore. The wary + Pedgift (sticking fast to his client) tried to follow. + </p> + <p> + “We can’t leave you here alone, sir,” he said, protesting eagerly in a + whisper. “Let the major take care of the ladies, and let me keep you + company at the Mere.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Allan, pressing him back. “They’re all in low spirits on + board. If you want to be of service to me, stop like a good fellow where + you are, and do your best to keep the thing going.” + </p> + <p> + He waved his hand, and the men pushed the boat off from the shore. The + others all waved their hands in return except the major’s daughter, who + sat apart from the rest, with her face hidden under her parasol. The tears + stood thick in Neelie’s eyes. Her last angry feeling against Allan died + out, and her heart went back to him penitently the moment he left the + boat. “How good he is to us all!” she thought, “and what a wretch I am!” + She got up with every generous impulse in her nature urging her to make + atonement to him. She got up, reckless of appearances and looked after him + with eager eyes and flushed checks, as he stood alone on the shore. “Don’t + be long, Mr. Armadale!” she said, with a desperate disregard of what the + rest of the company thought of her. + </p> + <p> + The boat was already far out in the water, and with all Neelie’s + resolution the words were spoken in a faint little voice, which failed to + reach Allan’s ears. The one sound he heard, as the boat gained the + opposite extremity of the Mere, and disappeared slowly among the reeds, + was the sound of the concertina. The indefatigable Pedgift was keeping + things going—evidently under the auspices of Mrs. Pentecost—by + performing a sacred melody. + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Allan lit a cigar, and took a turn backward and forward + on the shore. “She might have said a word to me at parting!” he thought. + “I’ve done everything for the best; I’ve as good as told her how fond of + her I am, and this is the way she treats me!” He stopped, and stood + looking absently at the sinking sun, and the fast-darkening waters of the + Mere. Some inscrutable influence in the scene forced its way stealthily + into his mind, and diverted his thoughts from Miss Milroy to his absent + friend. He started, and looked about him. + </p> + <p> + The reed-cutters had gone back to their retreat behind the angle of the + wall, not a living creature was visible, not a sound rose anywhere along + the dreary shore. Even Allan’s spirits began to get depressed. It was + nearly an hour after the time when Midwinter had promised to be at Hurle + Mere. He had himself arranged to walk to the pool (with a stable-boy from + Thorpe Ambrose as his guide), by lanes and footpaths which shortened the + distance by the road. The boy knew the country well, and Midwinter was + habitually punctual at all his appointments. Had anything gone wrong at + Thorpe Ambrose? Had some accident happened on the way? Determined to + remain no longer doubting and idling by himself, Allan made up his mind to + walk inland from the Mere, on the chance of meeting his friend. He went + round at once to the angle in the wall, and asked one of the reedcutters + to show him the footpath to Thorpe Ambrose. + </p> + <p> + The man led him away from the road, and pointed to a barely perceptible + break in the outer trees of the plantation. After pausing for one more + useless look around him, Allan turned his back on the Mere and made for + the trees. + </p> + <p> + For a few paces, the path ran straight through the plantation. Thence it + took a sudden turn; and the water and the open country became both lost to + view. Allan steadily followed the grassy track before him, seeing nothing + and hearing nothing, until he came to another winding of the path. Turning + in the new direction, he saw dimly a human figure sitting alone at the + foot of one of the trees. Two steps nearer were enough to make the figure + familiar to him. “Midwinter!” he exclaimed, in astonishment. “This is not + the place where I was to meet you! What are you waiting for here?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter rose, without answering. The evening dimness among the trees, + which obscured his face, made his silence doubly perplexing. + </p> + <p> + Allan went on eagerly questioning him. “Did you come here by yourself?” he + asked. “I thought the boy was to guide you?” + </p> + <p> + This time Midwinter answered. “When we got as far as these trees,” he + said, “I sent the boy back. He told me I was close to the place, and + couldn’t miss it.” + </p> + <p> + “What made you stop here when he left you?” reiterated Allan. “Why didn’t + you walk on?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t despise me,” answered the other. “I hadn’t the courage!” + </p> + <p> + “Not the courage?” repeated Allan. He paused a moment. “Oh, I know!” he + resumed, putting his hand gayly on Midwinter’s shoulder. “You’re still shy + of the Milroys. What nonsense, when I told you myself that your peace was + made at the cottage!” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn’t thinking, Allan, of your friends at the cottage. The truth is, + I’m hardly myself to-day. I am ill and unnerved; trifles startle me.” He + stopped, and shrank away, under the anxious scrutiny of Allan’s eyes. “If + you <i>will</i> have it,” he burst out, abruptly, “the horror of that + night on board the Wreck has got me again; there’s a dreadful oppression + on my head; there’s a dreadful sinking at my heart. I am afraid of + something happening to us, if we don’t part before the day is out. I can’t + break my promise to you; for God’s sake, release me from it, and let me go + back!” + </p> + <p> + Remonstrance, to any one who knew Midwinter, was plainly useless at that + moment. Allan humored him. “Come out of this dark, airless place,” he + said, “and we will talk about it. The water and the open sky are within a + stone’s throw of us. I hate a wood in the evening; it even gives <i>me</i> + the horrors. You have been working too hard over the steward’s books. Come + and breathe freely in the blessed open air.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter stopped, considered for a moment, and suddenly submitted. + </p> + <p> + “You’re right,” he said, “and I’m wrong, as usual. I’m wasting time and + distressing you to no purpose. What folly to ask you to let me go back! + Suppose you had said yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” repeated Midwinter, “something would have happened at the first + step to stop me, that’s all. Come on.” + </p> + <p> + They walked together in silence on the way to the Mere. + </p> + <p> + At the last turn in the path Allan’s cigar went out. While he stopped to + light it again, Midwinter walked on before him, and was the first to come + in sight of the open ground. + </p> + <p> + Allan had just kindled the match, when, to his surprise, his friend came + back to him round the turn in the path. There was light enough to show + objects more clearly in this part of the plantation. The match, as + Midwinter faced him, dropped on the instant from Allan’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” he cried, starting back, “you look as you looked on board the + Wreck!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter held up his band for silence. He spoke with his wild eyes + riveted on Allan’s face, with his white lips close at Allan’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “You remember how I <i>looked</i>,” he answered, in a whisper. “Do you + remember what I <i>said</i> when you and the doctor were talking of the + Dream?” + </p> + <p> + “I have forgotten the Dream,” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + As he made that answer, Midwinter took his hand, and led him round the + last turn in the path. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember it now?” he asked, and pointed to the Mere. + </p> + <p> + The sun was sinking in the cloudless westward heaven. The waters of the + Mere lay beneath, tinged red by the dying light. The open country + stretched away, darkening drearily already on the right hand and the left. + And on the near margin of the pool, where all had been solitude before, + there now stood, fronting the sunset, the figure of a woman. + </p> + <p> + The two Armadales stood together in silence, and looked at the lonely + figure and the dreary view. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Your own eyes have seen it,” he said. “Now look at our own words.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the narrative of the Dream, and held it under Allan’s eyes. His + finger pointed to the lines which recorded the first Vision; his voice, + sinking lower and lower, repeated the words: + </p> + <p> + “The sense came to me of being left alone in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I waited. + </p> + <p> + “The darkness opened, and showed me the vision—as in a picture—of + a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. Above the further margin + of the pool I saw the cloudless western sky, red with the light of sunset. + </p> + <p> + “On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of a Woman.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased, and let the hand which held the manuscript drop to his side. + The other hand pointed to the lonely figure, standing with its back turned + on them, fronting the setting sun. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “stands the living Woman, in the Shadow’s place! There + speaks the first of the dream warnings to you and to me! Let the future + time find us still together, and the second figure that stands in the + Shadow’s place will be Mine.” + </p> + <p> + Even Allan was silenced by the terrible certainty of conviction with which + he spoke. + </p> + <p> + In the pause that followed, the figure at the pool moved, and walked + slowly away round the margin of the shore. Allan stepped out beyond the + last of the trees, and gained a wider view of the open ground. The first + object that met his eyes was the pony-chaise from Thorpe Ambrose. + </p> + <p> + He turned back to Midwinter with a laugh of relief. “What nonsense have + you been talking!” he said. “And what nonsense have I been listening to! + It’s the governess at last.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter made no reply. Allan took him by the arm, and tried to lead him + on. He released himself suddenly, and seized Allan with both hands, + holding him back from the figure at the pool, as he had held him back from + the cabin door on the deck of the timber ship. Once again the effort was + in vain. Once again Allan broke away as easily as he had broken away in + the past time. + </p> + <p> + “One of us must speak to her,” he said. “And if you won’t, I will.” + </p> + <p> + He had only advanced a few steps toward the Mere, when he heard, or + thought he heard, a voice faintly calling after him, once and once only, + the word Farewell. He stopped, with a feeling of uneasy surprise, and + looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Was that you, Midwinter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. After hesitating a moment more, Allan returned to the + plantation. Midwinter was gone. + </p> + <p> + He looked back at the pool, doubtful in the new emergency what to do next. + The lonely figure had altered its course in the interval; it had turned, + and was advancing toward the trees. Allan had been evidently either heard + or seen. It was impossible to leave a woman unbefriended, in that helpless + position and in that solitary place. For the second time Allan went out + from the trees to meet her. + </p> + <p> + As he came within sight of her face, he stopped in ungovernable + astonishment. The sudden revelation of her beauty, as she smiled and + looked at him inquiringly, suspended the movement in his limbs and the + words on his lips. A vague doubt beset him whether it was the governess, + after all. + </p> + <p> + He roused himself, and, advancing a few paces, mentioned his name. “May I + ask,” he added, “if I have the pleasure—?” + </p> + <p> + The lady met him easily and gracefully half-way. “Major Milroy’s + governess,” she said. “Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0024" id="H2_4_0024"></a> X. THE HOUSE-MAID’S FACE. + </h2> + <p> + All was quiet at Thorpe Ambrose. The hall was solitary, the rooms were + dark. The servants, waiting for the supper hour in the garden at the back + of the house, looked up at the clear heaven and the rising moon, and + agreed that there was little prospect of the return of the picnic party + until later in the night. The general opinion, led by the high authority + of the cook, predicted that they might all sit down to supper without the + least fear of being disturbed by the bell. Having arrived at this + conclusion, the servants assembled round the table, and exactly at the + moment when they sat down the bell rang. + </p> + <p> + The footman, wondering, went up stairs to open the door, and found to his + astonishment Midwinter waiting alone on the threshold, and looking (in the + servant’s opinion) miserably ill. He asked for a light, and, saying he + wanted nothing else, withdrew at once to his room. The footman went back + to his fellow-servants, and reported that something had certainly happened + to his master’s friend. + </p> + <p> + On entering his room, Midwinter closed the door, and hurriedly filled a + bag with the necessaries for traveling. This done, he took from a locked + drawer, and placed in the breast pocket of his coat, some little presents + which Allan had given him—a cigar case, a purse, and a set of studs + in plain gold. Having possessed himself of these memorials, he snatched up + the bag and laid his hand on the door. There, for the first time, he + paused. There, the headlong haste of all his actions thus far suddenly + ceased, and the hard despair in his face began to soften: he waited, with + the door in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Up to that moment he had been conscious of but one motive that animated + him, but one purpose that he was resolute to achieve. “For Allan’s sake!” + he had said to himself, when he looked back toward the fatal landscape and + saw his friend leaving him to meet the woman at the pool. “For Allan’s + sake!” he had said again, when he crossed the open country beyond the + wood, and saw afar, in the gray twilight, the long line of embankment and + the distant glimmer of the railway lamps beckoning him away already to the + iron road. + </p> + <p> + It was only when he now paused before he closed the door behind him—it + was only when his own impetuous rapidity of action came for the first time + to a check, that the nobler nature of the man rose in protest against the + superstitious despair which was hurrying him from all that he held dear. + His conviction of the terrible necessity of leaving Allan for Allan’s good + had not been shaken for an instant since he had seen the first Vision of + the Dream realized on the shores of the Mere. But now, for the first time, + his own heart rose against him in unanswerable rebuke. “Go, if you must + and will! but remember the time when you were ill, and he sat by your + bedside; friendless, and he opened his heart to you—and write, if + you fear to speak; write and ask him to forgive you, before you leave him + forever!” + </p> + <p> + The half-opened door closed again softly. Midwinter sat down at the + writing-table and took up the pen. + </p> + <p> + He tried again and again, and yet again, to write the farewell words; he + tried, till the floor all round him was littered with torn sheets of + paper. Turn from them which way he would, the old times still came back + and faced him reproachfully. The spacious bed-chamber in which he sat, + narrowed, in spite of him, to the sick usher’s garret at the west-country + inn. The kind hand that had once patted him on the shoulder touched him + again; the kind voice that had cheered him spoke unchangeably in the old + friendly tones. He flung his arms on the table and dropped his head on + them in tearless despair. The parting words that his tongue was powerless + to utter his pen was powerless to write. Mercilessly in earnest, his + superstition pointed to him to go while the time was his own. Mercilessly + in earnest, his love for Allan held him back till the farewell plea for + pardon and pity was written. + </p> + <p> + He rose with a sudden resolution, and rang for the servant, “When Mr. + Armadale returns,” he said, “ask him to excuse my coming downstairs, and + say that I am trying to get to sleep.” He locked the door and put out the + light, and sat down alone in the darkness. “The night will keep us apart,” + he said; “and time may help me to write. I may go in the early morning; I + may go while—” The thought died in him uncompleted; and the sharp + agony of the struggle forced to his lips the first cry of suffering that + had escaped him yet. + </p> + <p> + He waited in the darkness. + </p> + <p> + As the time stole on, his senses remained mechanically awake, but his mind + began to sink slowly under the heavy strain that had now been laid on it + for some hours past. A dull vacancy possessed him; he made no attempt to + kindle the light and write once more. He never started; he never moved to + the open window, when the first sound of approaching wheels broke in on + the silence of the night. He heard the carriages draw up at the door; he + heard the horses champing their bits; he heard the voices of Allan and + young Pedgift on the steps; and still he sat quiet in the darkness, and + still no interest was aroused in him by the sounds that reached his ear + from outside. + </p> + <p> + The voices remained audible after the carriages had been driven away; the + two young men were evidently lingering on the steps before they took leave + of each other. Every word they said reached Midwinter through the open + window. Their one subject of conversation was the new governess. Allan’s + voice was loud in her praise. He had never passed such an hour of delight + in his life as the hour he had spent with Miss Gwilt in the boat, on the + way from Hurle Mere to the picnic party waiting at the other Broad. + Agreeing, on his side, with all that his client said in praise of the + charming stranger, young Pedgift appeared to treat the subject, when it + fell into his hands, from a different point of view. Miss Gwilt’s + attractions had not so entirely absorbed his attention as to prevent him + from noticing the impression which the new governess had produced on her + employer and her pupil. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a screw loose somewhere, sir, in Major Milroy’s family,” said the + voice of young Pedgift. “Did you notice how the major and his daughter + looked when Miss Gwilt made her excuses for being late at the Mere? You + don’t remember? Do you remember what Miss Gwilt said?” + </p> + <p> + “Something about Mrs. Milroy, wasn’t it?” Allan rejoined. + </p> + <p> + Young Pedgift’s voice dropped mysteriously a note lower. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gwilt reached the cottage this afternoon, sir, at the time when I + told you she would reach it, and she would have joined us at the time I + told you she would come, but for Mrs. Milroy. Mrs. Milroy sent for her + upstairs as soon as she entered the house, and kept her upstairs a good + half-hour and more. That was Miss Gwilt’s excuse, Mr. Armadale, for being + late at the Mere.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to forget, sir, what the whole neighborhood has heard about Mrs. + Milroy ever since the major first settled among us. We have all been told, + on the doctor’s own authority, that she is too great a sufferer to see + strangers. Isn’t it a little odd that she should have suddenly turned out + well enough to see Miss Gwilt (in her husband’s absence) the moment Miss + Gwilt entered the house?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it! Of course she was anxious to make acquaintance with her + daughter’s governess.” + </p> + <p> + “Likely enough, Mr. Armadale. But the major and Miss Neelie don’t see it + in that light, at any rate. I had my eye on them both when the governess + told them that Mrs. Milroy had sent for her. If ever I saw a girl look + thoroughly frightened, Miss Milroy was that girl; and (if I may be + allowed, in the strictest confidence, to libel a gallant soldier) I should + say that the major himself was much in the same condition. Take my word + for it, sir, there’s something wrong upstairs in that pretty cottage of + yours; and Miss Gwilt is mixed up in it already!” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute of silence. When the voices were next heard by + Midwinter, they were further away from the house—Allan was probably + accompanying young Pedgift a few steps on his way back. + </p> + <p> + After a while, Allan’s voice was audible once more under the portico, + making inquiries after his friend; answered by the servant’s voice giving + Midwinter’s message. This brief interruption over, the silence was not + broken again till the time came for shutting up the house. The servants’ + footsteps passing to and fro, the clang of closing doors, the barking of a + disturbed dog in the stable-yard—these sounds warned Midwinter it + was getting late. He rose mechanically to kindle a light. But his head was + giddy, his hand trembled; he laid aside the match-box, and returned to his + chair. The conversation between Allan and young Pedgift had ceased to + occupy his attention the instant he ceased to hear it; and now again, the + sense that the precious time was failing him became a lost sense as soon + as the house noises which had awakened it had passed away. His energies of + body and mind were both alike worn out; he waited with a stolid + resignation for the trouble that was to come to him with the coming day. + </p> + <p> + An interval passed, and the silence was once more disturbed by voices + outside; the voices of a man and a woman this time. The first few words + exchanged between them indicated plainly enough a meeting of the + clandestine kind; and revealed the man as one of the servants at Thorpe + Ambrose, and the woman as one of the servants at the cottage. + </p> + <p> + Here again, after the first greetings were over, the subject of the new + governess became the all-absorbing subject of conversation. + </p> + <p> + The major’s servant was brimful of forebodings (inspired solely by Miss + Gwilt’s good looks) which she poured out irrepressibly on her + “sweetheart,” try as he might to divert her to other topics. Sooner or + later, let him mark her words, there would be an awful “upset” at the + cottage. Her master, it might be mentioned in confidence, led a dreadful + life with her mistress. The major was the best of men; he hadn’t a thought + in his heart beyond his daughter and his everlasting clock. But only let a + nice-looking woman come near the place, and Mrs. Milroy was jealous of her—raging + jealous, like a woman possessed, on that miserable sick-bed of hers. If + Miss Gwilt (who was certainly good-looking, in spite of her hideous hair) + didn’t blow the fire into a flame before many days more were over their + heads, the mistress was the mistress no longer, but somebody else. + Whatever happened, the fault, this time, would lie at the door of the + major’s mother. The old lady and the mistress had had a dreadful quarrel + two years since; and the old lady had gone away in a fury, telling her + son, before all the servants, that, if he had a spark of spirit in him, he + would never submit to his wife’s temper as he did. It would be too much, + perhaps, to accuse the major’s mother of purposely picking out a handsome + governess to spite the major’s wife. But it might be safely said that the + old lady was the last person in the world to humor the mistress’s + jealousy, by declining to engage a capable and respectable governess for + her granddaughter because that governess happened to be blessed with good + looks. How it was all to end (except that it was certain to end badly) no + human creature could say. Things were looking as black already as things + well could. Miss Neelie was crying, after the day’s pleasure (which was + one bad sign); the mistress had found fault with nobody (which was + another); the master had wished her good-night through the door (which was + a third); and the governess had locked herself up in her room (which was + the worst sign of all, for it looked as if she distrusted the servants). + Thus the stream of the woman’s gossip ran on, and thus it reached + Midwinter’s ears through the window, till the clock in the stable-yard + struck, and stopped the talking. When the last vibrations of the bell had + died away, the voices were not audible again, and the silence was broken + no more. + </p> + <p> + Another interval passed, and Midwinter made a new effort to rouse himself. + This time he kindled the light without hesitation, and took the pen in + hand. + </p> + <p> + He wrote at the first trial with a sudden facility of expression, which, + surprising him as he went on, ended in rousing in him some vague suspicion + of himself. He left the table, and bathed his head and face in water, and + came back to read what he had written. The language was barely + intelligible; sentences were left unfinished; words were misplaced one for + the other. Every line recorded the protest of the weary brain against the + merciless will that had forced it into action. Midwinter tore up the sheet + of paper as he had torn up the other sheets before it, and, sinking under + the struggle at last, laid his weary head on the pillow. Almost on the + instant, exhaustion overcame him, and before he could put the light out he + fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + He was roused by a noise at the door. The sunlight was pouring into the + room, the candle had burned down into the socket, and the servant was + waiting outside with a letter which had come for him by the morning’s + post. + </p> + <p> + “I ventured to disturb you, sir,” said the man, when Midwinter opened the + door, “because the letter is marked ‘Immediate,’ and I didn’t know but it + might be of some consequence.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter thanked him, and looked at the letter. It <i>was</i> of some + consequence—the handwriting was Mr. Brock’s. + </p> + <p> + He paused to collect his faculties. The torn sheets of paper on the floor + recalled to him in a moment the position in which he stood. He locked the + door again, in the fear that Allan might rise earlier than usual and come + in to make inquiries. Then—feeling strangely little interest in + anything that the rector could write to him now—he opened Mr. + Brock’s letter, and read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—It is sometimes best to tell bad news plainly, in + few words. Let me tell mine at once, in one sentence. My precautions have + all been defeated: the woman has escaped me. + </p> + <p> + “This misfortune—for it is nothing less—happened yesterday + (Monday). Between eleven and twelve in the forenoon of that day, the + business which originally brought me to London obliged me to go to + Doctors’ Commons, and to leave my servant Robert to watch the house + opposite our lodging until my return. About an hour and a half after my + departure he observed an empty cab drawn up at the door of the house. + Boxes and bags made their appearance first; they were followed by the + woman herself, in the dress I had first seen her in. Having previously + secured a cab, Robert traced her to the terminus of the North-Western + Railway, saw her pass through the ticket office, kept her in view till she + reached the platform, and there, in the crowd and confusion caused by the + starting of a large mixed train, lost her. I must do him the justice to + say that he at once took the right course in this emergency. Instead of + wasting time in searching for her on the platform, he looked along the + line of carriages; and he positively declares that he failed to see her in + any one of them. He admits, at the same time, that his search (conducted + between two o’clock, when he lost sight of her, and ten minutes past, when + the train started) was, in the confusion of the moment, necessarily an + imperfect one. But this latter circumstance, in my opinion, matters + little. I as firmly disbelieve in the woman’s actual departure by that + train as if I had searched every one of the carriages myself; and you, I + have no doubt, will entirely agree with me. + </p> + <p> + “You now know how the disaster happened. Let us not waste time and words + in lamenting it. The evil is done, and you and I together must find the + way to remedy it. + </p> + <p> + “What I have accomplished already, on my side, may be told in two words. + Any hesitation I might have previously felt at trusting this delicate + business in strangers’ hands was at an end the moment I heard Robert’s + news. I went back at once to the city, and placed the whole matter + confidentially before my lawyers. The conference was a long one, and when + I left the office it was past the post hour, or I should have written to + you on Monday instead of writing to-day. My interview with the lawyers was + not very encouraging. They warn me plainly that serious difficulties stand + in the way of our recovering the lost trace. But they have promised to do + their best, and we have decided on the course to be taken, excepting one + point on which we totally differ. I must tell you what this difference is; + for, while business keeps me away from Thorpe Ambrose, you are the only + person whom I can trust to put my convictions to the test. + </p> + <p> + “The lawyers are of opinion, then, that the woman has been aware from the + first that I was watching her; that there is, consequently, no present + hope of her being rash enough to appear personally at Thorpe Ambrose; that + any mischief she may have it in contemplation to do will be done in the + first instance by deputy; and that the only wise course for Allan’s + friends and guardians to take is to wait passively till events enlighten + them. My own idea is diametrically opposed to this. After what has + happened at the railway, I cannot deny that the woman must have discovered + that I was watching her. But she has no reason to suppose that she has not + succeeded in deceiving me; and I firmly believe she is bold enough to take + us by surprise, and to win or force her way into Allan’s confidence before + we are prepared to prevent her. + </p> + <p> + “You and you only (while I am detained in London) can decide whether I am + right or wrong—and you can do it in this way. Ascertain at once + whether any woman who is a stranger in the neighborhood has appeared since + Monday last at or near Thorpe Ambrose. If any such person has been + observed (and nobody escapes observation in the country), take the first + opportunity you can get of seeing her, and ask yourself if her face does + or does not answer certain plain questions which I am now about to write + down for you. You may depend on my accuracy. I saw the woman unveiled on + more than one occasion, and the last time through an excellent glass. + </p> + <p> + “1. Is her hair light brown, and (apparently) not very plentiful? 2. Is + her forehead high, narrow, and sloping backward from the brow? 3. Are her + eyebrows very faintly marked, and are her eyes small, and nearer dark than + light—either gray or hazel (I have not seen her close enough to be + certain which)? 4. Is her nose aquiline? 5 Are her lips thin, and is the + upper lip long? 6. Does her complexion look like an originally fair + complexion, which has deteriorated into a dull, sickly paleness? 7 (and + lastly). Has she a retreating chin, and is there on the left side of it a + mark of some kind—a mole or a scar, I can’t say which? + </p> + <p> + “I add nothing about her expression, for you may see her under + circumstances which may partially alter it as seen by me. Test her by her + features, which no circumstances can change. If there is a stranger in the + neighborhood, and if her face answers my seven questions, <i>you have + found the woman</i>! Go instantly, in that case, to the nearest lawyer, + and pledge my name and credit for whatever expenses may be incurred in + keeping her under inspection night and day. Having done this, take the + speediest means of communicating with me; and whether my business is + finished or not, I will start for Norfolk by the first train. + </p> + <p> + “Always your friend, DECIMUS BROCK.” + </p> + <p> + Hardened by the fatalist conviction that now possessed him, Midwinter read + the rector’s confession of defeat, from the first line to the last, + without the slightest betrayal either of interest or surprise. The one + part of the letter at which he looked back was the closing part of it. “I + owe much to Mr. Brock’s kindness,” he thought; “and I shall never see Mr. + Brock again. It is useless and hopeless; but he asks me to do it, and it + shall be done. A moment’s look at her will be enough—a moment’s look + at her with his letter in my hand—and a line to tell him that the + woman is here!” + </p> + <p> + Again he stood hesitating at the half-opened door; again the cruel + necessity of writing his farewell to Allan stopped him, and stared him in + the face. + </p> + <p> + He looked aside doubtingly at the rector’s letter. “I will write the two + together,” he said. “One may help the other.” His face flushed deep as the + words escaped him. He was conscious of doing what he had not done yet—of + voluntarily putting off the evil hour; of making Mr. Brock the pretext for + gaining the last respite left, the respite of time. + </p> + <p> + The only sound that reached him through the open door was the sound of + Allan stirring noisily in the next room. He stepped at once into the empty + corridor, and meeting no one on the stairs, made his way out of the house. + The dread that his resolution to leave Allan might fail him if he saw + Allan again was as vividly present to his mind in the morning as it had + been all through the night. He drew a deep breath of relief as he + descended the house steps—relief at having escaped the friendly + greeting of the morning, from the one human creature whom he loved! + </p> + <p> + He entered the shrubbery with Mr. Brock’s letter in his hand, and took the + nearest way that led to the major’s cottage. Not the slightest + recollection was in his mind of the talk which had found its way to his + ears during the night. His one reason for determining to see the woman was + the reason which the rector had put in his mind. The one remembrance that + now guided him to the place in which she lived was the remembrance of + Allan’s exclamation when he first identified the governess with the figure + at the pool. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at the gate of the cottage, he stopped. The thought struck him + that he might defeat his own object if he looked at the rector’s questions + in the woman’s presence. Her suspicions would be probably roused, in the + first instance, by his asking to see her (as he had determined to ask, + with or without an excuse), and the appearance of the letter in his hand + might confirm them. + </p> + <p> + She might defeat him by instantly leaving the room. Determined to fix the + description in his mind first, and then to confront her, he opened the + letter; and, turning away slowly by the side of the house, read the seven + questions which he felt absolutely assured beforehand the woman’s face + would answer. + </p> + <p> + In the morning quiet of the park slight noises traveled far. A slight + noise disturbed Midwinter over the letter. + </p> + <p> + He looked up and found himself on the brink of a broad grassy trench, + having the park on one side and the high laurel hedge of an inclosure on + the other. The inclosure evidently surrounded the back garden of the + cottage, and the trench was intended to protect it from being damaged by + the cattle grazing in the park. + </p> + <p> + Listening carefully as the slight sound which had disturbed him grew + fainter, he recognized in it the rustling of women’s dresses. A few paces + ahead, the trench was crossed by a bridge (closed by a wicket gate) which + connected the garden with the park. He passed through the gate, crossed + the bridge, and, opening a door at the other end, found himself in a + summer-house thickly covered with creepers, and commanding a full view of + the garden from end to end. + </p> + <p> + He looked, and saw the figures of two ladies walking slowly away from him + toward the cottage. The shorter of the two failed to occupy his attention + for an instant; he never stopped to think whether she was or was not the + major’s daughter. His eyes were riveted on the other figure—the + figure that moved over the garden walk with the long, lightly falling + dress and the easy, seductive grace. There, presented exactly as he had + seen her once already—there, with her back again turned on him, was + the Woman at the pool! + </p> + <p> + There was a chance that they might take another turn in the garden—a + turn back toward the summer-house. On that chance Midwinter waited. No + consciousness of the intrusion that he was committing had stopped him at + the door of the summer-house, and no consciousness of it troubled him even + now. Every finer sensibility in his nature, sinking under the cruel + laceration of the past night, had ceased to feel. The dogged resolution to + do what he had come to do was the one animating influence left alive in + him. He acted, he even looked, as the most stolid man living might have + acted and looked in his place. He was self-possessed enough, in the + interval of expectation before governess and pupil reached the end of the + walk, to open Mr. Brock’s letter, and to fortify his memory by a last look + at the paragraph which described her face. + </p> + <p> + He was still absorbed over the description when he heard the smooth rustle + of the dresses traveling toward him again. Standing in the shadow of the + summer-house, he waited while she lessened the distance between them. With + her written portrait vividly impressed on his mind, and with the clear + light of the morning to help him, his eyes questioned her as she came on; + and these were the answers that her face gave him back. + </p> + <p> + The hair in the rector’s description was light brown and not plentiful. + This woman’s hair, superbly luxuriant in its growth, was of the one + unpardonably remarkable shade of color which the prejudice of the Northern + nations never entirely forgives—it was <i>red</i>! The forehead in + the rector’s description was high, narrow, and sloping backward from the + brow; the eyebrows were faintly marked; and the eyes small, and in color + either gray or hazel. This woman’s forehead was low, upright, and broad + toward the temples; her eyebrows, at once strongly and delicately marked, + were a shade darker than her hair; her eyes, large, bright, and well + opened, were of that purely blue color, without a tinge in it of gray or + green, so often presented to our admiration in pictures and books, so + rarely met with in the living face. The nose in the rector’s description + was aquiline. The line of this woman’s nose bent neither outward nor + inward: it was the straight, delicately molded nose (with the short upper + lip beneath) of the ancient statues and busts. The lips in the rector’s + description were thin and the upper lip long; the complexion was of a + dull, sickly paleness; the chin retreating and the mark of a mole or a + scar on the left side of it. This woman’s lips were full, rich, and + sensual. Her complexion was the lovely complexion which accompanies such + hair as hers—so delicately bright in its rosier tints, so warmly and + softly white in its gentler gradations of color on the forehead and the + neck. Her chin, round and dimpled, was pure of the slightest blemish in + every part of it, and perfectly in line with her forehead to the end. + Nearer and nearer, and fairer and fairer she came, in the glow of the + morning light—the most startling, the most unanswerable + contradiction that eye could see or mind conceive to the description in + the rector’s letter. + </p> + <p> + Both governess and pupil were close to the summer-house before they looked + that way, and noticed Midwinter standing inside. The governess saw him + first. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of yours, Miss Milroy?” she asked, quietly, without starting or + betraying any sign of surprise. + </p> + <p> + Neelie recognized him instantly. Prejudiced against Midwinter by his + conduct when his friend had introduced him at the cottage, she now fairly + detested him as the unlucky first cause of her misunderstanding with Allan + at the picnic. Her face flushed and she drew back from the summerhouse + with an expression of merciless surprise. + </p> + <p> + “He is a friend of Mr. Armadale’s,” she replied sharply. “I don’t know + what he wants, or why he is here.” + </p> + <p> + “A friend of Mr. Armadale’s!” The governess’s face lighted up with a + suddenly roused interest as she repeated the words. She returned + Midwinter’s look, still steadily fixed on her, with equal steadiness on + her side. + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” pursued Neelie, resenting Midwinter’s insensibility to her + presence on the scene, “I think it a great liberty to treat papa’s garden + as if it were the open park!” + </p> + <p> + The governess turned round, and gently interposed. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Miss Milroy,” she remonstrated, “there are certain distinctions + to be observed. This gentleman is a friend of Mr. Armadale’s. You could + hardly express yourself more strongly if he was a perfect stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “I express my opinion,” retorted Neelie, chafing under the satirically + indulgent tone in which the governess addressed her. “It’s a matter of + taste, Miss Gwilt; and tastes differ.” She turned away petulantly, and + walked back by herself to the cottage. + </p> + <p> + “She is very young,” said Miss Gwilt, appealing with a smile to + Midwinter’s forbearance; “and, as you must see for yourself, sir, she is a + spoiled child.” She paused—showed, for an instant only, her surprise + at Midwinter’s strange silence and strange persistency in keeping his eyes + still fixed on her—then set herself, with a charming grace and + readiness, to help him out of the false position in which he stood. “As + you have extended your walk thus far,” she resumed, “perhaps you will + kindly favor me, on your return, by taking a message to your friend? Mr. + Armadale has been so good as to invite me to see the Thorpe Ambrose + gardens this morning. Will you say that Major Milroy permits me to accept + the invitation (in company with Miss Milroy) between ten and eleven + o’clock?” For a moment her eyes rested, with a renewed look of interest, + on Midwinter’s face. She waited, still in vain, for an answering word from + him—smiled, as if his extraordinary silence amused rather than + angered her—and followed her pupil back to the cottage. + </p> + <p> + It was only when the last trace of her had disappeared that Midwinter + roused himself, and attempted to realize the position in which he stood. + The revelation of her beauty was in no respect answerable for the + breathless astonishment which had held him spell-bound up to this moment. + The one clear impression she had produced on him thus far began and ended + with his discovery of the astounding contradiction that her face offered, + in one feature after another, to the description in Mr. Brock’s letter. + All beyond this was vague and misty—a dim consciousness of a tall, + elegant woman, and of kind words, modestly and gracefully spoken to him, + and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + He advanced a few steps into the garden without knowing why—stopped, + glancing hither and thither like a man lost—recognized the + summer-house by an effort, as if years had elapsed since he had seen it—and + made his way out again, at last, into the park. Even here, he wandered + first in one direction, then in another. His mind was still reeling under + the shock that had fallen on it; his perceptions were all confused. + Something kept him mechanically in action, walking eagerly without a + motive, walking he knew not where. + </p> + <p> + A far less sensitively organized man might have been overwhelmed, as he + was overwhelmed now, by the immense, the instantaneous revulsion of + feeling which the event of the last few minutes had wrought in his mind. + </p> + <p> + At the memorable instant when he had opened the door of the summer-house, + no confusing influence troubled his faculties. In all that related to his + position toward his friend, he had reached an absolutely definite + conclusion by an absolutely definite process of thought. The whole + strength of the motive which had driven him into the resolution to part + from Allan rooted itself in the belief that he had seen at Hurle Mere the + fatal fulfillment of the first Vision of the Dream. And this belief, in + its turn, rested, necessarily, on the conviction that the woman who was + the one survivor of the tragedy in Madeira must be also inevitably the + woman whom he had seen standing in the Shadow’s place at the pool. Firm in + that persuasion, he had himself compared the object of his distrust and of + the rector’s distrust with the description written by the rector himself—a + description, carefully minute, by a man entirely trustworthy—and his + own eyes had informed him that the woman whom he had seen at the Mere, and + the woman whom Mr. Brock had identified in London, were not one, but Two. + In the place of the Dream Shadow, there had stood, on the evidence of the + rector’s letter, not the instrument of the Fatality—but a stranger! + </p> + <p> + No such doubts as might have troubled a less superstitious man, were + started in <i>his</i> mind by the discovery that had now opened on him. + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to him to ask himself whether a stranger might not be + the appointed instrument of the Fatality, now when the letter had + persuaded him that a stranger had been revealed as the figure in the dream + landscape. No such idea entered or could enter his mind. The one woman + whom <i>his</i> superstition dreaded was the woman who had entwined + herself with the lives of the two Armadales in the first generation, and + with the fortunes of the two Armadales in the second—who was at once + the marked object of his father’s death-bed warning, and the first cause + of the family calamities which had opened Allan’s way to the Thorpe + Ambrose estate—the woman, in a word, whom he would have known + instinctively, but for Mr. Brock’s letter, to be the woman whom he had now + actually seen. + </p> + <p> + Looking at events as they had just happened, under the influence of the + misapprehension into which the rector had innocently misled him, his mind + saw and seized its new conclusion instantaneously, acting precisely as it + had acted in the past time of his interview with Mr. Brock at the Isle of + Man. + </p> + <p> + Exactly as he had once declared it to be an all-sufficient refutation of + the idea of the Fatality, that he had never met with the timber-ship in + any of his voyages at sea, so he now seized on the similarly derived + conclusion, that the whole claim of the Dream to a supernatural origin + stood self-refuted by the disclosure of a stranger in the Shadow’s place. + Once started from this point—once encouraged to let his love for + Allan influence him undividedly again, his mind hurried along the whole + resulting chain of thought at lightning speed. If the Dream was proved to + be no longer a warning from the other world, it followed inevitably that + accident and not fate had led the way to the night on the Wreck, and that + all the events which had happened since Allan and he had parted from Mr. + Brock were events in themselves harmless, which his superstition had + distorted from their proper shape. In less than a moment his mobile + imagination had taken him back to the morning at Castletown when he had + revealed to the rector the secret of his name; when he had declared to the + rector, with his father’s letter before his eyes, the better faith that + was in him. Now once more he felt his heart holding firmly by the bond of + brotherhood between Allan and himself; now once more he could say with the + eager sincerity of the old time, “If the thought of leaving him breaks my + heart, the thought of leaving him is wrong!” As that nobler conviction + possessed itself again of his mind—quieting the tumult, clearing the + confusion within him—the house at Thorpe Ambrose, with Allan on the + steps, waiting, looking for him, opened on his eyes through the trees. A + sense of illimitable relief lifted his eager spirit high above the cares, + and doubts, and fears that had oppressed it so long, and showed him once + more the better and brighter future of his early dreams. His eyes filled + with tears, and he pressed the rector’s letter, in his wild, passionate + way, to his lips, as he looked at Allan through the vista of the trees. + “But for this morsel of paper,” he thought, “my life might have been one + long sorrow to me, and my father’s crime might have parted us forever!” + </p> + <p> + Such was the result of the stratagem which had shown the housemaid’s face + to Mr. Brock as the face of Miss Gwilt. And so—by shaking + Midwinter’s trust in his own superstition, in the one case in which that + superstition pointed to the truth—did Mother Oldershaw’s cunning + triumph over difficulties and dangers which had never been contemplated by + Mother Oldershaw herself. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0025" id="H2_4_0025"></a> XI. MISS GWILT AMONG THE + QUICKSANDS. + </h2> + <h3> + 1. <i>From the Rev. Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter</i>. + </h3> + <p> + “Thursday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—No words can tell what a relief it was to me to + get your letter this morning, and what a happiness I honestly feel in + having been thus far proved to be in the wrong. The precautions you have + taken in case the woman should still confirm my apprehensions by venturing + herself at Thorpe Ambrose seem to me to be all that can be desired. You + are no doubt sure to hear of her from one or other of the people in the + lawyer’s office, whom you have asked to inform you of the appearance of a + stranger in the town. + </p> + <p> + “I am the more pleased at finding how entirely I can trust you in this + matter; for I am likely to be obliged to leave Allan’s interests longer + than I supposed solely in your hands. My visit to Thorpe Ambrose must, I + regret to say, be deferred for two months. The only one of my + brother-clergymen in London who is able to take my duty for me cannot make + it convenient to remove with his family to Somersetshire before that time. + I have no alternative but to finish my business here, and be back at my + rectory on Saturday next. If anything happens, you will, of course, + instantly communicate with me; and, in that case, be the inconvenience + what it may, I must leave home for Thorpe Ambrose. If, on the other hand, + all goes more smoothly than my own obstinate apprehensions will allow me + to suppose, then Allan (to whom I have written) must not expect to see me + till this day two months. + </p> + <p> + “No result has, up to this time, rewarded our exertions to recover the + trace lost at the railway. I will keep my letter open, however, until post + time, in case the next few hours bring any news. + </p> + <p> + “Always truly yours, + </p> + <p> + “DECIMUS BROCK. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—I have just heard from the lawyers. They have found out the + name the woman passed by in London. If this discovery (not a very + important one, I am afraid) suggests any new course of proceeding to you, + pray act on it at once. The name is—Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + 2. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Saturday, June 28. + </p> + <p> + “If you will promise not to be alarmed, Mamma Oldershaw, I will begin this + letter in a very odd way, by copying a page of a letter written by + somebody else. You have an excellent memory, and you may not have + forgotten that I received a note from Major Milroy’s mother (after she had + engaged me as governess) on Monday last. It was dated and signed; and here + it is, as far as the first page: ‘June 23d, 1851. Dear Madam—Pray + excuse my troubling you, before you go to Thorpe Ambrose, with a word more + about the habits observed in my son’s household. When I had the pleasure + of seeing you at two o’clock to-day, in Kingsdown Crescent, I had another + appointment in a distant part of London at three; and, in the hurry of the + moment, one or two little matters escaped me which I think I ought to + impress on your attention.’ The rest of the letter is not of the slightest + importance, but the lines that I have just copied are well worthy of all + the attention you can bestow on them. They have saved me from discovery, + my dear, before I have been a week in Major Milroy’s service! + </p> + <p> + “It happened no later than yesterday evening, and it began and ended in + this manner: + </p> + <p> + “There is a gentleman here, (of whom I shall have more to say presently) + who is an intimate friend of young Armadale’s, and who bears the strange + name of Midwinter. He contrived yesterday to speak to me alone in the + park. Almost as soon as he opened his lips, I found that my name had been + discovered in London (no doubt by the Somersetshire clergyman); and that + Mr. Midwinter had been chosen (evidently by the same person) to identify + the Miss Gwilt who had vanished from Brompton with the Miss Gwilt who had + appeared at Thorpe Ambrose. You foresaw this danger, I remember; but you + could scarcely have imagined that the exposure would threaten me so soon. + </p> + <p> + “I spare you the details of our conversation to come to the end. Mr. + Midwinter put the matter very delicately, declaring, to my great surprise, + that he felt quite certain himself that I was not the Miss Gwilt of whom + his friend was in search; and that he only acted as he did out of regard + to the anxiety of a person whose wishes he was bound to respect. Would I + assist him in setting that anxiety completely at rest, as far as I was + concerned, by kindly answering one plain question—which he had no + other right to ask me than the right my indulgence might give him? The + lost ‘Miss Gwilt’ had been missed on Monday last, at two o’clock, in the + crowd on the platform of the North-western Railway, in Euston Square. + Would I authorize him to say that on that day, and at that hour, the Miss + Gwilt who was Major Milroy’s governess had never been near the place? + </p> + <p> + “I need hardly tell you that I seized the fine opportunity he had given me + of disarming all future suspicion. I took a high tone on the spot, and met + him with the old lady’s letter. He politely refused to look at it. I + insisted on his looking at it. ‘I don’t choose to be mistaken,’ I said, + ‘for a woman who may be a bad character, because she happens to bear, or + to have assumed, the same name as mine. I insist on your reading the first + part of this letter for my satisfaction, if not for your own.’ He was + obliged to comply; and there was the proof, in the old lady’s handwriting, + that, at two o’clock on Monday last, she and I were together in Kingsdown + Crescent, which any directory would tell him is a ‘crescent’ in Bayswater! + I leave you to imagine his apologies, and the perfect sweetness with which + I received them. + </p> + <p> + “I might, of course, if I had not preserved the letter, have referred him + to you, or to the major’s mother, with similar results. As it is, the + object has been gained without trouble or delay. <i>I have been proved not + to be myself</i>; and one of the many dangers that threatened me at Thorpe + Ambrose is a danger blown over from this moment. Your house-maid’s face + may not be a very handsome one; but there is no denying that it has done + us excellent service. + </p> + <p> + “So much for the past; now for the future. You shall hear how I get on + with the people about me; and you shall judge for yourself what the + chances are for and against my becoming mistress of Thorpe Ambrose. + </p> + <p> + “Let me begin with young Armadale—because it is beginning with good + news. I have produced the right impression on him already, and Heaven + knows <i>that</i> is nothing to boast of! Any moderately good-looking + woman who chose to take the trouble could make him fall in love with her. + He is a rattle-pated young fool—one of those noisy, rosy, + light-haired, good-tempered men whom I particularly detest. I had a whole + hour alone with him in a boat, the first day I came here, and I have made + good use of my time, I can tell you, from that day to this. The only + difficulty with him is the difficulty of concealing my own feelings, + especially when he turns my dislike of him into downright hatred by + sometimes reminding me of his mother. I really never saw a man whom I + could use so ill, if I had the opportunity. He will give me the + opportunity, I believe, if no accident happens, sooner than we calculated + on. I have just returned from a party at the great house, in celebration + of the rent-day dinner, and the squire’s attentions to me, and my modest + reluctance to receive them, have already excited general remark. + </p> + <p> + “My pupil, Miss Milroy, comes next. She, too, is rosy and foolish; and, + what is more, awkward and squat and freckled, and ill-tempered and + ill-dressed. No fear of <i>her</i>, though she hates me like poison, which + is a great comfort, for I get rid of her out of lesson time and walking + time. It is perfectly easy to see that she has made the most of her + opportunities with young Armadale (opportunities, by-the-by, which we + never calculated on), and that she has been stupid enough to let him slip + through her fingers. When I tell you that she is obliged, for the sake of + appearances, to go with her father and me to the little entertainments at + Thorpe Ambrose, and to see how young Armadale admires me, you will + understand the kind of place I hold in her affections. She would try me + past all endurance if I didn’t see that I aggravate her by keeping my + temper, so, of course, I keep it. If I do break out, it will be over our + lessons—not over our French, our grammar, history, and globes—but + over our music. No words can say how I feel for her poor piano. Half the + musical girls in England ought to have their fingers chopped off in the + interests of society, and, if I had my way, Miss Milroy’s fingers should + be executed first. + </p> + <p> + “As for the major, I can hardly stand higher in his estimation than I + stand already. I am always ready to make his breakfast, and his daughter + is not. I can always find things for him when he loses them, and his + daughter can’t. I never yawn when he proses, and his daughter does. I like + the poor dear harmless old gentleman, so I won’t say a word more about + him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here is a fair prospect for the future surely? My good Oldershaw, + there never was a prospect yet without an ugly place in it. <i>My</i> + prospect has two ugly places in it. The name of one of them is Mrs. + Milroy, and the name of the other is Mr. Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Milroy first. Before I had been five minutes in the cottage, on the + day of my arrival, what do you think she did? She sent downstairs and + asked to see me. The message startled me a little, after hearing from the + old lady, in London, that her daughter-in-law was too great a sufferer to + see anybody; but, of course, when I got her message, I had no choice but + to go up stairs to the sick-room. I found her bedridden with an incurable + spinal complaint, and a really horrible object to look at, but with all + her wits about her; and, if I am not greatly mistaken, as deceitful a + woman, with as vile a temper, as you could find anywhere in all your long + experience. Her excessive politeness, and her keeping her own face in the + shade of the bed-curtains while she contrived to keep mine in the light, + put me on my guard the moment I entered the room. We were more than half + an hour together, without my stepping into any one of the many clever + little traps she laid for me. The only mystery in her behavior, which I + failed to see through at the time, was her perpetually asking me to bring + her things (things she evidently did not want) from different parts of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Since then events have enlightened me. My first suspicions were raised by + overhearing some of the servants’ gossip; and I have been confirmed in my + opinion by the conduct of Mrs. Milroy’s nurse. + </p> + <p> + “On the few occasions when I have happened to be alone with the major, the + nurse has also happened to want something of her master, and has + invariably forgotten to announce her appearance by knocking, at the door. + Do you understand now why Mrs. Milroy sent for me the moment I got into + the house, and what she wanted when she kept me going backward and + forward, first for one thing and then for another? There is hardly an + attractive light in which my face and figure can be seen, in which that + woman’s jealous eyes have not studied them already. I am no longer puzzled + to know why the father and daughter started, and looked at each other, + when I was first presented to them; or why the servants still stare at me + with a mischievous expectation in their eyes when I ring the bell and ask + them to do anything. It is useless to disguise the truth, Mother + Oldershaw, between you and me. When I went upstairs into that sickroom, I + marched blindfold into the clutches of a jealous woman. If Mrs. Milroy <i>can</i> + turn me out of the house, Mrs. Milroy <i>will</i>; and, morning and night, + she has nothing else to do in that bed prison of hers but to find out the + way. + </p> + <p> + “In this awkward position, my own cautious conduct is admirably seconded + by the dear old major’s perfect insensibility. His wife’s jealousy of him + is as monstrous a delusion as any that could be found in a mad-house; it + is the growth of her own vile temper, under the aggravation of an + incurable illness. The poor man hasn’t a thought beyond his mechanical + pursuits; and I don’t believe he knows at this moment whether I am a + handsome woman or not. With this chance to help me, I may hope to set the + nurse’s intrusions and the mistress’s contrivances at defiance—for a + time, at any rate. But you know what a jealous woman is, and I think I + know what Mrs. Milroy is; and I own I shall breathe more freely on the day + when young Armadale opens his foolish lips to some purpose, and sets the + major advertising for a new governess. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale’s name reminds me of Armadale’s friend. There is more danger + threatening in that quarter; and, what is worse, I don’t feel half as well + armed beforehand against Mr. Midwinter as I do against Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “Everything about this man is more or less mysterious, which I don’t like, + to begin with. How does he come to be in the confidence of the + Somersetshire clergyman? How much has that clergyman told him? How is it + that he was so firmly persuaded, when he spoke to me in the park, that I + was not the Miss Gwilt of whom his friend was in search? I haven’t the + ghost of an answer to give to any of those three questions. I can’t even + discover who he is, or how he and young Armadale first became acquainted. + I hate him. No, I don’t; I only want to find out about him. He is very + young, little and lean, and active and dark, with bright black eyes which + say to me plainly, ‘We belong to a man with brains in his head and a will + of his own; a man who hasn’t always been hanging about a country house, in + attendance on a fool.’ Yes; I am positively certain Mr. Midwinter has done + something or suffered something in his past life, young as he is; and I + would give I don’t know what to get at it. Don’t resent my taking up so + much space in my writing about him. He has influence enough over young + Armadale to be a very awkward obstacle in my way, unless I can secure his + good opinion at starting. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you may ask, and what is to prevent your securing his good opinion? + I am sadly afraid, Mother Oldershaw, I have got it on terms I never + bargained for I am sadly afraid the man is in love with me already. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t toss your head and say, ‘Just like her vanity!’ After the horrors I + have gone through, I have no vanity left; and a man who admires me is a + man who makes me shudder. There was a time, I own—Pooh! what am I + writing? Sentiment, I declare! Sentiment to <i>you</i>! Laugh away, my + dear. As for me, I neither laugh nor cry; I mend my pen, and get on with + my—what do the men call it?—my report. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing worth inquiring is, whether I am right or wrong in my idea + of the impression I have made on him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see; I have been four times in his company. The first time was in + the major’s garden, where we met unexpectedly, face to face. He stood + looking at me, like a man petrified, without speaking a word. The effect + of my horrid red hair, perhaps? Quite likely; let us lay it on my hair. + The second time was in going over the Thorpe Ambrose grounds, with young + Armadale on one side of me, and my pupil (in the sulks) on the other. Out + comes Mr. Midwinter to join us, though he had work to do in the steward’s + office, which he had never been known to neglect on any other occasion. + Laziness, possibly? or an attachment to Miss Milroy? I can’t say; we will + lay it on Miss Milroy, if you like; I only know he did nothing but look at + <i>me</i>. The third time was at the private interview in the park, which + I have told you of already. I never saw a man so agitated at putting a + delicate question to a woman in my life. But <i>that</i> might have been + only awkwardness; and his perpetually looking back after me when we had + parted might have been only looking back at the view. Lay it on the view; + by all means, lay it on the view! The fourth time was this very evening, + at the little party. They made me play; and, as the piano was a good one, + I did my best. All the company crowded round me, and paid me their + compliments (my charming pupil paid hers, with a face like a cat’s just + before she spits), except Mr. Midwinter. <i>He</i> waited till it was time + to go, and then he caught me alone for a moment in the hall. There was + just time for him to take my hand, and say two words. Shall I tell you <i>how</i> + he took my hand, and what his voice sounded like when he spoke? Quite + needless! You have always told me that the late Mr. Oldershaw doted on + you. Just recall the first time he took your hand, and whispered a word or + two addressed to your private ear. To what did you attribute his behavior + that occasion? I have no doubt, if you had been playing on the piano in + the course of the evening, you would have attributed it entirely to the + music! + </p> + <p> + “No! you may take my word for it, the harm is done. <i>This</i> man is no + rattle-pated fool, who changes his fancies as readily as he changes his + clothes. The fire that lights those big black eyes of his is not an easy + fire, when a woman has once kindled it, for that woman to put out. I don’t + wish to discourage you; I don’t say the changes are against us. But with + Mrs. Milroy threatening me on one side, and Mr. Midwinter on the other, + the worst of all risks to run is the risk of losing time. Young Armadale + has hinted already, as well as such a lout can hint, at a private + interview! Miss Milroy’s eyes are sharp, and the nurse’s eyes are sharper; + and I shall lose my place if either of them find me out. No matter! I must + take my chance, and give him the interview. Only let me get him alone, + only let me escape the prying eyes of the women, and—if his friend + doesn’t come between us—I answer for the result! + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, have I anything more to tell you? Are there any other + people in our way at Thorpe Ambrose? Not another creature! None of the + resident families call here, young Armadale being, most fortunately, in + bad odor in the neighborhood. There are no handsome highly-bred women to + come to the house, and no persons of consequence to protest against his + attentions to a governess. The only guests he could collect at his party + to-night were the lawyer and his family (a wife, a son, and two + daughters), and a deaf old woman and <i>her</i> son—all perfectly + unimportant people, and all obedient humble servants of the stupid young + squire. + </p> + <p> + “Talking of obedient humble servants, there is one other person + established here, who is employed in the steward’s office—a + miserable, shabby, dilapidated old man, named Bashwood. He is a perfect + stranger to me, and I am evidently a perfect stranger to him, for he has + been asking the house-maid at the cottage who I am. It is paying no great + compliment to myself to confess it, but it is not the less true that I + produced the most extraordinary impression on this feeble old creature the + first time he saw me. He turned all manner of colors, and stood trembling + and staring at me, as if there was something perfectly frightful in my + face. I felt quite startled for the moment, for, of all the ways in which + men have looked at me, no man ever looked at me in that way before. Did + you ever see the boa constrictor fed at the Zoological Gardens? They put a + live rabbit into his cage, and there is a moment when the two creatures + look at each other. I declare Mr. Bashwood reminded me of the rabbit. + </p> + <p> + “Why do I mention this? I don’t know why. Perhaps I have been writing too + long, and my head is beginning to fail me. Perhaps Mr. Bashwood’s manner + of admiring me strikes my fancy by its novelty. Absurd! I am exciting + myself, and troubling you about nothing. Oh, what a weary, long letter I + have written! and how brightly the stars look at me through the window, + and how awfully quiet the night is! Send me some more of those sleeping + drops, and write me one of your nice, wicked, amusing letters. You shall + hear from me again as soon as I know a little better how it is all likely + to end. Good-night, and keep a corner in your stony old heart for + </p> + <p> + “L. G.” + </p> + <p> + 3. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street, Pimlico, Monday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—I am in no state of mind to write you an amusing + letter. Your news is very discouraging, and the recklessness of your tone + quite alarms me. Consider the money I have already advanced, and the + interests we both have at stake. Whatever else you are, don’t be reckless, + for Heaven’s sake! + </p> + <p> + “What can I do? I ask myself, as a woman of business, what can I do to + help you? I can’t give you advice, for I am not on the spot, and I don’t + know how circumstances may alter from one day to another. Situated as we + are now, I can only be useful in one way. I can discover a new obstacle + that threatens you, and I think I can remove it. + </p> + <p> + “You say, with great truth, that there never was a prospect yet without an + ugly place in it, and that there are two ugly places in your prospect. My + dear, there may be <i>three</i> ugly places, if I don’t bestir myself to + prevent it; and the name of the third place will be—Brock! Is it + possible you can refer, as you have done, to the Somersetshire clergyman, + and not see that the progress you make with young Armadale will be, sooner + or later, reported to him by young Armadale’s friend? Why, now I think of + it, you are doubly at the parson’s mercy! You are at the mercy of any + fresh suspicion which may bring him into the neighborhood himself at a + day’s notice; and you are at the mercy of his interference the moment he + hears that the squire is committing himself with a neighbor’s governess. + If I can do nothing else, I can keep this additional difficulty out of + your way. And oh, Lydia, with what alacrity I shall exert myself, after + the manner in which the old wretch insulted me when I told him that + pitiable story in the street! I declare I tingle with pleasure at this new + prospect of making a fool of Mr. Brock. + </p> + <p> + “And how is it to be done? Just as we have done it already, to be sure. He + has lost ‘Miss Gwilt’ (otherwise my house-maid), hasn’t he? Very well. He + shall find her again, wherever he is now, suddenly settled within easy + reach of him. As long as <i>she</i> stops in the place, <i>he</i> will + stop in it; and as we know he is not at Thorpe Ambrose, there you are free + of him! The old gentleman’s suspicions have given us a great deal of + trouble so far. Let us turn them to some profitable account at last; let + us tie him, by his suspicions, to my house-maid’s apron-string. Most + refreshing. Quite a moral retribution, isn’t it? + </p> + <p> + “The only help I need trouble you for is help you can easily give. Find + out from Mr. Midwinter where the parson is now, and let me know by return + of post. If he is in London, I will personally assist my housemaid in the + necessary mystification of him. If he is anywhere else, I will send her + after him, accompanied by a person on whose discretion I can implicitly + rely. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have the sleeping drops to-morrow. In the meantime, I say at + the end what I said at the beginning—no recklessness. Don’t + encourage poetical feelings by looking at the stars; and don’t talk about + the night being awfully quiet. There are people (in observatories) paid to + look at the stars for you; leave it to them. And as for the night, do what + Providence intended you to do with the night when Providence provided you + with eyelids—go to sleep in it. Affectionately yours, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 4. <i>From the Reverend Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Bascombe Rectory, West Somerset, Thursday, July 8. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—One line before the post goes out, to relieve you + of all sense of responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose, and to make my apologies + to the lady who lives as governess in Major Milroy’s family. + </p> + <p> + “<i>The</i> Miss Gwilt—or perhaps I ought to say, the woman calling + herself by that name—has, to my unspeakable astonishment, openly + made her appearance here, in my own parish! She is staying at the inn, + accompanied by a plausible-looking man, who passes as her brother. What + this audacious proceeding really means—unless it marks a new step in + the conspiracy against Allan, taken under new advice—is, of course, + more than I can yet find out. + </p> + <p> + “My own idea is, that they have recognized the impossibility of getting at + Allan, without finding me (or you) as an obstacle in their way; and that + they are going to make a virtue of necessity by boldly trying to open + their communications through me. The man looks capable of any stretch of + audacity; and both he and the woman had the impudence to bow when I met + them in the village half an hour since. They have been making inquiries + already about Allan’s mother here, where her exemplary life may set their + closest scrutiny at defiance. If they will only attempt to extort money, + as the price of the woman’s silence on the subject of poor Mrs. Armadale’s + conduct in Madeira at the time of her marriage, they will find me well + prepared for them beforehand. I have written by this post to my lawyers to + send a competent man to assist me, and he will stay at the rectory, in any + character which he thinks it safest to assume under present circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “You shall hear what happens in the next day or two. + </p> + <p> + “Always truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0026" id="H2_4_0026"></a> XII. THE CLOUDING OF THE SKY. + </h2> + <p> + Nine days had passed, and the tenth day was nearly at an end, since Miss + Gwilt and her pupil had taken their morning walk in the cottage garden. + </p> + <p> + The night was overcast. Since sunset, there had been signs in the sky from + which the popular forecast had predicted rain. The reception-rooms at the + great house were all empty and dark. Allan was away, passing the evening + with the Milroys; and Midwinter was waiting his return—not where + Midwinter usually waited, among the books in the library, but in the + little back room which Allan’s mother had inhabited in the last days of + her residence at Thorpe Ambrose. + </p> + <p> + Nothing had been taken away, but much had been added to the room, since + Midwinter had first seen it. The books which Mrs. Armadale had left behind + her, the furniture, the old matting on the floor, the old paper on the + walls, were all undisturbed. The statuette of Niobe still stood on its + bracket, and the French window still opened on the garden. But now, to the + relics left by the mother, were added the personal possessions belonging + to the son. The wall, bare hitherto, was decorated with water-color + drawings—with a portrait of Mrs. Armadale supported on one side by a + view of the old house in Somersetshire, and on the other by a picture of + the yacht. Among the books which bore in faded ink Mrs. Armadale’s + inscriptions, “From my father,” were other books inscribed in the same + handwriting, in brighter ink, “To my son.” Hanging to the wall, ranged on + the chimney-piece, scattered over the table, were a host of little + objects, some associated with Allan’s past life, others necessary to his + daily pleasures and pursuits, and all plainly testifying that the room + which he habitually occupied at Thorpe Ambrose was the very room which had + once recalled to Midwinter the second vision of the dream. Here, strangely + unmoved by the scene around him, so lately the object of his superstitious + distrust, Allan’s friend now waited composedly for Allan’s return; and + here, more strangely still, he looked on a change in the household + arrangements, due in the first instance entirely to himself. His own lips + had revealed the discovery which he had made on the first morning in the + new house; his own voluntary act had induced the son to establish himself + in the mother’s room. + </p> + <p> + Under what motives had he spoken the words? Under no motives which were + not the natural growth of the new interests and the new hopes that now + animated him. + </p> + <p> + The entire change wrought in his convictions by the memorable event that + had brought him face to face with Miss Gwilt was a change which it was not + in his nature to hide from Allan’s knowledge. He had spoken openly, and + had spoken as it was in his character to speak. The merit of conquering + his superstition was a merit which he shrank from claiming, until he had + first unsparingly exposed that superstition in its worst and weakest + aspects to view. + </p> + <p> + It was only after he had unreservedly acknowledged the impulse under which + he had left Allan at the Mere, that he had taken credit to himself for the + new point of view from which he could now look at the Dream. Then, and not + till then, he had spoken of the fulfillment of the first Vision as the + doctor at the Isle of Man might have spoken of it. He had asked, as the + doctor might have asked, Where was the wonder of their seeing a pool at + sunset, when they had a whole network of pools within a few hours’ drive + of them? and what was there extraordinary in discovering a woman at the + Mere, when there were roads that led to it, and villages in its + neighborhood, and boats employed on it, and pleasure parties visiting it? + So again, he had waited to vindicate the firmer resolution with which he + looked to the future, until he had first revealed all that he now saw + himself of the errors of the past. The abandonment of his friend’s + interests, the unworthiness of the confidence that had given him the + steward’s place, the forgetfulness of the trust that Mr. Brock had reposed + in him all implied in the one idea of leaving Allan—were all pointed + out. The glaring self-contradictions betrayed in accepting the Dream as + the revelation of a fatality, and in attempting to escape that fatality by + an exertion of free-will—in toiling to store up knowledge of the + steward’s duties for the future, and in shrinking from letting the future + find him in Allan’s house—were, in their turn, unsparingly exposed. + To every error, to every inconsistency, he resolutely confessed, before he + ventured on the last simple appeal which closed all, “Will you trust me in + the future? Will you forgive and forget the past?” + </p> + <p> + A man who could thus open his whole heart, without one lurking reserve + inspired by consideration for himself, was not a man to forget any minor + act of concealment of which his weakness might have led him to be guilty + toward his friend. It lay heavy on Midwinter’s conscience that he had kept + secret from Allan a discovery which he ought in Allan’s dearest interests + to have revealed—the discovery of his mother’s room. + </p> + <p> + But one doubt still closed his lips—the doubt whether Mrs. + Armadale’s conduct in Madeira had been kept secret on her return to + England. + </p> + <p> + Careful inquiry, first among the servants, then among the tenantry, + careful consideration of the few reports current at the time, as repeated + to him by the few persons left who remembered them, convinced him at last + that the family secret had been successfully kept within the family + limits. Once satisfied that whatever inquiries the son might make would + lead to no disclosure which could shake his respect for his mother’s + memory, Midwinter had hesitated no longer. He had taken Allan into the + room, and had shown him the books on the shelves, and all that the writing + in the books disclosed. He had said plainly, “My one motive for not + telling you this before sprang from my dread of interesting you in the + room which I looked at with horror as the second of the scenes pointed at + in the Dream. Forgive me this also, and you will have forgiven me all.” + </p> + <p> + With Allan’s love for his mother’s memory, but one result could follow + such an avowal as this. He had liked the little room from the first, as a + pleasant contrast to the oppressive grandeur of the other rooms at Thorpe + Ambrose, and, now that he knew what associations were connected with it, + his resolution was at once taken to make it especially his own. The same + day, all his personal possessions were collected and arranged in his + mother’s room—in Midwinter’s presence, and with Midwinter’s + assistance given to the work. + </p> + <p> + Under those circumstances had the change now wrought in the household + arrangements been produced; and in this way had Midwinter’s victory over + his own fatalism—by making Allan the daily occupant of a room which + he might otherwise hardly ever have entered—actually favored the + fulfillment of the Second Vision of the Dream. + </p> + <p> + The hour wore on quietly as Allan’s friend sat waiting for Allan’s return. + Sometimes reading, sometimes thinking placidly, he whiled away the time. + No vexing cares, no boding doubts, troubled him now. The rent-day, which + he had once dreaded, had come and gone harmlessly. A friendlier + understanding had been established between Allan and his tenants; Mr. + Bashwood had proved himself to be worthy of the confidence reposed in him; + the Pedgifts, father and son, had amply justified their client’s good + opinion of them. Wherever Midwinter looked, the prospect was bright, the + future was without a cloud. + </p> + <p> + He trimmed the lamp on the table beside him and looked out at the night. + The stable clock was chiming the half-hour past eleven as he walked to the + window, and the first rain-drops were beginning to fall. He had his hand + on the bell to summon the servant, and send him over to the cottage with + an umbrella, when he was stopped by hearing the familiar footstep on the + walk outside. + </p> + <p> + “How late you are!” said Midwinter, as Allan entered through the open + French window. “Was there a party at the cottage?” + </p> + <p> + “No! only ourselves. The time slipped away somehow.” He answered in lower + tones than usual, and sighed as he took his chair. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be out of spirits?” pursued Midwinter. “What’s the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated. “I may as well tell you,” he said, after a moment. “It’s + nothing to be ashamed of; I only wonder you haven’t noticed it before! + There’s a woman in it, as usual—I’m in love.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter laughed. “Has Miss Milroy been more charming to-night than + ever?” he asked, gayly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Milroy!” repeated Allan. “What are you thinking of! I’m not in love + with Miss Milroy.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it! What a question to ask! Who can it be but Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden silence. Allan sat listlessly, with his hands in his + pockets, looking out through the open window at the falling rain. If he + had turned toward his friend when he mentioned Miss Gwilt’s name he might + possibly have been a little startled by the change he would have seen in + Midwinter’s face. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don’t approve of it?” he said, after waiting a little. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “It’s too late to make objections,” proceeded Allan. “I really mean it + when I tell you I’m in love with her.” + </p> + <p> + “A fortnight since you were in love with Miss Milroy,” said the other, in + quiet, measured tones. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! a mere flirtation. It’s different this time. I’m in earnest about + Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + He looked round as he spoke. Midwinter turned his face aside on the + instant, and bent it over a book. + </p> + <p> + “I see you don’t approve of the thing,” Allan went on. “Do you object to + her being only a governess? You can’t do that, I’m sure. If you were in my + place, her being only a governess wouldn’t stand in the way with <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Midwinter; “I can’t honestly say it would stand in the way with + me.” He gave the answer reluctantly, and pushed his chair back out of the + light of the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “A governess is a lady who is not rich,” said Allan, in an oracular + manner; “and a duchess is a lady who is not poor. And that’s all the + difference I acknowledge between them. Miss Gwilt is older than I am—I + don’t deny that. What age do you guess her at, Midwinter? I say, seven or + eight and twenty. What do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think seven or eight and twenty is too old for me? If you were in + love with a woman yourself, you wouldn’t think seven or eight and twenty + too old—would you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say I should think it too old, if—” + </p> + <p> + “If you were really fond of her?” + </p> + <p> + Once more there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” resumed Allan, “if there’s no harm in her being only a governess, + and no harm in her being a little older than I am, what’s the objection to + Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + “I have made no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t say you have. But you don’t seem to like the notion of it, for + all that.” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause. Midwinter was the first to break the silence this + time. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure of yourself, Allan?” he asked, with his face bent once more + over the book. “Are you really attached to this lady? Have you thought + seriously already of asking her to be your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking seriously of it at this moment,” said Allan. “I can’t be + happy—I can’t live without her. Upon my soul, I worship the very + ground she treads on!” + </p> + <p> + “How long—” His voice faltered, and he stopped. “How long,” he + reiterated, “have you worshipped the very ground she treads on?” + </p> + <p> + “Longer than you think for. I know I can trust you with all my secrets—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trust me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I <i>will</i> trust you. There is a little difficulty in the + way which I haven’t mentioned yet. It’s a matter of some delicacy, and I + want to consult you about it. Between ourselves, I have had private + opportunities with Miss Gwilt—” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “We’ll talk of this to-morrow,” he said. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked round in astonishment. The door was closed again, and he was + alone in the room. + </p> + <p> + “He has never shaken hands with me!” exclaimed Allan, looking bewildered + at the empty chair. + </p> + <p> + As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter appeared + again. + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t shaken hands,” he said, abruptly. “God bless you, Allan! We’ll + talk of it to-morrow. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. He felt + ill at ease, without knowing why. “Midwinter’s ways get stranger and + stranger,” he thought. “What can he mean by putting me off till to-morrow, + when I wanted to speak to him to-night?” He took up his bedroom candle a + little impatiently, put it down again, and, walking back to the open + window, stood looking out in the direction of the cottage. “I wonder if + she’s thinking of me?” he said to himself softly. + </p> + <p> + She <i>was</i> thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write to + Mrs. Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening line: “Make + your mind easy. I have got him!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0027" id="H2_4_0027"></a> XIII. EXIT. + </h2> + <p> + It rained all through the night, and when the morning came it was raining + still. + </p> + <p> + Contrary to his ordinary habit, Midwinter was waiting in the + breakfast-room when Allan entered it. He looked worn and weary, but his + smile was gentler and his manner more composed than usual. To Allan’s + surprise he approached the subject of the previous night’s conversation of + his own accord as soon as the servant was out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you thought me very impatient and very abrupt with you last + night,” he said. “I will try to make amends for it this morning. I will + hear everything you wish to say to me on the subject of Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly like to worry you,” said Allan. “You look as if you had had a + bad night’s rest.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not slept well for some time past,” replied Midwinter, quietly. + “Something has been wrong with me. But I believe I have found out the way + to put myself right again without troubling the doctors. Late in the + morning I shall have something to say to you about this. Let us get back + first to what you were talking of last night. You were speaking of some + difficulty—” He hesitated, and finished the sentence in a tone so + low that Allan failed to hear him. “Perhaps it would be better,” he went + on, “if, instead of speaking to me, you spoke to Mr. Brock?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather speak to <i>you</i>,” said Allan. “But tell me first, was + I right or wrong last night in thinking you disapproved of my falling in + love with Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s lean, nervous fingers began to crumble the bread in his plate. + His eyes looked away from Allan for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “If you have any objection,” persisted Allan, “I should like to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suddenly looked up again, his cheeks turning ashy pale, and his + glittering black eyes fixed full on Allan’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You love her,” he said. “Does <i>she</i> love <i>you</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “You won’t think me vain?” returned Allan. “I told you yesterday I had had + private opportunities with her—” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s eyes dropped again to the crumbs on his plate. “I understand,” + he interposed, quickly. “You were wrong last night. I had no objections to + make.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you congratulate me?” asked Allan, a little uneasily. “Such a + beautiful woman! such a clever woman!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter held out his hand. “I owe you more than mere congratulations,” + he said. “In anything which is for your happiness I owe you help.” He took + Allan’s hand, and wrung it hard. “Can I help you?” he asked, growing paler + and paler as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” exclaimed Allan, “what is the matter with you? Your hand + is as cold as ice.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter smiled faintly. “I am always in extremes,” he said; “my hand was + as hot as fire the first time you took it at the old west-country inn. + Come to that difficulty which you have not come to yet. You are young, + rich, your own master—and she loves you. What difficulty can there + be?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated. “I hardly know how to put it,” he replied. “As you said + just now, I love her, and she loves me; and yet there is a sort of + strangeness between us. One talks a good deal about one’s self when one is + in love, at least I do. I’ve told her all about myself and my mother, and + how I came in for this place, and the rest of it. Well—though it + doesn’t strike me when we are together—it comes across me now and + then, when I’m away from her, that she doesn’t say much on her side. In + fact, I know no more about her than you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that you know nothing about Miss Gwilt’s family and friends?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never asked her about them?” + </p> + <p> + “I said something of the sort the other day,” returned Allan: “and I’m + afraid, as usual, I said it in the wrong way. She looked—I can’t + quite tell you how; not exactly displeased, but—oh, what things + words are! I’d give the world, Midwinter, if I could only find the right + word when I want it as well as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Miss Gwilt say anything to you in the way of a reply?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s just what I was coming to. She said, ‘I shall have a melancholy + story to tell you one of these days, Mr. Armadale, about myself and my + family; but you look so happy, and the circumstances are so distressing, + that I have hardly the heart to speak of it now.’ Ah, <i>she</i> can + express herself—with the tears in her eyes, my dear fellow, with the + tears in her eyes! Of course, I changed the subject directly. And now the + difficulty is how to get back to it, delicately, without making her cry + again. We <i>must</i> get back to it, you know. Not on my account; I am + quite content to marry her first and hear of her family misfortunes, poor + thing, afterward. But I know Mr. Brock. If I can’t satisfy him about her + family when I write to tell him of this (which, of course, I must do), he + will be dead against the whole thing. I’m my own master, of course, and I + can do as I like about it. But dear old Brock was such a good friend to my + poor mother, and he has been such a good friend to me—you see what I + mean, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Allan; Mr. Brock has been your second father. Any disagreement + between you about such a serious matter as this would be the saddest thing + that could happen. You ought to satisfy him that Miss Gwilt is (what I am + sure Miss Gwilt will prove to be) worthy, in every way worthy—” His + voice sank in spite of him, and he left the sentence unfinished. + </p> + <p> + “Just my feeling in the matter!” Allan struck in, glibly. “Now we can come + to what I particularly wanted to consult you about. If this was your case, + Midwinter, you would be able to say the right words to her—you would + put it delicately, even though you were putting it quite in the dark. I + can’t do that. I’m a blundering sort of fellow; and I’m horribly afraid, + if I can’t get some hint at the truth to help me at starting, of saying + something to distress her. Family misfortunes are such tender subjects to + touch on, especially with such a refined woman, such a tender-hearted + woman, as Miss Gwilt. There may have been some dreadful death in the + family—some relation who has disgraced himself—some infernal + cruelty which has forced the poor thing out on the world as a governess. + Well, turning it over in my mind, it struck me that the major might be + able to put me on the right tack. It is quite possible that he might have + been informed of Miss Gwilt’s family circumstances before he engaged her, + isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is possible, Allan, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Just my feeling again! My notion is to speak to the major. If I could + only get the story from him first, I should know so much better how to + speak to Miss Gwilt about it afterward. You advise me to try the major, + don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause before Midwinter replied. When he did answer, it was a + little reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how to advise you, Allan,” he said. “This is a very + delicate matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you would try the major, if you were in my place,” returned + Allan, reverting to his inveterately personal way of putting the question. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I might,” said Midwinter, more and more unwillingly. “But if I + did speak to the major, I should be very careful, in your place, not to + put myself in a false position. I should be very careful to let no one + suspect me of the meanness of prying into a woman’s secrets behind her + back.” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s face flushed. “Good heavens, Midwinter,” he exclaimed, “who could + suspect me of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody, Allan, who really knows you.” + </p> + <p> + “The major knows me. The major is the last man in the world to + misunderstand me. All I want him to do is to help me (if he can) to speak + about a delicate subject to Miss Gwilt, without hurting her feelings. Can + anything be simpler between two gentlemen?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of replying, Midwinter, still speaking as constrainedly as ever, + asked a question on his side. “Do you mean to tell Major Milroy,” he said, + “what your intentions really are toward Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s manner altered. He hesitated, and looked confused. + </p> + <p> + “I have been thinking of that,” he replied; “and I mean to feel my way + first, and then tell him or not afterward, as matters turn out?” + </p> + <p> + A proceeding so cautious as this was too strikingly inconsistent with + Allan’s character not to surprise any one who knew him. Midwinter showed + his surprise plainly. + </p> + <p> + “You forget that foolish flirtation of mine with Miss Milroy,” Allan went + on, more and more confusedly. “The major may have noticed it, and may have + thought I meant—well, what I didn’t mean. It might be rather + awkward, mightn’t it, to propose to his face for his governess instead of + his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + He waited for a word of answer, but none came. Midwinter opened his lips + to speak, and suddenly checked himself. Allan, uneasy at his silence, + doubly uneasy under certain recollections of the major’s daughter which + the conversation had called up, rose from the table and shortened the + interview a little impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Come! come!” he said, “don’t sit there looking unutterable things; don’t + make mountains out of mole-hills. You have such an old, old head, + Midwinter, on those young shoulders of yours! Let’s have done with all + these <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i>. Do you mean to tell me in plain words + that it won’t do to speak to the major?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t take the responsibility, Allan, of telling you that. To be + plainer still, I can’t feel confident of the soundness of any advice I may + give you in—in our present position toward each other. All I am sure + of is that I cannot possibly be wrong in entreating you to do two things.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “If you speak to Major Milroy, pray remember the caution I have given you! + Pray think of what you say before you say it!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll think, never fear! What next?” + </p> + <p> + “Before you take any serious step in this matter, write and tell Mr. + Brock. Will you promise me to do that?” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart. Anything more?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more. I have said my last words.” + </p> + <p> + Allan led the way to the door. “Come into my room,” he said, “and I’ll + give you a cigar. The servants will be in here directly to clear away, and + I want to go on talking about Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t wait for me,” said Midwinter; “I’ll follow you in a minute or two.” + </p> + <p> + He remained seated until Allan had closed the door, then rose, and took + from a corner of the room, where it lay hidden behind one of the curtains, + a knapsack ready packed for traveling. As he stood at the window thinking, + with the knapsack in his hand, a strangely old, care-worn look stole over + his face: he seemed to lose the last of his youth in an instant. + </p> + <p> + What the woman’s quicker insight had discovered days since, the man’s + slower perception had only realized in the past night. The pang that had + wrung him when he heard Allan’s avowal had set the truth self-revealed + before Midwinter for the first time. He had been conscious of looking at + Miss Gwilt with new eyes and a new mind, on the next occasion when they + met after the memorable interview in Major Milroy’s garden; but he had + never until now known the passion that she had roused in him for what it + really was. Knowing it at last, feeling it consciously in full possession + of him, he had the courage which no man with a happier experience of life + would have possessed—the courage to recall what Allan had confided + to him, and to look resolutely at the future through his own grateful + remembrances of the past. + </p> + <p> + Steadfastly, through the sleepless hours of the night, he had bent his + mind to the conviction that he must conquer the passion which had taken + possession of him, for Allan’s sake; and that the one way to conquer it + was—to go. No after-doubt as to the sacrifice had troubled him when + morning came; and no after-doubt troubled him now. The one question that + kept him hesitating was the question of leaving Thorpe Ambrose. Though Mr. + Brock’s letter relieved him from all necessity of keeping watch in Norfolk + for a woman who was known to be in Somersetshire; though the duties of the + steward’s office were duties which might be safely left in Mr. Bashwood’s + tried and trustworthy hands—still, admitting these considerations, + his mind was not easy at the thought of leaving Allan, at a time when a + crisis was approaching in Allan’s life. + </p> + <p> + He slung the knapsack loosely over his shoulder and put the question to + his conscience for the last time. “Can you trust yourself to see her, day + by day as you must see her—can you trust yourself to hear him talk + of her, hour by hour, as you must hear him—if you stay in this + house?” Again the answer came, as it had come all through the night. Again + his heart warned him, in the very interests of the friendship that he held + sacred, to go while the time was his own; to go before the woman who had + possessed herself of his love had possessed herself of his power of + self-sacrifice and his sense of gratitude as well. + </p> + <p> + He looked round the room mechanically before he turned to leave it. Every + remembrance of the conversation that had just taken place between Allan + and himself pointed to the same conclusion, and warned him, as his own + conscience had warned him, to go. + </p> + <p> + Had he honestly mentioned any one of the objections which he, or any man, + must have seen to Allan’s attachment? Had he—as his knowledge of his + friend’s facile character bound him to do—warned Allan to distrust + his own hasty impulses, and to test himself by time and absence, before he + made sure that the happiness of his whole life was bound up in Miss Gwilt? + No. The bare doubt whether, in speaking of these things, he could feel + that he was speaking disinterestedly, had closed his lips, and would close + his lips for the future, till the time for speaking had gone by. Was the + right man to restrain Allan the man who would have given the world, if he + had it, to stand in Allan’s place? There was but one plain course of + action that an honest man and a grateful man could follow in the position + in which he stood. Far removed from all chance of seeing her, and from all + chance of hearing of her—alone with his own faithful recollection of + what he owed to his friend—he might hope to fight it down, as he had + fought down the tears in his childhood under his gypsy master’s stick; as + he had fought down the misery of his lonely youth time in the country + bookseller’s shop. “I must go,” he said, as he turned wearily from the + window, “before she comes to the house again. I must go before another + hour is over my head.” + </p> + <p> + With that resolution he left the room; and, in leaving it, took the + irrevocable step from Present to Future. + </p> + <p> + The rain was still falling. The sullen sky, all round the horizon, still + lowered watery and dark, when Midwinter, equipped for traveling, appeared + in Allan’s room. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” cried Allan, pointing to the knapsack, “what does <i>that</i> + mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing very extraordinary,” said Midwinter. “It only means—good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by!” repeated Allan, starting to his feet in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter put him back gently into his chair, and drew a seat near to it + for himself. + </p> + <p> + “When you noticed that I looked ill this morning,” he said, “I told you + that I had been thinking of a way to recover my health, and that I meant + to speak to you about it later in the day. That latter time has come. I + have been out of sorts, as the phrase is, for some time past. You have + remarked it yourself, Allan, more than once; and, with your usual + kindness, you have allowed it to excuse many things in my conduct which + would have been otherwise unpardonable, even in your friendly eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow,” interposed Allan, “you don’t mean to say you are going + out on a walking tour in this pouring rain!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the rain,” rejoined Midwinter. “The rain and I are old + friends. You know something, Allan, of the life I led before you met with + me. From the time when I was a child, I have been used to hardship and + exposure. Night and day, sometimes for months together, I never had my + head under a roof. For years and years, the life of a wild animal—perhaps + I ought to say, the life of a savage—was the life I led, while you + were at home and happy. I have the leaven of the vagabond—the + vagabond animal, or the vagabond man, I hardly know which—in me + still. Does it distress you to hear me talk of myself in this way? I won’t + distress you. I will only say that the comfort and the luxury of our life + here are, at times, I think, a little too much for a man to whom comforts + and luxuries come as strange things. I want nothing to put me right again + but more air and exercise; fewer good breakfasts and dinners, my dear + friend, than I get here. Let me go back to some of the hardships which + this comfortable house is expressly made to shut out. Let me meet the wind + and weather as I used to meet them when I was a boy; let me feel weary + again for a little while, without a carriage near to pick me up; and + hungry when the night falls, with miles of walking between my supper and + me. Give me a week or two away, Allan—up northward, on foot, to the + Yorkshire moors—and I promise to return to Thorpe Ambrose, better + company for you and for your friends. I shall be back before you have time + to miss me. Mr. Bashwood will take care of the business in the office; it + is only for a fortnight, and it is for my own good—let me go!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like it,” said Allan. “I don’t like your leaving me in this + sudden manner. There’s something so strange and dreary about it. Why not + try riding, if you want more exercise; all the horses in the stables are + at your disposal. At all events, you can’t possibly go to-day. Look at the + rain!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter looked toward the window, and gently shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I thought nothing of the rain,” he said, “when I was a mere child, + getting my living with the dancing dogs—why should I think anything + of it now? <i>My</i> getting wet, and <i>your</i> getting wet, Allan, are + two very different things. When I was a fisherman’s boy in the Hebrides, I + hadn’t a dry thread on me for weeks together.” + </p> + <p> + “But you’re not in the Hebrides now,” persisted Allan; “and I expect our + friends from the cottage to-morrow evening. You can’t start till after + to-morrow. Miss Gwilt is going to give us some more music, and you know + you like Miss Gwilt’s playing.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter turned aside to buckle the straps of his knapsack. “Give me + another chance of hearing Miss Gwilt when I come back,” he said, with his + head down, and his fingers busy at the straps. + </p> + <p> + “You have one fault, my dear fellow, and it grows on you,” remonstrated + Allan; “when you have once taken a thing into our head, you’re the most + obstinate man alive. There’s no persuading you to listen to reason. If you + <i>will</i> go,” added Allan, suddenly rising, as Midwinter took up his + hat and stick in silence, “I have half a mind to go with you, and try a + little roughing it too!” + </p> + <p> + “Go with <i>me</i>!” repeated Midwinter, with a momentary bitterness in + his tone, “and leave Miss Gwilt!” + </p> + <p> + Allan sat down again, and admitted the force of the objection in + significant silence. Without a word more on his side, Midwinter held out + his hand to take leave. They were both deeply moved, and each was anxious + to hide his agitation from the other. Allan took the last refuge which his + friend’s firmness left to him: he tried to lighten the farewell moment by + a joke. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I begin to doubt if you’re quite cured yet + of your belief in the Dream. I suspect you’re running away from me, after + all!” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter looked at him, uncertain whether he was in jest or earnest. + “What do you mean?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “What did you tell me,” retorted Allan, “when you took me in here the + other day, and made a clean breast of it? What did you say about this + room, and the second vision of the dream? By Jupiter!” he exclaimed, + starting to his feet once more, “now I look again, here <i>is</i> the + Second Vision! There’s the rain pattering against the window—there’s + the lawn and the garden outside—here am I where I stood in the Dream—and + there are you where the Shadow stood. The whole scene complete, + out-of-doors and in; and <i>I’ve</i> discovered it this time!” + </p> + <p> + A moment’s life stirred again in the dead remains of Midwinter’s + superstition. His color changed, and he eagerly, almost fiercely, disputed + Allan’s conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said, pointing to the little marble figure on the bracket, “the + scene is <i>not</i> complete—you have forgotten something, as usual. + The Dream is wrong this time, thank God—utterly wrong! In the vision + you saw, the statue was lying in fragments on the floor, and you were + stooping over them with a troubled and an angry mind. There stands the + statue safe and sound! and you haven’t the vestige of an angry feeling in + your mind, have you?” He seized Allan impulsively by the hand. At the same + moment the consciousness came to him that he was speaking and acting as + earnestly as if he still believed in the Dream. The color rushed back over + his face, and he turned away in confused silence. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” said Allan, laughing, a little uneasily. “That + night on the Wreck is hanging on your mind as heavily as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing hangs heavy on me,” retorted Midwinter, with a sudden outburst of + impatience, “but the knapsack on my back, and the time I’m wasting here. + I’ll go out, and see if it’s likely to clear up.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll come back?” interposed Allan. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter opened the French window, and stepped out into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, answering with all his former gentleness of manner; “I’ll + come back in a fortnight. Good-by, Allan; and good luck with Miss Gwilt!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed the window to, and was away across the garden before his friend + could open it again and follow him. + </p> + <p> + Allan rose, and took one step into the garden; then checked himself at the + window, and returned to his chair. He knew Midwinter well enough to feel + the total uselessness of attempting to follow him or to call him back. He + was gone, and for two weeks to come there was no hope of seeing him again. + An hour or more passed, the rain still fell, and the sky still threatened. + A heavier and heavier sense of loneliness and despondency—the sense + of all others which his previous life had least fitted him to understand + and endure—possessed itself of Allan’s mind. In sheer horror of his + own uninhabitably solitary house, he rang for his hat and umbrella, and + resolved to take refuge in the major’s cottage. + </p> + <p> + “I might have gone a little way with him,” thought Allan, his mind still + running on Midwinter as he put on his hat. “I should like to have seen the + dear old fellow fairly started on his journey.” + </p> + <p> + He took his umbrella. If he had noticed the face of the servant who gave + it to him, he might possibly have asked some questions, and might have + heard some news to interest him in his present frame of mind. As it was, + he went out without looking at the man, and without suspecting that his + servants knew more of Midwinter’s last moments at Thorpe Ambrose than he + knew himself. Not ten minutes since, the grocer and butcher had called in + to receive payment of their bills, and the grocer and the butcher had seen + how Midwinter started on his journey. + </p> + <p> + The grocer had met him first, not far from the house, stopping on his way, + in the pouring rain, to speak to a little ragged imp of a boy, the pest of + the neighborhood. The boy’s customary impudence had broken out even more + unrestrainedly than usual at the sight of the gentleman’s knapsack. And + what had the gentleman done in return? He had stopped and looked + distressed, and had put his two hands gently on the boy’s shoulders. The + grocer’s own eyes had seen that; and the grocer’s own ears had heard him + say, “Poor little chap! I know how the wind gnaws and the rain wets + through a ragged jacket, better than most people who have got a good coat + on their backs.” And with those words he had put his hand in his pocket, + and had rewarded the boy’s impudence with a present of a shilling. “Wrong + here-abouts,” said the grocer, touching his forehead. “That’s my opinion + of Mr. Armadale’s friend!” + </p> + <p> + The butcher had seen him further on in the journey, at the other end of + the town. He had stopped—again in the pouring rain—and this + time to look at nothing more remarkable than a half-starved cur, shivering + on a doorstep. “I had my eye on him,” said the butcher; “and what do you + think he did? He crossed the road over to my shop, and bought a bit of + meat fit for a Christian. Very well. He says good-morning, and crosses + back again; and, on the word of a man, down he goes on his knees on the + wet doorstep, and out he takes his knife, and cuts up the meat, and gives + it to the dog. Meat, I tell you again, fit for a Christian! I’m not a hard + man, ma’am,” concluded the butcher, addressing the cook, “but meat’s meat; + and it will serve your master’s friend right if he lives to want it.” + </p> + <p> + With those old unforgotten sympathies of the old unforgotten time to keep + him company on his lonely road, he had left the town behind him, and had + been lost to view in the misty rain. The grocer and the butcher had seen + the last of him, and had judged a great nature, as all natures <i>are</i> + judged from the grocer and the butcher point of view. + </p> + <p> + THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0028" id="H2_4_0028"></a> BOOK THE THIRD. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0029" id="H2_4_0029"></a> I. MRS. MILROY. + </h2> + <p> + Two days after Midwinter’s departure from Thorpe Ambrose, Mrs. Milroy, + having completed her morning toilet, and having dismissed her nurse, rang + the bell again five minutes afterward, and on the woman’s re-appearance + asked impatiently if the post had come in. + </p> + <p> + “Post?” echoed the nurse. “Haven’t you got your watch? Don’t you know that + it’s a good half-hour too soon to ask for your letters?” She spoke with + the confident insolence of a servant long accustomed to presume on her + mistress’s weakness and her mistress’s necessities. Mrs. Milroy, on her + side, appeared to be well used to her nurses manner; she gave her orders + composedly, without noticing it. + </p> + <p> + “When the postman does come,” she said, “see him yourself. I am expecting + a letter which I ought to have had two days since. I don’t understand it. + I’m beginning to suspect the servants.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse smiled contemptuously. “Whom will you suspect next?” she asked. + “There! don’t put yourself out. I’ll answer the gate-bell this morning; + and we’ll see if I can’t bring you a letter when the postman comes.” + Saying those words, with the tone and manner of a woman who is quieting a + fractious child, the nurse, without waiting to be dismissed, left the + room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy turned slowly and wearily on her bed, when she was left by + herself again, and let the light from the window fall on her face. It was + the face of a woman who had once been handsome, and who was still, so far + as years went, in the prime of her life. Long-continued suffering of body + and long-continued irritation of mind had worn her away—in the + roughly expressive popular phrase—to skin and bone. The utter wreck + of her beauty was made a wreck horrible to behold, by her desperate + efforts to conceal the sight of it from her own eyes, from the eyes of her + husband and her child, from the eyes even of the doctor who attended her, + and whose business it was to penetrate to the truth. Her head, from which + the greater part of the hair had fallen off; would have been less shocking + to see than the hideously youthful wig by which she tried to hide the + loss. No deterioration of her complexion, no wrinkling of her skin, could + have been so dreadful to look at as the rouge that lay thick on her + cheeks, and the white enamel plastered on her forehead. The delicate lace, + and the bright trimming on her dressing-gown, the ribbons in her cap, and + the rings on her bony fingers, all intended to draw the eye away from the + change that had passed over her, directed the eye to it, on the contrary; + emphasized it; made it by sheer force of contrast more hopeless and more + horrible than it really was. An illustrated book of the fashions, in which + women were represented exhibiting their finery by means of the free use of + their limbs, lay on the bed, from which she had not moved for years + without being lifted by her nurse. A hand-glass was placed with the book + so that she could reach it easily. She took up the glass after her + attendant had left the room, and looked at her face with an unblushing + interest and attention which she would have been ashamed of herself at the + age of eighteen. + </p> + <p> + “Older and older, and thinner and thinner!” she said. “The major will soon + be a free man; but I’ll have that red-haired hussy out of the house + first!” + </p> + <p> + She dropped the looking-glass on the counterpane, and clinched the hand + that held it. Her eyes suddenly riveted themselves on a little crayon + portrait of her husband hanging on the opposite wall; they looked at the + likeness with the hard and cruel brightness of the eyes of a bird of prey. + “Red is your taste in your old age is it?” she said to the portrait. “Red + hair, and a scrofulous complexion, and a padded figure, a ballet-girl’s + walk, and a pickpocket’s light fingers. <i>Miss</i> Gwilt! <i>Miss</i>, + with those eyes, and that walk!” She turned her head suddenly on the + pillow, and burst into a harsh, jeering laugh. “<i>Miss</i>!” she repeated + over and over again, with the venomously pointed emphasis of the most + merciless of all human forms of contempt—the contempt of one woman + for another. + </p> + <p> + The age we live in is an age which finds no human creature inexcusable. Is + there an excuse for Mrs. Milroy? Let the story of her life answer the + question. + </p> + <p> + She had married the major at an unusually early age; and, in marrying him, + had taken a man for her husband who was old enough to be her father—a + man who, at that time, had the reputation, and not unjustly, of having + made the freest use of his social gifts and his advantages of personal + appearance in the society of women. Indifferently educated, and below her + husband in station, she had begun by accepting his addresses under the + influence of her own flattered vanity, and had ended by feeling the + fascination which Major Milroy had exercised over women infinitely her + mental superiors in his earlier life. He had been touched, on his side, by + her devotion, and had felt, in his turn, the attraction of her beauty, her + freshness, and her youth. Up to the time when their little daughter and + only child had reached the age of eight years, their married life had been + an unusually happy one. At that period the double misfortune fell on the + household, of the failure of the wife’s health, and the almost total loss + of the husband’s fortune; and from that moment the domestic happiness of + the married pair was virtually at an end. + </p> + <p> + Having reached the age when men in general are readier, under the pressure + of calamity, to resign themselves than to resist, the major had secured + the little relics of his property, had retired into the country, and had + patiently taken refuge in his mechanical pursuits. A woman nearer to him + in age, or a woman with a better training and more patience of disposition + than his wife possessed, would have understood the major’s conduct, and + have found consolation in the major’s submission. Mrs. Milroy found + consolation in nothing. Neither nature nor training helped her to meet + resignedly the cruel calamity which had struck at her in the bloom of + womanhood and the prime of beauty. The curse of incurable sickness + blighted her at once and for life. + </p> + <p> + Suffering can, and does, develop the latent evil that there is in + humanity, as well as the latent good. The good that was in Mrs. Milroy’s + nature shrank up, under that subtly deteriorating influence in which the + evil grew and flourished. Month by month, as she became the weaker woman + physically, she became the worse woman morally. All that was mean, cruel, + and false in her expanded in steady proportion to the contraction of all + that had once been generous, gentle, and true. Old suspicions of her + husband’s readiness to relapse into the irregularities of his bachelor + life, which, in her healthier days of mind and body, she had openly + confessed to him—which she had always sooner or later seen to be + suspicions that he had not deserved—came back, now that sickness had + divorced her from him, in the form of that baser conjugal distrust which + keeps itself cunningly secret; which gathers together its inflammatory + particles atom by atom into a heap, and sets the slowly burning frenzy of + jealousy alight in the mind. No proof of her husband’s blameless and + patient life that could now be shown to Mrs. Milroy; no appeal that could + be made to her respect for herself, or for her child growing up to + womanhood, availed to dissipate the terrible delusion born of her hopeless + illness, and growing steadily with its growth. Like all other madness, it + had its ebb and flow, its time of spasmodic outburst, and its time of + deceitful repose; but, active or passive, it was always in her. It had + injured innocent servants, and insulted blameless strangers. It had + brought the first tears of shame and sorrow into her daughter’s eyes, and + had set the deepest lines that scored it in her husband’s face. It had + made the secret misery of the little household for years; and it was now + to pass beyond the family limits, and to influence coming events at Thorpe + Ambrose, in which the future interests of Allan and Allan’s friend were + vitally concerned. + </p> + <p> + A moment’s glance at the posture of domestic affairs in the cottage, prior + to the engagement of the new governess, is necessary to the due + appreciation of the serious consequences that followed Miss Gwilt’s + appearance on the scene. + </p> + <p> + On the marriage of the governess who had lived in his service for many + years (a woman of an age and an appearance to set even Mrs. Milroy’s + jealousy at defiance), the major had considered the question of sending + his daughter away from home far more seriously than his wife supposed. He + was conscious that scenes took place in the house at which no young girl + should be present; but he felt an invincible reluctance to apply the one + efficient remedy—the keeping his daughter away from home in school + time and holiday time alike. The struggle thus raised in his mind once set + at rest, by the resolution to advertise for a new governess, Major + Milroy’s natural tendency to avoid trouble rather than to meet it had + declared itself in its customary manner. He had closed his eyes again on + his home anxieties as quietly as usual, and had gone back, as he had gone + back on hundreds of previous occasions, to the consoling society of his + old friend the clock. + </p> + <p> + It was far otherwise with the major’s wife. The chance which her husband + had entirely overlooked, that the new governess who was to come might be a + younger and a more attractive woman than the old governess who had gone, + was the first chance that presented itself as possible to Mrs. Milroy’s + mind. She had said nothing. Secretly waiting, and secretly nursing her + inveterate distrust, she had encouraged her husband and her daughter to + leave her on the occasion of the picnic, with the express purpose of + making an opportunity for seeing the new governess alone. The governess + had shown herself; and the smoldering fire of Mrs. Milroy’s jealousy had + burst into flame in the moment when she and the handsome stranger first + set eyes on each other. + </p> + <p> + The interview over, Mrs. Milroy’s suspicions fastened at once and + immovably on her husband’s mother. + </p> + <p> + She was well aware that there was no one else in London on whom the major + could depend to make the necessary inquiries; she was well aware that Miss + Gwilt had applied for the situation, in the first instance, as a stranger + answering an advertisement published in a newspaper. Yet knowing this, she + had obstinately closed her eyes, with the blind frenzy of the blindest of + all the passions, to the facts straight before her; and, looking back to + the last of many quarrels between them which had ended in separating the + elder lady and herself, had seized on the conclusion that Miss Gwilt’s + engagement was due to her mother-in-law’s vindictive enjoyment of making + mischief in her household. The inference which the very servants + themselves, witnesses of the family scandal, had correctly drawn—that + the major’s mother, in securing the services of a well-recommended + governess for her son, had thought it no part of her duty to consider that + governess’s looks in the purely fanciful interests of the major’s wife—was + an inference which it was simply impossible to convey into Mrs. Milroy’s + mind. Miss Gwilt had barely closed the sick-room door when the whispered + words hissed out of Mrs. Milroy’s lips, “Before another week is over your + head, my lady, you go!” + </p> + <p> + From that moment, through the wakeful night and the weary day, the one + object of the bedridden woman’s life was to procure the new governess’s + dismissal from the house. + </p> + <p> + The assistance of the nurse, in the capacity of spy, was secured—as + Mrs. Milroy had been accustomed to secure other extra services which her + attendant was not bound to render her—by a present of a dress from + the mistress’s wardrobe. One after another articles of wearing apparel + which were now useless to Mrs. Milroy had ministered in this way to feed + the nurse’s greed—the insatiable greed of an ugly woman for fine + clothes. Bribed with the smartest dress she had secured yet, the household + spy took her secret orders, and applied herself with a vile enjoyment of + it to her secret work. + </p> + <p> + The days passed, the work went on; but nothing had come of it. Mistress + and servant had a woman to deal with who was a match for both of them. + </p> + <p> + Repeated intrusions on the major, when the governess happened to be in the + same room with him, failed to discover the slightest impropriety of word, + look, or action, on either side. Stealthy watching and listening at the + governess’s bedroom door detected that she kept a light in her room at + late hours of the night, and that she groaned and ground her teeth in her + sleep—and detected nothing more. Careful superintendence in the + day-time proved that she regularly posted her own letters, instead of + giving them to the servant; and that on certain occasions, when the + occupation of her hours out of lesson time and walking time was left at + her own disposal, she had been suddenly missed from the garden, and then + caught coming back alone to it from the park. Once and once only, the + nurse had found an opportunity of following her out of the garden, had + been detected immediately in the park, and had been asked with the most + exasperating politeness if she wished to join Miss Gwilt in a walk. Small + circumstances of this kind, which were sufficiently suspicious to the mind + of a jealous woman, were discovered in abundance. But circumstances, on + which to found a valid ground of complaint that might be laid before the + major, proved to be utterly wanting. Day followed day, and Miss Gwilt + remained persistently correct in her conduct, and persistently + irreproachable in her relations toward her employer and her pupil. + </p> + <p> + Foiled in this direction, Mrs. Milroy tried next to find an assailable + place in the statement which the governess’s reference had made on the + subject of the governess’s character. + </p> + <p> + Obtaining from the major the minutely careful report which his mother had + addressed to him on this topic, Mrs. Milroy read and reread it, and failed + to find the weak point of which she was in search in any part of the + letter. All the customary questions on such occasions had been asked, and + all had been scrupulously and plainly answered. The one sole opening for + an attack which it was possible to discover was an opening which showed + itself, after more practical matters had been all disposed of, in the + closing sentences of the letter. + </p> + <p> + “I was so struck,” the passage ran, “by the grace and distinction of Miss + Gwilt’s manners that I took an opportunity, when she was out of the room, + of asking how she first came to be governess. ‘In the usual way,’ I was + told. ‘A sad family misfortune, in which she behaved nobly. She is a very + sensitive person, and shrinks from speaking of it among strangers—a + natural reluctance which I have always felt it a matter of delicacy to + respect.’ Hearing this, of course, I felt the same delicacy on my side. It + was no part of my duty to intrude on the poor thing’s private sorrows; my + only business was to do what I have now done, to make sure that I was + engaging a capable and respectable governess to instruct my grandchild.” + </p> + <p> + After careful consideration of these lines, Mrs. Milroy, having a strong + desire to find circumstances suspicious, found them suspicious + accordingly. She determined to sift the mystery of Miss Gwilt’s family + misfortunes to the bottom, on the chance of extracting from it something + useful to her purpose. There were two ways of doing this. She might begin + by questioning the governess herself, or she might begin by questioning + the governess’s reference. Experience of Miss Gwilt’s quickness of + resource in dealing with awkward questions at their introductory interview + decided her on taking the latter course. “I’ll get the particulars from + the reference first,” thought Mrs. Milroy, “and then question the creature + herself, and see if the two stories agree.” + </p> + <p> + The letter of inquiry was short, and scrupulously to the point. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy began by informing her correspondent that the state of her + health necessitated leaving her daughter entirely under the governess’s + influence and control. On that account she was more anxious than most + mothers to be thoroughly informed in every respect about the person to + whom she confided the entire charge of an only child; and feeling this + anxiety, she might perhaps be excused for putting what might be thought, + after the excellent character Miss Gwilt had received, a somewhat + unnecessary question. With that preface, Mrs. Milroy came to the point, + and requested to be informed of the circumstances which had obliged Miss + Gwilt to go out as a governess. + </p> + <p> + The letter, expressed in these terms, was posted the same day. On the + morning when the answer was due, no answer appeared. The next morning + arrived, and still there was no reply. When the third morning came, Mrs. + Milroy’s impatience had broken loose from all restraint. She had rung for + the nurse in the manner which has been already recorded, and had ordered + the woman to be in waiting to receive the letters of the morning with her + own hands. In this position matters now stood; and in these domestic + circumstances the new series of events at Thorpe Ambrose took their rise. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy had just looked at her watch, and had just put her hand once + more to the bell-pull, when the door opened and the nurse entered the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Has the postman come?” asked Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + The nurse laid a letter on the bed without answering, and waited, with + unconcealed curiosity, to watch the effect which it produced on her + mistress. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy tore open the envelope the instant it was in her hand. A + printed paper appeared (which she threw aside), surrounding a letter + (which she looked at) in her own handwriting! She snatched up the printed + paper. It was the customary Post-office circular, informing her that her + letter had been duly presented at the right address, and that the person + whom she had written to was not to be found. + </p> + <p> + “Something wrong?” asked the nurse, detecting a change in her mistress’s + face. + </p> + <p> + The question passed unheeded. Mrs. Milroy’s writing-desk was on the table + at the bedside. She took from it the letter which the major’s mother had + written to her son, and turned to the page containing the name and address + of Miss Gwilt’s reference. “Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, + Bayswater,” she read, eagerly to herself, and then looked at the address + on her own returned letter. No error had been committed: the directions + were identically the same. + </p> + <p> + “Something wrong?” reiterated the nurse, advancing a step nearer to the + bed. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God—yes!” cried Mrs. Milroy, with a sudden outburst of + exultation. She tossed the Post-office circular to the nurse, and beat her + bony hands on the bedclothes in an ecstasy of anticipated triumph. “Miss + Gwilt’s an impostor! Miss Gwilt’s an impostor! If I die for it, Rachel, + I’ll be carried to the window to see the police take her away!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s one thing to say she’s an impostor behind her back, and another + thing to prove it to her face,” remarked the nurse. She put her hand as + she spoke into her apron pocket, and, with a significant look at her + mistress, silently produced a second letter. + </p> + <p> + “For me?” asked Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said the nurse; “for Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + The two women eyed each other, and understood each other without another + word. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” said Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + The nurse pointed in the direction of the park. “Out again, for another + walk before breakfast—by herself.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy beckoned to the nurse to stoop close over her. “Can you open + it, Rachel?” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Rachel nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Can you close it again, so that nobody would know?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you spare the scarf that matches your pearl gray dress?” asked + Rachel. + </p> + <p> + “Take it!” said Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + The nurse opened the wardrobe in silence, took the scarf in silence, and + left the room in silence. In less than five minutes she came back with the + envelope of Miss Gwilt’s letter open in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma’am, for the scarf,” said Rachel, putting the open letter + composedly on the counterpane of the bed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy looked at the envelope. It had been closed as usual by means + of adhesive gum, which had been made to give way by the application of + steam. As Mrs. Milroy took out the letter, her hand trembled violently, + and the white enamel parted into cracks over the wrinkles on her forehead. + </p> + <p> + Rachel withdrew to the window to keep watch on the park. “Don’t hurry,” + she said. “No signs of her yet.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy still paused, keeping the all-important morsel of paper folded + in her hand. She could have taken Miss Gwilt’s life, but she hesitated at + reading Miss Gwilt’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “Are you troubled with scruples?” asked the nurse, with a sneer. “Consider + it a duty you owe to your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “You wretch!” said Mrs. Milroy. With that expression of opinion, she + opened the letter. + </p> + <p> + It was evidently written in great haste, was undated, and was signed in + initials only. Thus it ran: + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—The cab is waiting at the door, and I have only a + moment to tell you that I am obliged to leave London, on business, for + three or four days, or a week at longest. My letters will be forwarded if + you write. I got yours yesterday, and I agree with you that it is very + important to put him off the awkward subject of yourself and your family + as long as you safely can. The better you know him, the better you will be + able to make up the sort of story that will do. Once told, you will have + to stick to it; and, <i>having</i> to stick to it, beware of making it + complicated, and beware of making it in a hurry. I will write again about + this, and give you my own ideas. In the meantime, don’t risk meeting him + too often in the park. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, M. O.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the nurse, returning to the bedside. “Have you done with + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Meeting him in the park!” repeated Mrs. Milroy, with her eyes still + fastened on the letter. “<i>Him</i>! Rachel, where is the major?” + </p> + <p> + “In his own room.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it!” + </p> + <p> + “Have your own way. I want the letter and the envelope.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you close it again so that she won’t know?” + </p> + <p> + “What I can open I can shut. Anything more?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy was left alone again, to review her plan of attack by the new + light that had now been thrown on Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + The information that had been gained by opening the governess’s letter + pointed plainly to the conclusion that an adventuress had stolen her way + into the house by means of a false reference. But having been obtained by + an act of treachery which it was impossible to acknowledge, it was not + information that could be used either for warning the major or for + exposing Miss Gwilt. The one available weapon in Mrs. Milroy’s hands was + the weapon furnished by her own returned letter, and the one question to + decide was how to make the best and speediest use of it. + </p> + <p> + The longer she turned the matter over in her mind, the more hasty and + premature seemed the exultation which she had felt at the first sight of + the Post-office circular. That a lady acting as reference to a governess + should have quitted her residence without leaving any trace behind her, + and without even mentioning an address to which her letters could be + forwarded, was a circumstance in itself sufficiently suspicious to be + mentioned to the major. But Mrs. Milroy, however perverted her estimate of + her husband might be in some respects, knew enough of his character to be + assured that, if she told him what had happened, he would frankly appeal + to the governess herself for an explanation. Miss Gwilt’s quickness and + cunning would, in that case, produce some plausible answer on the spot, + which the major’s partiality would be only too ready to accept; and she + would at the same time, no doubt, place matters in train, by means of the + post, for the due arrival of all needful confirmation on the part of her + accomplice in London. To keep strict silence for the present, and to + institute (without the governess’s knowledge) such inquiries as might be + necessary to the discovery of undeniable evidence, was plainly the only + safe course to take with such a man as the major, and with such a woman as + Miss Gwilt. Helpless herself, to whom could Mrs. Milroy commit the + difficult and dangerous task of investigation? The nurse, even if she was + to be trusted, could not be spared at a day’s notice, and could not be + sent away without the risk of exciting remark. Was there any other + competent and reliable person to employ, either at Thorpe Ambrose or in + London? Mrs. Milroy turned from side to side of the bed, searching every + corner of her mind for the needful discovery, and searching in vain. “Oh, + if I could only lay my hand on some man I could trust!” she thought, + despairingly. “If I only knew where to look for somebody to help me!” + </p> + <p> + As the idea passed through her mind, the sound of her daughter’s voice + startled her from the other side of the door. + </p> + <p> + “May I come in?” asked Neelie. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” returned Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought up your breakfast, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “My breakfast?” repeated Mrs. Milroy, in surprise. “Why doesn’t Rachel + bring it up as usual?” She considered a moment, and then called out, + sharply, “Come in!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0030" id="H2_4_0030"></a> II. THE MAN IS FOUND. + </h2> + <p> + Neelie entered the room, carrying the tray with the tea, the dry toast, + and the pat of butter which composed the invalid’s invariable breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “What does this mean?” asked Mrs. Milroy, speaking and looking as she + might have spoken and looked if the wrong servant had come into the room. + </p> + <p> + Neelie put the tray down on the bedside table. “I thought I should like to + bring you up your breakfast, mamma, for once in a way,” she replied, “and + I asked Rachel to let me.” + </p> + <p> + “Come here,” said Mrs. Milroy, “and wish me good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + Neelie obeyed. As she stooped to kiss her mother, Mrs. Milroy caught her + by the arm, and turned her roughly to the light. There were plain signs of + disturbance and distress in her daughter’s face. A deadly thrill of terror + ran through Mrs. Milroy on the instant. She suspected that the opening of + the letter had been discovered by Miss Gwilt, and that the nurse was + keeping out of the way in consequence. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, mamma,” said Neelie, shrinking under her mother’s grasp. “You + hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me why you have brought up my breakfast this morning,” persisted + Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “I have told you, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + “You have not! You have made an excuse; I see it in your face. Come! what + is it?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie’s resolution gave way before her mother’s. She looked aside + uneasily at the things in the tray. “I have been vexed,” she said, with an + effort; “and I didn’t want to stop in the breakfast-room. I wanted to come + up here, and to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Vexed? Who has vexed you? What has happened? Has Miss Gwilt anything to + do with it?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie looked round again at her mother in sudden curiosity and alarm. + “Mamma!” she said, “you read my thoughts. I declare you frighten me. It <i>was</i> + Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Before Mrs. Milroy could say a word more on her side, the door opened and + the nurse looked in. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got what you want?” she asked, as composedly as usual. “Miss, + there, insisted on taking your tray up this morning. Has she broken + anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the window. I want to speak to Rachel,” said Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + As soon as her daughter’s back was turned, she beckoned eagerly to the + nurse. “Anything wrong?” she asked, in a whisper. “Do you think she + suspects us?” + </p> + <p> + The nurse turned away with her hard, sneering smile. “I told you it should + be done,” she said, “and it <i>has</i> been done. She hasn’t the ghost of + a suspicion. I waited in the room; and I saw her take up the letter and + open it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy drew a deep breath of relief. “Thank you,” she said, loud + enough for her daughter to hear. “I want nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse withdrew; and Neelie came back from the window. Mrs. Milroy took + her by the hand, and looked at her more attentively and more kindly than + usual. Her daughter interested her that morning; for her daughter had + something to say on the subject of Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “I used to think that you promised to be pretty, child,” she said, + cautiously resuming the interrupted conversation in the least direct way. + “But you don’t seem to be keeping your promise. You look out of health and + out of spirits. What is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + If there had been any sympathy between mother and child, Neelie might have + owned the truth. She might have said frankly: “I am looking ill, because + my life is miserable to me. I am fond of Mr. Armadale, and Mr. Armadale + was once fond of me. We had one little disagreement, only one, in which I + was to blame. I wanted to tell him so at the time, and I have wanted to + tell him so ever since; and Miss Gwilt stands between us and prevents me. + She has made us like strangers; she has altered him, and taken him away + from me. He doesn’t look at me as he did; he doesn’t speak to me as he + did; he is never alone with me as he used to be; I can’t say the words to + him that I long to say; and I can’t write to him, for it would look as if + I wanted to get him back. It is all over between me and Mr. Armadale; and + it is that woman’s fault. There is ill-blood between Miss Gwilt and me the + whole day long; and say what I may, and do what I may, she always gets the + better of me, and always puts me in the wrong. Everything I saw at Thorpe + Ambrose pleased me, everything I did at Thorpe Ambrose made me happy, + before she came. Nothing pleases me, and nothing makes me happy now!” If + Neelie had ever been accustomed to ask her mother’s advice and to trust + herself to her mother’s love, she might have said such words as these. As + it was, the tears came into her eyes, and she hung her head in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Mrs. Milroy, beginning to lose patience. “You have something + to say to me about Miss Gwilt. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie forced back her tears, and made an effort to answer. + </p> + <p> + “She aggravates me beyond endurance, mamma; I can’t bear her; I shall do + something—” Neelie stopped, and stamped her foot angrily on the + floor. “I shall throw something at her head if we go on much longer like + this! I should have thrown something this morning if I hadn’t left the + room. Oh, do speak to papa about it! Do find out some reason for sending + her away! I’ll go to school—I’ll do anything in the world to get rid + of Miss Gwilt!” + </p> + <p> + To get rid of Miss Gwilt! At those words—at that echo from her + daughter’s lips of the one dominant desire kept secret in her own heart—Mrs. + Milroy slowly raised herself in bed. What did it mean? Was the help she + wanted coming from the very last of all quarters in which she could have + thought of looking for it? + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to get rid of Miss Gwilt?” she asked. “What have you got + to complain of?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” said Neelie. “That’s the aggravation of it. Miss Gwilt won’t + let me have anything to complain of. She is perfectly detestable; she is + driving me mad; and she is the pink of propriety all the time. I dare say + it’s wrong, but I don’t care—I hate her!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy’s eyes questioned her daughter’s face as they had never + questioned it yet. There was something under the surface, evidently—something + which it might be of vital importance to her own purpose to discover—which + had not risen into view. She went on probing her way deeper and deeper + into Neelie’s mind, with a warmer and warmer interest in Neelie’s secret. + </p> + <p> + “Pour me out a cup of tea,” she said; “and don’t excite yourself, my dear. + Why do you speak to <i>me</i> about this? Why don’t you speak to your + father?” + </p> + <p> + “I have tried to speak to papa,” said Neelie. “But it’s no use; he is too + good to know what a wretch she is. She is always on her best behavior with + him; she is always contriving to be useful to him. I can’t make him + understand why I dislike Miss Gwilt; I can’t make <i>you</i> understand—I + only understand it myself.” She tried to pour out the tea, and in trying + upset the cup. “I’ll go downstairs again!” exclaimed Neelie, with a burst + of tears. “I’m not fit for anything; I can’t even pour out a cup of tea!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy seized her hand and stopped her. Trifling as it was, Neelie’s + reference to the relations between the major and Miss Gwilt had roused her + mother’s ready jealousy. The restraints which Mrs. Milroy had laid on + herself thus far vanished in a moment—vanished even in the presence + of a girl of sixteen, and that girl her own child! + </p> + <p> + “Wait here!” she said, eagerly. “You have come to the right place and the + right person. Go on abusing Miss Gwilt. I like to hear you—I hate + her, too!” + </p> + <p> + “You, mamma!” exclaimed Neelie, looking at her mother in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mrs. Milroy hesitated before she said more. Some last-left + instinct of her married life in its earlier and happier time pleaded hard + with her to respect the youth and the sex of her child. But jealousy + respects nothing; in the heaven above and on the earth beneath, nothing + but itself. The slow fire of self-torment, burning night and day in the + miserable woman’s breast, flashed its deadly light into her eyes, as the + next words dropped slowly and venomously from her lips. + </p> + <p> + “If you had had eyes in your head, you would never have gone to your + father,” she said. “Your father has reasons of his own for hearing nothing + that you can say, or that anybody can say, against Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Many girls at Neelie’s age would have failed to see the meaning hidden + under those words. It was the daughter’s misfortune, in this instance, to + have had experience enough of the mother to understand her. Neelie started + back from the bedside, with her face in a glow. “Mamma!” she said, “you + are talking horribly! Papa is the best, and dearest, and kindest—oh, + I won’t hear it! I won’t hear it!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy’s fierce temper broke out in an instant—broke out all + the more violently from her feeling herself, in spite of herself, to have + been in the wrong. + </p> + <p> + “You impudent little fool!” she retorted, furiously. “Do you think I want + <i>you</i> to remind me of what I owe to your father? Am I to learn how to + speak of your father, and how to think of your father, and how to love and + honor your father, from a forward little minx like you! I was finely + disappointed, I can tell you, when you were born—I wished for a boy, + you impudent hussy! If you ever find a man who is fool enough to marry + you, he will be a lucky man if you only love him half as well, a quarter + as well, a hundred-thousandth part as well, as I loved your father. Ah, + you can cry when it’s too late; you can come creeping back to beg your + mother’s pardon after you have insulted her. You little dowdy, half-grown + creature! I was handsomer than ever you will be when I married your + father. I would have gone through fire and water to serve your father! If + he had asked me to cut off one of my arms, I would have done it—I + would have done it to please him!” She turned suddenly with her face to + the wall, forgetting her daughter, forgetting her husband, forgetting + everything but the torturing remembrance of her lost beauty. “My arms!” + she repeated to herself, faintly. “What arms I had when I was young!” She + snatched up the sleeve of her dressing-gown furtively, with a shudder. + “Oh, look at it now! look at it now!” + </p> + <p> + Neelie fell on her knees at the bedside and hid her face. In sheer despair + of finding comfort and help anywhere else, she had cast herself + impulsively on her mother’s mercy; and this was how it had ended! “Oh, + mamma,” she pleaded, “you know I didn’t mean to offend you! I couldn’t + help it when you spoke so of my father. Oh, do, do forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy turned again on her pillow, and looked at her daughter + vacantly. “Forgive you?” she repeated, with her mind still in the past, + groping its way back darkly to the present. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, mamma—I beg your pardon on my knees. I am so + unhappy; I do so want a little kindness! Won’t you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” rejoined Mrs. Milroy. “Ah,” she said, after an interval, + “now I know! Forgive you? Yes; I’ll forgive you on one condition.” She + lifted Neelie’s head, and looked her searchingly in the face. “Tell me why + you hate Miss Gwilt! You’ve a reason of your own for hating her, and you + haven’t confessed it yet.” + </p> + <p> + Neelie’s head dropped again. The burning color that she was hiding by + hiding her face showed itself on her neck. Her mother saw it, and gave her + time. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” reiterated Mrs. Milroy, more gently, “why do you hate her?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came reluctantly, a word at a time, in fragments. + </p> + <p> + “Because she is trying—” + </p> + <p> + “Trying what?” + </p> + <p> + “Trying to make somebody who is much—” + </p> + <p> + “Much what?” + </p> + <p> + “Much too young for her—” + </p> + <p> + “Marry her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Breathlessly interested, Mrs. Milroy leaned forward, and twined her hand + caressingly in her daughter’s hair. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it, Neelie?” she asked, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “You will never say I told you, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy leaned back on her pillow in dead silence. The plain betrayal + of her daughter’s first love, by her daughter’s own lips, which would have + absorbed the whole attention of other mothers, failed to occupy her for a + moment. Her jealousy, distorting all things to fit its own conclusions, + was busied in distorting what she had just heard. “A blind,” she thought, + “which has deceived my girl. It doesn’t deceive <i>me</i>. Is Miss Gwilt + likely to succeed?” she asked, aloud. “Does Mr. Armadale show any sort of + interest in her?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie looked up at her mother for the first time. The hardest part of the + confession was over now. She had revealed the truth about Miss Gwilt, and + she had openly mentioned Allan’s name. + </p> + <p> + “He shows the most unaccountable interest,” she said. “It’s impossible to + understand it. It’s downright infatuation. I haven’t patience to talk + about it!” + </p> + <p> + “How do <i>you</i> come to be in Mr. Armadale’s secrets?” inquired Mrs. + Milroy. “Has he informed <i>you</i>, of all the people in the world, of + his interest in Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + “Me!” exclaimed Neelie, indignantly. “It’s quite bad enough that he should + have told papa.” + </p> + <p> + At the re-appearance of the major in the narrative, Mrs. Milroy’s interest + in the conversation rose to its climax. She raised herself again from the + pillow. “Get a chair,” she said. “Sit down, child, and tell me all about + it. Every word, mind—every word!” + </p> + <p> + “I can only tell you, mamma, what papa told me.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “Saturday. I went in with papa’s lunch to the workshop, and he said, ‘I + have just had a visit from Mr. Armadale; and I want to give you a caution + while I think of it.’ I didn’t say anything, mamma; I only waited. Papa + went on, and told me that Mr. Armadale had been speaking to him on the + subject of Miss Gwilt, and that he had been asking a question about her + which nobody in his position had a right to ask. Papa said he had been + obliged, good-humoredly, to warn Mr. Armadale to be a little more + delicate, and a little more careful next time. I didn’t feel much + interested, mamma; it didn’t matter to <i>me</i> what Mr. Armadale said or + did. Why should I care about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind yourself,” interposed Mrs. Milroy, sharply. “Go on with what + your father said. What was he doing when he was talking about Miss Gwilt? + How did he look?” + </p> + <p> + “Much as usual, mamma. He was walking up and down the workshop; and I took + his arm and walked up and down with him.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care what <i>you</i> were doing,” said Mrs. Milroy, more and more + irritably. “Did your father tell you what Mr. Armadale’s question was, or + did he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mamma. He said Mr. Armadale began by mentioning that he was very + much interested in Miss Gwilt, and he then went on to ask whether papa + could tell him anything about her family misfortunes—” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Mrs. Milroy. The word burst from her almost in a scream, and + the white enamel on her face cracked in all directions. “Mr. Armadale said + <i>that</i>?” she went on, leaning out further and further over the side + of the bed. + </p> + <p> + Neelie started up, and tried to put her mother back on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” she exclaimed, “are you in pain? Are you ill? You frighten me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” said Mrs. Milroy. She was too violently + agitated to make any other than the commonest excuse. “My nerves are bad + this morning; don’t notice it. I’ll try the other side of the pillow. Go + on! go on! I’m listening, though I’m not looking at you.” She turned her + face to the wall, and clinched her trembling hands convulsively beneath + the bedclothes. “I’ve got her!” she whispered to herself, under her + breath. “I’ve got her at last!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I’ve been talking too much,” said Neelie. “I’m afraid I’ve + been stopping here too long. Shall I go downstairs, mamma, and come back + later in the day?” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” repeated Mrs. Milroy, mechanically. “What did your father say + next? Anything more about Mr. Armadale?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more, except how papa answered him,” replied Neelie. “Papa + repeated his own words when he told me about it. He said, ‘In the absence + of any confidence volunteered by the lady herself, Mr. Armadale, all I + know or wish to know—and you must excuse me for saying, all any one + else need know or wish to know—is that Miss Gwilt gave me a + perfectly satisfactory reference before she entered my house.’ Severe, + mamma, wasn’t it? I don’t pity him in the least; he richly deserved it. + The next thing was papa’s caution to <i>me</i>. He told me to check Mr. + Armadale’s curiosity if he applied to me next. As if he was likely to + apply to me! And as if I should listen to him if he did! That’s all, + mamma. You won’t suppose, will you, that I have told you this because I + want to hinder Mr. Armadale from marrying Miss Gwilt? Let him marry her if + he pleases; I don’t care!” said Neelie, in a voice that faltered a little, + and with a face which was hardly composed enough to be in perfect harmony + with a declaration of indifference. “All I want is to be relieved from the + misery of having Miss Gwilt for my governess. I’d rather go to school. I + should like to go to school. My mind’s quite changed about all that, only + I haven’t the heart to tell papa. I don’t know what’s come to me, I don’t + seem to have heart enough for anything now; and when papa takes me on his + knee in the evening, and says, ‘Let’s have a talk, Neelie,’ he makes me + cry. Would you mind breaking it to him, mamma, that I’ve changed my mind, + and I want to go to school?” The tears rose thickly in her eyes, and she + failed to see that her mother never even turned on the pillow to look + round at her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Milroy, vacantly. “You’re a good girl; you shall go + to school.” + </p> + <p> + The cruel brevity of the reply, and the tone in which it was spoken, told + Neelie plainly that her mother’s attention had been wandering far away + from her, and that it was useless and needless to prolong the interview. + She turned aside quietly, without a word of remonstrance. It was nothing + new in her experience to find herself shut out from her mother’s + sympathies. She looked at her eyes in the glass, and, pouring out some + cold water, bathed her face. “Miss Gwilt shan’t see I’ve been crying!” + thought Neelie, as she went back to the bedside to take her leave. “I’ve + tired you out, mamma,” she said, gently. “Let me go now; and let me come + back a little later when you have had some rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” repeated her mother, as mechanically as ever; “a little later when + I have had some rest.” + </p> + <p> + Neelie left the room. The minute after the door had closed on her, Mrs. + Milroy rang the bell for her nurse. In the face of the narrative she had + just heard, in the face of every reasonable estimate of probabilities, she + held to her own jealous conclusions as firmly as ever. “Mr. Armadale may + believe her, and my daughter may believe her,” thought the furious woman. + “But I know the major; and she can’t deceive <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + The nurse came in. “Prop me up,” said Mrs. Milroy. “And give me my desk. I + want to write.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re excited,” replied the nurse. “You’re not fit to write.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the desk,” reiterated Mrs. Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “Anything more?” asked Rachel, repeating her invariable formula as she + placed the desk on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Come back in half an hour. I shall want you to take a letter to the + great house.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse’s sardonic composure deserted her for once. “Mercy on us!” she + exclaimed, with an accent of genuine surprise. “What next? You don’t mean + to say you’re going to write—?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to write to Mr. Armadale,” interposed Mrs. Milroy; “and you + are going to take the letter to him, and wait for an answer; and, mind + this, not a living soul but our two selves must know of it in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Why are you writing to Mr. Armadale?” asked Rachel. “And why is nobody to + know of it but our two selves?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” rejoined Mrs. Milroy, “and you will see.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse’s curiosity, being a woman’s curiosity, declined to wait. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll help you with my eyes open,” she said; “but I won’t help you + blindfold.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if I only had the use of my limbs!” groaned Mrs. Milroy. “You wretch, + if I could only do without you!” + </p> + <p> + “You have the use of your head,” retorted the impenetrable nurse. “And you + ought to know better than to trust me by halves, at this time of day.” + </p> + <p> + It was brutally put; but it was true—doubly true, after the opening + of Miss Gwilt’s letter. Mrs. Milroy gave way. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to know?” she asked. “Tell me, and leave me.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know what you are writing to Mr. Armadale about?” + </p> + <p> + “About Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “What has Mr. Armadale to do with you and Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Milroy held up the letter that had been returned to her by the + authorities at the Post-office. + </p> + <p> + “Stoop,” she said. “Miss Gwilt may be listening at the door. I’ll + whisper.” + </p> + <p> + The nurse stooped, with her eye on the door. “You know that the postman + went with this letter to Kingsdown Crescent?” said Mrs. Milroy. “And you + know that he found Mrs. Mandeville gone away, nobody could tell where?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” whispered Rachel “what next?” + </p> + <p> + “This, next. When Mr. Armadale gets the letter that I am going to write to + him, he will follow the same road as the postman; and we’ll see what + happens when he knocks at Mrs. Mandeville’s door.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you get him to the door?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell him to go to Miss Gwilt’s reference.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he sweet on Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the nurse. “I see!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0031" id="H2_4_0031"></a> III. THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY. + </h2> + <p> + The morning of the interview between Mrs. Milroy and her daughter at the + cottage was a morning of serious reflection for the squire at the great + house. + </p> + <p> + Even Allan’s easy-tempered nature had not been proof against the + disturbing influences exercised on it by the events of the last three + days. Midwinter’s abrupt departure had vexed him; and Major Milroy’s + reception of his inquiries relating to Miss Gwilt weighed unpleasantly on + his mind. Since his visit to the cottage, he had felt impatient and ill at + ease, for the first time in his life, with everybody who came near him. + Impatient with Pedgift Junior, who had called on the previous evening to + announce his departure for London, on business, the next day, and to place + his services at the disposal of his client; ill at ease with Miss Gwilt, + at a secret meeting with her in the park that morning; and ill at ease in + his own company, as he now sat moodily smoking in the solitude of his + room. “I can’t live this sort of life much longer,” thought Allan. “If + nobody will help me to put the awkward question to Miss Gwilt, I must + stumble on some way of putting it for myself.” + </p> + <p> + What way? The answer to that question was as hard to find as ever. Allan + tried to stimulate his sluggish invention by walking up and down the room, + and was disturbed by the appearance of the footman at the first turn. + </p> + <p> + “Now then! what is it?” he asked, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “A letter, sir; and the person waits for an answer.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at the address. It was in a strange handwriting. He opened + the letter, and a little note inclosed in it dropped to the ground. The + note was directed, still in the strange handwriting, to “Mrs. Mandeville, + 18 Kingsdown Crescent, Bayswater. Favored by Mr. Armadale.” More and more + surprised, Allan turned for information to the signature at the end of the + letter. It was “Anne Milroy.” + </p> + <p> + “Anne Milroy?” he repeated. “It must be the major’s wife. What can she + possibly want with me?” By way of discovering what she wanted, Allan did + at last what he might more wisely have done at first. He sat down to read + the letter. + </p> + <p> + [“Private.”] “The Cottage, Monday. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—The name at the end of these lines will, I fear, recall to + you a very rude return made on my part, some time since, for an act of + neighborly kindness on yours. I can only say in excuse that I am a great + sufferer, and that, if I was ill-tempered enough, in a moment of + irritation under severe pain, to send back your present of fruit, I have + regretted doing so ever since. Attribute this letter, if you please, to my + desire to make some atonement, and to my wish to be of service to our good + friend and landlord, if I possibly can. + </p> + <p> + “I have been informed of the question which you addressed to my husband, + the day before yesterday, on the subject of Miss Gwilt. From all I have + heard of you, I am quite sure that your anxiety to know more of this + charming person than you know now is an anxiety proceeding from the most + honorable motives. Believing this, I feel a woman’s interest—incurable + invalid as I am—in assisting you. If you are desirous of becoming + acquainted with Miss Gwilt’s family circumstances without directly + appealing to Miss Gwilt herself, it rests with you to make the discovery; + and I will tell you how. + </p> + <p> + “It so happens that, some few days since, I wrote privately to Miss + Gwilt’s reference on this very subject. I had long observed that my + governess was singularly reluctant to speak of her family and her friends; + and, without attributing her silence to other than perfectly proper + motives, I felt it my duty to my daughter to make some inquiry on the + subject. The answer that I have received is satisfactory as far as it + goes. My correspondent informs me that Miss Gwilt’s story is a very sad + one, and that her own conduct throughout has been praiseworthy in the + extreme. The circumstances (of a domestic nature, as I gather) are all + plainly stated in a collection of letters now in the possession of Miss + Gwilt’s reference. This lady is perfectly willing to let me see the + letters; but not possessing copies of them, and being personally + responsible for their security, she is reluctant, if it can be avoided, to + trust them to the post; and she begs me to wait until she or I can find + some reliable person who can be employed to transmit the packet from her + hands to mine. + </p> + <p> + “Under these circumstances, it has struck me that you might possibly, with + your interest in the matter, be not unwilling to take charge of the + papers. If I am wrong in this idea, and if you are not disposed, after + what I have told you, to go to the trouble and expense of a journey to + London, you have only to burn my letter and inclosure, and to think no + more about it. If you decide on becoming my envoy, I gladly provide you + with the necessary introduction to Mrs. Mandeville. You have only, on + presenting it, to receive the letters in a sealed packet, to send them + here on your return to Thorpe Ambrose, and to wait an early communication + from me acquainting you with the result. + </p> + <p> + “In conclusion, I have only to add that I see no impropriety in your + taking (if you feel so inclined) the course that I propose to you. Miss + Gwilt’s manner of receiving such allusions as I have made to her family + circumstances has rendered it unpleasant for me (and would render it quite + impossible for you) to seek information in the first instance from + herself. I am certainly justified in applying to her reference; and you + are certainly not to blame for being the medium of safely transmitting a + sealed communication with one lady to another. If I find in that + communication family secrets which cannot honorably be mentioned to any + third person, I shall, of course, be obliged to keep you waiting until I + have first appealed to Miss Gwilt. If I find nothing recorded but what is + to her honor, and what is sure to raise her still higher in your + estimation, I am undeniably doing her a service by taking you into my + confidence. This is how I look at the matter; but pray don’t allow me to + influence <i>you</i>. + </p> + <p> + “In any case, I have one condition to make, which I am sure you will + understand to be indispensable. The most innocent actions are liable, in + this wicked world, to the worst possible interpretation I must, therefore, + request that you will consider this communication as strictly <i>private</i>. + I write to you in a confidence which is on no account (until circumstances + may, in my opinion, justify the revelation of it) to extend beyond our two + selves, + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, + </p> + <p> + “ANNE MILROY.” + </p> + <p> + In this tempting form the unscrupulous ingenuity of the major’s wife had + set the trap. Without a moment’s hesitation, Allan followed his impulses, + as usual, and walked straight into it, writing his answer and pursuing his + own reflections simultaneously in a highly characteristic state of mental + confusion. + </p> + <p> + “By Jupiter, this is kind of Mrs. Milroy!” (“My dear madam.”) “Just the + thing I wanted, at the time when I needed it most!” (“I don’t know how to + express my sense of your kindness, except by saying that I will go to + London and fetch the letters with the greatest pleasure.”) “She shall have + a basket of fruit regularly every day, all through the season.” (“I will + go at once, dear madam, and be back to-morrow.”) “Ah, nothing like the + women for helping one when one is in love! This is just what my poor + mother would have done in Mrs. Milroy’s place.” (“On my word of honor as a + gentleman, I will take the utmost care of the letters; and keep the thing + strictly private, as you request.”) “I would have given five hundred + pounds to anybody who would have put me up to the right way to speak to + Miss Gwilt; and here is this blessed woman does it for nothing.” (“Believe + me, my dear madam, gratefully yours, Allan Armadale.”) + </p> + <p> + Having sent his reply out to Mrs. Milroy’s messenger, Allan paused in a + momentary perplexity. He had an appointment with Miss Gwilt in the park + for the next morning. It was absolutely necessary to let her know that he + would be unable to keep it. She had forbidden him to write, and he had no + chance that day of seeing her alone. In this difficulty, he determined to + let the necessary intimation reach her through the medium of a message to + the major, announcing his departure for London on business, and asking if + he could be of service to any member of the family. Having thus removed + the only obstacle to his freedom of action, Allan consulted the + time-table, and found, to his disappointment, that there was a good hour + to spare before it would be necessary to drive to the railway station. In + his existing frame of mind he would infinitely have preferred starting for + London in a violent hurry. + </p> + <p> + When the time came at last, Allan, on passing the steward’s office, + drummed at the door, and called through it to Mr. Bashwood, “I’m going to + town; back to-morrow.” There was no answer from within; and the servant, + interposing, informed his master that Mr. Bashwood, having no business to + attend to that day, had locked up the office, and had left some hours + since. + </p> + <p> + On reaching the station, the first person whom Allan encountered was + Pedgift Junior, going to London on the legal business which he had + mentioned on the previous evening at the great house. The necessary + explanations exchanged, and it was decided that the two should travel in + the same carriage. Allan was glad to have a companion; and Pedgift, + enchanted as usual to make himself useful to his client, bustled away to + get the tickets and see to the luggage. Sauntering to and fro on the + platform, until his faithful follower returned, Allan came suddenly upon + no less a person than Mr. Bashwood himself, standing back in a corner with + the guard of the train, and putting a letter (accompanied, to all + appearance, by a fee) privately into the man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + “Halloo!” cried Allan, in his hearty way. “Something important there, Mr. + Bashwood, eh?” + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Bashwood had been caught in the act of committing murder, he could + hardly have shown greater alarm than he now testified at Allan’s sudden + discovery of him. Snatching off his dingy old hat, he bowed bare-headed, + in a palsy of nervous trembling from head to foot. “No, sir—no, sir; + only a little letter, a little letter, a little letter,” said the + deputy-steward, taking refuge in reiteration, and bowing himself swiftly + backward out of his employer’s sight. + </p> + <p> + Allan turned carelessly on his heel. “I wish I could take to that fellow,” + he thought, “but I can’t; he’s such a sneak! What the deuce was there to + tremble about? Does he think I want to pry into his secrets?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood’s secret on this occasion concerned Allan more nearly than + Allan supposed. The letter which he had just placed in charge of the guard + was nothing less than a word of warning addressed to Mrs. Oldershaw, and + written by Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “If you can hurry your business” (wrote the major’s governess) “do so, and + come back to London immediately. Things are going wrong here, and Miss + Milroy is at the bottom of the mischief. This morning she insisted on + taking up her mother’s breakfast, always on other occasions taken up by + the nurse. They had a long confabulation in private; and half an hour + later I saw the nurse slip out with a letter, and take the path that leads + to the great house. The sending of the letter has been followed by young + Armadale’s sudden departure for London—in the face of an appointment + which he had with me for to-morrow morning. This looks serious. The girl + is evidently bold enough to make a fight of it for the position of Mrs. + Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, and she has found out some way of getting her + mother to help her. Don’t suppose I am in the least nervous or + discouraged, and don’t do anything till you hear from me again. Only get + back to London, for I may have serious need of your assistance in the + course of the next day or two. + </p> + <p> + “I send this letter to town (to save a post) by the midday train, in + charge of the guard. As you insist on knowing every step I take at Thorpe + Ambrose, I may as well tell you that my messenger (for I can’t go to the + station myself) is that curious old creature whom I mentioned to you in my + first letter. Ever since that time he has been perpetually hanging about + here for a look at me. I am not sure whether I frighten him or fascinate + him; perhaps I do both together. All you need care to know is that I can + trust him with my trifling errands, and possibly, as time goes on, with + something more. L. G.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the train had started from the Thorpe Ambrose station, and the + squire and his traveling companion were on their way to London. + </p> + <p> + Some men, finding themselves in Allan’s company under present + circumstances, might have felt curious to know the nature of his business + in the metropolis. Young Pedgift’s unerring instinct as a man of the world + penetrated the secret without the slightest difficulty. “The old story,” + thought this wary old head, wagging privately on its lusty young + shoulders, “There’s a woman in the case, as usual. Any other business + would have been turned over to me.” Perfectly satisfied with this + conclusion, Mr. Pedgift the younger proceeded, with an eye to his + professional interest, to make himself agreeable to his client in the + capacity of volunteer courier. He seized on the whole administrative + business of the journey to London, as he had seized on the whole + administrative business of the picnic at the Broads. On reaching the + terminus, Allan was ready to go to any hotel that might be recommended. + His invaluable solicitor straight-way drove him to a hotel at which the + Pedgift family had been accustomed to put up for three generations. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t object to vegetables, sir?” said the cheerful Pedgift, as the + cab stopped at a hotel in Covent Garden Market. “Very good; you may leave + the rest to my grandfather, my father, and me. I don’t know which of the + three is most beloved and respected in this house. How d’ye do, William? + (Our head-waiter, Mr. Armadale.) Is your wife’s rheumatism better, and + does the little boy get on nicely at school? Your master’s out, is he? + Never mind, you’ll do. This, William, is Mr. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. I + have prevailed on Mr. Armadale to try our house. Have you got the bedroom + I wrote for? Very good. Let Mr. Armadale have it instead of me (my + grandfather’s favorite bedroom, sir; No. 57, on the second floor); pray + take it; I can sleep anywhere. Will you have the mattress on the top of + the feather-bed? You hear, William? Tell Matilda, the mattress on the top + of the feather-bed. How is Matilda? Has she got the toothache, as usual? + The head-chambermaid, Mr. Armadale, and a most extraordinary woman; she + will <i>not</i> part with a hollow tooth in her lower jaw. My grandfather + says, ‘Have it out;’ my father says, ‘Have it out;’ I say, ‘Have it out;’ + and Matilda turns a deaf ear to all three of us. Yes, William, yes; if Mr. + Armadale approves, this sitting-room will do. About dinner, sir? Shall we + say, in that case, half-past seven? William, half-past seven. Not the + least need to order anything, Mr. Armadale. The head-waiter has only to + give my compliments to the cook, and the best dinner in London will be + sent up, punctual to the minute, as a necessary consequence. Say, Mr. + Pedgift Junior, if you please, William; otherwise, sir, we might get my + grandfather’s dinner or my father’s dinner, and they <i>might</i> turn out + a little too heavy and old-fashioned in their way of feeding for you and + me. As to the wine, William. At dinner, <i>my</i> Champagne, and the + sherry that my father thinks nasty. After dinner, the claret with the blue + seal—the wine my innocent grandfather said wasn’t worth sixpence a + bottle. Ha! ha! poor old boy! You will send up the evening papers and the + play-bills, just as usual, and—that will do? I think, William, for + the present. An invaluable servant, Mr. Armadale; they’re all invaluable + servants in this house. We may not be fashionable here, sir, but by the + Lord Harry we are snug! A cab? you would like a cab? Don’t stir! I’ve rung + the bell twice—that means, Cab wanted in a hurry. Might I ask, Mr. + Armadale, which way your business takes you? Toward Bayswater? Would you + mind dropping me in the park? It’s a habit of mine when I’m in London to + air myself among the aristocracy. Yours truly, sir, has an eye for a fine + woman and a fine horse; and when he’s in Hyde Park he’s quite in his + native element.” Thus the all-accomplished Pedgift ran on; and by these + little arts did he recommend himself to the good opinion of his client. + </p> + <p> + When the dinner hour united the traveling companions again in their + sitting-room at the hotel, a far less acute observer than young Pedgift + must have noticed the marked change that appeared in Allan’s manner. He + looked vexed and puzzled, and sat drumming with his fingers on the + dining-table without uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid something has happened to annoy you, sir, since we parted + company in the Park?” said Pedgift Junior. “Excuse the question; I only + ask it in case I can be of any use.” + </p> + <p> + “Something that I never expected has happened,” returned Allan; “I don’t + know what to make of it. I should like to have your opinion,” he added, + after a little hesitation; “that is to say, if you will excuse my not + entering into any particulars?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” assented young Pedgift. “Sketch it in outline, sir. The + merest hint will do; I wasn’t born yesterday.” (“Oh, these women!” thought + the youthful philosopher, in parenthesis.) + </p> + <p> + “Well,” began Allan, “you know what I said when we got to this hotel; I + said I had a place to go to in Bayswater” (Pedgift mentally checked off + the first point: Case in the suburbs, Bayswater); “and a person—that + is to say—no—as I said before, a person to inquire after.” + (Pedgift checked off the next point: Person in the case. She-person, or + he-person? She-person, unquestionably!) “Well, I went to the house, and + when I asked for her—I mean the person—she—that is to + say, the person—oh, confound it!” cried Allan, “I shall drive myself + mad, and you, too, if I try to tell my story in this roundabout way. Here + it is in two words. I went to No. 18 Kingsdown Crescent, to see a lady + named Mandeville; and, when I asked for her, the servant said Mrs. + Mandeville had gone away, without telling anybody where, and without even + leaving an address at which letters could be sent to her. There! it’s out + at last. And what do you think of it now?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me first, sir,” said the wary Pedgift, “what inquiries you made when + you found this lady had vanished?” + </p> + <p> + “Inquiries!” repeated Allan. “I was utterly staggered; I didn’t say + anything. What inquiries ought I to have made?” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior cleared his throat, and crossed his legs in a strictly + professional manner. + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish, Mr. Armadale,” he began, “to inquire into your business + with Mrs. Mandeville—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” interposed Allan, bluntly; “I hope you won’t inquire into that. My + business with Mrs. Mandeville must remain a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” pursued Pedgift, laying down the law with the forefinger of one + hand on the outstretched palm of the other, “I may, perhaps, be allowed to + ask generally whether your business with Mrs. Mandeville is of a nature to + interest you in tracing her from Kingsdown Crescent to her present + residence?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” said Allan. “I have a very particular reason for wishing to + see her.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case, sir,” returned Pedgift Junior, “there were two obvious + questions which you ought to have asked, to begin with—namely, on + what date Mrs. Mandeville left, and how she left. Having discovered this, + you should have ascertained next under what domestic circumstances she + went away—whether there was a misunderstanding with anybody; say a + difficulty about money matters. Also, whether she went away alone, or with + somebody else. Also, whether the house was her own, or whether she only + lodged in it. Also, in the latter event—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! stop! you’re making my head swim,” cried Allan. “I don’t understand + all these ins and outs. I’m not used to this sort of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been used to it myself from my childhood upward, sir,” remarked + Pedgift. “And if I can be of any assistance, say the word.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re very kind,” returned Allan. “If you could only help me to find + Mrs. Mandeville; and if you wouldn’t mind leaving the thing afterward + entirely in my hands—?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll leave it in your hands, sir, with all the pleasure in life,” said + Pedgift Junior. (“And I’ll lay five to one,” he added, mentally, “when the + time comes, you’ll leave it in mine!”) “We’ll go to Bayswater together, + Mr. Armadale, to-morrow morning. In the meantime here’s the soup. The case + now before the court is, Pleasure versus Business. I don’t know what you + say, sir; I say, without a moment’s hesitation, Verdict for the plaintiff. + Let us gather our rosebuds while we may. Excuse my high spirits, Mr. + Armadale. Though buried in the country, I was made for a London life; the + very air of the metropolis intoxicates me.” With that avowal the + irresistible Pedgift placed a chair for his patron, and issued his orders + cheerfully to his viceroy, the head-waiter. “Iced punch, William, after + the soup. I answer for the punch, Mr. Armadale; it’s made after a recipe + of my great-uncle’s. He kept a tavern, and founded the fortunes of the + family. I don’t mind telling you the Pedgifts have had a publican among + them; there’s no false pride about me. ‘Worth makes the man (as Pope says) + and want of it the fellow; the rest is all but leather and prunella.’ I + cultivate poetry as well as music, sir, in my leisure hours; in fact, I’m + more or less on familiar terms with the whole of the nine Muses. Aha! + here’s the punch! The memory of my great-uncle, the publican, Mr. Armadale—drunk + in solemn silence!” + </p> + <p> + Allan tried hard to emulate his companion’s gayety and good humor, but + with very indifferent success. His visit to Kingsdown Crescent recurred + ominously again and again to his memory all through the dinner, and all + through the public amusements to which he and his legal adviser repaired + at a later hour of the evening. When Pedgift Junior put out his candle + that night, he shook his wary head, and regretfully apostrophized “the + women” for the second time. + </p> + <p> + By ten o’clock the next morning the indefatigable Pedgift was on the scene + of action. To Allan’s great relief, he proposed making the necessary + inquiries at Kingsdown Crescent in his own person, while his patron waited + near at hand, in the cab which had brought them from the hotel. After a + delay of little more than five minutes, he reappeared, in full possession + of all attainable particulars. His first proceeding was to request Allan + to step out of the cab, and to pay the driver. Next, he politely offered + his arm, and led the way round the corner of the crescent, across a + square, and into a by-street, which was rendered exceptionally lively by + the presence of the local cab-stand. Here he stopped, and asked jocosely + whether Mr. Armadale saw his way now, or whether it would be necessary to + test his patience by making an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “See my way?” repeated Allan, in bewilderment. “I see nothing but a + cab-stand.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior smiled compassionately, and entered on his explanation. It + was a lodging-house at Kingsdown Crescent, he begged to state to begin + with. He had insisted on seeing the landlady. A very nice person, with all + the remains of having been a fine girl about fifty years ago; quite in + Pedgift’s style—if he had only been alive at the beginning of the + present century—quite in Pedgift’s style. But perhaps Mr. Armadale + would prefer hearing about Mrs. Mandeville? Unfortunately, there was + nothing to tell. There had been no quarreling, and not a farthing left + unpaid: the lodger had gone, and there wasn’t an explanatory circumstance + to lay hold of anywhere. It was either Mrs. Mandeville’s way to vanish, or + there was something under the rose, quite undiscoverable so far. Pedgift + had got the date on which she left, and the time of day at which she left, + and the means by which she left. The means might help to trace her. She + had gone away in a cab which the servant had fetched from the nearest + stand. The stand was now before their eyes; and the waterman was the first + person to apply to—going to the waterman for information being + clearly (if Mr. Armadale would excuse the joke) going to the + fountain-head. Treating the subject in this airy manner, and telling Allan + that he would be back in a moment, Pedgift Junior sauntered down the + street, and beckoned the waterman confidentially into the nearest + public-house. + </p> + <p> + In a little while the two re-appeared, the waterman taking Pedgift in + succession to the first, third, fourth, and sixth of the cabmen whose + vehicles were on the stand. The longest conference was held with the sixth + man; and it ended in the sudden approach of the sixth cab to the part of + the street where Allan was waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Get in, sir,” said Pedgift, opening the door; “I’ve found the man. He + remembers the lady; and, though he has forgotten the name of the street, + he believes he can find the place he drove her to when he once gets back + into the neighborhood. I am charmed to inform you, Mr. Armadale, that we + are in luck’s way so far. I asked the waterman to show me the regular men + on the stand; and it turns out that one of the regular men drove Mrs. + Mandeville. The waterman vouches for him; he’s quite an anomaly—a + respectable cabman; drives his own horse, and has never been in any + trouble. These are the sort of men, sir, who sustain one’s belief in human + nature. I’ve had a look at our friend, and I agree with the waterman; I + think we can depend on him.” + </p> + <p> + The investigation required some exercise of patience at the outset. It was + not till the cab had traversed the distance between Bayswater and Pimlico + that the driver began to slacken his pace and look about him. After once + or twice retracing its course, the vehicle entered a quiet by-street, + ending in a dead wall, with a door in it; and stopped at the last house on + the left-hand side, the house next to the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is, gentlemen,” said the man, opening the cab door. + </p> + <p> + Allan and Allan’s adviser both got out, and both looked at the house, with + the same feeling of instinctive distrust. + </p> + <p> + Buildings have their physiognomy—especially buildings in great + cities—and the face of this house was essentially furtive in its + expression. The front windows were all shut, and the front blinds were all + drawn down. It looked no larger than the other houses in the street, seen + in front; but it ran back deceitfully and gained its greater accommodation + by means of its greater depth. It affected to be a shop on the + ground-floor; but it exhibited absolutely nothing in the space that + intervened between the window and an inner row of red curtains, which hid + the interior entirely from view. At one side was the shop door, having + more red curtains behind the glazed part of it, and bearing a brass plate + on the wooden part of it, inscribed with the name of “Oldershaw.” On the + other side was the private door, with a bell marked Professional; and + another brass plate, indicating a medical occupant on this side of the + house, for the name on it was, “Doctor Downward.” If ever brick and mortar + spoke yet, the brick and mortar here said plainly, “We have got our + secrets inside, and we mean to keep them.” + </p> + <p> + “This can’t be the place,” said Allan; “there must be some mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “You know best, sir,” remarked Pedgift Junior, with his sardonic gravity. + “You know Mrs. Mandeville’s habits.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” exclaimed Allan. “You may be surprised to hear it; but Mrs. + Mandeville is a total stranger to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not in the least surprised to hear it, sir; the landlady at Kingsdown + Crescent informed me that Mrs. Mandeville was an old woman. Suppose we + inquire?” added the impenetrable Pedgift, looking at the red curtains in + the shop window with a strong suspicion that Mrs. Mandeville’s + granddaughter might possibly be behind them. + </p> + <p> + They tried the shop door first. It was locked. They rang. A lean and + yellow young woman, with a tattered French novel in her hand, opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, miss,” said Pedgift. “Is Mrs. Mandeville at home?” + </p> + <p> + The yellow young woman stared at him in astonishment. “No person of that + name is known here,” she answered, sharply, in a foreign accent. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they know her at the private door?” suggested Pedgift Junior. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps they do,” said the yellow young woman, and shut the door in his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Rather a quick-tempered young person that, sir,” said Pedgift. “I + congratulate Mrs. Mandeville on not being acquainted with her.” He led the + way, as he spoke, to Doctor Downward’s side of the premises, and rang the + bell. + </p> + <p> + The door was opened this time by a man in a shabby livery. He, too, stared + when Mrs. Mandeville’s name was mentioned; and he, too, knew of no such + person in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Very odd,” said Pedgift, appealing to Allan. + </p> + <p> + “What is odd?” asked a softly stepping, softly speaking gentleman in + black, suddenly appearing on the threshold of the parlor door. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior politely explained the circumstances, and begged to know + whether he had the pleasure of speaking to Doctor Downward. + </p> + <p> + The doctor bowed. If the expression may be pardoned, he was one of those + carefully constructed physicians in whom the public—especially the + female public—implicitly trust. He had the necessary bald head, the + necessary double eyeglass, the necessary black clothes, and the necessary + blandness of manner, all complete. His voice was soothing, his ways were + deliberate, his smile was confidential. What particular branch of his + profession Doctor Downward followed was not indicated on his door-plate; + but he had utterly mistaken his vocation if he was not a ladies’ medical + man. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure there is no mistake about the name?” asked the doctor, + with a strong underlying anxiety in his manner. “I have known very serious + inconvenience to arise sometimes from mistakes about names. No? There is + really no mistake? In that case, gentlemen, I can only repeat what my + servant has already told you. Don’t apologize, pray. Good-morning.” The + doctor withdrew as noiselessly as he had appeared; the man in the shabby + livery silently opened the door; and Allan and his companion found + themselves in the street again. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale,” said Pedgift, “I don’t know how you feel; I feel puzzled.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s awkward,” returned Allan. “I was just going to ask you what we + ought to do next.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like the look of the place, the look of the shop-woman, or the + look of the doctor,” pursued the other. “And yet I can’t say I think they + are deceiving us; I can’t say I think they really know Mrs. Mandeville’s + name.” + </p> + <p> + The impressions of Pedgift Junior seldom misled him; and they had not + misled him in this case. The caution which had dictated Mrs. Oldershaw’s + private removal from Bayswater was the caution which frequently + overreaches itself. It had warned her to trust nobody at Pimlico with the + secret of the name she had assumed as Miss Gwilt’s reference; but it had + entirely failed to prepare her for the emergency that had really happened. + In a word, Mrs. Oldershaw had provided for everything except for the one + unimaginable contingency of an after-inquiry into the character of Miss + Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “We must do something,” said Allan; “it seems useless to stop here.” + </p> + <p> + Nobody had ever yet caught Pedgift Junior at the end of his resources; and + Allan failed to catch him at the end of them now. “I quite agree with you, + sir,” he said; “we must do something. We’ll cross-examine the cabman.” + </p> + <p> + The cabman proved to be immovable. Charged with mistaking the place, he + pointed to the empty shop window. “I don’t know what you may have seen, + gentlemen,” he remarked; “but there’s the only shop window I ever saw with + nothing at all inside it. <i>That</i> fixed the place in my mind at the + time, and I know it again when I see it.” Charged with mistaking the + person or the day, or the house at which he had taken the person up, the + cabman proved to be still unassailable. The servant who fetched him was + marked as a girl well known on the stand. The day was marked as the + unluckiest working-day he had had since the first of the year; and the + lady was marked as having had her money ready at the right moment (which + not one elderly lady in a hundred usually had), and having paid him his + fare on demand without disputing it (which not one elderly lady in a + hundred usually did). “Take my number, gentlemen,” concluded the cabman, + “and pay me for my time; and what I’ve said to you, I’ll swear to + anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift made a note in his pocket-book of the man’s number. Having added + to it the name of the street, and the names on the two brass plates, he + quietly opened the cab door. “We are quite in the dark, thus far,” he + said. “Suppose we grope our way back to the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke and looked more seriously than usual The mere fact of “Mrs. + Mandeville’s” having changed her lodging without telling any one where she + was going, and without leaving any address at which letters could be + forwarded to her—which the jealous malignity of Mrs. Milroy had + interpreted as being undeniably suspicious in itself—had produced no + great impression on the more impartial judgment of Allan’s solicitor. + People frequently left their lodgings in a private manner, with perfectly + producible reasons for doing so. But the appearance of the place to which + the cabman persisted in declaring that he had driven “Mrs. Mandeville” set + the character and proceedings of that mysterious lady before Pedgift + Junior in a new light. His personal interest in the inquiry suddenly + strengthened, and he began to feel a curiosity to know the real nature of + Allan’s business which he had not felt yet. + </p> + <p> + “Our next move, Mr. Armadale, is not a very easy move to see,” he said, as + they drove back to the hotel. “Do you think you could put me in possession + of any further particulars?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated; and Pedgift Junior saw that he had advanced a little too + far. “I mustn’t force it,” he thought; “I must give it time, and let it + come of its own accord.” “In the absence of any other information, sir,” + he resumed, “what do you say to my making some inquiry about that queer + shop, and about those two names on the door-plate? My business in London, + when I leave you, is of a professional nature; and I am going into the + right quarter for getting information, if it is to be got.” + </p> + <p> + “There can’t be any harm, I suppose, in making inquiries,” replied Allan. + </p> + <p> + He, too, spoke more seriously than usual; he, too, was beginning to feel + an all-mastering curiosity to know more. Some vague connection, not to be + distinctly realized or traced out, began to establish itself in his mind + between the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt’s family circumstances + and the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt’s reference. “I’ll get down + and walk, and leave you to go on to your business,” he said. “I want to + consider a little about this, and a walk and a cigar will help me.” + </p> + <p> + “My business will be done, sir, between one and two,” said Pedgift, when + the cab had been stopped, and Allan had got out. “Shall we meet again at + two o’clock, at the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + Allan nodded, and the cab drove off. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0032" id="H2_4_0032"></a> IV. ALLAN AT BAY. + </h2> + <p> + Two o’clock came; and Pedgift Junior, punctual to his time, came with it. + His vivacity of the morning had all sparkled out; he greeted Allan with + his customary politeness, but without his customary smile; and, when the + headwaiter came in for orders, his dismissal was instantly pronounced in + words never yet heard to issue from the lips of Pedgift in that hotel: + “Nothing at present.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be in low spirits,” said Allan. “Can’t we get our + information? Can nobody tell you anything about the house in Pimlico?” + </p> + <p> + “Three different people have told me about it, Mr. Armadale, and they have + all three said the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + Allan eagerly drew his chair nearer to the place occupied by his traveling + companion. His reflections in the interval since they had last seen each + other had not tended to compose him. That strange connection, so easy to + feel, so hard to trace, between the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt’s + family circumstances and the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt’s + reference, which had already established itself in his thoughts, had by + this time stealthily taken a firmer and firmer hold on his mind. Doubts + troubled him which he could neither understand nor express. Curiosity + filled him, which he half longed and half dreaded to satisfy. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I must trouble you with a question or two, sir, before I can + come to the point,” said Pedgift Junior. “I don’t want to force myself + into your confidence. I only want to see my way, in what looks to me like + a very awkward business. Do you mind telling me whether others besides + yourself are interested in this inquiry of ours?” + </p> + <p> + “Other people <i>are</i> interested in it,” replied Allan. “There’s no + objection to telling you that.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any other person who is the object of the inquiry besides Mrs. + Mandeville, herself?” pursued Pedgift, winding his way a little deeper + into the secret. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there is another person,” said Allan, answering rather unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + “Is the person a young woman, Mr. Armadale?” + </p> + <p> + Allan started. “How do you come to guess that?” he began, then checked + himself, when it was too late. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” he + resumed. “I’m a bad hand at defending myself against a sharp fellow like + you; and I’m bound in honor toward other people to keep the particulars of + this business to myself.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior had apparently heard enough for his purpose. He drew his + chair, in his turn, nearer to Allan. He was evidently anxious and + embarrassed; but his professional manner began to show itself again from + sheer force of habit. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done with my questions, sir,” he said; “and I have something to say + now on my side. In my father’s absence, perhaps you may be kindly disposed + to consider me as your legal adviser. If you will take my advice, you will + not stir another step in this inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” interposed Allan. + </p> + <p> + “It is just possible, Mr. Armadale, that the cabman, positive as he is, + may have been mistaken. I strongly recommend you to take it for granted + that he <i>is</i> mistaken, and to drop it there.” + </p> + <p> + The caution was kindly intended; but it came too late. Allan did what + ninety-nine men out of a hundred in his position would have done—he + declined to take his lawyer’s advice. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir,” said Pedgift Junior; “if you will have it, you must have + it.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward close to Allan’s ear, and whispered what he had heard of + the house in Pimlico, and of the people who occupied it. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t blame me, Mr. Armadale,” he added, when the irrevocable words had + been spoken. “I tried to spare you.” + </p> + <p> + Allan suffered the shock, as all great shocks are suffered, in silence. + His first impulse would have driven him headlong for refuge to that very + view of the cabman’s assertion which had just been recommended to him, but + for one damning circumstance which placed itself inexorably in his way. + Miss Gwilt’s marked reluctance to approach the story of her past life rose + irrepressibly on his memory, in indirect but horrible confirmation of the + evidence which connected Miss Gwilt’s reference with the house in Pimlico. + One conclusion, and one only—the conclusion which any man must have + drawn, hearing what he had just heard, and knowing no more than he knew—forced + itself into his mind. A miserable, fallen woman, who had abandoned herself + in her extremity to the help of wretches skilled in criminal concealment, + who had stolen her way back to decent society and a reputable employment + by means of a false character, and whose position now imposed on her the + dreadful necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation + to her past life—such was the aspect in which the beautiful + governess at Thorpe Ambrose now stood revealed to Allan’s eyes! + </p> + <p> + Falsely revealed, or truly revealed? Had she stolen her way back to decent + society and a reputable employment by means of a false character? She had. + Did her position impose on her the dreadful necessity of perpetual secrecy + and perpetual deceit in relation to her past life? It did. Was she some + such pitiable victim to the treachery of a man unknown as Allan had + supposed? <i>She was no such pitiable victim</i>. The conclusion which + Allan had drawn—the conclusion literally forced into his mind by the + facts before him—was, nevertheless, the conclusion of all others + that was furthest even from touching on the truth. The true story of Miss + Gwilt’s connection with the house in Pimlico and the people who inhabited + it—a house rightly described as filled with wicked secrets, and + people rightly represented as perpetually in danger of feeling the grasp + of the law—was a story which coming events were yet to disclose: a + story infinitely less revolting, and yet infinitely more terrible, than + Allan or Allan’s companion had either of them supposed. + </p> + <p> + “I tried to spare you, Mr. Armadale,” repeated Pedgift. “I was anxious, if + I could possibly avoid it, not to distress you.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked up, and made an effort to control himself. “You have + distressed me dreadfully,” he said. “You have quite crushed me down. But + it is not your fault. I ought to feel you have done me a service; and what + I ought to do I will do, when I am my own man again. There is one thing,” + Allan added, after a moment’s painful consideration, “which ought to be + understood between us at once. The advice you offered me just now was very + kindly meant, and it was the best advice that could be given. I will take + it gratefully. We will never talk of this again, if you please; and I beg + and entreat you will never speak about it to any other person. Will you + promise me that?” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift gave the promise with very evident sincerity, but without his + professional confidence of manner. The distress in Allan’s face seemed to + daunt him. After a moment of very uncharacteristic hesitation, he + considerately quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Allan rang for writing materials, and took out of his + pocket-book the fatal letter of introduction to “Mrs. Mandeville” which he + had received from the major’s wife. + </p> + <p> + A man accustomed to consider consequences and to prepare himself for + action by previous thought would, in Allan’s present circumstances, have + felt some difficulty as to the course which it might now be least + embarrassing and least dangerous to pursue. Accustomed to let his impulses + direct him on all other occasions, Allan acted on impulse in the serious + emergency that now confronted him. Though his attachment to Miss Gwilt was + nothing like the deeply rooted feeling which he had himself honestly + believed it to be, she had taken no common place in his admiration, and + she filled him with no common grief when he thought of her now. His one + dominant desire, at that critical moment in his life, was a man’s merciful + desire to protect from exposure and ruin the unhappy woman who had lost + her place in his estimation, without losing her claim to the forbearance + that could spare, and to the compassion that could shield her. “I can’t go + back to Thorpe Ambrose; I can’t trust myself to speak to her, or to see + her again. But I can keep her miserable secret; and I will!” With that + thought in his heart, Allan set himself to perform the first and foremost + duty which now claimed him—the duty of communicating with Mrs. + Milroy. If he had possessed a higher mental capacity and a clearer mental + view, he might have found the letter no easy one to write. As it was, he + calculated no consequences, and felt no difficulty. His instinct warned + him to withdraw at once from the position in which he now stood toward the + major’s wife, and he wrote what his instinct counseled him to write under + those circumstances, as rapidly as the pen could travel over the paper: + </p> + <p> + “Dunn’s Hotel, Covent Garden, Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MADAM—Pray excuse my not returning to Thorpe Ambrose to-day, + as I said I would. Unforeseen circumstances oblige me to stop in London. I + am sorry to say I have not succeeded in seeing Mrs. Mandeville, for which + reason I cannot perform your errand; and I beg, therefore, with many + apologies, to return the letter of introduction. I hope you will allow me + to conclude by saying that I am very much obliged to you for your + kindness, and that I will not venture to trespass on it any further. + </p> + <p> + “I remain, dear madam, yours truly, + </p> + <p> + “ALLAN ARMADALE.” + </p> + <p> + In those artless words, still entirely unsuspicious of the character of + the woman he had to deal with, Allan put the weapon she wanted into Mrs. + Milroy’s hands. + </p> + <p> + The letter and its inclosure once sealed up and addressed, he was free to + think of himself and his future. As he sat idly drawing lines with his pen + on the blotting-paper, the tears came into his eyes for the first time—tears + in which the woman who had deceived him had no share. His heart had gone + back to his dead mother. “If she had been alive,” he thought, “I might + have trusted <i>her</i>, and she would have comforted me.” It was useless + to dwell on it; he dashed away the tears, and turned his thoughts, with + the heart-sick resignation that we all know, to living and present things. + </p> + <p> + He wrote a line to Mr. Bashwood, briefly informing the deputy steward that + his absence from Thorpe Ambrose was likely to be prolonged for some little + time, and that any further instructions which might be necessary, under + those circumstances, would reach him through Mr. Pedgift the elder. This + done, and the letters sent to the post, his thoughts were forced back once + more on himself. Again the blank future waited before him to be filled up; + and again his heart shrank from it to the refuge of the past. + </p> + <p> + This time other images than the image of his mother filled his mind. The + one all-absorbing interest of his earlier days stirred living and eager in + him again. He thought of the sea; he thought of his yacht lying idle in + the fishing harbor at his west-country home. The old longing got + possession of him to hear the wash of the waves; to see the filling of the + sails; to feel the vessel that his own hands had helped to build bounding + under him once more. He rose in his impetuous way to call for the + time-table, and to start for Somersetshire by the first train, when the + dread of the questions which Mr. Brock might ask, the suspicion of the + change which Mr. Brock might see in him, drew him back to his chair. “I’ll + write,” he thought, “to have the yacht rigged and refitted, and I’ll wait + to go to Somersetshire myself till Midwinter can go with me.” He sighed as + his memory reverted to his absent friend. Never had he felt the void made + in his life by Midwinter’s departure so painfully as he felt it now, in + the dreariest of all social solitudes—the solitude of a stranger in + London, left by himself at a hotel. + </p> + <p> + Before long, Pedgift Junior looked in, with an apology for his intrusion. + Allan felt too lonely and too friendless not to welcome his companion’s + re-appearance gratefully. “I’m not going back to Thorpe Ambrose,” he said; + “I’m going to stay a little while in London. I hope you will be able to + stay with me?” To do him justice, Pedgift was touched by the solitary + position in which the owner of the great Thorpe Ambrose estate now + appeared before him. He had never, in his relations with Allan, so + entirely forgotten his business interests as he forgot them now. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, sir, to stop here; London’s the place to divert your + mind,” said Pedgift, cheerfully. “All business is more or less elastic in + its nature, Mr. Armadale; I’ll spin <i>my</i> business out, and keep you + company with the greatest pleasure. We are both of us on the right side of + thirty, sir; let’s enjoy ourselves. What do you say to dining early, and + going to the play, and trying the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park to-morrow + morning, after breakfast? If we only live like fighting-cocks, and go in + perpetually for public amusements, we shall arrive in no time at the <i>mens + sana in corpore sano</i> of the ancients. Don’t be alarmed at the + quotation, sir. I dabble a little in Latin after business hours, and + enlarge my sympathies by occasional perusal of the Pagan writers, assisted + by a crib. William, dinner at five; and, as it’s particularly important + to-day, I’ll see the cook myself.” + </p> + <p> + The evening passed; the next day passed; Thursday morning came, and + brought with it a letter for Allan. The direction was in Mrs. Milroy’s + handwriting; and the form of address adopted in the letter warned Allan, + the moment he opened it, that something had gone wrong. + </p> + <p> + [“Private.”] + </p> + <p> + “The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + “SIR—I have just received your mysterious letter. It has more than + surprised, it has really alarmed me. After having made the friendliest + advances to you on my side, I find myself suddenly shut out from your + confidence in the most unintelligible, and, I must add, the most + discourteous manner. It is quite impossible that I can allow the matter to + rest where you have left it. The only conclusion I can draw from your + letter is that my confidence must have been abused in some way, and that + you know a great deal more than you are willing to tell me. Speaking in + the interest of my daughter’s welfare, I request that you will inform me + what the circumstances are which have prevented your seeing Mrs. + Mandeville, and which have led to the withdrawal of the assistance that + you unconditionally promised me in your letter of Monday last. + </p> + <p> + “In my state of health, I cannot involve myself in a lengthened + correspondence. I must endeavor to anticipate any objections you may make, + and I must say all that I have to say in my present letter. In the event + (which I am most unwilling to consider possible) of your declining to + accede to the request that I have just addressed to you, I beg to say that + I shall consider it my duty to my daughter to have this very unpleasant + matter cleared up. If I don’t hear from you to my full satisfaction by + return of post, I shall be obliged to tell my husband that circumstances + have happened which justify us in immediately testing the respectability + of Miss Gwilt’s reference. And when he asks me for my authority, I will + refer him to you. + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient servant, ANNE MILROY.” + </p> + <p> + In those terms the major’s wife threw off the mask, and left her victim to + survey at his leisure the trap in which she had caught him. Allan’s belief + in Mrs. Milroy’s good faith had been so implicitly sincere that her letter + simply bewildered him. He saw vaguely that he had been deceived in some + way, and that Mrs. Milroy’s neighborly interest in him was not what it had + looked on the surface; and he saw no more. The threat of appealing to the + major—on which, with a woman’s ignorance of the natures of men, Mrs. + Milroy had relied for producing its effect—was the only part of the + letter to which Allan reverted with any satisfaction: it relieved instead + of alarming him. “If there <i>is</i> to be a quarrel,” he thought, “it + will be a comfort, at any rate, to have it out with a man.” + </p> + <p> + Firm in his resolution to shield the unhappy woman whose secret he wrongly + believed himself to have surprised, Allan sat down to write his apologies + to the major’s wife. After setting up three polite declarations, in close + marching order, he retired from the field. “He was extremely sorry to have + offended Mrs. Milroy. He was innocent of all intention to offend Mrs. + Milroy. And he begged to remain Mrs. Milroy’s truly.” Never had Allan’s + habitual brevity as a letter-writer done him better service than it did + him now. With a little more skillfulness in the use of his pen, he might + have given his enemy even a stronger hold on him than the hold she had got + already. + </p> + <p> + The interval day passed, and with the next morning’s post Mrs. Milroy’s + threat came realized in the shape of a letter from her husband. The major + wrote less formally than his wife had written, but his questions were + mercilessly to the point: + </p> + <p> + [“Private.”] + </p> + <p> + “The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Friday, July 11, 1851. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—When you did me the favor of calling here a few days + since, you asked a question relating to my governess, Miss Gwilt, which I + thought rather a strange one at the time, and which caused, as you may + remember, a momentary embarrassment between us. + </p> + <p> + “This morning the subject of Miss Gwilt has been brought to my notice + again in a manner which has caused me the utmost astonishment. In plain + words, Mrs. Milroy has informed me that Miss Gwilt has exposed herself to + the suspicion of having deceived us by a false reference. On my expressing + the surprise which such an extraordinary statement caused me, and + requesting that it might be instantly substantiated, I was still further + astonished by being told to apply for all particulars to no less a person + than Mr. Armadale. I have vainly requested some further explanation from + Mrs. Milroy; she persists in maintaining silence, and in referring me to + yourself. + </p> + <p> + “Under these extraordinary circumstances, I am compelled, in justice to + all parties, to ask you certain questions which I will endeavor to put as + plainly as possible, and which I am quite ready to believe (from my + previous experience of you) that you will answer frankly on your side. + </p> + <p> + “I beg to inquire, in the first place, whether you admit or deny Mrs. + Milroy’s assertion that you have made yourself acquainted with particulars + relating either to Miss Gwilt or to Miss Gwilt’s reference, of which I am + entirely ignorant? In the second place, if you admit the truth of Mrs. + Milroy’s statement, I request to know how you became acquainted with those + particulars? Thirdly, and lastly, I beg to ask you what the particulars + are? + </p> + <p> + “If any special justification for putting these questions be needed—which, + purely as a matter of courtesy toward yourself, I am willing to admit—I + beg to remind you that the most precious charge in my house, the charge of + my daughter, is confided to Miss Gwilt; and that Mrs. Milroy’s statement + places you, to all appearance, in the position of being competent to tell + me whether that charge is properly bestowed or not. + </p> + <p> + “I have only to add that, as nothing has thus far occurred to justify me + in entertaining the slightest suspicion either of my governess or her + reference, I shall wait before I make any appeal to Miss Gwilt until I + have received your answer—which I shall expect by return of post. + Believe me, dear sir, faithfully yours, + </p> + <p> + “DAVID MILROY.” + </p> + <p> + This transparently straightforward letter at once dissipated the confusion + which had thus far existed in Allan’s mind. He saw the snare in which he + had been caught (though he was still necessarily at a loss to understand + why it had been set for him) as he had not seen it yet. Mrs. Milroy had + clearly placed him between two alternatives—the alternative of + putting himself in the wrong, by declining to answer her husband’s + questions; or the alternative of meanly sheltering his responsibility + behind the responsibility of a woman, by acknowledging to the major’s own + face that the major’s wife had deceived him. + </p> + <p> + In this difficulty Allan acted as usual, without hesitation. His pledge to + Mrs. Milroy to consider their correspondence private still bound him, + disgracefully as she had abused it. And his resolution was as immovable as + ever to let no earthly consideration tempt him into betraying Miss Gwilt. + “I may have behaved like a fool,” he thought, “but I won’t break my word; + and I won’t be the means of turning that miserable woman adrift in the + world again.” + </p> + <p> + He wrote to the major as artlessly and briefly as he had written to the + major’s wife. He declared his unwillingness to cause a friend and neighbor + any disappointment, if he could possibly help it. On this occasion he had + no other choice. The questions the major asked him were questions which he + could not consent to answer. He was not very clever at explaining himself, + and he hoped he might be excused for putting it in that way, and saying no + more. + </p> + <p> + Monday’s post brought with it Major Milroy’s rejoinder, and closed the + correspondence. + </p> + <p> + “The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Sunday. + </p> + <p> + “SIR—Your refusal to answer my questions, unaccompanied as it is by + even the shadow of an excuse for such a proceeding, can be interpreted but + in one way. Besides being an implied acknowledgment of the correctness of + Mrs. Milroy’s statement, it is also an implied reflection on my + governess’s character. As an act of justice toward a lady who lives under + the protection of my roof, and who has given me no reason whatever to + distrust her, I shall now show our correspondence to Miss Gwilt; and I + shall repeat to her the conversation which I had with Mrs. Milroy on the + subject, in Mrs. Milroy’s presence. + </p> + <p> + “One word more respecting the future relations between us, and I have + done. My ideas on certain subjects are, I dare say, the ideas of an + old-fashioned man. In my time, we had a code of honor by which we + regulated our actions. According to that code, if a man made private + inquiries into a lady’s affairs, without being either her husband, her + father, or her brother, he subjected himself to the responsibility of + justifying his conduct in the estimation of others; and, if he evaded that + responsibility, he abdicated the position of a gentleman. It is quite + possible that this antiquated way of thinking exists no longer; but it is + too late for me, at my time of life, to adopt more modern views. I am + scrupulously anxious, seeing that we live in a country and a time in which + the only court of honor is a police-court, to express myself with the + utmost moderation of language upon this the last occasion that I shall + have to communicate with you. Allow me, therefore, merely to remark that + our ideas of the conduct which is becoming in a gentleman differ + seriously; and permit me on this account to request that you will consider + yourself for the future as a stranger to my family and to myself. + </p> + <p> + “Your obedient servant, + </p> + <p> + “DAVID MILROY.” + </p> + <p> + The Monday morning on which his client received the major’s letter was the + blackest Monday that had yet been marked in Pedgift’s calendar. When + Allan’s first angry sense of the tone of contempt in which his friend and + neighbor pronounced sentence on him had subsided, it left him sunk in a + state of depression from which no efforts made by his traveling companion + could rouse him for the rest of the day. Reverting naturally, now that his + sentence of banishment had been pronounced, to his early intercourse with + the cottage, his memory went back to Neelie, more regretfully and more + penitently than it had gone back to her yet. “If <i>she</i> had shut the + door on me, instead of her father,” was the bitter reflection with which + Allan now reviewed the past, “I shouldn’t have had a word to say against + it; I should have felt it served me right.” + </p> + <p> + The next day brought another letter—a welcome letter this time, from + Mr. Brock. Allan had written to Somersetshire on the subject of refitting + the yacht some days since. The letter had found the rector engaged, as he + innocently supposed, in protecting his old pupil against the woman whom he + had watched in London, and whom he now believed to have followed him back + to his own home. Acting under the directions sent to her, Mrs. Oldershaw’s + house-maid had completed the mystification of Mr. Brock. She had + tranquilized all further anxiety on the rector’s part by giving him a + written undertaking (in the character of Miss Gwilt), engaging never to + approach Mr. Armadale, either personally or by letter! Firmly persuaded + that he had won the victory at last, poor Mr. Brock answered Allan’s note + in the highest spirits, expressing some natural surprise at his leaving + Thorpe Ambrose, but readily promising that the yacht should be refitted, + and offering the hospitality of the rectory in the heartiest manner. + </p> + <p> + This letter did wonders in raising Allan’s spirits. It gave him a new + interest to look to, entirely disassociated from his past life in Norfolk. + He began to count the days that were still to pass before the return of + his absent friend. It was then Tuesday. If Midwinter came back from his + walking trip, as he had engaged to come back, in a fortnight, Saturday + would find him at Thorpe Ambrose. A note sent to meet the traveler might + bring him to London the same night; and, if all went well, before another + week was over they might be afloat together in the yacht. + </p> + <p> + The next day passed, to Allan’s relief, without bringing any letters. The + spirits of Pedgift rose sympathetically with the spirits of his client. + Toward dinner time he reverted to the <i>mens sana in corpore sano</i> of + the ancients, and issued his orders to the head-waiter more royally than + ever. + </p> + <p> + Thursday came, and brought the fatal postman with more news from Norfolk. + A letter-writer now stepped on the scene who had not appeared there yet; + and the total overthrow of all Allan’s plans for a visit to Somersetshire + was accomplished on the spot. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior happened that morning to be the first at the breakfast + table. When Allan came in, he relapsed into his professional manner, and + offered a letter to his patron with a bow performed in dreary silence. + </p> + <p> + “For me?” inquired Allan, shrinking instinctively from a new + correspondent. + </p> + <p> + “For you, sir—from my father,” replied Pedgift, “inclosed in one to + myself. Perhaps you will allow me to suggest, by way of preparing you for—for + something a little unpleasant—that we shall want a particularly good + dinner to-day; and (if they’re not performing any modern German music + to-night) I think we should do well to finish the evening melodiously at + the Opera.” + </p> + <p> + “Something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose?” asked Allen. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Armadale; something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose.” + </p> + <p> + Allan sat down resignedly, and opened the letter. + </p> + <p> + [“Private and Confidential.”] + </p> + <p> + “High Street Thorpe Ambrose, 17th July, 1851. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR SIR—I cannot reconcile it with my sense of duty to your + interests to leave you any longer in ignorance of reports current in this + town and its neighborhood, which, I regret to say, are reports affecting + yourself. + </p> + <p> + “The first intimation of anything unpleasant reached me on Monday last. It + was widely rumored in the town that something had gone wrong at Major + Milroy’s with the new governess, and that Mr. Armadale was mixed up in it. + I paid no heed to this, believing it to be one of the many trumpery pieces + of scandal perpetually set going here, and as necessary as the air they + breathe to the comfort of the inhabitants of this highly respectable + place. + </p> + <p> + “Tuesday, however, put the matter in a new light. The most interesting + particulars were circulated on the highest authority. On Wednesday, the + gentry in the neighborhood took the matter up, and universally sanctioned + the view adopted by the town. To-day the public feeling has reached its + climax, and I find myself under the necessity of making you acquainted + with what has happened. + </p> + <p> + “To begin at the beginning. It is asserted that a correspondence took + place last week between Major Milroy and yourself; in which you cast a + very serious suspicion on Miss Gwilt’s respectability, without defining + your accusations and without (on being applied to) producing your proofs. + Upon this, the major appears to have felt it his duty (while assuring his + governess of his own firm belief in her respectability) to inform her of + what had happened, in order that she might have no future reason to + complain of his having had any concealments from her in a matter affecting + her character. Very magnanimous on the major’s part; but you will see + directly that Miss Gwilt was more magnanimous still. After expressing her + thanks in a most becoming manner, she requested permission to withdraw + herself from Major Milroy’s service. + </p> + <p> + “Various reports are in circulation as to the governess’s reason for + taking this step. + </p> + <p> + “The authorized version (as sanctioned by the resident gentry) represents + Miss Gwilt to have said that she could not condescend—in justice to + herself, and in justice to her highly respectable reference—to + defend her reputation against undefined imputations cast on it by a + comparative stranger. At the same time it was impossible for her to pursue + such a course of conduct as this, unless she possessed a freedom of action + which was quite incompatible with her continuing to occupy the dependent + position of a governess. For that reason she felt it incumbent on her to + leave her situation. But, while doing this, she was equally determined not + to lead to any misinterpretation of her motives by leaving the + neighborhood. No matter at what inconvenience to herself, she would remain + long enough at Thorpe Ambrose to await any more definitely expressed + imputations that might be made on her character, and to repel them + publicly the instant they assumed a tangible form. + </p> + <p> + “Such is the position which this high-minded lady has taken up, with an + excellent effect on the public mind in these parts. It is clearly her + interest, for some reason, to leave her situation, without leaving the + neighborhood. On Monday last she established herself in a cheap lodging on + the outskirts of the town. And on the same day she probably wrote to her + reference, for yesterday there came a letter from that lady to Major + Milroy, full of virtuous indignation, and courting the fullest inquiry. + The letter has been shown publicly, and has immensely strengthened Miss + Gwilt’s position. She is now considered to be quite a heroine. The <i>Thorpe + Ambrose Mercury</i> has got a leading article about her, comparing her to + Joan of Arc. It is considered probable that she will be referred to in the + sermon next Sunday. We reckon five strong-minded single ladies in this + neighborhood—and all five have called on her. A testimonial was + suggested; but it has been given up at Miss Gwilt’s own request, and a + general movement is now on foot to get her employment as a teacher of + music. Lastly, I have had the honor of a visit from the lady herself, in + her capacity of martyr, to tell me, in the sweetest manner, that she + doesn’t blame Mr. Armadale, and that she considers him to be an innocent + instrument in the hands of other and more designing people. I was + carefully on my guard with her; for I don’t altogether believe in Miss + Gwilt, and I have my lawyer’s suspicions of the motive that is at the + bottom of her present proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “I have written thus far, my dear sir, with little hesitation or + embarrassment. But there is unfortunately a serious side to this business + as well as a ridiculous side; and I must unwillingly come to it before I + close my letter. + </p> + <p> + “It is, I think, quite impossible that you can permit yourself to be + spoken of as you are spoken of now, without stirring personally in the + matter. You have unluckily made many enemies here, and foremost among them + is my colleague, Mr. Darch. He has been showing everywhere a somewhat + rashly expressed letter you wrote to him on the subject of letting the + cottage to Major Milroy instead of to himself, and it has helped to + exasperate the feeling against you. It is roundly stated in so many words + that you have been prying into Miss Gwilt’s family affairs, with the most + dishonorable motives; that you have tried, for a profligate purpose of + your own, to damage her reputation, and to deprive her of the protection + of Major Milroy’s roof; and that, after having been asked to substantiate + by proof the suspicions that you have cast on the reputation of a + defenseless woman, you have maintained a silence which condemns you in the + estimation of all honorable men. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it is quite unnecessary for me to say that I don’t attach the + smallest particle of credit to these infamous reports. But they are too + widely spread and too widely believed to be treated with contempt. I + strongly urge you to return at once to this place, and to take the + necessary measures for defending your character, in concert with me, as + your legal adviser. I have formed, since my interview with Miss Gwilt, a + very strong opinion of my own on the subject of that lady which it is not + necessary to commit to paper. Suffice it to say here that I shall have a + means to propose to you for silencing the slanderous tongues of your + neighbors, on the success of which I stake my professional reputation, if + you will only back me by your presence and authority. + </p> + <p> + “It may, perhaps, help to show you the necessity there is for your return, + if I mention one other assertion respecting yourself, which is in + everybody’s mouth. Your absence is, I regret to tell you, attributed to + the meanest of all motives. It is said that you are remaining in London + because you are afraid to show your face at Thorpe Ambrose. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, dear sir, your faithful servant, + </p> + <p> + “A. PEDGIFT, Sen.” + </p> + <p> + Allan was of an age to feel the sting contained in the last sentence of + his lawyer’s letter. He started to his feet in a paroxysm of indignation, + which revealed his character to Pedgift Junior in an entirely new light. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the time-table?” cried Allan. “I must go back to Thorpe Ambrose + by the next train! If it doesn’t start directly, I’ll have a special + engine. I must and will go back instantly, and I don’t care two straws for + the expense!” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we telegraph to my father, sir?” suggested the judicious Pedgift. + “It’s the quickest way of expressing your feelings, and the cheapest.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is,” said Allan. “Thank you for reminding me of it. Telegraph to + them! Tell your father to give every man in Thorpe Ambrose the lie direct, + in my name. Put it in capital letters, Pedgift—put it in capital + letters!” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift smiled and shook his head. If he was acquainted with no other + variety of human nature, he thoroughly knew the variety that exists in + country towns. + </p> + <p> + “It won’t have the least effect on them, Mr. Armadale,” he remarked + quietly. “They’ll only go on lying harder than ever. If you want to upset + the whole town, one line will do it. With five shillings’ worth of human + labor and electric fluid, sir (I dabble a little in science after business + hours), we’ll explode a bombshell in Thorpe Ambrose!” He produced the + bombshell on a slip of paper as he spoke: “A. Pedgift, Junior, to A. + Pedgift, Senior.—Spread it all over the place that Mr. Armadale is + coming down by the next train.” + </p> + <p> + “More words!” suggested Allan, looking over his shoulder. “Make it + stronger.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave my father to make it stronger, sir,” returned the wary Pedgift. “My + father is on the spot, and his command of language is something quite + extraordinary.” He rang the bell, and dispatched the telegram. + </p> + <p> + Now that something had been done, Allan subsided gradually into a state of + composure. He looked back again at Mr. Pedgift’s letter, and then handed + it to Mr. Pedgift’s son. + </p> + <p> + “Can you guess your father’s plan for setting me right in the + neighborhood?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift the younger shook his wise head. “His plan appears to be connected + in some way, sir, with his opinion of Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what he thinks of her?” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t be surprised, Mr. Armadale,” returned Pedgift Junior, “if his + opinion staggers you a little, when you come to hear it. My father has had + a large legal experience of the shady side of the sex, and he learned his + profession at the Old Bailey.” + </p> + <p> + Allan made no further inquiries. He seemed to shrink from pursuing the + subject, after having started it himself. “Let’s be doing something to + kill the time,” he said. “Let’s pack up and pay the bill.” + </p> + <p> + They packed up and paid the bill. The hour came, and the train left for + Norfolk at last. + </p> + <p> + While the travelers were on their way back, a somewhat longer telegraphic + message than Allan’s was flashing its way past them along the wires, in + the reverse direction—from Thorpe Ambrose to London. The message was + in cipher, and, the signs being interpreted, it ran thus: “From Lydia + Gwilt to Maria Oldershaw.—Good news! He is coming back. I mean to + have an interview with him. Everything looks well. Now I have left the + cottage, I have no women’s prying eyes to dread, and I can come and go as + I please. Mr. Midwinter is luckily out of the way. I don’t despair of + becoming Mrs. Armadale yet. Whatever happens, depend on my keeping away + from London until I am certain of not taking any spies after me to your + place. I am in no hurry to leave Thorpe Ambrose. I mean to be even with + Miss Milroy first.” + </p> + <p> + Shortly after that message was received in London, Allan was back again in + his own house. + </p> + <p> + It was evening—Pedgift Junior had just left him—and Pedgift + Senior was expected to call on business in half an hour’s time. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0033" id="H2_4_0033"></a> V. PEDGIFT’S REMEDY. + </h2> + <p> + After waiting to hold a preliminary consultation with his son, Mr. Pedgift + the elder set forth alone for his interview with Allan at the great house. + </p> + <p> + Allowing for the difference in their ages, the son was, in this instance, + so accurately the reflection of the father, that an acquaintance with + either of the two Pedgifts was almost equivalent to an acquaintance with + both. Add some little height and size to the figure of Pedgift Junior, + give more breadth and boldness to his humor, and some additional solidity + and composure to his confidence in himself, and the presence and character + of Pedgift Senior stood, for all general purposes, revealed before you. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer’s conveyance to Thorpe Ambrose was his own smart gig, drawn by + his famous fast-trotting mare. It was his habit to drive himself; and it + was one among the trifling external peculiarities in which he and his son + differed a little, to affect something of the sporting character in his + dress. The drab trousers of Pedgift the elder fitted close to his legs; + his boots, in dry weather and wet alike, were equally thick in the sole; + his coat pockets overlapped his hips, and his favorite summer cravat was + of light spotted muslin, tied in the neatest and smallest of bows. He used + tobacco like his son, but in a different form. While the younger man + smoked, the elder took snuff copiously; and it was noticed among his + intimates that he always held his “pinch” in a state of suspense between + his box and his nose when he was going to clinch a good bargain or to say + a good thing. The art of diplomacy enters largely into the practice of all + successful men in the lower branch of the law. Mr. Pedgift’s form of + diplomatic practice had been the same throughout his life, on every + occasion when he found his arts of persuasion required at an interview + with another man. He invariably kept his strongest argument, or his + boldest proposal, to the last, and invariably remembered it at the door + (after previously taking his leave), as if it was a purely accidental + consideration which had that instant occurred to him. Jocular friends, + acquainted by previous experience with this form of proceeding, had given + it the name of “Pedgift’s postscript.” There were few people in Thorpe + Ambrose who did not know what it meant when the lawyer suddenly checked + his exit at the opened door; came back softly to his chair, with his pinch + of snuff suspended between his box and his nose; said, “By-the-by, there’s + a point occurs to me;” and settled the question off-hand, after having + given it up in despair not a minute before. + </p> + <p> + This was the man whom the march of events at Thorpe Ambrose had now thrust + capriciously into a foremost place. This was the one friend at hand to + whom Allan in his social isolation could turn for counsel in the hour of + need. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Mr. Armadale. Many thanks for your prompt attention to my + very disagreeable letter,” said Pedgift Senior, opening the conversation + cheerfully the moment he entered his client’s house. “I hope you + understand, sir, that I had really no choice under the circumstances but + to write as I did?” + </p> + <p> + “I have very few friends, Mr. Pedgift,” returned Allan, simply. “And I am + sure you are one of the few.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged, Mr. Armadale. I have always tried to deserve your good + opinion, and I mean, if I can, to deserve it now. You found yourself + comfortable, I hope, sir, at the hotel in London? We call it Our hotel. + Some rare old wine in the cellar, which I should have introduced to your + notice if I had had the honor of being with you. My son unfortunately + knows nothing about wine.” + </p> + <p> + Allan felt his false position in the neighborhood far too acutely to be + capable of talking of anything but the main business of the evening. His + lawyer’s politely roundabout method of approaching the painful subject to + be discussed between them rather irritated than composed him. He came at + once to the point, in his own bluntly straightforward way. + </p> + <p> + “The hotel was very comfortable, Mr. Pedgift, and your son was very kind + to me. But we are not in London now; and I want to talk to you about how I + am to meet the lies that are being told of me in this place. Only point me + out any one man,” cried Allan, with a rising voice and a mounting color—“any + one man who says I am afraid to show my face in the neighborhood, and I’ll + horsewhip him publicly before another day is over his head!” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior helped himself to a pinch of snuff, and held it calmly in + suspense midway between his box and his nose. + </p> + <p> + “You can horsewhip a man, sir; but you can’t horsewhip a neighborhood,” + said the lawyer, in his politely epigrammatic manner. “We will fight our + battle, if you please, without borrowing our weapons of the coachman yet a + while, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “But how are we to begin?” asked Allan, impatiently. “How am I to + contradict the infamous things they say of me?” + </p> + <p> + “There are two ways of stepping out of your present awkward position, sir—a + short way, and a long way,” replied Pedgift Senior. “The short way (which + is always the best) has occurred to me since I have heard of your + proceedings in London from my son. I understand that you permitted him, + after you received my letter, to take me into your confidence. I have + drawn various conclusions from what he has told me, which I may find it + necessary to trouble you with presently. In the meantime I should be glad + to know under what circumstances you went to London to make these + unfortunate inquiries about Miss Gwilt? Was it your own notion to pay that + visit to Mrs. Mandeville? or were you acting under the influence of some + other person?” + </p> + <p> + Allan hesitated. “I can’t honestly tell you it was my own notion,” he + replied, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much!” remarked Pedgift Senior, in high triumph. “The short + way out of our present difficulty, Mr. Armadale, lies straight through + that other person, under whose influence you acted. That other person must + be presented forthwith to public notice, and must stand in that other + person’s proper place. The name, if you please, sir, to begin with—we’ll + come to the circumstances directly.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to say, Mr. Pedgift, that we must try the longest way, if you + have no objection,” replied Allan, quietly. “The short way happens to be a + way I can’t take on this occasion.” + </p> + <p> + The men who rise in the law are the men who decline to take No for an + answer. Mr. Pedgift the elder had risen in the law; and Mr. Pedgift the + elder now declined to take No for an answer. But all pertinacity—even + professional pertinacity included—sooner or later finds its limits; + and the lawyer, doubly fortified as he was by long experience and copious + pinches of snuff, found his limits at the very outset of the interview. It + was impossible that Allan could respect the confidence which Mrs. Milroy + had treacherously affected to place in him. But he had an honest man’s + regard for his own pledged word—the regard which looks + straightforward at the fact, and which never glances sidelong at the + circumstances—and the utmost persistency of Pedgift Senior failed to + move him a hairbreadth from the position which he had taken up. “No” is + the strongest word in the English language, in the mouth of any man who + has the courage to repeat it often enough, and Allan had the courage to + repeat it often enough on this occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir,” said the lawyer, accepting his defeat without the + slightest loss of temper. “The choice rests with you, and you have chosen. + We will go the long way. It starts (allow me to inform you) from my + office; and it leads (as I strongly suspect) through a very miry road to—Miss + Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “If you won’t expose the person who is responsible in the first instance, + sir, for the inquiries to which you unfortunately lent yourself,” + proceeded Mr. Pedgift the elder, “the only other alternative, in your + present position, is to justify the inquiries themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “And how is that to be done?” inquired Allan. + </p> + <p> + “By proving to the whole neighborhood, Mr. Armadale, what I firmly believe + to be the truth—that the pet object of the public protection is an + adventuress of the worst class; an undeniably worthless and dangerous + woman. In plainer English still, sir, by employing time enough and money + enough to discover the truth about Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Before Allan could say a word in answer, there was an interruption at the + door. After the usual preliminary knock, one of the servants came in. + </p> + <p> + “I told you I was not to be interrupted,” said Allan, irritably. “Good + heavens! am I never to have done with them? Another letter!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the man, holding it out. “And,” he added, speaking words + of evil omen in his master’s ears, “the person waits for an answer.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at the address of the letter with a natural expectation of + encountering the handwriting of the major’s wife. The anticipation was not + realized. His correspondent was plainly a lady, but the lady was not Mrs. + Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “Who can it be?” he said, looking mechanically at Pedgift Senior as he + opened the envelope. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior gently tapped his snuff-box, and said, without a moment’s + hesitation, “Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Allan opened the letter. The first two words in it were the echo of the + two words the lawyer had just pronounced. It <i>was</i> Miss Gwilt! + </p> + <p> + Once more, Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I have known a good many of them in my time, sir,” explained Pedgift + Senior, with a modesty equally rare and becoming in a man of his age. “Not + as handsome as Miss Gwilt, I admit. But quite as bad, I dare say. Read + your letter, Mr. Armadale—read your letter.” + </p> + <p> + Allan read these lines: + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gwilt presents her compliments to Mr. Armadale and begs to know if + it will be convenient to him to favor her with an interview, either this + evening or to-morrow morning. Miss Gwilt offers no apology for making her + present request. She believes Mr. Armadale will grant it as an act of + justice toward a friendless woman whom he has been innocently the means of + injuring, and who is earnestly desirous to set herself right in his + estimation.” + </p> + <p> + Allan handed the letter to his lawyer in silent perplexity and distress. + </p> + <p> + The face of Mr. Pedgift the elder expressed but one feeling when he had + read the letter in his turn and had handed it back—a feeling of + profound admiration. “What a lawyer she would have made,” he exclaimed, + fervently, “if she had only been a man!” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t treat this as lightly as you do, Mr. Pedgift,” said Allan. “It’s + dreadfully distressing to me. I was so fond of her,” he added, in a lower + tone—“I was so fond of her once.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pedgift Senior suddenly became serious on his side. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say, sir, that you actually contemplate seeing Miss + Gwilt?” he asked, with an expression of genuine dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t treat her cruelly,” returned Allan. “I have been the means of + injuring her—without intending it, God knows! I can’t treat her + cruelly after that!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale,” said the lawyer, “you did me the honor, a little while + since, to say that you considered me your friend. May I presume on that + position to ask you a question or two, before you go straight to your own + ruin?” + </p> + <p> + “Any questions you like,” said Allan, looking back at the letter—the + only letter he had ever received from Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “You have had one trap set for you already, sir, and you have fallen into + it. Do you want to fall into another?” + </p> + <p> + “You know the answer to that question, Mr. Pedgift, as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll try again, Mr. Armadale; we lawyers are not easily discouraged. Do + you think that any statement Miss Gwilt might make to you, if you do see + her, would be a statement to be relied on, after what you and my son + discovered in London?” + </p> + <p> + “She might explain what we discovered in London,” suggested Allan, still + looking at the writing, and thinking of the hand that had traced it. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Might</i> explain it? My dear sir, she is quite certain to explain it! + I will do her justice: I believe she would make out a case without a + single flaw in it from beginning to end.” + </p> + <p> + That last answer forced Allan’s attention away from the letter. The + lawyer’s pitiless common sense showed him no mercy. + </p> + <p> + “If you see that woman again, sir,” proceeded Pedgift Senior, “you will + commit the rashest act of folly I ever heard of in all my experience. She + can have but one object in coming here—to practice on your weakness + for her. Nobody can say into what false step she may not lead you, if you + once give her the opportunity. You admit yourself that you have been fond + of her; your attentions to her have been the subject of general remark; if + you haven’t actually offered her the chance of becoming Mrs. Armadale, you + have done the next thing to it; and knowing all this, you propose to see + her, and to let her work on you with her devilish beauty and her devilish + cleverness, in the character of your interesting victim! You, who are one + of the best matches in England! You, who are the natural prey of all the + hungry single women in the community! I never heard the like of it; I + never, in all my professional experience, heard the like of it! If you + must positively put yourself in a dangerous position, Mr. Armadale,” + concluded Pedgift the elder, with the everlasting pinch of snuff held in + suspense between his box and his nose, “there’s a wild-beast show coming + to our town next week. Let in the tigress, sir; don’t let in Miss Gwilt!” + </p> + <p> + For the third time Allan looked at his lawyer. And for the third time his + lawyer looked back at him quite unabashed. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have a very bad opinion of Miss Gwilt,” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + “The worst possible opinion, Mr. Armadale,” retorted Pedgift Senior, + coolly. “We will return to that when we have sent the lady’s messenger + about his business. Will you take my advice? Will you decline to see her?” + </p> + <p> + “I would willingly decline—it would be so dreadfully distressing to + both of us,” said Allan. “I would willingly decline, if I only knew how.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul, Mr. Armadale, it’s easy enough! Don’t commit <i>you</i> + yourself in writing. Send out to the messenger, and say there’s no + answer.” + </p> + <p> + The short course thus suggested was a course which Allan positively + declined to take. “It’s treating her brutally,” he said; “I can’t and + won’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + Once more the pertinacity of Pedgift the elder found its limits, and once + more that wise man yielded gracefully to a compromise. On receiving his + client’s promise not to see Miss Gwilt, he consented to Allan’s committing + himself in writing under his lawyer’s dictation. The letter thus produced + was modeled in Allan’s own style; it began and ended in one sentence. “Mr. + Armadale presents his compliments to Miss Gwilt, and regrets that he + cannot have the pleasure of seeing her at Thorpe Ambrose.” Allan had + pleaded hard for a second sentence, explaining that he only declined Miss + Gwilt’s request from a conviction that an interview would be needlessly + distressing on both sides. But his legal adviser firmly rejected the + proposed addition to the letter. “When you say No to a woman, sir,” + remarked Pedgift Senior, “always say it in one word. If you give her your + reasons, she invariably believes that you mean Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Producing that little gem of wisdom from the rich mine of his professional + experience, Mr. Pedgift the elder sent out the answer to Miss Gwilt’s + messenger, and recommended the servant to “see the fellow, whoever he was, + well clear of the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” said the lawyer, “we will come back, if you like, to my + opinion of Miss Gwilt. It doesn’t at all agree with yours, I’m afraid. You + think her an object of pity—quite natural at your age. I think her + an object for the inside of a prison—quite natural at mine. You + shall hear the grounds on which I have formed my opinion directly. Let me + show you that I am in earnest by putting the opinion itself, in the first + place, to a practical test. Do you think Miss Gwilt is likely to persist + in paying you a visit, Mr. Armadale, after the answer you have just sent + to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible!” cried Allan, warmly. “Miss Gwilt is a lady; after the + letter I have sent to her, she will never come near me again.” + </p> + <p> + “There we join issue, sir,” cried Pedgift Senior. “I say she will snap her + fingers at your letter (which was one of the reasons why I objected to + your writing it). I say, she is in all probability waiting her messenger’s + return, in or near your grounds at this moment. I say, she will try to + force her way in here, before four-and-twenty hours more are over your + head. Egad, sir!” cried Mr. Pedgift, looking at his watch, “it’s only + seven o’clock now. She’s bold enough and clever enough to catch you + unawares this very evening. Permit me to ring for the servant—permit + me to request that you will give him orders immediately to say you are not + at home. You needn’t hesitate, Mr. Armadale! If you’re right about Miss + Gwilt, it’s a mere formality. If I’m right, it’s a wise precaution. Back + your opinion, sir,” said Mr. Pedgift, ringing the bell; “I back mine!” + </p> + <p> + Allan was sufficiently nettled when the bell rang to feel ready to give + the order. But when the servant came in, past remembrances got the better + of him, and the words stuck in his throat. “You give the order,” he said + to Mr. Pedgift, and walked away abruptly to the window. “You’re a good + fellow!” thought the old lawyer, looking after him, and penetrating his + motive on the instant. “The claws of that she-devil shan’t scratch you if + I can help it.” + </p> + <p> + The servant waited inexorably for his orders. + </p> + <p> + “If Miss Gwilt calls here, either this evening, or at any other time,” + said Pedgift Senior, “Mr. Armadale is not at home. Wait! If she asks when + Mr. Armadale will be back, you don’t know. Wait! If she proposes coming in + and sitting down, you have a general order that nobody is to come in and + sit down unless they have a previous appointment with Mr. Armadale. Come!” + cried old Pedgift, rubbing his hands cheerfully when the servant had left + the room, “I’ve stopped her out now, at any rate! The orders are all + given, Mr. Armadale. We may go on with our conversation.” + </p> + <p> + Allan came back from the window. “The conversation is not a very pleasant + one,” he said. “No offense to you, but I wish it was over.” + </p> + <p> + “We will get it over as soon as possible, sir,” said Pedgift Senior, still + persisting, as only lawyers and women <i>can</i> persist, in forcing his + way little by little nearer and nearer to his own object. “Let us go back, + if you please, to the practical suggestion which I offered to you when the + servant came in with Miss Gwilt’s note. There is, I repeat, only one way + left for you, Mr. Armadale, out of your present awkward position. You must + pursue your inquiries about this woman to an end—on the chance + (which I consider next to a certainty) that the end will justify you in + the estimation of the neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to God I had never made any inquiries at all!” said Allan. + “Nothing will induce me, Mr. Pedgift, to make any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Can you ask me why,” retorted Allan, hotly, “after your son has told you + what we found out in London? Even if I had less cause to be—to be + sorry for Miss Gwilt than I have; even if it was some other woman, do you + think I would inquire any further into the secret of a poor betrayed + creature—much less expose it to the neighborhood? I should think + myself as great a scoundrel as the man who has cast her out helpless on + the world, if I did anything of the kind. I wonder you can ask me the + question—upon my soul, I wonder you can ask me the question!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand, Mr. Armadale!” cried Pedgift Senior, warmly; “I honor + you for being so angry with me. The neighborhood may say what it pleases; + you’re a gentleman, sir, in the best sense of the word. Now,” pursued the + lawyer, dropping Allan’s hand, and lapsing back instantly from sentiment + to business, “just hear what I have got to say in my own defense. Suppose + Miss Gwilt’s real position happens to be nothing like what you are + generously determined to believe it to be?” + </p> + <p> + “We have no reason to suppose that,” said Allan, resolutely. + </p> + <p> + “Such is your opinion, sir,” persisted Pedgift. “Mine, founded on what is + publicly known of Miss Gwilt’s proceedings here, and on what I have seen + of Miss Gwilt herself, is that she is as far as I am from being the + sentimental victim you are inclined to make her out. Gently, Mr. Armadale! + remember that I have put my opinion to a practical test, and wait to + condemn it off-hand until events have justified you. Let me put my points, + sir—make allowances for me as a lawyer—and let me put my + points. You and my son are young men; and I don’t deny that the + circumstances, on the surface, appear to justify the interpretation which, + as young men, you have placed on them. I am an old man—I know that + circumstances are not always to be taken as they appear on the surface—and + I possess the great advantage, in the present case, of having had years of + professional experience among some of the wickedest women who ever walked + this earth.” + </p> + <p> + Allan opened his lips to protest, and checked himself, in despair of + producing the slightest effect. Pedgift Senior bowed in polite + acknowledgment of his client’s self-restraint, and took instant advantage + of it to go on. + </p> + <p> + “All Miss Gwilt’s proceedings,” he resumed, “since your unfortunate + correspondence with the major show me that she is an old hand at deceit. + The moment she is threatened with exposure—exposure of some kind, + there can be no doubt, after what you discovered in London—she turns + your honorable silence to the best possible account, and leaves the + major’s service in the character of a martyr. Once out of the house, what + does she do next? She boldly stops in the neighborhood, and serves three + excellent purposes by doing so. In the first place, she shows everybody + that she is not afraid of facing another attack on her reputation. In the + second place, she is close at hand to twist you round her little finger, + and to become Mrs. Armadale in spite of circumstances, if you (and I) + allow her the opportunity. In the third place, if you (and I) are wise + enough to distrust her, she is equally wise on her side, and doesn’t give + us the first great chance of following her to London, and associating her + with her accomplices. Is this the conduct of an unhappy woman who has lost + her character in a moment of weakness, and who has been driven unwillingly + into a deception to get it back again?” + </p> + <p> + “You put it cleverly,” said Allan, answering with marked reluctance; “I + can’t deny that you put it cleverly.” + </p> + <p> + “Your own common sense, Mr. Armadale, is beginning to tell you that I put + it justly,” said Pedgift Senior. “I don’t presume to say yet what this + woman’s connection may be with those people at Pimlico. All I assert is + that it is not the connection you suppose. Having stated the facts so far, + I have only to add my own personal impression of Miss Gwilt. I won’t shock + you, if I can help it; I’ll try if I can’t put it cleverly again. She came + to my office (as I told you in my letter), no doubt to make friends with + your lawyer, if she could; she came to tell me, in the most forgiving and + Christian manner, that she didn’t blame <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever believe in anybody, Mr. Pedgift?” interposed Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, Mr. Armadale,” returned Pedgift the elder, as unabashed as + ever. “I believe as often as a lawyer can. To proceed, sir. When I was in + the criminal branch of practice, it fell to my lot to take instructions + for the defense of women committed for trial from the women’s own lips. + Whatever other difference there might be among them, I got, in time, to + notice, among those who were particularly wicked and unquestionably + guilty, one point in which they all resembled each other. Tall and short, + old and young, handsome and ugly, they all had a secret self-possession + that nothing could shake. On the surface they were as different as + possible. Some of them were in a state of indignation; some of them were + drowned in tears; some of them were full of pious confidence; and some of + them were resolved to commit suicide before the night was out. But only + put your finger suddenly on the weak point in the story told by any one of + them, and there was an end of her rage, or her tears, or her piety, or her + despair; and out came the genuine woman, in full possession of all her + resources with a neat little lie that exactly suited the circumstances of + the case. Miss Gwilt was in tears, sir—becoming tears that didn’t + make her nose red—and I put my finger suddenly on the weak point in + <i>her</i> story. Down dropped her pathetic pocket-handkerchief from her + beautiful blue eyes, and out came the genuine woman with the neat little + lie that exactly suited the circumstances! I felt twenty years younger, + Mr. Armadale, on the spot. I declare I thought I was in Newgate again, + with my note-book in my hand, taking my instructions for the defense!” + </p> + <p> + “The next thing you’ll say, Mr. Pedgift,” cried Allan, angrily, “is that + Miss Gwilt has been in prison!” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior calmly rapped his snuff-box, and had his answer ready at a + moment’s notice. + </p> + <p> + “She may have richly deserved to see the inside of a prison, Mr. Armadale; + but, in the age we live in, that is one excellent reason for her never + having been near any place of the kind. A prison, in the present tender + state of public feeling, for a charming woman like Miss Gwilt! My dear + sir, if she had attempted to murder you or me, and if an inhuman judge and + jury had decided on sending her to a prison, the first object of modern + society would be to prevent her going into it; and, if that couldn’t be + done, the next object would be to let her out again as soon as possible. + Read your newspaper, Mr. Armadale, and you’ll find we live in piping times + for the black sheep of the community—if they are only black enough. + I insist on asserting, sir, that we have got one of the blackest of the + lot to deal with in this case. I insist on asserting that you have had the + rare luck, in these unfortunate inquiries, to pitch on a woman who happens + to be a fit object for inquiry, in the interests of the public protection. + Differ with me as strongly as you please, but don’t make up your mind + finally about Miss Gwilt until events have put those two opposite opinions + of ours to the test that I have proposed. A fairer test there can’t be. I + agree with you that no lady worthy of the name could attempt to force her + way in here, after receiving your letter. But I deny that Miss Gwilt is + worthy of the name; and I say she will try to force her way in here in + spite of you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I say she won’t!” retorted Allan, firmly. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior leaned back in his chair and smiled. There was a momentary + silence, and in that silence the door-bell rang. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer and the client both looked expectantly in the direction of the + hall. + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Allan, more angrily than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” cried Pedgift Senior, contradicting him with the utmost politeness. + </p> + <p> + They waited the event. The opening of the house door was audible, but the + room was too far from it for the sound of voices to reach the ear as well. + After a long interval of expectation, the closing of the door was heard at + last. Allan rose impetuously and rang the bell. Mr. Pedgift the elder sat + sublimely calm, and enjoyed, with a gentle zest, the largest pinch of + snuff he had taken yet. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody for me?” asked Allan, when the servant came in. + </p> + <p> + The man looked at Pedgift Senior, with an expression of unutterable + reverence, and answered, “Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to crow over you, sir,” said Mr. Pedgift the elder, when the + servant had withdrawn. “But what do you think of Miss Gwilt <i>now</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Allan shook his head in silent discouragement and distress. + </p> + <p> + “Time is of some importance, Mr. Armadale. After what has just happened, + do you still object to taking the course I have had the honor of + suggesting to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t, Mr. Pedgift,” said Allan. “I can’t be the means of disgracing + her in the neighborhood. I would rather be disgraced myself—as I + am.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me put it in another way, sir. Excuse my persisting. You have been + very kind to me and my family; and I have a personal interest, as well as + a professional interest, in you. If you can’t prevail on yourself to show + this woman’s character in its true light, will you take common precautions + to prevent her doing any more harm? Will you consent to having her + privately watched as long as she remains in this neighborhood?” + </p> + <p> + For the second time Allan shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your final resolution, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, Mr. Pedgift; but I am much obliged to you for your advice, all the + same.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior rose in a state of gentle resignation, and took up his hat + “Good-evening, sir,” he said, and made sorrowfully for the door. Allan + rose on his side, innocently supposing that the interview was at an end. + Persons better acquainted with the diplomatic habits of his legal adviser + would have recommended him to keep his seat. The time was ripe for + “Pedgift’s postscript,” and the lawyer’s indicative snuff-box was at that + moment in one of his hands, as he opened the door with the other. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening,” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior opened the door, stopped, considered, closed the door + again, came back mysteriously with his pinch of snuff in suspense between + his box and his nose, and repeating his invariable formula, “By-the-by, + there’s a point occurs to me,” quietly resumed possession of his empty + chair. + </p> + <p> + Allan, wondering, took the seat, in his turn, which he had just left. + Lawyer and client looked at each other once more, and the inexhaustible + interview began again. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0034" id="H2_4_0034"></a> VI. PEDGIFT’S POSTSCRIPT. + </h2> + <p> + “I mentioned that a point had occurred to me, sir,” remarked Pedgift + Senior. + </p> + <p> + “You did,” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to hear what it is, Mr. Armadale?” + </p> + <p> + “If you please,” said Allan. + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart, sir! This is the point. I attach considerable + importance—if nothing else can be done—to having Miss Gwilt + privately looked after, as long as she stops at Thorpe Ambrose. It struck + me just now at the door, Mr. Armadale, that what you are not willing to do + for your own security, you might be willing to do for the security of + another person.” + </p> + <p> + “What other person?” inquired Allan. + </p> + <p> + “A young lady who is a near neighbor of yours, sir. Shall I mention the + name in confidence? Miss Milroy.” + </p> + <p> + Allan started, and changed color. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Milroy!” he repeated. “Can <i>she</i> be concerned in this miserable + business? I hope not, Mr. Pedgift; I sincerely hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “I paid a visit, in your interests, sir, at the cottage this morning,” + proceeded Pedgift Senior. “You shall hear what happened there, and judge + for yourself. Major Milroy has been expressing his opinion of you pretty + freely; and I thought it highly desirable to give him a caution. It’s + always the way with those quiet addle-headed men: when they do once wake + up, there’s no reasoning with their obstinacy, and no quieting their + violence. Well, sir, this morning I went to the cottage. The major and + Miss Neelie were both in the parlor—miss not looking so pretty as + usual; pale, I thought, pale, and worn, and anxious. Up jumps the + addle-headed major (I wouldn’t give <i>that</i>, Mr. Armadale, for the + brains of a man who can occupy himself for half his lifetime in making a + clock!)—up jumps the addle-headed major, in the loftiest manner, and + actually tries to look me down. Ha! ha! the idea of anybody looking <i>me</i> + down, at my time of life. I behaved like a Christian; I nodded kindly to + old What’s-o’clock ‘Fine morning, major,’ says I. ‘Have you any business + with me?’ says he. ‘Just a word,’ says I. Miss Neelie, like the sensible + girl she is, gets up to leave the room; and what does her ridiculous + father do? He stops her. ‘You needn’t go, my dear, I have nothing to say + to Mr. Pedgift,’ says this old military idiot, and turns my way, and tries + to look me down again. ‘You are Mr. Armadale’s lawyer,’ says he; ‘if you + come on any business relating to Mr. Armadale, I refer you to my + solicitor.’ (His solicitor is Darch; and Darch has had enough of <i>me</i> + in business, I can tell you!) ‘My errand here, major, does certainly + relate to Mr. Armadale,’ says I; ‘but it doesn’t concern your lawyer—at + any rate, just yet. I wish to caution you to suspend your opinion of my + client, or, if you won’t do that, to be careful how you express it in + public. I warn you that our turn is to come, and that you are not at the + end yet of this scandal about Miss Gwilt.’ It struck me as likely that he + would lose his temper when he found himself tackled in that way, and he + amply fulfilled my expectations. He was quite violent in his language—the + poor weak creature—actually violent with <i>me</i>! I behaved like a + Christian again; I nodded kindly, and wished him good-morning. When I + looked round to wish Miss Neelie good-morning, too, she was gone. You seem + restless, Mr. Armadale,” remarked Pedgift Senior, as Allan, feeling the + sting of old recollections, suddenly started out of his chair, and began + pacing up and down the room. “I won’t try your patience much longer, sir; + I am coming to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Mr. Pedgift,” said Allan, returning to his seat, and + trying to look composedly at the lawyer through the intervening image of + Neelie which the lawyer had called up. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I left the cottage,” resumed Pedgift Senior. “Just as I turned + the corner from the garden into the park, whom should I stumble on but + Miss Neelie herself, evidently on the lookout for me. ‘I want to speak to + you for one moment, Mr. Pedgift!’ says she. ‘Does Mr. Armadale think <i>me</i> + mixed up in this matter?’ She was violently agitated—tears in her + eyes, sir, of the sort which my legal experience has <i>not</i> accustomed + me to see. I quite forgot myself; I actually gave her my arm, and led her + away gently among the trees. (A nice position to find me in, if any of the + scandal-mongers of the town had happened to be walking in that direction!) + ‘My dear Miss Milroy,’ says I, ‘why should Mr. Armadale think <i>you</i> + mixed up in it?’” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to have told her at once that I thought nothing of the kind!” + exclaimed Allan, indignantly. “Why did you leave her a moment in doubt + about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I am a lawyer, Mr. Armadale,” rejoined Pedgift Senior, dryly. + “Even in moments of sentiment, under convenient trees, with a pretty girl + on my arm, I can’t entirely divest myself of my professional caution. + Don’t look distressed, sir, pray! I set things right in due course of + time. Before I left Miss Milroy, I told her, in the plainest terms, no + such idea had ever entered your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she seem relieved?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + “She was able to dispense with the use of my arm, sir,” replied old + Pedgift, as dryly as ever, “and to pledge me to inviolable secrecy on the + subject of our interview. She was particularly desirous that <i>you</i> + should hear nothing about it. If you are at all anxious on your side to + know why I am now betraying her confidence, I beg to inform you that her + confidence related to no less a person than the lady who favored you with + a call just now—Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Allan, who had been once more restlessly pacing the room, stopped, and + returned to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Is this serious?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Most serious, sir,” returned Pedgift Senior. “I am betraying Miss + Neelie’s secret, in Miss Neelie’s own interest. Let us go back to that + cautious question I put to her. She found some little difficulty in + answering it, for the reply involved her in a narrative of the parting + interview between her governess and herself. This is the substance of it. + The two were alone when Miss Gwilt took leave of her pupil; and the words + she used (as reported to me by Miss Neelie) were these. She said, ‘Your + mother has declined to allow me to take leave of her. Do you decline too?’ + Miss Neelie’s answer was a remarkably sensible one for a girl of her age. + ‘We have not been good friends,’ she said, ‘and I believe we are equally + glad to part with each other. But I have no wish to decline taking leave + of you.’ Saying that, she held out her hand. Miss Gwilt stood looking at + her steadily, without taking it, and addressed her in these words: ‘<i>You + are not Mrs. Armadale yet</i>.’ Gently, sir! Keep your temper. It’s not at + all wonderful that a woman, conscious of having her own mercenary designs + on you, should attribute similar designs to a young lady who happens to be + your near neighbor. Let me go on. Miss Neelie, by her own confession (and + quite naturally, I think), was excessively indignant. She owns to having + answered, ‘You shameless creature, how dare you say that to me!’ Miss + Gwilt’s rejoinder was rather a remarkable one—the anger, on her + side, appears to have been of the cool, still, venomous kind. ‘Nobody ever + yet injured me, Miss Milroy,’ she said, ‘without sooner or later bitterly + repenting it. <i>You</i> will bitterly repent it.’ She stood looking at + her pupil for a moment in dead silence, and then left the room. Miss + Neelie appears to have felt the imputation fastened on her, in connection + with you, far more sensitively than she felt the threat. She had + previously known, as everybody had known in the house, that some + unacknowledged proceedings of yours in London had led to Miss Gwilt’s + voluntary withdrawal from her situation. And she now inferred, from the + language addressed to her, that she was actually believed by Miss Gwilt to + have set those proceedings on foot, to advance herself, and to injure her + governess, in your estimation. Gently, sir, gently! I haven’t quite done + yet. As soon as Miss Neelie had recovered herself, she went upstairs to + speak to Mrs. Milroy. Miss Gwilt’s abominable imputation had taken her by + surprise; and she went to her mother first for enlightenment and advice. + She got neither the one nor the other. Mrs. Milroy declared she was too + ill to enter on the subject, and she has remained too ill to enter on it + ever since. Miss Neelie applied next to her father. The major stopped her + the moment your name passed her lips: he declared he would never hear you + mentioned again by any member of his family. She has been left in the dark + from that time to this, not knowing how she might have been misrepresented + by Miss Gwilt, or what falsehoods you might have been led to believe of + her. At my age and in my profession, I don’t profess to have any + extraordinary softness of heart. But I do think, Mr. Armadale, that Miss + Neelie’s position deserves our sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do anything to help her!” cried Allan, impulsively. “You don’t know, + Mr. Pedgift, what reason I have—” He checked himself, and confusedly + repeated his first words. “I’ll do anything,” he reiterated earnestly—“anything + in the world to help her!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean that, Mr. Armadale? Excuse my asking; but you can very + materially help Miss Neelie, if you choose!” + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked Allan. “Only tell me how!” + </p> + <p> + “By giving me your authority, sir, to protect her from Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Having fired that shot pointblank at his client, the wise lawyer waited a + little to let it take its effect before he said any more. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s face clouded, and he shifted uneasily from side to side of his + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Your son is hard enough to deal with, Mr. Pedgift,” he said, “and you are + harder than your son.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” rejoined the ready Pedgift, “in my son’s name and my + own, for a handsome compliment to the firm. If you really wish to be of + assistance to Miss Neelie,” he went on, more seriously, “I have shown you + the way. You can do nothing to quiet her anxiety which I have not done + already. As soon as I had assured her that no misconception of her conduct + existed in your mind, she went away satisfied. Her governess’s parting + threat doesn’t seem to have dwelt on her memory. I can tell you, Mr. + Armadale, it dwells on mine! You know my opinion of Miss Gwilt; and you + know what Miss Gwilt herself has done this very evening to justify that + opinion even in your eyes. May I ask, after all that has passed, whether + you think she is the sort of woman who can be trusted to confine herself + to empty threats?” + </p> + <p> + The question was a formidable one to answer. Forced steadily back from the + position which he had occupied at the outset of the interview, by the + irresistible pressure of plain facts, Allan began for the first time to + show symptoms of yielding on the subject of Miss Gwilt. “Is there no other + way of protecting Miss Milroy but the way you have mentioned?” he asked, + uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think the major would listen to you, sir, if you spoke to him?” + asked Pedgift Senior, sarcastically. “I’m rather afraid he wouldn’t honor + <i>me</i> with his attention. Or perhaps you would prefer alarming Miss + Neelie by telling her in plain words that we both think her in danger? Or, + suppose you send me to Miss Gwilt, with instructions to inform her that + she has done her pupil a cruel injustice? Women are so proverbially ready + to listen to reason; and they are so universally disposed to alter their + opinions of each other on application—especially when one woman + thinks that another woman has destroyed her prospect of making a good + marriage. Don’t mind <i>me</i>, Mr. Armadale; I’m only a lawyer, and I can + sit waterproof under another shower of Miss Gwilt’s tears!” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it, Mr. Pedgift, tell me in plain words what you want to do!” cried + Allan, losing his temper at last. + </p> + <p> + “In plain words, Mr. Armadale, I want to keep Miss Gwilt’s proceedings + privately under view, as long as she stops in this neighborhood. I answer + for finding a person who will look after her delicately and discreetly. + And I agree to discontinue even this harmless superintendence of her + actions, if there isn’t good reasons shown for continuing it, to your + entire satisfaction, in a week’s time. I make that moderate proposal, sir, + in what I sincerely believe to be Miss Milroy’s interest, and I wait your + answer, Yes or No.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I have time to consider?” asked Allan, driven to the last helpless + expedient of taking refuge in delay. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Mr. Armadale. But don’t forget, while you are considering, + that Miss Milroy is in the habit of walking out alone in your park, + innocent of all apprehension of danger, and that Miss Gwilt is perfectly + free to take any advantage of that circumstance that Miss Gwilt pleases.” + </p> + <p> + “Do as you like!” exclaimed Allan, in despair. “And, for God’s sake, don’t + torment me any longer!” + </p> + <p> + Popular prejudice may deny it, but the profession of the law is a + practically Christian profession in one respect at least. Of all the large + collection of ready answers lying in wait for mankind on a lawyer’s lips, + none is kept in better working order than “the soft answer which turneth + away wrath.” Pedgift Senior rose with the alacrity of youth in his legs, + and the wise moderation of age on his tongue. “Many thanks, sir,” he said, + “for the attention you have bestowed on me. I congratulate you on your + decision, and I wish you good-evening.” This time his indicative snuff-box + was not in his hand when he opened the door, and he actually disappeared + without coming back for a second postscript. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s head sank on his breast when he was left alone. “If it was only + the end of the week!” he thought, longingly. “If I only had Midwinter back + again!” + </p> + <p> + As that aspiration escaped the client’s lips, the lawyer got gayly into + his gig. “Hie away, old girl!” cried Pedgift Senior, patting the + fast-trotting mare with the end of his whip. “I never keep a lady waiting—and + I’ve got business to-night with one of your own sex!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0035" id="H2_4_0035"></a> VII. THE MARTYRDOM OF MISS + GWILT. + </h2> + <p> + The outskirts of the little town of Thorpe Ambrose, on the side nearest to + “the great house,” have earned some local celebrity as exhibiting the + prettiest suburb of the kind to be found in East Norfolk. Here the villas + and gardens are for the most part built and laid out in excellent taste, + the trees are in the prime of their growth, and the healthy common beyond + the houses rises and falls in picturesque and delightful variety of broken + ground. The rank, fashion, and beauty of the town make this place their + evening promenade; and when a stranger goes out for a drive, if he leaves + it to the coachman, the coachman starts by way of the common as a matter + of course. + </p> + <p> + On the opposite side, that is to say, on the side furthest from “the great + house,” the suburbs (in the year 1851) were universally regarded as a sore + subject by all persons zealous for the reputation of the town. + </p> + <p> + Here nature was uninviting, man was poor, and social progress, as + exhibited under the form of building, halted miserably. The streets + dwindled feebly, as they receded from the center of the town, into smaller + and smaller houses, and died away on the barren open ground into an + atrophy of skeleton cottages. Builders hereabouts appeared to have + universally abandoned their work in the first stage of its creation. + Land-holders set up poles on lost patches of ground, and, plaintively + advertising that they were to let for building, raised sickly little crops + meanwhile, in despair of finding a purchaser to deal with them. All the + waste paper of the town seemed to float congenially to this neglected + spot; and all the fretful children came and cried here, in charge of all + the slatternly nurses who disgraced the place. If there was any intention + in Thorpe Ambrose of sending a worn-out horse to the knacker’s, that horse + was sure to be found waiting his doom in a field on this side of the town. + No growth flourished in these desert regions but the arid growth of + rubbish; and no creatures rejoiced but the creatures of the night—the + vermin here and there in the beds, and the cats everywhere on the tiles. + </p> + <p> + The sun had set, and the summer twilight was darkening. The fretful + children were crying in their cradles; the horse destined for the knacker + dozed forlorn in the field of his imprisonment; the cats waited stealthily + in corners for the coming night. But one living figure appeared in the + lonely suburb—the figure of Mr. Bashwood. But one faint sound + disturbed the dreadful silence—the sound of Mr. Bashwood’s softly + stepping feet. + </p> + <p> + Moving slowly past the heaps of bricks rising at intervals along the road, + coasting carefully round the old iron and the broken tiles scattered here + and there in his path, Mr. Bashwood advanced from the direction of the + country toward one of the unfinished streets of the suburb. His personal + appearance had been apparently made the object of some special attention. + His false teeth were brilliantly white; his wig was carefully brushed; his + mourning garments, renewed throughout, gleamed with the hideous and slimy + gloss of cheap black cloth. He moved with a nervous jauntiness, and looked + about him with a vacant smile. Having reached the first of the skeleton + cottages, his watery eyes settled steadily for the first time on the view + of the street before him. The next instant he started; his breath + quickened; he leaned, trembling and flushing, against the unfinished wall + at his side. A lady, still at some distance, was advancing toward him down + the length of the street. “She’s coming!” he whispered, with a strange + mixture of rapture and fear, of alternating color and paleness, showing + itself in his haggard face. “I wish I was the ground she treads on! I wish + I was the glove she’s got on her hand!” He burst ecstatically into those + extravagant words, with a concentrated intensity of delight in uttering + them that actually shook his feeble figure from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + Smoothly and gracefully the lady glided nearer and nearer, until she + revealed to Mr. Bashwood’s eyes, what Mr. Bashwood’s instincts had + recognized in the first instance—the face of Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed with an exquisitely expressive economy of outlay. The + plainest straw bonnet procurable, trimmed sparingly with the cheapest + white ribbon, was on her head. Modest and tasteful poverty expressed + itself in the speckless cleanliness and the modestly proportioned skirts + of her light “print” gown, and in the scanty little mantilla of cheap + black silk which she wore over it, edged with a simple frilling of the + same material. The luster of her terrible red hair showed itself + unshrinkingly in a plaited coronet above her forehead, and escaped in one + vagrant love-lock, perfectly curled, that dropped over her left shoulder. + Her gloves, fitting her like a second skin, were of the sober brown hue + which is slowest to show signs of use. One hand lifted her dress daintily + above the impurities of the road; the other held a little nosegay of the + commonest garden flowers. Noiselessly and smoothly she came on, with a + gentle and regular undulation of the print gown; with the love-lock softly + lifted from moment to moment in the evening breeze; with her head a little + drooped, and her eyes on the ground—in walk, and look, and manner, + in every casual movement that escaped her, expressing that subtle mixture + of the voluptuous and the modest which, of the many attractive extremes + that meet in women, is in a man’s eyes the most irresistible of all. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bashwood!” she exclaimed, in loud, clear tones indicative of the + utmost astonishment, “what a surprise to find you here! I thought none but + the wretched inhabitants ever ventured near this side of the town. Hush!” + she added quickly, in a whisper. “You heard right when you heard that Mr. + Armadale was going to have me followed and watched. There’s a man behind + one of the houses. We must talk out loud of indifferent things, and look + as if we had met by accident. Ask me what I am doing. Out loud! Directly! + You shall never see me again, if you don’t instantly leave off trembling + and do what I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with a merciless tyranny of eye and voice—with a merciless + use of her power over the feeble creature whom she addressed. Mr. Bashwood + obeyed her in tones that quavered with agitation, and with eyes that + devoured her beauty in a strange fascination of terror and delight. + </p> + <p> + “I am trying to earn a little money by teaching music,” she said, in the + voice intended to reach the spy’s ears. “If you are able to recommend me + any pupils, Mr. Bashwood, your good word will oblige me. Have you been in + the grounds to-day?” she went on, dropping her voice again in a whisper. + “Has Mr. Armadale been near the cottage? Has Miss Milroy been out of the + garden? No? Are you sure? Look out for them to-morrow, and next day, and + next day. They are certain to meet and make it up again, and I must and + will know of it. Hush! Ask me my terms for teaching music. What are you + frightened about? It’s me the man’s after—not you. Louder than when + you asked me what I was doing, just now; louder, or I won’t trust you any + more; I’ll go to somebody else!” + </p> + <p> + Once more Mr. Bashwood obeyed. “Don’t be angry with me,” he murmured, + faintly, when he had spoken the necessary words. “My heart beats so you’ll + kill me!” + </p> + <p> + “You poor old dear!” she whispered back, with a sudden change in her + manner, with an easy satirical tenderness. “What business have you with a + heart at your age? Be here to-morrow at the same time, and tell me what + you have seen in the grounds. My terms are only five shillings a lesson,” + she went on, in her louder tone. “I’m sure that’s not much, Mr. Bashwood; + I give such long lessons, and I get all my pupils’ music half-price.” She + suddenly dropped her voice again, and looked him brightly into instant + subjection. “Don’t let Mr. Armadale out of your sight to-morrow! If that + girl manages to speak to him, and if I don’t hear of it, I’ll frighten you + to death. If I <i>do</i> hear of it, I’ll kiss you! Hush! Wish me + good-night, and go on to the town, and leave me to go the other way. I + don’t want you—I’m not afraid of the man behind the houses; I can + deal with him by myself. Say goodnight, and I’ll let you shake hands. Say + it louder, and I’ll give you one of my flowers, if you’ll promise not to + fall in love with it.” She raised her voice again. “Goodnight, Mr. + Bashwood! Don’t forget my terms. Five shillings a lesson, and the lessons + last an hour at a time, and I get all my pupils’ music half-price, which + is an immense advantage, isn’t it?” She slipped a flower into his hand—frowned + him into obedience, and smiled to reward him for obeying, at the same + moment—lifted her dress again above the impurities of the road—and + went on her way with a dainty and indolent deliberation, as a cat goes on + her way when she has exhausted the enjoyment of frightening a mouse. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Mr. Bashwood turned to the low cottage wall near which he had + been standing, and, resting himself on it wearily, looked at the flower in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + His past existence had disciplined him to bear disaster and insult, as few + happier men could have borne them; but it had not prepared him to feel the + master-passion of humanity, for the first time, at the dreary end of his + life, in the hopeless decay of a manhood that had withered under the + double blight of conjugal disappointment and parental sorrow. “Oh, if I + was only young again!” murmured the poor wretch, resting his arms on the + wall and touching the flower with his dry, fevered lips in a stealthy + rapture of tenderness. “She might have liked me when I was twenty!” He + suddenly started back into an erect position, and stared about him in + vacant bewilderment and terror. “She told me to go home,” he said, with a + startled look. “Why am I stopping here?” He turned, and hurried on to the + town—in such dread of her anger, if she looked round and saw him, + that he never so much as ventured on a backward glance at the road by + which she had retired, and never detected the spy dogging her footsteps, + under cover of the empty houses and the brick-heaps by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + Smoothly and gracefully, carefully preserving the speckless integrity of + her dress, never hastening her pace, and never looking aside to the right + hand or the left, Miss Gwilt pursued her way toward the open country. The + suburban road branched off at its end in two directions. On the left, the + path wound through a ragged little coppice to the grazing grounds of a + neighboring farm; on the right, it led across a hillock of waste land to + the high-road. Stopping a moment to consider, but not showing the spy that + she suspected him by glancing behind her while there was a hiding-place + within his reach, Miss Gwilt took the path across the hillock. “I’ll catch + him there,” she said to herself, looking up quietly at the long straight + line of the empty high-road. + </p> + <p> + Once on the ground that she had chosen for her purpose, she met the + difficulties of the position with perfect tact and self-possession. After + walking some thirty yards along the road, she let her nosegay drop, half + turned round in stooping to pick it up, saw the man stopping at the same + moment behind her, and instantly went on again, quickening her pace little + by little, until she was walking at the top of her speed. The spy fell + into the snare laid for him. Seeing the night coming, and fearing that he + might lose sight of her in the darkness, he rapidly lessened the distance + between them. Miss Gwilt went on faster and faster till she plainly heard + his footstep behind her, then stopped, turned, and met the man face to + face the next moment. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Mr. Armadale,” she said, “and tell him I’ve caught you + watching me.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not watching you, miss,” retorted the spy, thrown off his guard by + the daring plainness of the language in which she had spoken to him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt’s eyes measured him contemptuously from head to foot. He was a + weakly, undersized man. She was the taller, and (quite possibly) the + stronger of the two. + </p> + <p> + “Take your hat off, you blackguard, when you speak to a lady,” she said, + and tossed his hat in an instant, across a ditch by which they were + standing, into a pool on the other side. + </p> + <p> + This time the spy was on his guard. He knew as well as Miss Gwilt knew the + use which might be made of the precious minutes, if he turned his back on + her and crossed the ditch to recover his hat. “It’s well for you you’re a + woman,” he said, standing scowling at her bareheaded in the fast-darkening + light. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt glanced sidelong down the onward vista of the road, and saw, + through the gathering obscurity, the solitary figure of a man rapidly + advancing toward her. Some women would have noticed the approach of a + stranger at that hour and in that lonely place with a certain anxiety. + Miss Gwilt was too confident in her own powers of persuasion not to count + on the man’s assistance beforehand, whoever he might be, <i>because</i> he + was a man. She looked back at the spy with redoubled confidence in + herself, and measured him contemptuously from head to foot for the second + time. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether I’m strong enough to throw you after your hat?” she + said. “I’ll take a turn and consider it.” + </p> + <p> + She sauntered on a few steps toward the figure advancing along the road. + The spy followed her close. “Try it,” he said, brutally. “You’re a fine + woman; you’re welcome to put your arms round me if you like.” As the words + escaped him, he too saw the stranger for the first time. He drew back a + step and waited. Miss Gwilt, on her side, advanced a step and waited, too. + </p> + <p> + The stranger came on, with the lithe, light step of a practiced walker, + swinging a stick in his hand and carrying a knapsack on his shoulders. A + few paces nearer, and his face became visible. He was a dark man, his + black hair was powdered with dust, and his black eyes were looking + steadfastly forward along the road before him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt advanced with the first signs of agitation she had shown yet. + “Is it possible?” she said, softly. “Can it really be you?” + </p> + <p> + It was Midwinter, on his way back to Thorpe Ambrose, after his fortnight + among the Yorkshire moors. + </p> + <p> + He stopped and looked at her, in breathless surprise. The image of the + woman had been in his thoughts, at the moment when the woman herself spoke + to him. “Miss Gwilt!” he exclaimed, and mechanically held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + She took it, and pressed it gently. “I should have been glad to see you at + any time,” she said. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you now. May I + trouble you to speak to that man? He has been following me, and annoying + me all the way from the town.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter stepped past her without uttering a word. Faint as the light + was, the spy saw what was coming in his face, and, turning instantly, + leaped the ditch by the road-side. Before Midwinter could follow, Miss + Gwilt’s hand was on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “you don’t know who his employer is.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter stopped and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Strange things have happened since you left us,” she went on. “I have + been forced to give up my situation, and I am followed and watched by a + paid spy. Don’t ask who forced me out of my situation, and who pays the + spy—at least not just yet. I can’t make up my mind to tell you till + I am a little more composed. Let the wretch go. Do you mind seeing me safe + back to my lodging? It’s in your way home. May I—may I ask for the + support of your arm? My little stock of courage is quite exhausted.” She + took his arm and clung close to it. The woman who had tyrannized over Mr. + Bashwood was gone, and the woman who had tossed the spy’s hat into the + pool was gone. A timid, shrinking, interesting creature filled the fair + skin and trembled on the symmetrical limbs of Miss Gwilt. She put her + handkerchief to her eyes. “They say necessity has no law,” she murmured, + faintly. “I am treating you like an old friend. God knows I want one!” + </p> + <p> + They went on toward the town. She recovered herself with a touching + fortitude; she put her handkerchief back in her pocket, and persisted in + turning the conversation on Midwinter’s walking tour. “It is bad enough to + be a burden on you,” she said, gently pressing on his arm as she spoke; “I + mustn’t distress you as well. Tell me where you have been, and what you + have seen. Interest me in your journey; help me to escape from myself.” + </p> + <p> + They reached the modest little lodging in the miserable little suburb. + Miss Gwilt sighed, and removed her glove before she took Midwinter’s hand. + “I have taken refuge here,” she said, simply. “It is clean and quiet; I am + too poor to want or expect more. We must say good-by, I suppose, unless”—she + hesitated modestly, and satisfied herself by a quick look round that they + were unobserved—“unless you would like to come in and rest a little? + I feel so gratefully toward you, Mr. Midwinter! Is there any harm, do you + think, in my offering you a cup of tea?” + </p> + <p> + The magnetic influence of her touch was thrilling through him while she + spoke. Change and absence, to which he had trusted to weaken her hold on + him, had treacherously strengthened it instead. A man exceptionally + sensitive, a man exceptionally pure in his past life, he stood hand in + hand, in the tempting secrecy of the night, with the first woman who had + exercised over him the all-absorbing influence of her sex. At his age, and + in his position, who could have left her? The man (with a man’s + temperament) doesn’t live who could have left her. Midwinter went in. + </p> + <p> + A stupid, sleepy lad opened the house door. Even he, being a male + creature, brightened under the influence of Miss Gwilt. “The urn, John,” + she said, kindly, “and another cup and saucer. I’ll borrow your candle to + light my candles upstairs, and then I won’t trouble you any more + to-night.” John was wakeful and active in an instant. “No trouble, miss,” + he said, with awkward civility. Miss Gwilt took his candle with a smile. + “How good people are to me!” she whispered, innocently, to Midwinter, as + she led the way upstairs to the little drawing-room on the first floor. + </p> + <p> + She lit the candles, and, turning quickly on her guest, stopped him at the + first attempt he made to remove the knapsack from his shoulders. “No,” she + said, gently; “in the good old times there were occasions when the ladies + unarmed their knights. I claim the privilege of unarming <i>my</i> + knight.” Her dexterous fingers intercepted his at the straps and buckles, + and she had the dusty knapsack off, before he could protest against her + touching it. + </p> + <p> + They sat down at the one little table in the room. It was very poorly + furnished; but there was something of the dainty neatness of the woman who + inhabited it in the arrangement of the few poor ornaments on the + chimney-piece, in the one or two prettily bound volumes on the chiffonier, + in the flowers on the table, and the modest little work-basket in the + window. “Women are not all coquettes,” she said, as she took off her + bonnet and mantilla, and laid them carefully on a chair. “I won’t go into + my room, and look in my glass, and make myself smart; you shall take me + just as I am.” Her hands moved about among the tea-things with a smooth, + noiseless activity. + </p> + <p> + Her magnificent hair flashed crimson in the candle-light, as she turned + her head hither and thither, searching with an easy grace for the things + she wanted in the tray. Exercise had heightened the brilliancy of her + complexion, and had quickened the rapid alternations of expression in her + eyes—the delicious languor that stole over them when she was + listening or thinking, the bright intelligence that flashed from them + softly when she spoke. In the lightest word she said, in the least thing + she did, there was something that gently solicited the heart of the man + who sat with her. Perfectly modest in her manner, possessed to perfection + of the graceful restraints and refinements of a lady, she had all the + allurements that feast the eye, all the siren invitations that seduce the + sense—a subtle suggestiveness in her silence, and a sexual sorcery + in her smile. + </p> + <p> + “Should I be wrong,” she asked, suddenly suspending the conversation which + she had thus far persistently restricted to the subject of Midwinter’s + walking tour, “if I guessed that you have something on your mind—something + which neither my tea nor my talk can charm away? Are men as curious as + women? Is the something—Me?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter struggled against the fascination of looking at her and + listening to her. “I am very anxious to hear what has happened since I + have been away,” he said. “But I am still more anxious, Miss Gwilt, not to + distress you by speaking of a painful subject.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him gratefully. “It is for your sake that I have avoided the + painful subject,” she said, toying with her spoon among the dregs in her + empty cup. “But you will hear about it from others, if you don’t hear + about it from me; and you ought to know why you found me in that strange + situation, and why you see me here. Pray remember one thing, to begin + with. I don’t blame your friend, Mr. Armadale. I blame the people whose + instrument he is.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter started. “Is it possible,” he began, “that Allan can be in any + way answerable—?” He stopped, and looked at Miss Gwilt in silent + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + She gently laid her hand on his. “Don’t be angry with me for only telling + the truth,” she said. “Your friend is answerable for everything that has + happened to me—innocently answerable, Mr. Midwinter, I firmly + believe. We are both victims. <i>He</i> is the victim of his position as + the richest single man in the neighborhood; and I am the victim of Miss + Milroy’s determination to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Milroy?” repeated Midwinter, more and more astonished. “Why, Allan + himself told me—” He stopped again. + </p> + <p> + “He told you that I was the object of his admiration? Poor fellow, he + admires everybody; his head is almost as empty as this,” said Miss Gwilt, + smiling indicatively into the hollow of her cup. She dropped the spoon, + sighed, and became serious again. “I am guilty of the vanity of having let + him admire me,” she went on, penitently, “without the excuse of being + able, on my side, to reciprocate even the passing interest that he felt in + me. I don’t undervalue his many admirable qualities, or the excellent + position he can offer to his wife. But a woman’s heart is not to be + commanded—no, Mr. Midwinter, not even by the fortunate master of + Thorpe Ambrose, who commands everything else.” + </p> + <p> + She looked him full in the face as she uttered that magnanimous sentiment. + His eyes dropped before hers, and his dark color deepened. He had felt his + heart leap in him at the declaration of her indifference to Allan. For the + first time since they had known each other, his interests now stood + self-revealed before him as openly adverse to the interests of his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I have been guilty of the vanity of letting Mr. Armadale admire me, and I + have suffered for it,” resumed Miss Gwilt. “If there had been any + confidence between my pupil and me, I might have easily satisfied her that + she might become Mrs. Armadale—if she could—without having any + rivalry to fear on my part. But Miss Milroy disliked and distrusted me + from the first. She took her own jealous view, no doubt, of Mr. Armadale’s + thoughtless attentions to me. It was her interest to destroy the position, + such as it was, that I held in his estimation; and it is quite likely her + mother assisted her. Mrs. Milroy had her motive also (which I am really + ashamed to mention) for wishing to drive me out of the house. Anyhow, the + conspiracy has succeeded. I have been forced (with Mr. Armadale’s help) to + leave the major’s service. Don’t be angry, Mr. Midwinter! Don’t form a + hasty opinion! I dare say Miss Milroy has some good qualities, though I + have not found them out; and I assure you again and again that I don’t + blame Mr. Armadale. I only blame the people whose instrument he is.” + </p> + <p> + “How is he their instrument? How can he be the instrument of any enemy of + yours?” asked Midwinter. “Pray excuse my anxiety, Miss Gwilt: Allan’s good + name is as dear to me as my own!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt’s eyes turned full on him again, and Miss Gwilt’s heart + abandoned itself innocently to an outburst of enthusiasm. “How I admire + your earnestness!” she said. “How I like your anxiety for your friend! Oh, + if women could only form such friendships! Oh you happy, happy men!” Her + voice faltered, and her convenient tea-cup absorbed her for the third + time. “I would give all the little beauty I possess,” she said, “if I + could only find such a friend as Mr. Armadale has found in <i>you</i>. I + never shall, Mr. Midwinter—I never shall. Let us go back to what we + were talking about. I can only tell you how your friend is concerned in my + misfortune by telling you something first about myself. I am like many + other governesses; I am the victim of sad domestic circumstances. It may + be weak of me, but I have a horror of alluding to them among strangers. My + silence about my family and my friends exposes me to misinterpretation in + my dependent position. Does it do me any harm, Mr. Midwinter, in your + estimation?” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid!” said Midwinter, fervently. “There is no man living,” he went + on, thinking of his own family story, “who has better reason to understand + and respect your silence than I have.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt seized his hand impulsively. “Oh,” she said, “I knew it, the + first moment I saw you! I knew that you, too, had suffered; that you, too, + had sorrows which you kept sacred! Strange, strange sympathy! I believe in + mesmerism—do you?” She suddenly recollected herself, and shuddered. + “Oh, what have I done? What must you think of me?” she exclaimed, as he + yielded to the magnetic fascination of her touch, and, forgetting + everything but the hand that lay warm in his own, bent over it and kissed + it. “Spare me!” she said, faintly, as she felt the burning touch of his + lips. “I am so friendless—I am so completely at your mercy!” + </p> + <p> + He turned away from her, and hid his face in his hands; he was trembling, + and she saw it. She looked at him while his face was hidden from her; she + looked at him with a furtive interest and surprise. “How that man loves + me!” she thought. “I wonder whether there was a time when I might have + loved <i>him</i>?” + </p> + <p> + The silence between them remained unbroken for some minutes. He had felt + her appeal to his consideration as she had never expected or intended him + to feel it—he shrank from looking at her or from speaking to her + again. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go on with my story?” she asked. “Shall we forget and forgive on + both sides?” A woman’s inveterate indulgence for every expression of a + man’s admiration which keeps within the limits of personal respect curved + her lips gently into a charming smile. She looked down meditatively at her + dress, and brushed a crumb off her lap with a little flattering sigh. “I + was telling you,” she went on, “of my reluctance to speak to strangers of + my sad family story. It was in that way, as I afterward found out, that I + laid myself open to Miss Milroy’s malice and Miss Milroy’s suspicion. + Private inquiries about me were addressed to the lady who was my reference—at + Miss Milroy’s suggestion, in the first instance, I have no doubt. I am + sorry to say, this is not the worst of it. By some underhand means, of + which I am quite ignorant, Mr. Armadale’s simplicity was imposed on; and, + when application was made secretly to my reference in London, it was made, + Mr. Midwinter, through your friend.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter suddenly rose from his chair and looked at her. The fascination + that she exercised over him, powerful as it was, became a suspended + influence, now that the plain disclosure came plainly at last from her + lips. He looked at her, and sat down again, like a man bewildered, without + uttering a word. + </p> + <p> + “Remember how weak he is,” pleaded Miss Gwilt, gently, “and make + allowances for him as I do. The trifling accident of his failing to find + my reference at the address given him seems, I can’t imagine why, to have + excited Mr. Armadale’s suspicion. At any rate, he remained in London. What + he did there, it is impossible for me to say. I was quite in the dark; I + knew nothing: I distrusted nobody; I was as happy in my little round of + duties as I could be with a pupil whose affections I had failed to win, + when, one morning, to my indescribable astonishment, Major Milroy showed + me a correspondence between Mr. Armadale and himself. He spoke to me in + his wife’s presence. Poor creature, I make no complaint of her; such + affliction as she suffers excuses everything. I wish I could give you some + idea of the letters between Major Milroy and Mr. Armadale; but my head is + only a woman’s head, and I was so confused and distressed at the time! All + I can tell you is that Mr. Armadale chose to preserve silence about his + proceedings in London, under circumstances which made that silence a + reflection on my character. The major was most kind; his confidence in me + remained unshaken; but could his confidence protect me against his wife’s + prejudice and his daughter’s ill-will? Oh, the hardness of women to each + other! Oh, the humiliation if men only knew some of us as we really are! + What could I do? I couldn’t defend myself against mere imputations; and I + couldn’t remain in my situation after a slur had been cast on me. My pride + (Heaven help me, I was brought up like a gentlewoman, and I have + sensibilities that are not blunted even yet!)—my pride got the + better of me, and I left my place. Don’t let it distress you, Mr. + Midwinter! There’s a bright side to the picture. The ladies in the + neighborhood have overwhelmed me with kindness; I have the prospect of + getting pupils to teach; I am spared the mortification of going back to be + a burden on my friends. The only complaint I have to make is, I think, a + just one. Mr. Armadale has been back at Thorpe Ambrose for some days. I + have entreated him, by letter, to grant me an interview; to tell me what + dreadful suspicions he has of me, and to let me set myself right in his + estimation. Would you believe it? He has declined to see me—under + the influence of others, not of his own free will, I am sure! Cruel, isn’t + it? But he has even used me more cruelly still; he persists in suspecting + me; it is he who is having me watched. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, don’t hate me + for telling you what you <i>must</i> know! The man you found persecuting + me and frightening me to-night was only earning his money, after all, as + Mr. Armadale’s spy.” + </p> + <p> + Once more Midwinter started to his feet; and this time the thoughts that + were in him found their way into words. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t believe it; I won’t believe it!” he exclaimed, indignantly. “If + the man told you that, the man lied. I beg your pardon, Miss Gwilt; I beg + your pardon from the bottom of my heart. Don’t, pray don’t think I doubt + <i>you</i>; I only say there is some dreadful mistake. I am not sure that + I understand as I ought all that you have told me. But this last infamous + meanness of which you think Allan guilty, I <i>do</i> understand. I swear + to you, he is incapable of it! Some scoundrel has been taking advantage of + him; some scoundrel has been using his name. I’ll prove it to you, if you + will only give me time. Let me go and clear it up at once. I can’t rest; I + can’t bear to think of it; I can’t even enjoy the pleasure of being here. + Oh,” he burst out desperately, “I’m sure you feel for me, after what you + have said—I feel so for <i>you</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in confusion. Miss Gwilt’s eyes were looking at him again, and + Miss Gwilt’s hand had found its way once more into his own. + </p> + <p> + “You are the most generous of living men,” she said, softly. “I will + believe what you tell me to believe. Go,” she added, in a whisper, + suddenly releasing his hand, and turning away from him. “For both our + sakes, go!” + </p> + <p> + His heart beat fast; he looked at her as she dropped into a chair and put + her handkerchief to her eyes. For one moment he hesitated; the next, he + snatched up his knapsack from the floor, and left her precipitately, + without a backward look or a parting word. + </p> + <p> + She rose when the door closed on him. A change came over her the instant + she was alone. The color faded out of her cheeks; the beauty died out of + her eyes; her face hardened horribly with a silent despair. “It’s even + baser work than I bargained for,” she said, “to deceive <i>him</i>.” After + pacing to and fro in the room for some minutes, she stopped wearily before + the glass over the fire-place. “You strange creature!” she murmured, + leaning her elbows on the mantelpiece, and languidly addressing the + reflection of herself in the glass. “Have you got any conscience left? And + has that man roused it?” + </p> + <p> + The reflection of her face changed slowly. The color returned to her + cheeks, the delicious languor began to suffuse her eyes again. Her lips + parted gently, and her quickening breath began to dim the surface of the + glass. She drew back from it, after a moment’s absorption in her own + thoughts, with a start of terror. “What am I doing?” she asked herself, in + a sudden panic of astonishment. “Am I mad enough to be thinking of him in + <i>that</i> way?” + </p> + <p> + She burst into a mocking laugh, and opened her desk on the table + recklessly with a bang. “It’s high time I had some talk with Mother + Jezebel,” she said, and sat down to write to Mrs. Oldershaw. + </p> + <p> + “I have met with Mr. Midwinter,” she began, “under very lucky + circumstances; and I have made the most of my opportunity. He has just + left me for his friend Armadale; and one of two good things will happen + to-morrow. If they don’t quarrel, the doors of Thorpe Ambrose will be + opened to me again at Mr. Midwinter’s intercession. If they do quarrel, I + shall be the unhappy cause of it, and I shall find my way in for myself, + on the purely Christian errand of reconciling them.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated at the next sentence, wrote the first few words of it, + scratched them out again, and petulantly tore the letter into fragments, + and threw the pen to the other end of the room. Turning quickly on her + chair, she looked at the seat which Midwinter had occupied, her foot + restlessly tapping the floor, and her handkerchief thrust like a gag + between her clinched teeth. “Young as you are,” she thought, with her mind + reviving the image of him in the empty chair, “there has been something + out of the common in <i>your</i> life; and I must and will know it!” + </p> + <p> + The house clock struck the hour, and roused her. She sighed, and, walking + back to the glass, wearily loosened the fastenings of her dress; wearily + removed the studs from the chemisette beneath it, and put them on the + chimney-piece. She looked indolently at the reflected beauties of her neck + and bosom, as she unplaited her hair and threw it back in one great mass + over her shoulders. “Fancy,” she thought, “if he saw me now!” She turned + back to the table, and sighed again as she extinguished one of the candles + and took the other in her hand. “Midwinter?” she said, as she passed + through the folding-doors of the room to her bed-chamber. “I don’t believe + in his name, to begin with!” + </p> + <p> + The night had advanced by more than an hour before Midwinter was back + again at the great house. + </p> + <p> + Twice, well as the homeward way was known to him, he had strayed out of + the right road. The events of the evening—the interview with Miss + Gwilt herself, after his fortnight’s solitary thinking of her; the + extraordinary change that had taken place in her position since he had + seen her last; and the startling assertion of Allan’s connection with it—had + all conspired to throw his mind into a state of ungovernable confusion. + The darkness of the cloudy night added to his bewilderment. Even the + familiar gates of Thorpe Ambrose seemed strange to him. When he tried to + think of it, it was a mystery to him how he had reached the place. + </p> + <p> + The front of the house was dark, and closed for the night. Midwinter went + round to the back. The sound of men’s voices, as he advanced, caught his + ear. They were soon distinguishable as the voices of the first and second + footman, and the subject of conversation between them was their master. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet you an even half-crown he’s driven out of the neighborhood + before another week is over his head,” said the first footman. + </p> + <p> + “Done!” said the second. “He isn’t as easy driven as you think.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t he!” retorted the other. “He’ll be mobbed if he stops here! I tell + you again, he’s not satisfied with the mess he’s got into already. I know + it for certain, he’s having the governess watched.” + </p> + <p> + At those words, Midwinter mechanically checked himself before he turned + the corner of the house. His first doubt of the result of his meditated + appeal to Allan ran through him like a sudden chill. The influence + exercised by the voice of public scandal is a force which acts in + opposition to the ordinary law of mechanics. It is strongest, not by + concentration, but by distribution. To the primary sound we may shut our + ears; but the reverberation of it in echoes is irresistible. On his way + back, Midwinter’s one desire had been to find Allan up, and to speak to + him immediately. His one hope now was to gain time to contend with the new + doubts and to silence the new misgivings; his one present anxiety was to + hear that Allan had gone to bed. He turned the corner of the house, and + presented himself before the men smoking their pipes in the back garden. + As soon as their astonishment allowed them to speak, they offered to rouse + their master. Allan had given his friend up for that night, and had gone + to bed about half an hour since. + </p> + <p> + “It was my master’s’ particular order, sir,” said the head-footman, “that + he was to be told of it if you came back.” + </p> + <p> + “It is <i>my</i> particular request,” returned Midwinter, “that you won’t + disturb him.” + </p> + <p> + The men looked at each other wonderingly, as he took his candle and left + them. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0036" id="H2_4_0036"></a> VIII. SHE COMES BETWEEN THEM. + </h2> + <p> + Appointed hours for the various domestic events of the day were things + unknown at Thorpe Ambrose. Irregular in all his habits, Allan accommodated + himself to no stated times (with the solitary exception of dinner-time) at + any hour of the day or night. He retired to rest early or late, and he + rose early or late, exactly as he felt inclined. The servants were + forbidden to call him; and Mrs. Gripper was accustomed to improvise the + breakfast as she best might, from the time when the kitchen fire was first + lighted to the time when the clock stood on the stroke of noon. + </p> + <p> + Toward nine o’clock on the morning after his return Midwinter knocked at + Allan’s door, and on entering the room found it empty. After inquiry among + the servants, it appeared that Allan had risen that morning before the man + who usually attended on him was up, and that his hot water had been + brought to the door by one of the house-maids, who was then still in + ignorance of Midwinter’s return. Nobody had chanced to see the master, + either on the stairs or in the hall; nobody had heard him ring the bell + for breakfast, as usual. In brief, nobody knew anything about him, except + what was obviously clear to all—that he was not in the house. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter went out under the great portico. He stood at the head of the + flight of steps considering in which direction he should set forth to look + for his friend. Allan’s unexpected absence added one more to the + disquieting influences which still perplexed his mind. He was in the mood + in which trifles irritate a man, and fancies are all-powerful to exalt or + depress his spirits. + </p> + <p> + The sky was cloudy; and the wind blew in puffs from the south; there was + every prospect, to weather-wise eyes, of coming rain. While Midwinter was + still hesitating, one of the grooms passed him on the drive below. The man + proved, on being questioned, to be better informed about his master’s + movements than the servants indoors. He had seen Allan pass the stables + more than an hour since, going out by the back way into the park with a + nosegay in his hand. + </p> + <p> + A nosegay in his hand? The nosegay hung incomprehensibly on Midwinter’s + mind as he walked round, on the chance of meeting Allan, to the back of + the house. “What does the nosegay mean?” he asked himself, with an + unintelligible sense of irritation, and a petulant kick at a stone that + stood in his way. + </p> + <p> + It meant that Allan had been following his impulses as usual. The one + pleasant impression left on his mind after his interview with Pedgift + Senior was the impression made by the lawyer’s account of his conversation + with Neelie in the park. The anxiety that he should not misjudge her, + which the major’s daughter had so earnestly expressed, placed her before + Allan’s eyes in an irresistibly attractive character—the character + of the one person among all his neighbors who had some respect still left + for his good opinion. Acutely sensible of his social isolation, now that + there was no Midwinter to keep him company in the empty house, hungering + and thirsting in his solitude for a kind word and a friendly look, he + began to think more and more regretfully and more and more longingly of + the bright young face so pleasantly associated with his first happiest + days at Thorpe Ambrose. To be conscious of such a feeling as this was, + with a character like Allan’s, to act on it headlong, lead him where it + might. He had gone out on the previous morning to look for Neelie with a + peace-offering of flowers, but with no very distinct idea of what he + should say to her if they met; and failing to find her on the scene of her + customary walks, he had characteristically persisted the next morning in + making a second attempt with another peace-offering on a larger scale. + Still ignorant of his friend’s return, he was now at some distance from + the house, searching the park in a direction which he had not tried yet. + </p> + <p> + After walking out a few hundred yards beyond the stables, and failing to + discover any signs of Allan, Midwinter retraced his steps, and waited for + his friend’s return, pacing slowly to and fro on the little strip of + garden ground at the back of the house. + </p> + <p> + From time to time, as he passed it, he looked in absently at the room + which had formerly been Mrs. Armadale’s, which was now (through his + interposition) habitually occupied by her son—the room with the + Statuette on the bracket, and the French windows opening to the ground, + which had once recalled to him the Second Vision of the Dream. The Shadow + of the Man, which Allan had seen standing opposite to him at the long + window; the view over a lawn and flower-garden; the pattering of the rain + against the glass; the stretching out of the Shadow’s arm, and the fall of + the statue in fragments on the floor—these objects and events of the + visionary scene, so vividly present to his memory once, were all + superseded by later remembrances now, were all left to fade as they might + in the dim background of time. He could pass the room again and again, + alone and anxious, and never once think of the boat drifting away in the + moonlight, and the night’s imprisonment on the Wrecked Ship! + </p> + <p> + Toward ten o’clock the well-remembered sound of Allan’s voice became + suddenly audible in the direction of the stables. In a moment more he was + visible from the garden. His second morning’s search for Neelie had ended + to all appearance in a second defeat of his object. The nosegay was still + in his hand; and he was resignedly making a present of it to one of the + coachman’s children. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter impulsively took a step forward toward the stables, and abruptly + checked his further progress. + </p> + <p> + Conscious that his position toward his friend was altered already in + relation to Miss Gwilt, the first sight of Allan filled his mind with a + sudden distrust of the governess’s influence over him, which was almost a + distrust of himself. He knew that he had set forth from the moors on his + return to Thorpe Ambrose with the resolution of acknowledging the passion + that had mastered him, and of insisting, if necessary, on a second and a + longer absence in the interests of the sacrifice which he was bent on + making to the happiness of his friend. What had become of that resolution + now? The discovery of Miss Gwilt’s altered position, and the declaration + that she had voluntarily made of her indifference to Allan, had scattered + it to the winds. The first words with which he would have met his friend, + if nothing had happened to him on the homeward way, were words already + dismissed from his lips. He drew back as he felt it, and struggled, with + an instinctive loyalty toward Allan, to free himself at the last moment + from the influence of Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + Having disposed of his useless nosegay, Allan passed on into the garden, + and the instant he entered it recognized Midwinter with a loud cry of + surprise and delight. + </p> + <p> + “Am I awake or dreaming?” he exclaimed, seizing his friend excitably by + both hands. “You dear old Midwinter, have you sprung up out of the ground, + or have you dropped from the clouds?” + </p> + <p> + It was not till Midwinter had explained the mystery of his unexpected + appearance in every particular that Allan could be prevailed on to say a + word about himself. When he did speak, he shook his head ruefully, and + subdued the hearty loudness of his voice, with a preliminary look round to + see if the servants were within hearing. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve learned to be cautious since you went away and left me,” said Allan. + “My dear fellow, you haven’t the least notion what things have happened, + and what an awful scrape I’m in at this very moment!” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Allan. I have heard more of what has happened than you + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “What! the dreadful mess I’m in with Miss Gwilt? the row with the major? + the infernal scandal-mongering in the neighborhood? You don’t mean to say—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” interposed Midwinter, quietly; “I have heard of it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens! how? Did you stop at Thorpe Ambrose on your way back? Have + you been in the coffee-room at the hotel? Have you met Pedgift? Have you + dropped into the Reading Rooms, and seen what they call the freedom of the + press in the town newspaper?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter paused before he answered, and looked up at the sky. The clouds + had been gathering unnoticed over their heads, and the first rain-drops + were beginning to fall. + </p> + <p> + “Come in here,” said Allan. “We’ll go up to breakfast this way.” He led + Midwinter through the open French window into his own sitting-room. The + wind blew toward that side of the house, and the rain followed them in. + Midwinter, who was last, turned and closed the window. + </p> + <p> + Allan was too eager for the answer which the weather had interrupted to + wait for it till they reached the breakfast-room. He stopped close at the + window, and added two more to his string of questions. + </p> + <p> + “How can you possibly have heard about me and Miss Gwilt?” he asked. “Who + told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gwilt herself,” replied Midwinter, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s manner changed the moment the governess’s name passed his friend’s + lips. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you had heard my story first,” he said. “Where did you meet with + Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary pause. They both stood still at the window, absorbed + in the interest of the moment. They both forgot that their contemplated + place of shelter from the rain had been the breakfast-room upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Before I answer your question,” said Midwinter, a little constrainedly, + “I want to ask you something, Allan, on my side. Is it really true that + you are in some way concerned in Miss Gwilt’s leaving Major Milroy’s + service?” + </p> + <p> + There was another pause. The disturbance which had begun to appear in + Allan’s manner palpably increased. + </p> + <p> + “It’s rather a long story,” he began. “I have been taken in, Midwinter. + I’ve been imposed on by a person, who—I can’t help saying it—who + cheated me into promising what I oughtn’t to have promised, and doing what + I had better not have done. It isn’t breaking my promise to tell you. I + can trust in your discretion, can’t I? You will never say a word, will + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Midwinter. “Don’t trust me with any secrets which are not + your own. If you have given a promise, don’t trifle with it, even in + speaking to such an intimate friend as I am.” He laid his hand gently and + kindly on Allan’s shoulder. “I can’t help seeing that I have made you a + little uncomfortable,” he went on. “I can’t help seeing that my question + is not so easy a one to answer as I had hoped and supposed. Shall we wait + a little? Shall we go upstairs and breakfast first?” + </p> + <p> + Allan was far too earnestly bent on presenting his conduct to his friend + in the right aspect to heed Midwinter’s suggestion. He spoke eagerly on + the instant, without moving from the window. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, it’s a perfectly easy question to answer. Only”—he + hesitated—“only it requires what I’m a bad hand at: it requires an + explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” asked Midwinter, more seriously, but not less gently than + before, “that you must first justify yourself, and then answer my + question?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it!” said Allan, with an air of relief. “You’re hit the right nail + on the head, just as usual.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s face darkened for the first time. “I am sorry to hear it,” he + said, his voice sinking low, and his eyes dropping to the ground as he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + The rain was beginning to fall thickly. It swept across the garden, + straight on the closed windows, and pattered heavily against the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry!” repeated Allan. “My dear fellow, you haven’t heard the + particulars yet. Wait till I explain the thing first.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a bad hand at explanations,” said Midwinter, repeating Allan’s + own words. “Don’t place yourself at a disadvantage. Don’t explain it.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at him, in silent perplexity and surprise. + </p> + <p> + “You are my friend—my best and dearest friend,” Midwinter went on. + “I can’t bear to let you justify yourself to me as if I was your judge, or + as if I doubted you.” He looked up again at Allan frankly and kindly as he + said those words. “Besides,” he resumed, “I think, if I look into my + memory, I can anticipate your explanation. We had a moment’s talk, before + I went away, about some very delicate questions which you proposed putting + to Major Milroy. I remember I warned you; I remember I had my misgivings. + Should I be guessing right if I guessed that those questions have been in + some way the means of leading you into a false position? If it is true + that you have been concerned in Miss Gwilt’s leaving her situation, is it + also true—is it only doing you justice to believe—that any + mischief for which you are responsible has been mischief innocently done?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Allan, speaking, for the first time, a little constrainedly on + his side. “It is only doing me justice to say that.” He stopped and began + drawing lines absently with his finger on the blurred surface of the + window-pane. “You’re not like other people, Midwinter,” he resumed, + suddenly, with an effort; “and I should have liked you to have heard the + particulars all the same.” + </p> + <p> + “I will hear them if you desire it,” returned Midwinter. “But I am + satisfied, without another word, that you have not willingly been the + means of depriving Miss Gwilt of her situation. If that is understood + between you and me, I think we need say no more. Besides, I have another + question to ask, of much greater importance—a question that has been + forced on me by what I saw with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears, + last night.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, recoiling in spite of himself. “Shall we go upstairs first?” + he asked, abruptly, leading the way to the door, and trying to gain time. + </p> + <p> + It was useless. Once again, the room which they were both free to leave, + the room which one of them had twice tried to leave already, held them as + if they were prisoners. + </p> + <p> + Without answering, without even appearing to have heard Midwinter’s + proposal to go upstairs, Allan followed him mechanically as far as the + opposite side of the window. There he stopped. “Midwinter!” he burst out, + in a sudden panic of astonishment and alarm, “there seems to be something + strange between us! You’re not like yourself. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + With his hand on the lock of the door, Midwinter turned, and looked back + into the room. The moment had come. His haunting fear of doing his friend + an injustice had shown itself in a restraint of word, look, and action + which had been marked enough to force its way to Allan’s notice. The one + course left now, in the dearest interests of the friendship that united + them, was to speak at once, and to speak boldly. + </p> + <p> + “There’s something strange between us,” reiterated Allan. “For God’s sake, + what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter took his hand from the door, and came down again to the window, + fronting Allan. He occupied the place, of necessity, which Allan had just + left. It was the side of the window on which the Statuette stood. The + little figure, placed on its projecting bracket, was, close behind him on + his right hand. No signs of change appeared in the stormy sky. The rain + still swept slanting across the garden, and pattered heavily against the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand, Allan.” + </p> + <p> + Allan gave it, and Midwinter held it firmly while he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “There is something strange between us,” he said. “There is something to + be set right which touches you nearly; and it has not been set right yet. + You asked me just now where I met with Miss Gwilt. I met with her on my + way back here, upon the high-road on the further side of the town. She + entreated me to protect her from a man who was following and frightening + her. I saw the scoundrel with my own eyes, and I should have laid hands on + him, if Miss Gwilt herself had not stopped me. She gave a very strange + reason for stopping me. She said I didn’t know who his employer was.” + </p> + <p> + Allan’s ruddy color suddenly deepened; he looked aside quickly through the + window at the pouring rain. At the same moment their hands fell apart, and + there was a pause of silence on either side. Midwinter was the first to + speak again. + </p> + <p> + “Later in the evening,” he went on, “Miss Gwilt explained herself. She + told me two things. She declared that the man whom I had seen following + her was a hired spy. I was surprised, but I could not dispute it. She told + me next, Allan—what I believe with my whole heart and soul to be a + falsehood which has been imposed on her as the truth—she told me + that the spy was in your employment!” + </p> + <p> + Allan turned instantly from the window, and looked Midwinter full in the + face again. “I must explain myself this time,” he said, resolutely. + </p> + <p> + The ashy paleness peculiar to him in moments of strong emotion began to + show itself on Midwinter’s cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “More explanations!” he said, and drew back a step, with his eyes fixed in + a sudden terror of inquiry on Allan’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what I know, Midwinter. You don’t know that what I have + done has been done with a good reason. And what is more, I have not + trusted to myself—I have had good advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear what I said just now?” asked Midwinter, incredulously. “You + can’t—surely, you can’t have been attending to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t missed a word,” rejoined Allan. “I tell you again, you don’t + know what I know of Miss Gwilt. She has threatened Miss Milroy. Miss + Milroy is in danger while her governess stops in this neighborhood.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter dismissed the major’s daughter from the conversation with a + contemptuous gesture of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to hear about Miss, Milroy,” he said. “Don’t mix up Miss + Milroy—Good God, Allan, am I to understand that the spy set to watch + Miss Gwilt was doing his vile work with your approval?” + </p> + <p> + “Once for all, my dear fellow, will you, or will you not, let me explain?” + </p> + <p> + “Explain!” cried Midwinter, his eyes aflame, and his hot Creole blood + rushing crimson into his face. “Explain the employment of a spy? What! + after having driven Miss Gwilt out of her situation by meddling with her + private affairs, you meddle again by the vilest of all means—the + means of a paid spy? You set a watch on the woman whom you yourself told + me you loved, only a fortnight since—the woman you were thinking of + as your wife! I don’t believe it; I won’t believe it. Is my head failing + me? Is it Allan Armadale I am speaking to? Is it Allan Armadale’s face + looking at me? Stop! you are acting under some mistaken scruple. Some low + fellow has crept into your confidence, and has done this in your name + without telling you first.” + </p> + <p> + Allan controlled himself with admirable patience and admirable + consideration for the temper of his friend. “If you persist in refusing to + hear me,” he said, “I must wait as well as I can till my turn comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me you are a stranger to the employment of that man, and I will hear + you willingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose there should be a necessity, that you know nothing about, for + employing him?” + </p> + <p> + “I acknowledge no necessity for the cowardly persecution of a helpless + woman.” + </p> + <p> + A momentary flush of irritation—momentary, and no more—passed + over Allan’s face. “You mightn’t think her quite so helpless,” he said, + “if you knew the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Are <i>you</i> the man to tell me the truth?” retorted the other. “You + who have refused to hear her in her own defense! You who have closed the + doors of this house against her!” + </p> + <p> + Allan still controlled himself, but the effort began at last to be + visible. + </p> + <p> + “I know your temper is a hot one,” he said. “But for all that, your + violence quite takes me by surprise. I can’t account for it, unless”—he + hesitated a moment, and then finished the sentence in his usual frank, + outspoken way—“unless you are sweet yourself on Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Those last words heaped fuel on the fire. They stripped the truth + instantly of all concealments and disguises, and laid it bare to view. + Allan’s instinct had guessed, and the guiding influence stood revealed of + Midwinter’s interest in Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “What right have you to say that?” he asked, with raised voice and + threatening eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I told <i>you</i>,” said Allan, simply, “when I thought I was sweet on + her myself. Come! come! it’s a little hard, I think, even if you are in + love with her, to believe everything she tells you, and not to let me say + a word. Is <i>that</i> the way you decide between us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is!” cried the other, infuriated by Allan’s second allusion to + Miss Gwilt. “When I am asked to choose between the employer of a spy and + the victim of a spy, I side with the victim!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t try me too hard, Midwinter, I have a temper to lose as well as + you.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, struggling with himself. The torture of passion in Midwinter’s + face, from which a less simple and less generous nature might have + recoiled in horror, touched Allan suddenly with an artless distress, + which, at that moment, was little less than sublime. He advanced, with his + eyes moistening, and his hand held out. “You asked me for my hand just + now,” he said, “and I gave it you. Will you remember old times, and give + me yours, before it’s too late?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” retorted Midwinter, furiously. “I may meet Miss Gwilt again, and I + may want my hand free to deal with your spy!” + </p> + <p> + He had drawn back along the wall as Allan advanced, until the bracket + which supported the Statuette was before instead of behind him. In the + madness of his passion he saw nothing but Allan’s face confronting him. In + the madness of his passion, he stretched out his right hand as he + answered, and shook it threateningly in the air. It struck the forgotten + projection of the bracket—and the next instant the Statuette lay in + fragments on the floor. + </p> + <p> + The rain drove slanting over flower-bed and lawn, and pattered heavily + against the glass; and the two Armadales stood by the window, as the two + Shadows had stood in the Second Vision of the Dream, with the wreck of the + image between them. + </p> + <p> + Allan stooped over the fragments of the little figure, and lifted them one + by one from the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Leave me,” he said, without looking up, “or we shall both repent it.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, Midwinter moved back slowly. He stood for the second time + with his hand on the door, and looked his last at the room. The horror of + the night on the Wreck had got him once more, and the flame of his passion + was quenched in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “The Dream!” he whispered, under his breath. “The Dream again!” + </p> + <p> + The door was tried from the outside, and a servant appeared with a trivial + message about the breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter looked at the man with a blank, dreadful helplessness in his + face. “Show me the way out,” he said. “The place is dark, and the room + turns round with me.” + </p> + <p> + The servant took him by the arm, and silently led him out. + </p> + <p> + As the door closed on them, Allan picked up the last fragment of the + broken figure. He sat down alone at the table, and hid his face in his + hands. The self-control which he had bravely preserved under exasperation + renewed again and again now failed him at last in the friendless solitude + of his room, and, in the first bitterness of feeling that Midwinter had + turned against him like the rest, he burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + The moments followed each other, the slow time wore on. Little by little + the signs of a new elemental disturbance began to show themselves in the + summer storm. The shadow of a swiftly deepening darkness swept over the + sky. The pattering of the rain lessened with the lessening wind. There was + a momentary hush of stillness. Then on a sudden the rain poured down again + like a cataract, and the low roll of thunder came up solemnly on the dying + air. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0037" id="H2_4_0037"></a> IX. SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH. + </h2> + <h3> + 1. <i>From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </h3> + <p> + “Thorpe Ambrose, July 20th, 1851. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MADAM—I received yesterday, by private messenger, your + obliging note, in which you direct me to communicate with you through the + post only, as long as there is reason to believe that any visitors who may + come to you are likely to be observed. May I be permitted to say that I + look forward with respectful anxiety to the time when I shall again enjoy + the only real happiness I have ever experienced—the happiness of + personally addressing you? + </p> + <p> + “In compliance with your desire that I should not allow this day (the + Sunday) to pass without privately noticing what went on at the great + house, I took the keys, and went this morning to the steward’s office. I + accounted for my appearance to the servants by informing them that I had + work to do which it was important to complete in the shortest possible + time. The same excuse would have done for Mr. Armadale if we had met, but + no such meeting happened. + </p> + <p> + “Although I was at Thorpe Ambrose in what I thought good time, I was too + late to see or hear anything myself of a serious quarrel which appeared to + have taken place, just before I arrived, between Mr. Armadale and Mr. + Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “All the little information I can give you in this matter is derived from + one of the servants. The man told me that he heard the voices of the two + gentlemen loud in Mr. Armadale’s sitting-room. He went in to announce + breakfast shortly afterward, and found Mr. Midwinter in such a dreadful + state of agitation that he had to be helped out of the room. The servant + tried to take him upstairs to lie down and compose himself. He declined, + saying he would wait a little first in one of the lower rooms, and begging + that he might be left alone. The man had hardly got downstairs again when + he heard the front door opened and closed. He ran back, and found that Mr. + Midwinter was gone. The rain was pouring at the time, and thunder and + lightning came soon afterward. Dreadful weather certainly to go out in. + The servant thinks Mr. Midwinter’s mind was unsettled. I sincerely hope + not. Mr. Midwinter is one of the few people I have met with in the course + of my life who have treated me kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Hearing that Mr. Armadale still remained in the sitting-room, I went into + the steward’s office (which, as you may remember, is on the same side of + the house), and left the door ajar, and set the window open, waiting and + listening for anything that might happen. Dear madam, there was a time + when I might have thought such a position in the house of my employer not + a very becoming one. Let me hasten to assure you that this is far from + being my feeling now. I glory in any position which makes me serviceable + to you. + </p> + <p> + “The state of the weather seemed hopelessly adverse to that renewal of + intercourse between Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy which you so confidently + anticipate, and of which you are so anxious to be made aware. Strangely + enough, however, it is actually in consequence of the state of the weather + that I am now in a position to give you the very information you require. + Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy met about an hour since. The circumstances + were as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Just at the beginning of the thunder-storm, I saw one of the grooms run + across from the stables, and heard him tap at his master’s window. Mr. + Armadale opened the window and asked what was the matter. The groom said + he came with a message from the coachman’s wife. She had seen from her + room over the stables (which looks on to the park) Miss Milroy quite + alone, standing for shelter under one of the trees. As that part of the + park was at some distance from the major’s cottage, she had thought that + her master might wish to send and ask the young lady into the house—especially + as she had placed herself, with a thunder-storm coming on, in what might + turn out to be a very dangerous position. + </p> + <p> + “The moment Mr. Armadale understood the man’s message, he called for the + water-proof things and the umbrellas, and ran out himself, instead of + leaving it to the servants. In a little time he and the groom came back + with Miss Milroy between them, as well protected as could be from the + rain. + </p> + <p> + “I ascertained from one of the women-servants, who had taken the young + lady into a bedroom, and had supplied her with such dry things as she + wanted, that Miss Milroy had been afterward shown into the drawing-room, + and that Mr. Armadale was there with her. The only way of following your + instructions, and finding out what passed between them, was to go round + the house in the pelting rain, and get into the conservatory (which opens + into the drawing-room) by the outer door. I hesitate at nothing, dear + madam, in your service; I would cheerfully get wet every day, to please + you. Besides, though I may at first sight be thought rather an elderly + man, a wetting is of no very serious consequence to me. I assure you I am + not so old as I look, and I am of a stronger constitution than appears. + </p> + <p> + “It was impossible for me to get near enough in the conservatory to see + what went on in the drawing-room, without the risk of being discovered. + But most of the conversation reached me, except when they dropped their + voices. This is the substance of what I heard: + </p> + <p> + “I gathered that Miss Milroy had been prevailed on, against her will, to + take refuge from the thunder-storm in Mr. Armadale’s house. She said so, + at least, and she gave two reasons. The first was that her father had + forbidden all intercourse between the cottage and the great house. Mr. + Armadale met this objection by declaring that her father had issued his + orders under a total misconception of the truth, and by entreating her not + to treat him as cruelly as the major had treated him. He entered, I + suspect, into some explanations at this point, but as he dropped his voice + I am unable to say what they were. His language, when I did hear it, was + confused and ungrammatical. It seemed, however, to be quite intelligible + enough to persuade Miss Milroy that her father had been acting under a + mistaken impression of the circumstances. At least, I infer this; for, + when I next heard the conversation, the young lady was driven back to her + second objection to being in the house—which was, that Mr. Armadale + had behaved very badly to her, and that he richly deserved that she should + never speak to him again. + </p> + <p> + “In this latter case, Mr. Armadale attempted no defense of any kind. He + agreed with her that he had behaved badly; he agreed with her that he + richly deserved she should never speak to him again. At the same time he + implored her to remember that he had suffered his punishment already. He + was disgraced in the neighborhood; and his dearest friend, his one + intimate friend in the world, had that very morning turned against him + like the rest. Far or near, there was not a living creature whom he was + fond of to comfort him, or to say a friendly word to him. He was lonely + and miserable, and his heart ached for a little kindness—and that + was his only excuse for asking Miss Milroy to forget and forgive the past. + </p> + <p> + “I must leave you, I fear, to judge for yourself of the effect of this on + the young lady; for, though I tried hard, I failed to catch what she said. + I am almost certain I heard her crying, and Mr. Armadale entreating her + not to break his heart. They whispered a great deal, which aggravated me. + I was afterward alarmed by Mr. Armadale coming out into the conservatory + to pick some flowers. He did not come as far, fortunately, as the place + where I was hidden; and he went in again into the drawing-room, and there + was more talking (I suspect at close quarters), which to my great regret I + again failed to catch. Pray forgive me for having so little to tell you. I + can only add that, when the storm cleared off, Miss Milroy went away with + the flowers in her hand, and with Mr. Armadale escorting her from the + house. My own humble opinion is that he had a powerful friend at court, + all through the interview, in the young lady’s own liking for him. + </p> + <p> + “This is all I can say at present, with the exception of one other thing I + heard, which I blush to mention. But your word is law, and you have + ordered me to have no concealments from you. + </p> + <p> + “Their talk turned once, dear madam, on yourself. I think I heard the word + ‘creature’ from Miss Milroy; and I am certain that Mr. Armadale, while + acknowledging that he had once admired you, added that circumstances had + since satisfied him of ‘his folly.’ I quote his own expression; it made me + quite tremble with indignation. If I may be permitted to say so, the man + who admires Miss Gwilt lives in Paradise. Respect, if nothing else, ought + to have closed Mr. Armadale’s lips. He is my employer, I know; but after + his calling it an act of folly to admire you (though I <i>am</i> his + deputy-steward), I utterly despise him. + </p> + <p> + “Trusting that I may have been so happy as to give you satisfaction thus + far, and earnestly desirous to deserve the honor of your continued + confidence in me, I remain, dear madam, + </p> + <p> + “Your grateful and devoted servant, + </p> + <p> + “FELIX BASHWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + 2. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street, Monday, July 21st. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LYDIA—I trouble you with a few lines. They are written + under a sense of the duty which I owe to myself, in our present position + toward each other. + </p> + <p> + “I am not at all satisfied with the tone of your last two letters; and I + am still less pleased at your leaving me this morning without any letter + at all—and this when we had arranged, in the doubtful state of our + prospects, that I was to hear from you every day. I can only interpret + your conduct in one way. I can only infer that matters at Thorpe Ambrose, + having been all mismanaged, are all going wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It is not my present object to reproach you, for why should I waste time, + language, and paper? I merely wish to recall to your memory certain + considerations which you appear to be disposed to overlook. Shall I put + them in the plainest English? Yes; for, with all my faults, I am frankness + personified. + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, then, I have an interest in your becoming Mrs. + Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose as well as you. Secondly, I have provided you + (to say nothing of good advice) with all the money needed to accomplish + our object. Thirdly, I hold your notes of hand, at short dates, for every + farthing so advanced. Fourthly and lastly, though I am indulgent to a + fault in the capacity of a friend—in the capacity of a woman of + business, my dear, I am not to be trifled with. That is all, Lydia, at + least for the present. + </p> + <p> + “Pray don’t suppose I write in anger; I am only sorry and disheartened. My + state of mind resembles David’s. If I had the wings of a dove, I would + flee away and be at rest. + </p> + <p> + “Affectionately yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 3. <i>From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Thorpe Ambrose, July 21st. + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MADAM—You will probably receive these lines a few hours after + my yesterday’s communication reaches you. I posted my first letter last + night, and I shall post this before noon to-day. + </p> + <p> + “My present object in writing is to give you some more news from this + house. I have the inexpressible happiness of announcing that Mr. + Armadale’s disgraceful intrusion on your privacy is at an end. The watch + set on your actions is to be withdrawn this day. I write, dear madam, with + the tears in my eyes—tears of joy, caused by feelings which I + ventured to express in my previous letter (see first paragraph toward the + end). Pardon me this personal reference. I can speak to you (I don’t know + why) so much more readily with my pen than with my tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Let me try to compose myself, and proceed with my narrative. + </p> + <p> + “I had just arrived at the steward’s office this morning, when Mr. Pedgift + the elder followed me to the great house to see Mr. Armadale by special + appointment. It is needless to say that I at once suspended any little + business there was to do, feeling that your interests might possibly be + concerned. It is also most gratifying to add that this time circumstances + favored me. I was able to stand under the open window and to hear the + whole interview. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale explained himself at once in the plainest terms. He gave + orders that the person who had been hired to watch you should be instantly + dismissed. On being asked to explain this sudden change of purpose, he did + not conceal that it was owing to the effect produced on his mind by what + had passed between Mr. Midwinter and himself on the previous day. Mr. + Midwinter’s language, cruelly unjust as it was, had nevertheless convinced + him that no necessity whatever could excuse any proceeding so essentially + base in itself as the employment of a spy, and on that conviction he was + now determined to act. + </p> + <p> + “But for your own positive directions to me to conceal nothing that passes + here in which your name is concerned, I should really be ashamed to report + what Mr. Pedgift said on his side. He has behaved kindly to me, I know. + But if he was my own brother, I could never forgive him the tone in which + he spoke of you, and the obstinacy with which he tried to make Mr. + Armadale change his mind. + </p> + <p> + “He began by attacking Mr. Midwinter. He declared that Mr. Midwinter’s + opinion was the very worst opinion that could be taken; for it was quite + plain that you, dear madam, had twisted him round your finger. Producing + no effect by this coarse suggestion (which nobody who knows you could for + a moment believe), Mr. Pedgift next referred to Miss Milroy, and asked Mr. + Armadale if he had given up all idea of protecting her. What this meant I + cannot imagine. I can only report it for your private consideration. Mr. + Armadale briefly answered that he had his own plan for protecting Miss + Milroy, and that the circumstances were altered in that quarter, or words + to a similar effect. Still Mr. Pedgift persisted. He went on (I blush to + mention) from bad to worse. He tried to persuade Mr. Armadale next to + bring an action at law against one or other of the persons who had been + most strongly condemning his conduct in the neighborhood, for the purpose—I + really hardly know how to write it—of getting you into the + witness-box. And worse yet: when Mr. Armadale still said No, Mr. Pedgift, + after having, as I suspected by the sound of his voice, been on the point + of leaving the room, artfully came back, and proposed sending for a + detective officer from London, simply to look at you. ‘The whole of this + mystery about Miss Gwilt’s true character,’ he said, ‘may turn on a + question of identity. It won’t cost much to have a man down from London; + and it’s worth trying whether her face is or is not known at headquarters + to the police.’ I again and again assure you, dearest lady, that I only + repeat those abominable words from a sense of duty toward yourself. I + shook—I declare I shook from head to foot when I heard them. + </p> + <p> + “To resume, for there is more to tell you. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale (to his credit—I don’t deny it, though I don’t like + him) still said No. He appeared to be getting irritated under Mr. + Pedgift’s persistence, and he spoke in a somewhat hasty way. ‘You + persuaded me on the last occasion when we talked about this,’ he said, ‘to + do something that I have been since heartily ashamed of. You won’t succeed + in persuading me, Mr. Pedgift, a second time.’ Those were his words. Mr. + Pedgift took him up short; Mr. Pedgift seemed to be nettled on his side. + </p> + <p> + “‘If that is the light in which you see my advice, sir,’ he said, ‘the + less you have of it for the future, the better. Your character and + position are publicly involved in this matter between yourself and Miss + Gwilt; and you persist, at a most critical moment, in taking a course of + your own, which I believe will end badly. After what I have already said + and done in this very serious case, I can’t consent to go on with it with + both my hands tied, and I can’t drop it with credit to myself while I + remain publicly known as your solicitor. You leave me no alternative, sir, + but to resign the honor of acting as your legal adviser.’ ‘I am sorry to + hear it,’ says Mr. Armadale, ‘but I have suffered enough already through + interfering with Miss Gwilt. I can’t and won’t stir any further in the + matter.’ ‘<i>You</i> may not stir any further in it, sir,’ says Mr. + Pedgift, ‘and <i>I</i> shall not stir any further in it, for it has ceased + to be a question of professional interest to me. But mark my words, Mr. + Armadale, you are not at the end of this business yet. Some other person’s + curiosity may go on from the point where you (and I) have stopped; and + some other person’s hand may let the broad daylight in yet on Miss Gwilt.’ + </p> + <p> + “I report their language, dear madam, almost word for word, I believe, as + I heard it. It produced an indescribable impression on me; it filled me, I + hardly know why, with quite a panic of alarm. I don’t at all understand + it, and I understand still less what happened immediately afterward. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pedgift’s voice, when he said those last words, sounded dreadfully + close to me. He must have been speaking at the open window, and he must, I + fear, have seen me under it. I had time, before he left the house, to get + out quietly from among the laurels, but not to get back to the office. + Accordingly I walked away along the drive toward the lodge, as if I was + going on some errand connected with the steward’s business. + </p> + <p> + “Before long, Mr. Pedgift overtook me in his gig, and stopped. ‘So <i>you</i> + feel some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, do you?’ he said. ‘Gratify your + curiosity by all means; <i>I</i> don’t object to it.’ I felt naturally + nervous, but I managed to ask him what he meant. He didn’t answer; he only + looked down at me from the gig in a very odd manner, and laughed. ‘I have + known stranger things happen even than <i>that</i>!’ he said to himself + suddenly, and drove off. + </p> + <p> + “I have ventured to trouble you with this last incident, though it may + seem of no importance in your eyes, in the hope that your superior ability + may be able to explain it. My own poor faculties, I confess, are quite + unable to penetrate Mr. Pedgift’s meaning. All I know is that he has no + right to accuse me of any such impertinent feeling as curiosity in + relation to a lady whom I ardently esteem and admire. I dare not put it in + warmer words. + </p> + <p> + “I have only to add that I am in a position to be of continued service to + you here if you wish it. Mr. Armadale has just been into the office, and + has told me briefly that, in Mr. Midwinter’s continued absence, I am still + to act as steward’s deputy till further notice. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, dear madam, anxiously and devotedly yours, FELIX BASHWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + 4. <i>From Allan Armadale to the Reverend Decimus Brock</i>. + </p> + <p> + Thorpe Ambrose, Tuesday. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MR. BROCK—I am in sad trouble. Midwinter has quarreled with + me and left me; and my lawyer has quarreled with me and left me; and + (except dear little Miss Milroy, who has forgiven me) all the neighbors + have turned their backs on me. There is a good deal about ‘me’ in this, + but I can’t help it. I am very miserable alone in my own house. Do pray + come and see me! You are the only old friend I have left, and I do long so + to tell you about it. + </p> + <p> + “N. B.—On my word of honor as a gentleman, I am not to blame. Yours + affectionately, + </p> + <p> + “ALLAN ARMADALE. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—I would come to you (for this place is grown quite hateful to + me), but I have a reason for not going too far away from Miss Milroy just + at present.” + </p> + <p> + 5. <i>From Robert Stapleton to Allan Armadale, Esq.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Bascombe Rectory, Thursday Morning. + </p> + <p> + “RESPECTED SIR—I see a letter in your writing, on the table along + with the others, which I am sorry to say my master is not well enough to + open. He is down with a sort of low fever. The doctor says it has been + brought on with worry and anxiety which master was not strong enough to + bear. This seems likely; for I was with him when he went to London last + month, and what with his own business, and the business of looking after + that person who afterward gave us the slip, he was worried and anxious all + the time; and for the matter of that, so was I. + </p> + <p> + “My master was talking of you a day or two since. He seemed unwilling that + you should know of his illness, unless he got worse. But I think you ought + to know of it. At the same time he is not worse; perhaps a trifle better. + The doctor says he must be kept very quiet, and not agitated on any + account. So be pleased to take no notice of this—I mean in the way + of coming to the rectory. I have the doctor’s orders to say it is not + needful, and it would only upset my master in the state he is in now. + </p> + <p> + “I will write again if you wish it. Please accept of my duty, and believe + me to remain, sir, your humble servant, + </p> + <p> + “ROBERT STAPLETON. + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—The yacht has been rigged and repainted, waiting your orders. + She looks beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + 6. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street, July 24th. + </p> + <p> + “MISS GWILT—The post hour has passed for three mornings following, + and has brought me no answer to my letter. Are you purposely bent on + insulting me? or have you left Thorpe Ambrose? In either case, I won’t put + up with your conduct any longer. The law shall bring you to book, if I + can’t. + </p> + <p> + “Your first note of hand (for thirty pounds) falls due on Tuesday next, + the 29th. If you had behaved with common consideration toward me, I would + have let you renew it with pleasure. As things are, I shall have the note + presented; and, if it is not paid, I shall instruct my man of business to + take the usual course. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 7. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + “5 Paradise Place, Thorpe Ambrose, July 25th. + </p> + <p> + “MRS. OLDERSHAW—The time of your man of business being, no doubt, of + some value, I write a line to assist him when he takes the usual course. + He will find me waiting to be arrested in the first-floor apartments, at + the above address. In my present situation, and with my present thoughts, + the best service you can possibly render me is to lock me up. + </p> + <p> + “L. G.” + </p> + <p> + 8. <i>From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Diana Street, July 26th. + </p> + <p> + “MY DARLING LYDIA—The longer I live in this wicked world the more + plainly I see that women’s own tempers are the worst enemies women have to + contend with. What a truly regretful style of correspondence we have + fallen into! What a sad want of self-restraint, my dear, on your side and + on mine! + </p> + <p> + “Let me, as the oldest in years, be the first to make the needful excuses, + the first to blush for my own want of self-control. Your cruel neglect, + Lydia, stung me into writing as I did. I am so sensitive to ill treatment, + when it is inflicted on me by a person whom I love and admire; and, though + turned sixty, I am still (unfortunately for myself) so young at heart. + Accept my apologies for having made use of my pen, when I ought to have + been content to take refuge in my pocket-handkerchief. Forgive your + attached Maria for being still young at heart! + </p> + <p> + “But oh, my dear—though I own I threatened you—how hard of you + to take me at my word! How cruel of you, if your debt had been ten times + what it is, to suppose me capable (whatever I might say) of the odious + inhumanity of arresting my bosom friend! Heavens! have I deserved to be + taken at my word in this unmercifully exact way, after the years of tender + intimacy that have united us? But I don’t complain; I only mourn over the + frailty of our common human nature. Let us expect as little of each other + as possible, my dear; we are both women, and we can’t help it. I declare, + when I reflect on the origin of our unfortunate sex—when I remember + that we were all originally made of no better material than the rib of a + man (and that rib of so little importance to its possessor that he never + appears to have missed it afterward), I am quite astonished at our + virtues, and not in the least surprised at our faults. + </p> + <p> + “I am wandering a little; I am losing myself in serious thought, like that + sweet character in Shakespeare who was ‘fancy free.’ One last word, + dearest, to say that my longing for an answer to this proceeds entirely + from my wish to hear from you again in your old friendly tone, and is + quite unconnected with any curiosity to know what you are doing at Thorpe + Ambrose—except such curiosity as you yourself might approve. Need I + add that I beg you as a favor to <i>me</i> to renew, on the customary + terms? I refer to the little bill due on Tuesday next, and I venture to + suggest that day six weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, with a truly motherly feeling, + </p> + <p> + “MARIA OLDERSHAW.” + </p> + <p> + 9. <i>From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Paradise Place, July 27th. + </p> + <p> + “I have just got your last letter. The brazen impudence of it has roused + me. I am to be treated like a child, am I?—to be threatened first, + and then, if threatening fails, to be coaxed afterward? You <i>shall</i> + coax me; you shall know, my motherly friend, the sort of child you have to + deal with. + </p> + <p> + “I had a reason, Mrs. Oldershaw, for the silence which has so seriously + offended you. I was afraid—actually afraid—to let you into the + secret of my thoughts. No such fear troubles me now. My only anxiety this + morning is to make you my best acknowledgments for the manner in which you + have written to me. After carefully considering it, I think the worst turn + I can possibly do you is to tell you what you are burning to know. So here + I am at my desk, bent on telling it. If you don’t bitterly repent, when + you are at the end of this letter, not having held to your first + resolution, and locked me up out of harm’s way while you had the chance, + my name is not Lydia Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “Where did my last letter end? I don’t remember, and don’t care. Make it + out as you can—I am not going back any further than this day week. + That is to say, Sunday last. + </p> + <p> + “There was a thunder-storm in the morning. It began to clear off toward + noon. I didn’t go out: I waited to see Midwinter or to hear from him. (Are + you surprised at my not writing ‘Mr.’ before his name? We have got so + familiar, my dear, that ‘Mr.’ would be quite out of place.) He had left me + the evening before, under very interesting circumstances. I had told him + that his friend Armadale was persecuting me by means of a hired spy. He + had declined to believe it, and had gone straight to Thorpe Ambrose to + clear the thing up. I let him kiss my hand before he went. He promised to + come back the next day (the Sunday). I felt I had secured my influence + over him; and I believed he would keep his word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the thunder passed away as I told you. The weather cleared up; the + people walked out in their best clothes; the dinners came in from the + bakers; I sat dreaming at my wretched little hired piano, nicely dressed + and looking my best—and still no Midwinter appeared. It was late in + the afternoon, and I was beginning to feel offended, when a letter was + brought to me. It had been left by a strange messenger who went away again + immediately. I looked at the letter. Midwinter at last—in writing, + instead of in person. I began to feel more offended than ever; for, as I + told you, I thought I had used my influence over him to better purpose. + </p> + <p> + “The letter, when I read it, set my mind off in a new direction. It + surprised, it puzzled, it interested me. I thought, and thought, and + thought of him, all the rest of the day. + </p> + <p> + “He began by asking my pardon for having doubted what I told him. Mr. + Armadale’s own lips had confirmed me. They had quarreled (as I had + anticipated they would); and he, and the man who had once been his dearest + friend on earth, had parted forever. So far, I was not surprised. I was + amused by his telling me in his extravagant way that he and his friend + were parted forever; and I rather wondered what he would think when I + carried out my plan, and found my way into the great house on pretense of + reconciling them. + </p> + <p> + “But the second part of the letter set me thinking. Here it is, in his own + words. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is only by struggling against myself (and no language can say how + hard the struggle has been) that I have decided on writing, instead of + speaking to you. A merciless necessity claims my future life. I must leave + Thorpe Ambrose, I must leave England, without hesitating, without stopping + to look back. There are reasons—terrible reasons, which I have madly + trifled with—for my never letting Mr. Armadale set eyes on me, or + hear of me again, after what has happened between us. I must go, never + more to live under the same roof, never more to breathe the same air with + that man. I must hide myself from him under an assumed name; I must put + the mountains and the seas between us. I have been warned as no human + creature was ever warned before. I believe—I dare not tell you why—I + believe that, if the fascination you have for me draws me back to you, + fatal consequences will come of it to the man whose life has been so + strangely mingled with your life and mine—the man who was once <i>your</i> + admirer and <i>my</i> friend. And yet, feeling this, seeing it in my mind + as plainly as I see the sky above my head, there is a weakness in me that + still shrinks from the one imperative sacrifice of never seeing you again. + I am fighting with it as a man fights with the strength of his despair. I + have been near enough, not an hour since, to see the house where you live, + and have forced myself away again out of sight of it. Can I force myself + away further still, now that my letter is written—now, when the + useless confession escapes me, and I own to loving you with the first love + I have ever known, with the last love I shall ever feel? Let the coming + time answer the question; I dare not write of it or think of it more.’ + </p> + <p> + “Those were the last words. In that strange way the letter ended. + </p> + <p> + “I felt a perfect fever of curiosity to know what he meant. His loving me, + of course, was easy enough to understand. But what did he mean by saying + he had been warned? Why was he never to live under the same roof, never to + breathe the same air again, with young Armadale? What sort of quarrel + could it be which obliged one man to hide himself from another under an + assumed name, and to put the mountains and the seas between them? Above + all, if he came back, and let me fascinate him, why should it be fatal to + the hateful lout who possesses the noble fortune and lives in the great + house? + </p> + <p> + “I never longed in my life as I longed to see him again and put these + questions to him. I got quite superstitious about it as the day drew on. + They gave me a sweet-bread and a cherry pudding for dinner. I actually + tried if he would come back by the stones in the plate! He will, he won’t, + he will, he won’t—and so on. It ended in ‘He won’t.’ I rang the + bell, and had the things taken away. I contradicted Destiny quite + fiercely. I said, ‘He will!’ and I waited at home for him. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what a pleasure it is to me to give you all these little + particulars. Count up—my bosom friend, my second mother—count + up the money you have advanced on the chance of my becoming Mrs. Armadale, + and then think of my feeling this breathless interest in another man. Oh, + Mrs. Oldershaw, how intensely I enjoy the luxury of irritating you! + </p> + <p> + “The day got on toward evening. I rang again, and sent down to borrow a + railway time-table. What trains were there to take him away on Sunday? The + national respect for the Sabbath stood my friend. There was only one + train, which had started hours before he wrote to me. I went and consulted + my glass. It paid me the compliment of contradicting the divination by + cherry-stones. My glass said: ‘Get behind the window-curtain; he won’t + pass the long lonely evening without coming back again to look at the + house.’ I got behind the window-curtain, and waited with his letter in my + hand. + </p> + <p> + “The dismal Sunday light faded, and the dismal Sunday quietness in the + street grew quieter still. The dusk came, and I heard a step coming with + it in the silence. My heart gave a little jump—only think of my + having any heart left! I said to myself: ‘Midwinter!’ And Midwinter it + was. + </p> + <p> + “When he came in sight he was walking slowly, stopping and hesitating at + every two or three steps. My ugly little drawing-room window seemed to be + beckoning him on in spite of himself. After waiting till I saw him come to + a standstill, a little aside from the house, but still within view of my + irresistible window, I put on my things and slipped out by the back way + into the garden. The landlord and his family were at supper, and nobody + saw me. I opened the door in the wall, and got round by the lane into the + street. At that awkward moment I suddenly remembered, what I had forgotten + before, the spy set to watch me, who was, no doubt, waiting somewhere in + sight of the house. + </p> + <p> + “It was necessary to get time to think, and it was (in my state of mind) + impossible to let Midwinter go without speaking to him. In great + difficulties you generally decide at once, if you decide at all. I decided + to make an appointment with him for the next evening, and to consider in + the interval how to manage the interview so that it might escape + observation. This, as I felt at the time, was leaving my own curiosity + free to torment me for four-and-twenty mortal hours; but what other choice + had I? It was as good as giving up being mistress of Thorpe Ambrose + altogether, to come to a private understanding with Midwinter in the sight + and possibly in the hearing of Armadale’s spy. + </p> + <p> + “Finding an old letter of yours in my pocket, I drew back into the lane, + and wrote on the blank leaf, with the little pencil that hangs at my + watch-chain: ‘I must and will speak to you. It is impossible to-night, but + be in the street to-morrow at this time, and leave me afterward forever, + if you like. When you have read this, overtake me, and say as you pass, + without stopping or looking round, “Yes, I promise.”’ + </p> + <p> + “I folded up the paper, and came on him suddenly from behind. As he + started and turned round, I put the note into his hand, pressed his hand, + and passed on. Before I had taken ten steps I heard him behind me. I can’t + say he didn’t look round—I saw his big black eyes, bright and + glittering in the dusk, devour me from head to foot in a moment; but + otherwise he did what I told him. ‘I can deny you nothing,’ he whispered; + ‘I promise.’ He went on and left me. I couldn’t help thinking at the time + how that brute and booby Armadale would have spoiled everything in the + same situation. + </p> + <p> + “I tried hard all night to think of a way of making our interview of the + next evening safe from discovery, and tried in vain. Even as early as + this, I began to feel as if Midwinter’s letter had, in some unaccountable + manner, stupefied me. + </p> + <p> + “Monday morning made matters worse. News came from my faithful ally, Mr. + Bashwood, that Miss Milroy and Armadale had met and become friends again. + You may fancy the state I was in! An hour or two later there came more + news from Mr. Bashwood—good news this time. The mischievous idiot at + Thorpe Ambrose had shown sense enough at last to be ashamed of himself. He + had decided on withdrawing the spy that very day, and he and his lawyer + had quarreled in consequence. + </p> + <p> + “So here was the obstacle which I was too stupid to remove for myself + obligingly removed for me! No more need to fret about the coming interview + with Midwinter; and plenty of time to consider my next proceedings, now + that Miss Milroy and her precious swain had come together again. Would you + believe it, the letter, or the man himself (I don’t know which), had taken + such a hold on me that, though I tried and tried, I could think of nothing + else; and this when I had every reason to fear that Miss Milroy was in a + fair way of changing her name to Armadale, and when I knew that my heavy + debt of obligation to her was not paid yet? Was there ever such + perversity? I can’t account for it; can you? + </p> + <p> + “The dusk of the evening came at last. I looked out of the window—and + there he was! + </p> + <p> + “I joined him at once; the people of the house, as before, being too much + absorbed in their eating and drinking to notice anything else. ‘We mustn’t + be seen together here,’ I whispered. ‘I must go on first, and you must + follow me.’ + </p> + <p> + “He said nothing in the way of reply. What was going on in his mind I + can’t pretend to guess; but, after coming to his appointment, he actually + hung back as if he was half inclined to go away again. + </p> + <p> + “‘You look as if you were afraid of me,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘I <i>am</i> afraid of you,’ he answered—‘of you, and of myself.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was not encouraging; it was not complimentary. But I was in such a + frenzy of curiosity by this time that, if he had been ruder still, I + should have taken no notice of it. I led the way a few steps toward the + new buildings, and stopped and looked round after him. + </p> + <p> + “‘Must I ask it of you as a favor,’ I said, ‘after your giving me your + promise, and after such a letter as you have written to me?’ + </p> + <p> + “Something suddenly changed him; he was at my side in an instant. ‘I beg + your pardon, Miss Gwilt; lead the way where you please.’ He dropped back a + little after that answer, and I heard him say to himself, ‘What <i>is</i> + to be <i>will</i> be. What have I to do with it, and what has she?’ + </p> + <p> + “It could hardly have been the words, for I didn’t understand them—it + must have been the tone he spoke in, I suppose, that made me feel a + momentary tremor. I was half inclined, without the ghost of a reason for + it, to wish him good-night, and go in again. Not much like me, you will + say. Not much, indeed! It didn’t last a moment. Your darling Lydia soon + came to her senses again. + </p> + <p> + “I led the way toward the unfinished cottages, and the country beyond. It + would have been much more to my taste to have had him into the house, and + have talked to him in the light of the candles. But I had risked it once + already; and in this scandal-mongering place, and in my critical position, + I was afraid to risk it again. The garden was not to be thought of either, + for the landlord smokes his pipe there after his supper. There was no + alternative but to take him away from the town. + </p> + <p> + “From time to time, I looked back as I went on. There he was, always at + the same distance, dim and ghost-like in the dusk, silently following me. + </p> + <p> + “I must leave off for a little while. The church bells have broken out, + and the jangling of them drives me mad. In these days, when we have all + got watches and clocks, why are bells wanted to remind us when the service + begins? We don’t require to be rung into the theater. How excessively + discreditable to the clergy to be obliged to ring us into the church!” + </p> + <p> + ————— + </p> + <p> + “They have rung the congregation in at last; and I can take up my pen, and + go on again. + </p> + <p> + “I was a little in doubt where to lead him to. The high-road was on one + side of me; but, empty as it looked, somebody might be passing when we + least expected it. The other way was through the coppice. I led him + through the coppice. + </p> + <p> + “At the outskirts of the trees, on the other side, there was a dip in the + ground with some felled timber lying on it, and a little pool beyond, + still and white and shining in the twilight. The long grazing-grounds rose + over its further shore, with the mist thickening on them, and a dim black + line far away of cattle in slow procession going home. There wasn’t a + living creature near; there wasn’t a sound to be heard. I sat down on one + of the felled trees and looked back for him. ‘Come,’ I said, softly—‘come + and sit by me here.’ + </p> + <p> + “Why am I so particular about all this? I hardly know. The place made an + unaccountably vivid impression on me, and I can’t help writing about it. + If I end badly—suppose we say on the scaffold?—I believe the + last thing I shall see, before the hangman pulls the drop, will be the + little shining pool, and the long, misty grazing-grounds, and the cattle + winding dimly home in the thickening night. Don’t be alarmed, you worthy + creature! My fancies play me strange tricks sometimes; and there is a + little of last night’s laudanum, I dare say, in this part of my letter. + </p> + <p> + “He came—in the strangest silent way, like a man walking in his + sleep—he came and sat down by me. Either the night was very close, + or I was by this time literally in a fever: I couldn’t bear my bonnet on; + I couldn’t bear my gloves. The want to look at him, and see what his + singular silence meant, and the impossibility of doing it in the darkening + light, irritated my nerves, till I thought I should have screamed. I took + his hand, to try if that would help me. It was burning hot; and it closed + instantly on mine—you know how. Silence, after <i>that</i>, was not + to be thought of. The one safe way was to begin talking to him at once. + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t despise me,’ I said. ‘I am obliged to bring you to this lonely + place; I should lose my character if we were seen together.’ + </p> + <p> + “I waited a little. His hand warned me once more not to let the silence + continue. I determined to <i>make</i> him speak to me this time. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have interested me, and frightened me,’ I went on. ‘You have written + me a very strange letter. I must know what it means.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It is too late to ask. <i>You</i> have taken the way, and <i>I</i> have + taken the way, from which there is no turning back.’ He made that strange + answer in a tone that was quite new to me—a tone that made me even + more uneasy than his silence had made me the moment before. ‘Too late,’ he + repeated—‘too late! There is only one question to ask me now.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “As I said the words, a sudden trembling passed from his hand to mine, and + told me instantly that I had better have held my tongue. Before I could + move, before I could think, he had me in his arms. ‘Ask me if I love you,’ + he whispered. At the same moment his head sank on my bosom; and some + unutterable torture that was in him burst its way out, as it does with <i>us</i>, + in a passion of sobs and tears. + </p> + <p> + “My first impulse was the impulse of a fool. I was on the point of making + our usual protest and defending myself in our usual way. Luckily or + unluckily, I don’t know which, I have lost the fine edge of the + sensitiveness of youth; and I checked the first movement of my hands, and + the first word on my lips. Oh, dear, how old I felt, while he was sobbing + his heart out on my breast! How I thought of the time when he might have + possessed himself of my love! All he had possessed himself of now was—my + waist. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether I pitied him? It doesn’t matter if I did. At any rate, + my hand lifted itself somehow, and my fingers twined themselves softly in + his hair. Horrible recollections came back to me of other times, and made + me shudder as I touched him. And yet I did it. What fools women are! + </p> + <p> + “‘I won’t reproach you,’ I said, gently. ‘I won’t say this is a cruel + advantage to take of me, in such a position as mine. You are dreadfully + agitated; I will let you wait a little and compose yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + “Having got as far as that, I stopped to consider how I should put the + questions to him that I was burning to ask. But I was too confused, I + suppose, or perhaps too impatient to consider. I let out what was + uppermost in my mind, in the words that came first. + </p> + <p> + “‘I don’t believe you love me,’ I said. ‘You write strange things to me; + you frighten me with mysteries. What did you mean by saying in your letter + that it would be fatal to Mr. Armadale if you came back to me? What danger + can there be to Mr. Armadale—?’ + </p> + <p> + “Before I could finish the question, he suddenly lifted his head and + unclasped his arms. I had apparently touched some painful subject which + recalled him to himself. Instead of my shrinking from <i>him</i>, it was + he who shrank from <i>me</i>. I felt offended with him; why, I don’t know—but + offended I was; and I thanked him with my bitterest emphasis for + remembering what was due to me, <i>at last</i>! + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you believe in Dreams?’ he burst out, in the most strangely abrupt + manner, without taking the slightest notice of what I had said to him. + ‘Tell me,’ he went on, without allowing me time to answer, ‘were you, or + was any relation of yours, ever connected with Allan Armadale’s father or + mother? Were you, or was anybody belonging to you, ever in the island of + Madeira?’ + </p> + <p> + “Conceive my astonishment, if you can. I turned cold. In an instant I + turned cold all over. He was plainly in the secret of what had happened + when I was in Mrs. Armadale’s service in Madeira—in all probability + before he was born! That was startling enough of itself. And he had + evidently some reason of his own for trying to connect <i>me</i> with + those events—which was more startling still. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ I said, as soon as I could trust myself to speak. ‘I know nothing + of his father or mother.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And nothing of the island of Madeira?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Nothing of the island of Madeira.’ + </p> + <p> + “He turned his head away, and began talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “‘Strange!’ he said. ‘As certainly as I was in the Shadow’s place at the + window, <i>she</i> was in the Shadow’s place at the pool!’ + </p> + <p> + “Under other circumstances, his extraordinary behavior might have alarmed + me. But after his question about Madeira, there was some greater fear in + me which kept all common alarm at a distance. I don’t think I ever + determined on anything in my life as I determined on finding out how he + had got his information, and who he really was. It was quite plain to me + that I had roused some hidden feeling in him by my question about + Armadale, which was as strong in its way as his feeling for <i>me</i>. + What had become of my influence over him? + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t imagine what had become of it; but I could and did set to work + to make him feel it again. + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t treat me cruelly,’ I said; ‘I didn’t treat <i>you</i> cruelly just + now. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, it’s so lonely, it’s so dark—don’t frighten + me!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Frighten you!’ He was close to me again in a moment. ‘Frighten you!’ He + repeated the word with as much astonishment as if I had woke him from a + dream, and charged him with something that he had said in his sleep. + </p> + <p> + “It was on the tip of my tongue, finding how I had surprised him, to take + him while he was off his guard, and to ask why my question about Armadale + had produced such a change in his behavior to me. But after what had + happened already, I was afraid to risk returning to the subject too soon. + Something or other—what they call an instinct, I dare say—warned + me to let Armadale alone for the present, and to talk to him first about + himself. As I told you in one of my early letters, I had noticed signs and + tokens in his manner and appearance which convinced me, young as he was, + that he had done something or suffered something out of the common in his + past life. I had asked myself more and more suspiciously every time I saw + him whether he was what he appeared to be; and first and foremost among my + other doubts was a doubt whether he was passing among us by his real name. + Having secrets to keep about my own past life, and having gone myself in + other days by more than one assumed name, I suppose I am all the readier + to suspect other people when I find something mysterious about them. Any + way, having the suspicion in my mind, I determined to startle him, as he + had startled me, by an unexpected question on my side—a question + about his name. + </p> + <p> + “While I was thinking, he was thinking; and, as it soon appeared, of what + I had just said to him. ‘I am so grieved to have frightened you,’ he + whispered, with that gentleness and humility which we all so heartily + despise in a man when he speaks to other women, and which we all so dearly + like when he speaks to ourselves. ‘I hardly know what I have been saying,’ + he went on; ‘my mind is miserably disturbed. Pray forgive me, if you can; + I am not myself to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I am not angry,’ I said; ‘I have nothing to forgive. We are both + imprudent; we are both unhappy.’ I laid my head on his shoulder. ‘Do you + really love me?’ I asked him, softly, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “His arm stole round me again; and I felt the quick beat of his heart get + quicker and quicker. ‘If you only knew!’ he whispered back; ‘if you only + knew—’ He could say no more. I felt his face bending toward mine, + and dropped my head lower, and stopped him in the very act of kissing me. + </p> + <p> + “‘No,’ I said; ‘I am only a woman who has taken your fancy. You are + treating me as if I was your promised wife.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Be</i> my promised wife!’ he whispered, eagerly, and tried to raise + my head. I kept it down. The horror of these old remembrances that you + know of came back and made me tremble a little when he asked me to be his + wife. I don’t think I was actually faint; but something like faintness + made me close my eyes. The moment I shut them, the darkness seemed to open + as if lightning had split it; and the ghosts of <i>those other men</i> + rose in the horrid gap, and looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Speak to me!’ he whispered, tenderly. ‘My darling, my angel, speak to + me!’ + </p> + <p> + “His voice helped me to recover myself. I had just sense enough left to + remember that the time was passing, and that I had not put my question to + him yet about his name. + </p> + <p> + “‘Suppose I felt for you as you feel for me?’ I said. ‘Suppose I loved you + dearly enough to trust you with the happiness of all my life to come?’ + </p> + <p> + “I paused a moment to get my breath. It was unbearably still and close; + the air seemed to have died when the night came. + </p> + <p> + “‘Would you be marrying me honorably,’ I went on, ‘if you married me in + your present name?’ + </p> + <p> + “His arm dropped from my waist, and I felt him give one great start. After + that he sat by me, still, and cold, and silent, as if my question had + struck him dumb. I put my arm round his neck, and lifted my head again on + his shoulder. Whatever the spell was I had laid on him, my coming closer + in that way seemed to break it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Who told you?’ He stopped. ‘No,’ he went on, ‘nobody can have told you. + What made you suspect—?’ He stopped again. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nobody told me,’ I said; ‘and I don’t know what made me suspect. Women + have strange fancies sometimes. Is Midwinter really your name?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I can’t deceive you,’ he answered, after another interval of silence; + ‘Midwinter is <i>not</i> really my name.’ + </p> + <p> + “I nestled a little closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “‘What <i>is</i> your name?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I lifted my face till my cheek just touched his. I persisted, with my + lips close at his ear: + </p> + <p> + “‘What, no confidence in me even yet! No confidence in the woman who has + almost confessed she loves you—who has almost consented to be your + wife!’ + </p> + <p> + “He turned his face to mine. For the second time he tried to kiss me, and + for the second time I stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I tell you my name,’ he said, ‘I must tell you more.’ + </p> + <p> + “I let my cheek touch his again. + </p> + <p> + “‘Why not?’ I said. ‘How can I love a man—much less marry him—if + he keeps himself a stranger to me?’ + </p> + <p> + “There was no answering that, as I thought. But he did answer it. + </p> + <p> + “‘It is a dreadful story,’ he said. ‘It may darken all your life, if you + know it, as it has darkened mine.’ + </p> + <p> + “I put my other arm round him, and persisted. ‘Tell it me; I’m not afraid; + tell it me.’ + </p> + <p> + “He began to yield to my other arm. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will you keep it a sacred secret?’ he said. ‘Never to be breathed—never + to be known but to you and me?’ + </p> + <p> + “I promised him it should be a secret. I waited in a perfect frenzy of + expectation. Twice he tried to begin, and twice his courage failed him. + </p> + <p> + “‘I can’t!’ he broke out in a wild, helpless way. ‘I can’t tell it!’ + </p> + <p> + “My curiosity, or more likely my temper, got beyond all control. He had + irritated me till I was reckless what I said or what I did. I suddenly + clasped him close, and pressed my lips to his. ‘I love you!’ I whispered + in a kiss. ‘<i>Now</i> will you tell me?’ + </p> + <p> + “For the moment he was speechless. I don’t know whether I did it purposely + to drive him wild. I don’t know whether I did it involuntarily in a burst + of rage. Nothing is certain but that I interpreted his silence the wrong + way. I pushed him back from me in a fury the instant after I had kissed + him. ‘I hate you!’ I said. ‘You have maddened me into forgetting myself. + Leave me. I don’t care for the darkness. Leave me instantly, and never see + me again!’ + </p> + <p> + “He caught me by the hand and stopped me. He spoke in a new voice; he + suddenly <i>commanded</i>, as only men can. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘You have given me back my courage—you shall + know who I am.’ + </p> + <p> + “In the silence and the darkness all round us, I obeyed him, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “In the silence and the darkness all round us, he took me in his arms + again, and told me who he was.” + </p> + <p> + ————— + </p> + <p> + “Shall I trust you with his story? Shall I tell you his real name? Shall I + show you, as I threatened, the thoughts that have grown out of my + interview with him and out of all that has happened to me since that time? + </p> + <p> + “Or shall I keep his secret as I promised? and keep my own secret too, by + bringing this weary, long letter to an end at the very moment when you are + burning to hear more! + </p> + <p> + “Those are serious questions, Mrs. Oldershaw—more serious than you + suppose. I have had time to calm down, and I begin to see, what I failed + to see when I first took up my pen to write to you, the wisdom of looking + at consequences. Have I frightened myself in trying to frighten <i>you</i>? + It is possible—strange as it may seem, it is really possible. + </p> + <p> + “I have been at the window for the last minute or two, thinking. There is + plenty of time for thinking before the post leaves. The people are only + now coming out of church. + </p> + <p> + “I have settled to put my letter on one side, and to take a look at my + diary. In plainer words I must see what I risk if I decide on trusting + you; and my diary will show me what my head is too weary to calculate + without help. I have written the story of my days (and sometimes the story + of my nights) much more regularly than usual for the last week, having + reasons of my own for being particularly careful in this respect under + present circumstances. If I end in doing what it is now in my mind to do, + it would be madness to trust to my memory. The smallest forgetfulness of + the slightest event that has happened from the night of my interview with + Midwinter to the present time might be utter ruin to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Utter ruin to her!’ you will say. ‘What kind of ruin does she mean?’ + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little, till I have asked my diary whether I can safely tell you.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0038" id="H2_4_0038"></a> X. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. + </h2> + <p> + “July 21st, Monday night, eleven o’clock.—Midwinter has just left + me. We parted by my desire at the path out of the coppice; he going his + way to the hotel, and I going mine to my lodgings. + </p> + <p> + “I have managed to avoid making another appointment with him by arranging + to write to him to-morrow morning. This gives me the night’s interval to + compose myself, and to coax my mind back (if I can) to my own affairs. + Will the night pass, and the morning find me still thinking of the Letter + that came to him from his father’s deathbed? of the night he watched + through on the Wrecked Ship; and, more than all, of the first breathless + moment when he told me his real Name? + </p> + <p> + “Would it help me to shake off these impressions, I wonder, if I made the + effort of writing them down? There would be no danger, in that case, of my + forgetting anything important. And perhaps, after all, it may be the fear + of forgetting something which I ought to remember that keeps this story of + Midwinter’s weighing as it does on my mind. At any rate, the experiment is + worth trying. In my present situation I <i>must</i> be free to think of + other things, or I shall never find my way through all the difficulties at + Thorpe Ambrose that are still to come. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think. What <i>haunts</i> me, to begin with? + </p> + <p> + “The Names haunt me. I keep saying and saying to myself: Both alike!—Christian + name and surname both alike! A light-haired Allan Armadale, whom I have + long since known of, and who is the son of my old mistress. A dark-haired + Allan Armadale, whom I only know of now, and who is only known to others + under the name of Ozias Midwinter. Stranger still; it is not relationship, + it is not chance, that has made them namesakes. The father of the light + Armadale was the man who was <i>born</i> to the family name, and who lost + the family inheritance. The father of the dark Armadale was the man who <i>took</i> + the name, on condition of getting the inheritance—and who got it. + </p> + <p> + “So there are two of them—I can’t help thinking of it—both + unmarried. The light-haired Armadale, who offers to the woman who can + secure him, eight thousand a year while he lives; who leaves her twelve + hundred a year when he dies; who must and shall marry me for those two + golden reasons; and whom I hate and loathe as I never hated and loathed a + man yet. And the dark-haired Armadale, who has a poor little income, which + might perhaps pay his wife’s milliner, if his wife was careful; who has + just left me, persuaded that I mean to marry him; and whom—well, + whom I <i>might</i> have loved once, before I was the woman I am now. + </p> + <p> + “And Allan the Fair doesn’t know he has a namesake. And Allan the Dark has + kept the secret from everybody but the Somersetshire clergyman (whose + discretion he can depend on) and myself. + </p> + <p> + “And there are two Allan Armadales—two Allan Armadales—two + Allan Armadales. There! three is a lucky number. Haunt me again, after + that, if you can! + </p> + <p> + “What next? The murder in the timber ship? No; the murder is a good reason + why the dark Armadale, whose father committed it, should keep his secret + from the fair Armadale, whose father was killed; but it doesn’t concern <i>me</i>. + I remember there was a suspicion in Madeira at the time of something + wrong. <i>Was</i> it wrong? Was the man who had been tricked out of his + wife to blame for shutting the cabin door, and leaving the man who had + tricked him to drown in the wreck? Yes; the woman wasn’t worth it. + </p> + <p> + “What am I sure of that really concerns myself? + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of one very important thing. I am sure that Midwinter—I + must call him by his ugly false name, or I may confuse the two Armadales + before I have done—I am sure that Midwinter is perfectly ignorant + that I and the little imp of twelve years old who waited on Mrs. Armadale + in Madeira, and copied the letters that were supposed to arrive from the + West Indies, are one and the same. There are not many girls of twelve who + could have imitated a man’s handwriting, and held their tongues about it + afterward, as I did; but that doesn’t matter now. What does matter is that + Midwinter’s belief in the Dream is Midwinter’s only reason for trying to + connect me with Allan Armadale, by associating me with Allan Armadale’s + father and mother. I asked him if he actually thought me old enough to + have known either of them. And he said No, poor fellow, in the most + innocent, bewildered way. Would he say No if he saw me now? Shall I turn + to the glass and see if I look my five-and-thirty years? or shall I go on + writing? I will go on writing. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing more that haunts me almost as obstinately as the + Names. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether I am right in relying on Midwinter’s superstition (as I + do) to help me in keeping him at arms-length. After having let the + excitement of the moment hurry me into saying more than I need have said, + he is certain to press me; he is certain to come back, with a man’s + hateful selfishness and impatience in such things, to the question of + marrying me. Will the Dream help me to check him? After alternately + believing and disbelieving in it, he has got, by his own confession, to + believing in it again. Can I say I believe in it, too? I have better + reasons for doing so than he knows of. I am not only the person who helped + Mrs. Armadale’s marriage by helping her to impose on her own father: I am + the woman who tried to drown herself; the woman who started the series of + accidents which put young Armadale in possession of his fortune; the woman + who has come Thorpe Ambrose to marry him for his fortune, now he has got + it; and more extraordinary still, the woman who stood in the Shadow’s + place at the pool! These may be coincidences, but they are strange + coincidences. I declare I begin to fancy that <i>I</i> believe in the + Dream too! + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I say to him, ‘I think as you think. I say what you said in your + letter to me, Let us part before the harm is done. Leave me before the + Third Vision of the Dream comes true. Leave me, and put the mountains and + the seas between you and the man who bears your name!’ + </p> + <p> + “Suppose, on the other side, that his love for me makes him reckless of + everything else? Suppose he says those desperate words again, which I + understand now: What <i>is</i> to be, <i>will</i> be. What have I to do + with it, and what has she?’ Suppose—suppose— + </p> + <p> + “I won’t write any more. I hate writing. It doesn’t relieve me—it + makes me worse. I’m further from being able to think of all that I <i>must</i> + think of than I was when I sat down. It is past midnight. To-morrow has + come already; and here I am as helpless as the stupidest woman living! Bed + is the only fit place for me. + </p> + <p> + “Bed? If it was ten years since, instead of to-day; and if I had married + Midwinter for love, I might be going to bed now with nothing heavier on my + mind than a visit on tiptoe to the nursery, and a last look at night to + see if my children were sleeping quietly in their cribs. I wonder whether + I should have loved my children if I had ever had any? Perhaps, yes—perhaps, + no. It doesn’t matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Tuesday morning, ten o’clock.—Who was the man who invented + laudanum? I thank him from the bottom of my heart whoever he was. If all + the miserable wretches in pain of body and mind, whose comforter he has + been, could meet together to sing his praises, what a chorus it would be! + I have had six delicious hours of oblivion; I have woke up with my mind + composed; I have written a perfect little letter to Midwinter; I have + drunk my nice cup of tea, with a real relish of it; I have dawdled over my + morning toilet with an exquisite sense of relief—and all through the + modest little bottle of Drops, which I see on my bedroom chimney-piece at + this moment. ‘Drops,’ you are a darling! If I love nothing else, I love <i>you</i>. + </p> + <p> + “My letter to Midwinter has been sent through the post; and I have told + him to reply to me in the same manner. + </p> + <p> + “I feel no anxiety about his answer—he can only answer in one way. I + have asked for a little time to consider, because my family circumstances + require some consideration, in his interests as well as in mine. I have + engaged to tell him what those circumstances are (what shall I say, I + wonder?) when we next meet; and I have requested him in the meantime to + keep all that has passed between us a secret for the present. As to what + he is to do himself in the interval while I am supposed to be considering, + I have left it to his own discretion—merely reminding him that his + attempting to see me again (while our positions toward each other cannot + be openly avowed) might injure my reputation. I have offered to write to + him if he wishes it; and I have ended by promising to make the interval of + our necessary separation as short as I can. + </p> + <p> + “This sort of plain, unaffected letter—which I might have written to + him last night, if his story had not been running in my head as it did—has + one defect, I know. It certainly keeps him out of the way, while I am + casting my net, and catching my gold fish at the great house for the + second time; but it also leaves an awkward day of reckoning to come with + Midwinter if I succeed. How am I to manage him? What am I to do? I ought + to face those two questions as boldly as usual; but somehow my courage + seems to fail me, and I don’t quite fancy meeting <i>that</i> difficulty, + till the time comes when it <i>must</i> be met. Shall I confess to my + diary that I am sorry for Midwinter, and that I shrink a little from + thinking of the day when he hears that I am going to be mistress at the + great house? + </p> + <p> + “But I am not mistress yet; and I can’t take a step in the direction of + the great house till I have got the answer to my letter, and till I know + that Midwinter is out of the way. Patience! patience! I must go and forget + myself at my piano. There is the ‘Moonlight Sonata’ open, and tempting me, + on the music-stand. Have I nerve enough to play it, I wonder? Or will it + set me shuddering with the mystery and terror of it, as it did the other + day?” + </p> + <p> + “Five o’clock.—I have got his answer. The slightest request I can + make is a command to him. He has gone; and he sends me his address in + London. ‘There are two considerations’ (he says) ‘which help to reconcile + me to leaving you. The first is that <i>you</i> wish it, and that it is + only to be for a little while. The second is that I think I can make some + arrangements in London for adding to my income by my own labor. I have + never cared for money for myself; but you don’t know how I am beginning + already to prize the luxuries and refinements that money can provide, for + my wife’s sake.’ Poor fellow! I almost wish I had not written to him as I + did; I almost wish I had not sent him away from me. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy if Mother Oldershaw saw this page in my diary! I have had a letter + from her this morning—a letter to remind me of my obligations, and + to tell me she suspects things are all going wrong. Let her suspect! I + shan’t trouble myself to answer; I can’t be worried with that old wretch + in the state I am in now. + </p> + <p> + “It is a lovely afternoon—I want a walk—I mustn’t think of + Midwinter. Suppose I put on my bonnet, and try my experiment at once at + the great house? Everything is in my favor. There is no spy to follow me, + and no lawyer to keep me out, this time. Am I handsome enough, to-day? + Well, yes; handsome enough to be a match for a little dowdy, awkward, + freckled creature, who ought to be perched on a form at school, and + strapped to a backboard to straighten her crooked shoulders. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘The nursery lisps out in all they utter; + Besides, they always smell of bread-and-butter.’ +</pre> + <p> + “How admirably Byron has described girls in their teens!” + </p> + <p> + “Eight o’clock.—I have just got back from Armadale’s house. I have + seen him, and spoken to him; and the end of it may be set down in three + plain words. I have failed. There is no more chance of my being Mrs. + Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose than there is of my being Queen of England. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I write and tell Oldershaw? Shall I go back to London? Not till I + have had time to think a little. Not just yet. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think; I have failed completely—failed, with all the + circumstances in favor of success. I caught him alone on the drive in + front of the house. He was excessively disconcerted, but at the same time + quite willing to hear me. I tried him, first quietly—then with + tears, and the rest of it. I introduced myself in the character of the + poor innocent woman whom he had been the means of injuring. I confused, I + interested, I convinced him. I went on to the purely Christian part of my + errand, and spoke with such feeling of his separation from his friend, for + which I was innocently responsible, that I turned his odious rosy face + quite pale, and made him beg me at last not to distress him. But, whatever + other feelings I roused in him, I never once roused his old feeling for <i>me</i>. + I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me; I felt it in his fingers when + we shook hands. We parted friends, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “It is for this, is it, Miss Milroy, that I resisted temptation, morning + after morning, when I knew you were out alone in the park? I have just + left you time to slip in, and take my place in Armadale’s good graces, + have I? I never resisted temptation yet without suffering for it in some + such way as this! If I had only followed my first thoughts, on the day + when I took leave of you, my young lady—well, well, never mind that + now. I have got the future before me; you are not Mrs. Armadale yet! And I + can tell you one other thing—whoever else he marries, he will never + marry <i>you</i>. If I am even with you in no other way, trust me, + whatever comes of it, to be even with you there! + </p> + <p> + “I am not, to my own surprise, in one of my furious passions. The last + time I was in this perfectly cool state, under serious provocation, + something came of it, which I daren’t write down, even in my own private + diary. I shouldn’t be surprised if something comes of it now. + </p> + <p> + “On my way back, I called at Mr. Bashwood’s lodgings in the town. He was + not at home, and I left a message telling him to come here to-night and + speak to me. I mean to relieve him at once of the duty of looking after + Armadale and Miss Milroy. I may not see my way yet to ruining her + prospects at Thorpe Ambrose as completely as she has ruined mine. But when + the time comes, and I do see it, I don’t know to what lengths my sense of + injury may take me; and there may be inconvenience, and possibly danger, + in having such a chicken-hearted creature as Mr. Bashwood in my + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect I am more upset by all this than I supposed. Midwinter’s story + is beginning to haunt me again, without rhyme or reason. + </p> + <p> + “A soft, quick, trembling knock at the street door! I know who it is. No + hand but old Bashwood’s could knock in that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine o’clock.—I have just got rid of him. He has surprised me by + coming out in a new character. + </p> + <p> + “It seems (though I didn’t detect him) that he was at the great house + while I was in company with Armadale. He saw us talking on the drive, and + he afterward heard what the servants said, who saw us too. The wise + opinion below stairs is that we have ‘made it up,’ and that the master is + likely to marry me after all. ‘He’s sweet on her red hair,’ was the + elegant expression they used in the kitchen. ‘Little missie can’t match + her there; and little missie will get the worst of it.’ How I hate the + coarse ways of the lower orders! + </p> + <p> + “While old Bashwood was telling me this, I thought he looked even more + confused and nervous than usual. But I failed to see what was really the + matter until after I had told him that he was to leave all further + observation of Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy to me. Every drop of the + little blood there is in the feeble old creature’s body seemed to fly up + into his face. He made quite an overpowering effort; he really looked as + if he would drop down dead of fright at his own boldness; but he forced + out the question for all that, stammering, and stuttering, and kneading + desperately with both hands at the brim of his hideous great hat. ‘I beg + your pardon, Miss Gwi-Gwi-Gwilt! You are not really go-go-going to marry + Mr. Armadale, are you?’ Jealous—if ever I saw it in a man’s face yet, + I saw it in his—actually jealous of Armadale at his age! If I had + been in the humor for it, I should have burst out laughing in his face. As + it was, I was angry, and lost all patience with him. I told him he was an + old fool, and ordered him to go on quietly with his usual business until I + sent him word that he was wanted again. He submitted as usual; but there + was an indescribable something in his watery old eyes, when he took leave + of me, which I have never noticed in them before. Love has the credit of + working all sorts of strange transformations. Can it be really possible + that Love has made Mr. Bashwood man enough to be angry with me? + </p> + <p> + “Wednesday.—My experience of Miss Milroy’s habits suggested a + suspicion to me last night which I thought it desirable to clear up this + morning. + </p> + <p> + “It was always her way, when I was at the cottage, to take a walk early in + the morning before breakfast. Considering that I used often to choose that + very time for <i>my</i> private meetings with Armadale, it struck me as + likely that my former pupil might be taking a leaf out of my book, and + that I might make some desirable discoveries if I turned my steps in the + direction of the major’s garden at the right hour. I deprived myself of my + Drops, to make sure of waking; passed a miserable night in consequence; + and was ready enough to get up at six o’clock, and walk the distance from + my lodgings to the cottage in the fresh morning air. + </p> + <p> + “I had not been five minutes on the park side of the garden inclosure + before I saw her come out. + </p> + <p> + “She seemed to have had a bad night too; her eyes were heavy and red, and + her lips and cheeks looked swollen as if she had been crying. There was + something on her mind, evidently; something, as it soon appeared, to take + her out of the garden into the park. She walked (if one can call it + walking; with such legs as hers!) straight to the summer house, and opened + the door, and crossed the bridge, and went on quicker and quicker toward + the low ground in the park, where the trees are thickest. I followed her + over the open space with perfect impunity in the preoccupied state she was + in; and, when she began to slacken her pace among the trees, I was among + the trees too, and was not afraid of her seeing me. + </p> + <p> + “Before long, there was a crackling and trampling of heavy feet coming up + toward us through the under-wood in a deep dip of the ground. I knew that + step as well as she knew it. ‘Here I am,’ she said, in a faint little + voice. I kept behind the trees a few yards off, in some doubt on which + side Armadale would come out of the under-wood to join her. He came out up + the side of the dell, opposite to the tree behind which I was standing. + They sat down together on the bank. I sat down behind the tree, and looked + at them through the under-wood, and heard without the slightest difficulty + every word that they said. + </p> + <p> + “The talk began by his noticing that she looked out of spirits, and asking + if anything had gone wrong at the cottage. The artful little minx lost no + time in making the necessary impression on him; she began to cry. He took + her hand, of course, and tried, in his brutishly straightforward way, to + comfort her. No; she was not to be comforted. A miserable prospect was + before her; she had not slept the whole night for thinking of it. Her + father had called her into his room the previous evening, had spoken about + the state of her education, and had told her in so many words that she was + to go to school. The place had been found, and the terms had been settled; + and as soon as her clothes could be got ready, miss was to go. + </p> + <p> + “‘While that hateful Miss Gwilt was in the house,’ says this model young + person, ‘I would have gone to school willingly—I wanted to go. But + it’s all different now; I don’t think of it in the same way; I feel too + old for school. I’m quite heart-broken, Mr. Armadale.’ There she stopped + as if she had meant to say more, and gave him a look which finished the + sentence plainly: ‘I’m quite heart-broken, Mr. Armadale, now we are + friendly again, at going away from you!’ For downright brazen impudence, + which a grown woman would be ashamed of, give me the young girls whose + ‘modesty’ is so pertinaciously insisted on by the nauseous domestic + sentimentalists of the present day! + </p> + <p> + “Even Armadale, booby as he is, understood her. After bewildering himself + in a labyrinth of words that led nowhere, he took her—one can hardly + say round the waist, for she hasn’t got one—he took her round the + last hook-and-eye of her dress, and, by way of offering her a refuge from + the indignity of being sent to school at her age, made her a proposal of + marriage in so many words. + </p> + <p> + “If I could have killed them both at that moment by lifting up my little + finger, I have not the least doubt I should have lifted it. As things + were, I only waited to see what Miss Milroy would do. + </p> + <p> + “She appeared to think it necessary—feeling, I suppose, that she had + met him without her father’s knowledge, and not forgetting that I had had + the start of her as the favored object of Mr. Armadale’s good opinion—to + assert herself by an explosion of virtuous indignation. She wondered how + he could think of such a thing after his conduct with Miss Gwilt, and + after her father had forbidden him the house! Did he want to make her feel + how inexcusably she had forgotten what was due to herself? Was it worthy + of a gentleman to propose what he knew as well as she did was impossible? + and so on, and so on. Any man with brains in his head would have known + what all this rodomontade really meant. Armadale took it so seriously that + he actually attempted to justify himself. + </p> + <p> + “He declared, in his headlong, blundering way, that he was quite in + earnest; he and her father might make it up and be friends again; and, if + the major persisted in treating him as a stranger, young ladies and + gentlemen in their situation had made runaway marriages before now, and + fathers and mothers who wouldn’t forgive them before had forgiven them + afterward. Such outrageously straightforward love-making as this left Miss + Milroy, of course, but two alternatives—to confess that she had been + saying No when she meant Yes, or to take refuge in another explosion. She + was hypocrite enough to prefer another explosion. ‘How dare you, Mr. + Armadale? Go away directly! It’s inconsiderate, it’s heartless, it’s + perfectly disgraceful to say such things to me!’ and so on, and so on. It + seems incredible, but it is not the less true, that he was positively fool + enough to take her at her word. He begged her pardon, and went away like a + child that is put in the corner—the most contemptible object in the + form of man that eyes ever looked on! + </p> + <p> + “She waited, after he had gone, to compose herself, and I waited behind + the trees to see how she would succeed. Her eyes wandered round slyly to + the path by which he had left her. She smiled (grinned would be the truer + way of putting it, with such a mouth as hers); took a few steps on tiptoe + to look after him; turned back again, and suddenly burst into a violent + fit of crying. I am not quite so easily taken in as Armadale, and I saw + what it all meant plainly enough. + </p> + <p> + “‘To-morrow,’ I thought to myself, ‘you will be in the park again, miss, + by pure accident. The next day, you will lead him on into proposing to you + for the second time. The day after, he will venture back to the subject of + runaway marriages, and you will only be becomingly confused. And the day + after that, if he has got a plan to propose, and if your clothes are ready + to be packed for school, you will listen to him.’ Yes, yes; Time is always + on the man’s side, where a woman is concerned, if the man is only patient + enough to let Time help him. + </p> + <p> + “I let her leave the place and go back to the cottage, quite unconscious + that I had been looking at her. I waited among the trees, thinking. The + truth is, I was impressed by what I had heard and seen, in a manner that + it is not very easy to describe. It put the whole thing before me in a new + light. It showed me—what I had never even suspected till this + morning—that she is really fond of him. + </p> + <p> + “Heavy as my debt of obligation is to her, there is no fear <i>now</i> of + my failing to pay it to the last farthing. It would have been no small + triumph for me to stand between Miss Milroy and her ambition to be one of + the leading ladies of the county. But it is infinitely more, where her + first love is concerned, to stand between Miss Milroy and her heart’s + desire. Shall I remember my own youth and spare her? No! She has deprived + me of the one chance I had of breaking the chain that binds me to a past + life too horrible to be thought of. I am thrown back into a position, + compared to which the position of an outcast who walks the streets is + endurable and enviable. No, Miss Milroy—no, Mr. Armadale; I will + spare neither of you. + </p> + <p> + “I have been back some hours. I have been thinking, and nothing has come + of it. Ever since I got that strange letter of Midwinter’s last Sunday, my + usual readiness in emergencies has deserted me. When I am not thinking of + him or of his story, my mind feels quite stupefied. I, who have always + known what to do on other occasions, don’t know what to do now. It would + be easy enough, of course, to warn Major Milroy of his daughter’s + proceedings. But the major is fond of his daughter; Armadale is anxious to + be reconciled with him; Armadale is rich and prosperous, and ready to + submit to the elder man; and sooner or later they will be friends again, + and the marriage will follow. Warning Major Milroy is only the way to + embarrass them for the present; it is not the way to part them for good + and all. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>is</i> the way? I can’t see it. I could tear my own hair off my + head! I could burn the house down! If there was a train of gunpowder under + the whole world, I could light it, and blow the whole world to destruction—I + am in such a rage, such a frenzy with myself for not seeing it! + </p> + <p> + “Poor dear Midwinter! Yes, ‘<i>dear</i>.’ I don’t care. I’m lonely and + helpless. I want somebody who is gentle and loving to make much of me; I + wish I had his head on my bosom again; I have a good mind to go to London + and marry him. Am I mad? Yes; all people who are as miserable as I am are + mad. I must go to the window and get some air. Shall I jump out? No; it + disfigures one so, and the coroner’s inquest lets so many people see it. + </p> + <p> + “The air has revived me. I begin to remember that I have Time on my side, + at any rate. Nobody knows but me of their secret meetings in the park the + first thing in the morning. If jealous old Bashwood, who is slinking and + sly enough for anything, tries to look privately after Armadale, in his + own interests, he will try at the usual time when he goes to the steward’s + office. He knows nothing of Miss Milroy’s early habits; and he won’t be on + the spot till Armadale has got back to the house. For another week to + come, I may wait and watch them, and choose my own time and way of + interfering the moment I see a chance of his getting the better of her + hesitation, and making her say Yes. + </p> + <p> + “So here I wait, without knowing how things will end with Midwinter in + London; with my purse getting emptier and emptier, and no appearance so + far of any new pupils to fill it; with Mother Oldershaw certain to insist + on having her money back the moment she knows I have failed; without + prospects, friends, or hopes of any kind—a lost woman, if ever there + was a lost woman yet. Well! I say it again and again and again—I + don’t care! Here I stop, if I sell the clothes off my back, if I hire + myself at the public-house to play to the brutes in the tap-room; here I + stop till the time comes, and I see the way to parting Armadale and Miss + Milroy forever!” + </p> + <p> + “Seven o’clock.—Any signs that the time is coming yet? I hardly + know; there are signs of a change, at any rate, in my position in the + neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + “Two of the oldest and ugliest of the many old and ugly ladies who took up + my case when I left Major Milroy’s service have just called, announcing + themselves, with the insufferable impudence of charitable Englishwomen, as + a deputation from my patronesses. It seems that the news of my + reconciliation with Armadale has spread from the servants’ offices at the + great house, and has reached the town, with this result. + </p> + <p> + “It is the unanimous opinion of my ‘patronesses’ (and the opinion of Major + Milroy also, who has been consulted) that I have acted with the most + inexcusable imprudence in going to Armadale’s house, and in there speaking + on friendly terms with a man whose conduct toward myself has made his name + a by-word in the neighborhood. My total want of self-respect in this + matter has given rise to a report that I am trading as cleverly as ever on + my good looks, and that I am as likely as not to end in making Armadale + marry me, after all. My ‘patronesses’ are, of course, too charitable to + believe this. They merely feel it necessary to remonstrate with me in a + Christian spirit, and to warn me that any second and similar imprudence on + my part would force all my best friends in the place to withdraw the + countenance and protection which I now enjoy. + </p> + <p> + “Having addressed me, turn and turn about, in these terms (evidently all + rehearsed beforehand), my two Gorgon visitors straightened themselves in + their chairs, and looked at me as much as to say, ‘You may often have + heard of Virtue, Miss Gwilt, but we don’t believe you ever really saw it + in full bloom till we came and called on you.’ + </p> + <p> + “Seeing they were bent on provoking me, I kept my temper, and answered + them in my smoothest, sweetest, and most lady-like manner. I have noticed + that the Christianity of a certain class of respectable people begins when + they open their prayer-books at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning, and ends + when they shut them up again at one o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Nothing + so astonishes and insults Christians of this sort as reminding them of + their Christianity on a week-day. On this hint, as the man says in the + play, I spoke. + </p> + <p> + “‘What have I done that is wrong?’ I asked, innocently. ‘Mr. Armadale has + injured me; and I have been to his house and forgiven him the injury. + Surely there must be some mistake, ladies? You can’t have really come here + to remonstrate with me in a Christian spirit for performing an act of + Christianity?’ + </p> + <p> + “The two Gorgons got up. I firmly believe some women have cats’ tails as + well as cats’ faces. I firmly believe the tails of those two particular + cats wagged slowly under their petticoats, and swelled to four times their + proper size. + </p> + <p> + “‘Temper we were prepared for, Miss Gwilt,’ they said, ‘but not Profanity. + We wish you good-evening.’ + </p> + <p> + “So they left me, and so ‘Miss Gwilt’ sinks out of the patronizing notice + of the neighborhood + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what will come of this trumpery little quarrel? One thing will + come of it which I can see already. The report will reach Miss Milroy’s + ears; she will insist on Armadale’s justifying himself; and Armadale will + end in satisfying her of his innocence by making another proposal. This + will be quite likely to hasten matters between them; at least it would + with me. If I was in her place, I should say to myself, ‘I will make sure + of him while I can.’ Supposing it doesn’t rain to-morrow morning, I think + I will take another early walk in the direction of the park.” + </p> + <p> + “Midnight.—As I can’t take my drops, with a morning walk before me, + I may as well give up all hope of sleeping, and go on with my diary. Even + with my drops, I doubt if my head would be very quiet on my pillow + to-night. Since the little excitement of the scene with my + ‘lady-patronesses’ has worn off, I have been troubled with misgivings + which would leave me but a poor chance, under any circumstances, of + getting much rest. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t imagine why, but the parting words spoken to Armadale by that old + brute of a lawyer have come back to my mind! Here they are, as reported in + Mr. Bashwood’s letter: ‘Some other person’s curiosity may go on from the + point where you (and I) have stopped, and some other person’s hand may let + the broad daylight in yet on Miss Gwilt.’ + </p> + <p> + “What does he mean by that? And what did he mean afterward when he + overtook old Bashwood in the drive, by telling him to gratify his + curiosity? Does this hateful Pedgift actually suppose there is any chance—? + Ridiculous! Why, I have only to <i>look</i> at the feeble old creature, + and he daren’t lift his little finger unless I tell him. <i>He</i> try to + pry into my past life, indeed! Why, people with ten times his brains, and + a hundred times his courage, have tried—and have left off as wise as + they began. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, though; it might have been better if I had kept my temper + when Bashwood was here the other night. And it might be better still if I + saw him to-morrow, and took him back into my good graces by giving him + something to do for me. Suppose I tell him to look after the two Pedgifts, + and to discover whether there is any chance of their attempting to renew + their connection with Armadale? No such thing is at all likely; but if I + gave old Bashwood this commission, it would flatter his sense of his own + importance to me, and would at the same time serve the excellent purpose + of keeping him out of my way.” + </p> + <p> + “Thursday morning, nine o’clock.—I have just got back from the park. + </p> + <p> + “For once I have proved a true prophet. There they were together, at the + same early hour, in the same secluded situation among the trees; and there + was miss in full possession of the report of my visit to the great house, + and taking her tone accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “After saying one or two things about me, which I promise him not to + forget, Armadale took the way to convince her of his constancy which I + felt beforehand he would be driven to take. He repeated his proposal of + marriage, with excellent effect this time. Tears and kisses and + protestations followed; and my late pupil opened her heart at last, in the + most innocent manner. Home, she confessed, was getting so miserable to her + now that it was only less miserable than going to school. Her mother’s + temper was becoming more violent and unmanageable every day. The nurse, + who was the only person with any influence over her, had gone away in + disgust. Her father was becoming more and more immersed in his clock, and + was made more and more resolute to send her away from home by the + distressing scenes which now took place with her mother almost day by day. + I waited through these domestic disclosures on the chance of hearing any + plans they might have for the future discussed between them; and my + patience, after no small exercise of it, was rewarded at last. + </p> + <p> + “The first suggestion (as was only natural where such a fool as Armadale + was concerned) came from the girl. + </p> + <p> + “She started an idea which I own I had not anticipated. She proposed that + Armadale should write to her father; and, cleverer still, she prevented + all fear of his blundering by telling him what he was to say. He was to + express himself as deeply distressed at his estrangement from the major, + and to request permission to call at the cottage, and say a few words in + his own justification. That was all. The letter was not to be sent that + day, for the applicants for the vacant place of Mrs. Milroy’s nurse were + coming, and seeing them and questioning them would put her father, with + his dislike of such things, in no humor to receive Armadale’s application + indulgently. The Friday would be the day to send the letter, and on the + Saturday morning if the answer was unfortunately not favorable, they might + meet again, ‘I don’t like deceiving my father; he has always been so kind + to me. And there will be no need to deceive him, Allan, if we can only + make you friends again.’ Those were the last words the little hypocrite + said, when I left them. + </p> + <p> + “What will the major do? Saturday morning will show. I won’t think of it + till Saturday morning has come and gone. They are not man and wife yet; + and again and again I say it, though my brains are still as helpless as + ever, man and wife they shall never be. + </p> + <p> + “On my way home again, I caught Bashwood at his breakfast, with his poor + old black tea-pot, and his little penny loaf, and his one cheap morsel of + oily butter, and his darned dirty tablecloth. It sickens me to think of + it. + </p> + <p> + “I coaxed and comforted the miserable old creature till the tears stood in + his eyes, and he quite blushed with pleasure. He undertakes to look after + the Pedgifts with the utmost alacrity. Pedgift the elder he described, + when once roused, as the most obstinate man living; nothing will induce + him to give way, unless Armadale gives way also on his side. Pedgift the + younger is much the more likely of the two to make attempts at a + reconciliation. Such, at least, is Bashwood’s opinion. It is of very + little consequence now what happens either way. The only important thing + is to tie my elderly admirer safely again to my apron-string. And this is + done. + </p> + <p> + “The post is late this morning. It has only just come in, and has brought + me a letter from Midwinter. + </p> + <p> + “It is a charming letter; it flatters me and flutters me as if I was a + young girl again. No reproaches for my never having written to him; no + hateful hurrying of me, in plain words, to marry him. He only writes to + tell me a piece of news. He has obtained, through his lawyers, a prospect + of being employed as occasional correspondent to a newspaper which is + about to be started in London. The employment will require him to leave + England for the Continent, which would exactly meet his own wishes for the + future, but he cannot consider the proposal seriously until he has first + ascertained whether it would meet my wishes too. He knows no will but + mine, and he leaves me to decide, after first mentioning the time allowed + him before his answer must be sent in. It is the time, of course (if I + agree to his going abroad), in which I must marry him. But there is not a + word about this in his letter. He asks for nothing but a sight of my + handwriting to help him through the interval while we are separated from + each other. + </p> + <p> + “That is the letter; not very long, but so prettily expressed. + </p> + <p> + “I think I can penetrate the secret of his fancy for going abroad. That + wild idea of putting the mountains and the seas between Armadale and + himself is still in his mind. As if either he or I could escape doing what + we are fated to do—supposing we really are fated—by putting a + few hundred or a few thousand miles between Armadale and ourselves! What + strange absurdity and inconsistency! And yet how I like him for being + absurd and inconsistent; for don’t I see plainly that I am at the bottom + of it all? Who leads this clever man astray in spite of himself? Who makes + him too blind to see the contradiction in his own conduct, which he would + see plainly in the conduct of another person? How interested I do feel in + him! How dangerously near I am to shutting my eyes on the past, and + letting myself love him! Was Eve fonder of Adam than ever, I wonder, after + she had coaxed him into eating the apple? I should have quite doted on him + if I had been in her place. (Memorandum: To write Midwinter a charming + little letter on my side, with a kiss in it; and as time is allowed him + before he sends in his answer, to ask for time, too, before I tell him + whether I will or will not go abroad.)” + </p> + <p> + “Five o’clock.—A tiresome visit from my landlady; eager for a little + gossip, and full of news which she thinks will interest me. + </p> + <p> + “She is acquainted, I find, with Mrs. Milroy’s late nurse; and she has + been seeing her friend off at the station this afternoon. They talked, of + course, of affairs at the cottage, and my name found its way into the + conversation. I am quite wrong, it seems, if the nurse’s authority is to + be trusted, in believing Miss Milroy to be responsible for sending Mr. + Armadale to my reference in London. Miss Milroy really knew nothing about + it, and it all originated in her mother’s mad jealousy of me. The present + wretched state of things at the cottage is due entirely to the same cause. + Mrs. Milroy is firmly persuaded that my remaining at Thorpe Ambrose is + referable to my having some private means of communicating with the major + which it is impossible for her to discover. With this conviction in her + mind, she has become so unmanageable that no person, with any chance of + bettering herself, could possibly remain in attendance on her; and sooner + or later, the major, object to it as he may, will be obliged to place her + under proper medical care. + </p> + <p> + “That is the sum and substance of what the wearisome landlady, had to tell + me. Unnecessary to say that I was not in the least interested by it. Even + if the nurse’s assertion is to be depended on—which I persist in + doubting—it is of no importance now. I know that Miss Milroy, and + nobody but Miss Milroy has utterly ruined my prospect of becoming Mrs. + Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, and I care to know nothing more. If her mother + was really alone in the attempt to expose my false reference, her mother + seems to be suffering for it, at any rate. And so good-by to Mrs. Milroy; + and Heaven defend me from any more last glimpses at the cottages seen + through the medium of my landlady’s spectacles!” + </p> + <p> + “Nine o’clock.—Bashwood has just left me, having come with news from + the great house. Pedgift the younger has made his attempt at bringing + about a reconciliation this very day, and has failed. I am the sole cause + of the failure. Armadale is quite willing to be reconciled if Pedgift the + elder will avoid all future occasion of disagreement between them by never + recurring to the subject of Miss Gwilt. This, however, happens to be + exactly the condition which Pedgift’s father—with his opinion of me + and my doings—should consider it his duty to Armadale <i>not</i> to + accept. So lawyer and client remain as far apart as ever, and the obstacle + of the Pedgifts is cleared out of my way. + </p> + <p> + “It might have been a very awkward obstacle, so far as Pedgift the elder + is concerned, if one of his suggestions had been carried out; I mean, if + an officer of the London police had been brought down here to look at me. + It is a question, even now, whether I had better not take to the thick + veil again, which I always wear in London and other large places. The only + difficulty is that it would excite remark in this inquisitive little town + to see me wearing a thick veil, for the first time, in the summer weather. + </p> + <p> + “It is close on ten o’clock; I have been dawdling over my diary longer + than I supposed. + </p> + <p> + “No words can describe how weary and languid I feel. Why don’t I take my + sleeping drops and go to bed? There is no meeting between Armadale and + Miss Milroy to force me into early rising to-morrow morning. Am I trying, + for the hundredth time, to see my way clearly into the future—trying, + in my present state of fatigue, to be the quick-witted woman I once was, + before all these anxieties came together and overpowered me? or am I + perversely afraid of my bed when I want it most? I don’t know; I am tired + and miserable; I am looking wretchedly haggard and old. With a little + encouragement, I might be fool enough to burst out crying. Luckily, there + is no one to encourage me. What sort of a night is it, I wonder? + </p> + <p> + “A cloudy night, with the moon showing at intervals, and the wind rising. + I can just hear it moaning among the ins and outs of the unfinished + cottages at the end of the street. My nerves must be a little shaken, I + think. I was startled just now by a shadow on the wall. It was only after + a moment or two that I mustered sense enough to notice where the candle + was, and to see that the shadow was my own. + </p> + <p> + “Shadows remind me of Midwinter; or, if the shadows don’t, something else + does. I must have another look at his letter, and then I will positively + go to bed. + </p> + <p> + “I shall end in getting fond of him. If I remain much longer in this + lonely uncertain state—so irresolute, so unlike my usual self—I + shall end in getting fond of him. What madness! As if <i>I</i> could ever + be really fond of a man again! + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I took one of my sudden resolutions, and married him. Poor as he + is, he would give me a name and a position if I became his wife. Let me + see how the name—his own name—would look, if I really did + consent to it for mine. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mrs. Armadale!’ Pretty. + </p> + <p> + “‘Mrs. Allan Armadale!’ Prettier still. + </p> + <p> + “My nerves <i>must</i> be shaken. Here is my own handwriting startling me + now! It is so strange; it is enough to startle anybody. The similarity in + the two names never struck me in this light before. Marry which of the two + I might, my name would, of course, be the same. I should have been Mrs. + Armadale, if I had married the light-haired Allan at the great house. And + I can be Mrs. Armadale still, if I marry the dark-haired Allan in London. + It’s almost maddening to write it down—to feel that something ought + to come of it—and to find nothing come. + </p> + <p> + “How <i>can</i> anything come of it? If I did go to London, and marry him + (as of course I must marry him) under his real name, would he let me be + known by it afterward? With all his reasons for concealing his real name, + he would insist—no, he is too fond of me to do that—he would + entreat me to take the name which he has assumed. Mrs. Midwinter. Hideous! + Ozias, too, when I wanted to address him familiarly, as his wife should. + Worse than hideous! + </p> + <p> + “And yet there would be some reason for humoring him in this if he asked + me. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose the brute at the great house happened to leave this neighborhood + as a single man; and suppose, in his absence, any of the people who know + him heard of a Mrs. Allan Armadale, they would set her down at once as his + wife. Even if they actually saw me—if I actually came among them + with that name, and if he was not present to contradict it—his own + servants would be the first to say, ‘We knew she would marry him, after + all!’ And my lady-patronesses, who will be ready to believe anything of me + now we have quarreled, would join the chorus <i>sotto voce:</i> ‘Only + think, my dear, the report that so shocked us actually turns out to be + true!’ No. If I marry Midwinter, I must either be perpetually putting my + husband and myself in a false position—or I must leave his real + name, his pretty, romantic name, behind me at the church door. + </p> + <p> + “My husband! As if I was really going to marry him! I am <i>not</i> going + to marry him, and there’s an end of it. + </p> + <p> + “Half-past ten.—Oh, dear! oh, dear! how my temples throb, and how + hot my weary eyes feel! There is the moon looking at me through the + window. How fast the little scattered clouds are flying before the wind! + Now they let the moon in; and now they shut the moon out. What strange + shapes the patches of yellow light take, and lose again, all in a moment! + No peace and quiet for me, look where I may. The candle keeps flickering, + and the very sky itself is restless to-night. + </p> + <p> + “‘To bed! to bed!’ as Lady Macbeth says. I wonder, by-the-by, what Lady + Macbeth would have done in my position? She would have killed somebody + when her difficulties first began. Probably Armadale. + </p> + <p> + “Friday morning.—A night’s rest, thanks again to my Drops. I went to + breakfast in better spirits, and received a morning welcome in the shape + of a letter from Mrs. Oldershaw. + </p> + <p> + “My silence has produced its effect on Mother Jezebel. She attributes it + to the right cause, and she shows her claws at last. If I am not in a + position to pay my note of hand for thirty pounds, which is due on Tuesday + next, her lawyer is instructed to ‘take the usual course.’ <i>If</i> I am + not in a position to pay it! Why, when I have settled to-day with my + landlord, I shall have barely five pounds left! There is not the shadow of + a prospect between now and Tuesday of my earning any money; and I don’t + possess a friend in this place who would trust me with sixpence. The + difficulties that are swarming round me wanted but one more to complete + them, and that one has come. + </p> + <p> + “Midwinter would assist me, of course, if I could bring myself to ask him + for assistance. But <i>that</i> means marrying him. Am I really desperate + enough and helpless enough to end it in that way? No; not yet. + </p> + <p> + “My head feels heavy; I must get out into the fresh air, and think about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Two o’clock.—I believe I have caught the infection of Midwinter’s + superstition. I begin to think that events are forcing me nearer and + nearer to some end which I don’t see yet, but which I am firmly persuaded + is now not far off. + </p> + <p> + “I have been insulted—deliberately insulted before witnesses—by + Miss Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “After walking, as usual, in the most unfrequented place I could pick out, + and after trying, not very successfully, to think to some good purpose of + what I am to do next, I remembered that I needed some note-paper and pens, + and went back to the town to the stationer’s shop. It might have been + wiser to have sent for what I wanted. But I was weary of myself, and weary + of my lonely rooms; and I did my own errand, for no better reason than + that it was something to do. + </p> + <p> + “I had just got into the shop, and was asking for what I wanted, when + another customer came in. We both looked up, and recognized each other at + the same moment: Miss Milroy. + </p> + <p> + “A woman and a lad were behind the counter, besides the man who was + serving me. The woman civilly addressed the new customer. ‘What can we + have the pleasure of doing for you, miss?’ After pointing it first by + looking me straight in the face, she answered, ‘Nothing, thank you, at + present. I’ll come back when the shop is empty.’ + </p> + <p> + “She went out. The three people in the shop looked at me in silence. In + silence, on my side, I paid for my purchases, and left the place. I don’t + know how I might have felt if I had been in my usual spirits. In the + anxious, unsettled state I am in now, I can’t deny it, the girl stung me. + </p> + <p> + “In the weakness of the moment (for it was nothing else), I was on the + point of matching her petty spitefulness by spitefulness quite as petty on + my side. I had actually got as far as the whole length of the street on my + way to the major’s cottage, bent on telling him the secret of his + daughter’s morning walks, before my better sense came back to me. When I + did cool down, I turned round at once, and took the way home. No, no, Miss + Milroy; mere temporary mischief-making at the cottage, which would only + end in your father forgiving you, and in Armadale profiting by his + indulgence, will nothing like pay the debt I owe you. I don’t forget that + your heart is set on Armadale; and that the major, however he may talk, + has always ended hitherto in giving you your own way. My head may be + getting duller and duller, but it has not quite failed me yet. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, there is Mother Oldershaw’s letter waiting obstinately + to be answered; and here am I, not knowing what to do about it yet. Shall + I answer it or not? It doesn’t matter for the present; there are some + hours still to spare before the post goes out. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I asked Armadale to lend me the money? I should enjoy getting <i>something</i> + out of him; and I believe, in his present situation with Miss Milroy, he + would do anything to be rid of me. Mean enough this, on my part. Pooh! + When you hate and despise a man, as I hate and despise Armadale, who cares + for looking mean in <i>his</i> eyes? + </p> + <p> + “And yet my pride—or my something else, I don’t know what—shrinks + from it. + </p> + <p> + “Half-past two—only half-past two. Oh, the dreadful weariness of + these long summer days! I can’t keep thinking and thinking any longer; I + must do something to relieve my mind. Can I go to my piano? No; I’m not + fit for it. Work? No; I shall get thinking again if I take to my needle. A + man, in my place, would find refuge in drink. I’m not a man, and I can’t + drink. I’ll dawdle over my dresses, and put my things tidy.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Has an hour passed? More than an hour. It seems like a minute. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t look back through these leaves, but I know I wrote somewhere that + I felt myself getting nearer and nearer to some end that was still hidden + from me. The end is hidden no longer. The cloud is off my mind, the + blindness has gone from my eyes. I see it! I see it! + </p> + <p> + “It came to me—I never sought it. If I was lying on my death-bed, I + could swear, with a safe conscience, I never sought it. + </p> + <p> + “I was only looking over my things; I was as idly and as frivolously + employed as the most idle and most frivolous woman living. I went through + my dresses, and my linen. What could be more innocent? Children go through + their dresses and their linen. + </p> + <p> + “It was, such a long summer day, and I was so tired of myself. I went to + my boxes next. I looked over the large box first, which I usually leave + open; and then I tried the small box, which I always keep locked. + </p> + <p> + “From one thing to the other, I came at last to the bundle of letters at + the bottom—the letters of the man for whom I once sacrificed and + suffered everything; the man who has made me what I am. + </p> + <p> + “A hundred times I had determined to burn his letters; but I have never + burned them. This, time, all I said was, ‘I won’t read his letters!’ And I + did read them. + </p> + <p> + “The villain—the false, cowardly, heartless villain—what have + I to do with his letters now? Oh, the misery of being a woman! Oh, the + meanness that our memory of a man can tempt us to, when our love for him + is dead and gone! I read the letters—I was so lonely and so + miserable, I read the letters. + </p> + <p> + “I came to the last—the letter he wrote to encourage me, when I + hesitated as the terrible time came nearer and nearer; the letter that + revived me when my resolution failed at the eleventh hour. I read on, line + after line, till I came to these words: + </p> + <p> + “‘...I really have no patience with such absurdities as you have written + to me. You say I am driving you on to do what is beyond a woman’s courage. + Am I? I might refer you to any collection of Trials, English or foreign, + to show that you were utterly wrong. But such collections may be beyond + your reach; and I will only refer you to a case in yesterday’s newspaper. + The circumstances are totally different from our circumstances; but the + example of resolution in a woman is an example worth your notice. + </p> + <p> + “‘You will find, among the law reports, a married woman charged with + fraudulently representing herself to be the missing widow of an officer in + the merchant service, who was supposed to have been drowned. The name of + the prisoner’s husband (living) and the name of the officer (a very common + one, both as to Christian and surname) happened to be identically the + same. There was money to be got by it (sorely wanted by the prisoner’s + husband, to whom she was devotedly attached), if the fraud had succeeded. + The woman took it all on herself. Her husband was helpless and ill, and + the bailiffs were after him. The circumstances, as you may read for + yourself, were all in her favor, and were so well managed by her that the + lawyers themselves acknowledged she might have succeeded, if the supposed + drowned man had not turned up alive and well in the nick of time to + confront her. The scene took place at the lawyer’s office, and came out in + the evidence at the police court. The woman was handsome, and the sailor + was a good-natured man. He wanted, at first, if the lawyers would have + allowed him, to let her off. He said to her, among other things: “You + didn’t count on the drowned man coming back, alive and hearty, did you, + ma’am?” “It’s lucky for you,” she said, “I didn’t count on it. You have + escaped the sea, but you wouldn’t have escaped <i>me</i>.” “Why, what + would you have done, if you <i>had</i> known I was coming back?” says the + sailor. She looked him steadily in the face, and answered: “I would have + killed you.” There! Do you think such a woman as that would have written + to tell me I was pressing her further than she had courage to go? A + handsome woman, too, like yourself. You would drive some men in my + position to wish they had her now in your place.’ + </p> + <p> + “I read no further. When I had got on, line by line, to those words, it + burst on me like a flash of lightning. In an instant I saw it as plainly + as I see it now. It is horrible, it is unheard of, it outdares all daring; + but, if I can only nerve myself to face one terrible necessity, it is to + be done. <i>I may personate the richly provided widow of Allan Armadale of + Thorpe Ambrose, if I can count on Allan Armadale’s death in a given time</i>. + </p> + <p> + “There, in plain words, is the frightful temptation under which I now feel + myself sinking. It is frightful in more ways than one; for it has come + straight out of that other temptation to which I yielded in the by-gone + time. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there the letter has been waiting for me in my box, to serve a + purpose never thought of by the villain who wrote it. There is the Case, + as he called it—only quoted to taunt me; utterly unlike my own case + at the time—there it has been, waiting and lurking for me through + all the changes in my life, till it has come to be like <i>my</i> case at + last. + </p> + <p> + “It might startle any woman to see this, and even this is not the worst. + The whole thing has been in my Diary, for days past, without my knowing + it! Every idle fancy that escaped me has been tending secretly that one + way! And I never saw, never suspected it, till the reading of the letter + put my own thoughts before me in a new light—till I saw the shadow + of my own circumstances suddenly reflected in one special circumstance of + that other woman’s case! + </p> + <p> + “It is to be done, if I can but look the necessity in the face. It is to + be done, <i>if I can count on Allan Armadale’s death in a given time</i>. + </p> + <p> + “All but his death is easy. The whole series of events under which I have + been blindly chafing and fretting for more than a week past have been, one + and all—though I was too stupid to see it—events in my favor; + events paving the way smoothly and more smoothly straight to the end. + </p> + <p> + “In three bold steps—only three!—that end might be reached. + Let Midwinter marry me privately, under his real name—step the + first! Let Armadale leave Thorpe Ambrose a single man, and die in some + distant place among strangers—step the second! + </p> + <p> + “Why am I hesitating? Why not go on to step the third, and last? + </p> + <p> + “I <i>will</i> go on. Step the third, and last, is my appearance, after + the announcement of Armadale’s death has reached this neighborhood, in the + character of Armadale’s widow, with my marriage certificate in my hand to + prove my claim. It is as clear as the sun at noonday. Thanks to the exact + similarity between the two names, and thanks to the careful manner in + which the secret of that similarity has been kept, I may be the wife of + the dark Allan Armadale, known as such to nobody but my husband and + myself; and I may, out of that very position, claim the character of widow + of the light Allan Armadale, with proof to support me (in the shape of my + marriage certificate) which would be proof in the estimation of the most + incredulous person living. + </p> + <p> + “To think of my having put all this in my Diary! To think of my having + actually contemplated this very situation, and having seen nothing more in + it, at the time, than a reason (if I married Midwinter) for consenting to + appear in the world under my husband’s assumed name! + </p> + <p> + “What is it daunts me? The dread of obstacles? The fear of discovery? + </p> + <p> + “Where are the obstacles? Where is the fear of discovery? + </p> + <p> + “I am actually suspected all over the neighborhood of intriguing to be + mistress of Thorpe Ambrose. I am the only person who knows the real turn + that Armadale’s inclinations have taken. Not a creature but myself is as + yet aware of his early morning meetings with Miss Milroy. If it is + necessary to part them, I can do it at any moment by an anonymous line to + the major. If it is necessary to remove Armadale from Thorpe Ambrose, I + can get him away at three days’ notice. His own lips informed me, when I + last spoke to him, that he would go to the ends of the earth to be friends + again with Midwinter, if Midwinter would let him. I have only to tell + Midwinter to write from London, and ask to be reconciled; and Midwinter + would obey me—and to London Armadale would go. Every difficulty, at + starting, is smoothed over ready to my hand. Every after-difficulty I + could manage for myself. In the whole venture—desperate as it looks + to pass myself off for the widow of one man, while I am all the while the + wife of the other—there is absolutely no necessity that wants twice + considering, but the one terrible necessity of Armadale’s death. + </p> + <p> + “His death! It might be a terrible necessity to any other woman; but is + it, ought it to be terrible to Me? + </p> + <p> + “I hate him for his mother’s sake. I hate him for his own sake. I hate him + for going to London behind my back, and making inquiries about me. I hate + him for forcing me out of my situation before I wanted to go. I hate him + for destroying all my hopes of marrying him, and throwing me back helpless + on my own miserable life. But, oh, after what I have done already in the + past time, how can I? how can I? + </p> + <p> + “The girl, too—the girl who has come between us; who has taken him + away from me; who has openly insulted me this very day—how the girl + whose heart is set on him would feel it if he died! What a vengeance on <i>her</i>, + if I did it! And when I was received as Armadale’s widow what a triumph + for <i>me</i>. Triumph! It is more than triumph—it is the salvation + of me. A name that can’t be assailed, a station that can’t be assailed, to + hide myself in from my past life! Comfort, luxury, wealth! An income of + twelve hundred a year secured to me secured by a will which has been + looked at by a lawyer: secured independently of anything Armadale can say + or do himself! I never had twelve hundred a year. At my luckiest time, I + never had half as much, really my own. What have I got now? Just five + pounds left in the world—and the prospect next week of a debtor’s + prison. + </p> + <p> + “But, oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how can I? how + can I? + </p> + <p> + “Some women—in my place, and with my recollections to look back on—would + feel it differently. Some women would say, ‘It’s easier the second time + than the first.’ Why can’t I? why can’t I? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you Devil tempting me, is there no Angel near to raise some timely + obstacle between this and to-morrow which might help me to give it up? + </p> + <p> + “I shall sink under it—I shall sink, if I write or think of it any + more! I’ll shut up these leaves and go out again. I’ll get some common + person to come with me, and we will talk of common things. I’ll take out + the woman of the house, and her children. We will go and see something. + There is a show of some kind in the town—I’ll treat them to it. I’m + not such an ill-natured woman when I try; and the landlady has really been + kind to me. Surely I might occupy my mind a little in seeing her and her + children enjoying themselves. + </p> + <p> + “A minute since, I shut up these leaves as I said I would; and now I have + opened them again, I don’t know why. I think my brain is turned. I feel as + if something was lost out of my mind; I feel as if I ought to find it + here. + </p> + <p> + “I have found it! <i>Midwinter!!!</i> + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible that I can have been thinking of the reasons For and + Against, for an hour past—writing Midwinter’s name over and over + again—speculating seriously on marrying him—and all the time + not once remembering that, even with every other impediment removed, <i>he</i> + alone, when the time came, would be an insurmountable obstacle in my way? + Has the effort to face the consideration of Armadale’s death absorbed me + to <i>that</i> degree? I suppose it has. I can’t account for such + extraordinary forgetfulness on my part in any other way. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I stop and think it out, as I have thought out all the rest? Shall + I ask myself if the obstacle of Midwinter would, after all, when the time + came, be the unmanageable obstacle that it looks at present? No! What need + is there to think of it? I have made up my mind to get the better of the + temptation. I have made up my mind to give my landlady and her children a + treat; I have made up my mind to close my Diary. And closed it shall be. + </p> + <p> + “Six o’clock.—The landlady’s gossip is unendurable; the landlady’s + children distract me. I have left them to run back here before post time + and write a line to Mrs. Oldershaw. + </p> + <p> + “The dread that I shall sink under the temptation has grown stronger and + stronger on me. I have determined to put it beyond my power to have my own + way and follow my own will. Mother Oldershaw shall be the salvation of me + for the first time since I have known her. If I can’t pay my note of hand, + she threatens me with an arrest. Well, she <i>shall</i> arrest me. In the + state my mind is in now, the best thing that can happen to me is to be + taken away from Thorpe Ambrose, whether I like it or not. I will write and + say that I am to be found here I will write and tell her, in so many + words, that the best service she can render me is to lock me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Seven o’clock.—The letter has gone to the post. I had begun to feel + a little easier, when the children came in to thank me for taking them to + the show. One of them is a girl, and the girl upset me. She is a forward + child, and her hair is nearly the color of mine. She said, ‘I shall be + like you when I have grown bigger, shan’t I?’ Her idiot of a mother said, + ‘Please to excuse her, miss,’ and took her out of the room, laughing. Like + me! I don’t pretend to be fond of the child; but think of her being like + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Saturday morning.—I have done well for once in acting on impulse, + and writing as I did to Mrs. Oldershaw. The only new circumstance that has + happened is another circumstance in my favor! + </p> + <p> + “Major Milroy has answered Armadale’s letter, entreating permission to + call at the cottage and justify himself. His daughter read it in silence, + when Armadale handed it to her at their meeting this morning, in the park. + But they talked about it afterward, loud enough for me to hear them. The + major persists in the course he has taken. He says his opinion of + Armadale’s conduct has been formed, not on common report, but on + Armadale’s own letters, and he sees no reason to alter the conclusion at + which he arrived when the correspondence between them was closed. + </p> + <p> + “This little matter had, I confess, slipped out of my memory. It might + have ended awkwardly for <i>me</i>. If Major Milroy had been less + obstinately wedded to his own opinion, Armadale might have justified + himself; the marriage engagement might have been acknowledged; and all <i>my</i> + power of influencing the matter might have been at an end. As it is, they + must continue to keep the engagement strictly secret; and Miss Milroy, who + has never ventured herself near the great house since the thunder-storm + forced her into it for shelter, will be less likely than ever to venture + there now. I can part them when I please; with an anonymous line to the + major, I can part them when I please! + </p> + <p> + “After having discussed the letter, the talk between them turned on what + they were to do next. Major Milroy’s severity, as it soon appeared, + produced the usual results. Armadale returned to the subject of the + elopement; and this time she listened to him. There is everything to drive + her to it. Her outfit of clothes is nearly ready; and the summer holidays, + at the school which has been chosen for her, end at the end of next week. + When I left them, they had decided to meet again and settle something on + Monday. + </p> + <p> + “The last words I heard him address to her, before I went away, shook me a + little. He said: ‘There is one difficulty, Neelie, that needn’t trouble + us, at any rate. I have got plenty of money.’ And then he kissed her. The + way to his life began to look an easier way to me when he talked of his + money, and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Some hours have passed, and the more I think of it, the more I fear the + blank interval between this time and the time when Mrs. Oldershaw calls in + the law, and protects me against myself. It might have been better if I + had stopped at home this morning. But how could I? After the insult she + offered me yesterday, I tingled all over to go and look at her. + </p> + <p> + “To-day; Sunday; Monday; Tuesday. They can’t arrest me for the money + before Wednesday. And my miserable five pounds are dwindling to four! And + he told her he had plenty of money! And she blushed and trembled when he + kissed her. It might have been better for him, better for her, and better + for me, if my debt had fallen due yesterday, and if the bailiffs had their + hands on me at this moment. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose I had the means of leaving Thorpe Ambrose by the next train, and + going somewhere abroad, and absorbing myself in some new interest, among + new people. Could I do it, rather than look again at that easy way to his + life which would smooth the way to everything else? + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I might. But where is the money to come from? Surely some way of + getting it struck me a day or two since? Yes; that mean idea of asking + Armadale to help me! Well; I <i>will</i> be mean for once. I’ll give him + the chance of making a generous use of that well-filled purse which it is + such a comfort to him to reflect on in his present circumstances. It would + soften my heart toward any man if he lent me money in my present + extremity; and, if Armadale lends me money, it might soften my heart + toward him. When shall I go? At once! I won’t give myself time to feel the + degradation of it, and to change my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Three ‘clock.—I mark the hour. He has sealed his own doom. He has + insulted me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I have suffered it once from Miss Milroy. And I have now suffered it + a second time from Armadale himself. An insult—a marked, merciless, + deliberate insult in the open day! + </p> + <p> + “I had got through the town, and had advanced a few hundred yards along + the road that leads to the great house, when I saw Armadale at a little + distance, coming toward me. He was walking fast—evidently with some + errand of his own to take him to the town. The instant he caught sight of + me he stopped, colored up, took off his hat, hesitated, and turned aside + down a lane behind him, which I happen to know would take him exactly in + the contrary direction to the direction in which he was walking when he + first saw me. His conduct said in so many words, ‘Miss Milroy may hear of + it; I daren’t run the risk of being seen speaking to you.’ Men have used + me heartlessly; men have done and said hard things to me; but no man + living ever yet treated me as if I was plague-struck, and as if the very + air about me was infected by my presence! + </p> + <p> + “I say no more. When he walked away from me down that lane, he walked to + his death. I have written to Midwinter to expect me in London nest week, + and to be ready for our marriage soon afterward.” + </p> + <p> + “Four o’clock.—Half an hour since, I put on my bonnet to go out and + post the letter to Midwinter myself. And here I am, still in my room, with + my mind torn by doubts, and my letter on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale counts for nothing in the perplexities that are now torturing + me. It is Midwinter who makes me hesitate. Can I take the first of those + three steps that lead me to the end, without the common caution of looking + at consequences? Can I marry Midwinter, without knowing beforehand how to + meet the obstacle of my husband, when the time comes which transforms me + from the living Armadale’s wife to the dead Armadale’s widow? + </p> + <p> + “Why can’t I think of it, when I know I <i>must</i> think of it? Why can’t + I look at it as steadily as I have looked at all the rest? I feel his + kisses on my lips; I feel his tears on my bosom; I feel his arms round me + again. He is far away in London; and yet, he is here and won’t let me + think of it! + </p> + <p> + “Why can’t I wait a little? Why can’t I let Time help me? Time? It’s + Saturday! What need is there to think of it, unless I like? There is no + post to London to-day. I <i>must</i> wait. If I posted the letter, it + wouldn’t go. Besides, to-morrow I may hear from Mrs. Oldershaw. I ought to + wait to hear from Mrs. Oldershaw. I can’t consider myself a free woman + till I know what Mrs. Oldershaw means to do. There is a necessity for + waiting till to-morrow. I shall take my bonnet off, and lock the letter up + in my desk.” + </p> + <p> + “Sunday morning.—There is no resisting it! One after another the + circumstances crowd on me. They come thicker and thicker, and they all + force me one way. + </p> + <p> + “I have got Mother Oldershaw’s answer. The wretch fawns on me, and cringes + to me. I can see, as plainly as if she had acknowledged it, that she + suspects me of seeing my own way to success at Thorpe Ambrose without her + assistance. Having found threatening me useless, she tries coaxing me now. + I am her darling Lydia again! She is quite shocked that I could imagine + she ever really intended to arrest her bosom friend; and she has only to + entreat me, as a favor to herself, to renew the bill! + </p> + <p> + “I say once more, no mortal creature could resist it! Time after time I + have tried to escape the temptation; and time after time the circumstances + drive me back again. I can struggle no longer. The post that takes the + letters to-night shall take my letter to Midwinter among the rest. + </p> + <p> + “To-night! If I give myself till to-night, something else may happen. If I + give myself till to-night, I may hesitate again. I’m weary of the torture + of hesitating. I must and will have relief in the present, cost what it + may in the future. My letter to Midwinter will drive me mad if I see it + staring and staring at me in my desk any longer. I can post it in ten + minutes’ time—and I will! + </p> + <p> + “It is done. The first of the three steps that lead me to the end is a + step taken. My mind is quieter—the letter is in the post. + </p> + <p> + “By to-morrow Midwinter will receive it. Before the end of the week + Armadale must be publicly seen to leave Thorpe Ambrose; and I must be + publicly seen to leave with him. + </p> + <p> + “Have I looked at the consequences of my marriage to Midwinter? No! Do I + know how to meet the obstacle of my husband, when the time comes which + transforms me from the living Armadale’s wife to the dead Armadale’s + widow? + </p> + <p> + “No! When the time comes, I must meet the obstacle as I best may. I am + going blindfold, then—so far as Midwinter is concerned—into + this frightful risk? Yes; blindfold. Am I out of my senses? Very likely. + Or am I a little too fond of him to look the thing in the face? I dare + say. Who cares? + </p> + <p> + “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t think of it! Haven’t I a will of my own? And + can’t I think, if I like, of something else? + </p> + <p> + “Here is Mother Jezebel’s cringing letter. <i>That</i> is something else + to think of. I’ll answer it. I am in a fine humor for writing to Mother + Jezebel.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <i>Conclusion of Miss Gwilt’s Letter to Mrs. Oldershaw</i>. + </p> + <p> + “...I told you, when I broke off, that I would wait before I finished + this, and ask my Diary if I could safely tell you what I have now got it + in my mind to do. Well, I have asked; and my Diary says, ‘Don’t tell her!’ + Under these circumstances I close my letter—with my best excuses for + leaving you in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “I shall probably be in London before long—and I may tell you by + word of mouth what I don’t think it safe to write here. Mind, I make no + promise! It all depends on how I feel toward you at the time. I don’t + doubt your discretion; but (under certain circumstances) I am not so sure + of your courage. L. G.” + </p> + <p> + “P. S.—My best thanks for your permission to renew the bill. I + decline profiting by the proposal. The money will be ready when the money + is due. I have a friend now in London who will pay it if I ask him. Do you + wonder who the friend is? You will wonder at one or two other things, Mrs. + Oldershaw, before many weeks more are over your head and mine.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0039" id="H2_4_0039"></a> XI. LOVE AND LAW. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning of Monday, the 28th of July, Miss Gwilt—once more on + the watch for Allan and Neelie—reached her customary post of + observation in the park, by the usual roundabout way. + </p> + <p> + She was a little surprised to find Neelie alone at the place of meeting. + She was more seriously astonished, when the tardy Allan made his + appearance ten minutes later, to see him mounting the side of the dell, + with a large volume under his arm, and to hear him say, as an apology for + being late, that “he had muddled away his time in hunting for the Books; + and that he had only found one, after all, which seemed in the least + likely to repay either Neelie or himself for the trouble of looking into + it.” + </p> + <p> + If Miss Gwilt had waited long enough in the park, on the previous + Saturday, to hear the lovers’ parting words on that occasion, she would + have been at no loss to explain the mystery of the volume under Allan’s + arm, and she would have understood the apology which he now offered for + being late as readily as Neelie herself. + </p> + <p> + There is a certain exceptional occasion in life—the occasion of + marriage—on which even girls in their teens sometimes become capable + (more or less hysterically) of looking at consequences. At the farewell + moment of the interview on Saturday, Neelie’s mind had suddenly + precipitated itself into the future; and she had utterly confounded Allan + by inquiring whether the contemplated elopement was an offense punishable + by the Law? Her memory satisfied her that she had certainly read + somewhere, at some former period, in some book or other (possibly a + novel), of an elopement with a dreadful end—of a bride dragged home + in hysterics—and of a bridegroom sentenced to languish in prison, + with all his beautiful hair cut off, by Act of Parliament, close to his + head. Supposing she could bring herself to consent to the elopement at all—which + she positively declined to promise—she must first insist on + discovering whether there was any fear of the police being concerned in + her marriage as well as the parson and the clerk. Allan, being a man, + ought to know; and to Allan she looked for information—with this + preliminary assurance to assist him in laying down the law, that she would + die of a broken heart a thousand times over, rather than be the innocent + means of sending him to languish in prison, and of cutting his hair off, + by Act of Parliament, close to his head. “It’s no laughing matter,” said + Neelie, resolutely, in conclusion; “I decline even to think of our + marriage till my mind is made easy first on the subject of the Law.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don’t know anything about the law, not even as much as you do,” + said Allan. “Hang the law! I don’t mind my head being cropped. Let’s risk + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Risk it?” repeated Neelie, indignantly. “Have you no consideration for + me? I won’t risk it! Where there’s a will, there’s a way. We must find out + the law for ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” said Allan. “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Out of books, to be sure! There must be quantities of information in that + enormous library of yours at the great house. If you really love me, you + won’t mind going over the backs of a few thousand books, for my sake!” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go over the backs of ten thousand!” cried Allan, warmly. “Would you + mind telling me what I’m to look for?” + </p> + <p> + “For ‘Law,’ to be sure! When it says ‘Law’ on the back, open it, and look + inside for Marriage—read every word of it—and then come here + and explain it to me. What! you don’t think your head is to be trusted to + do such a simple thing as that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m certain it isn’t,” said Allan. “Can’t you help me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can, if you can’t manage without me! Law may be hard, but it + can’t be harder than music; and I must, and will, satisfy my mind. Bring + me all the books you can find, on Monday morning—in a wheelbarrow, + if there are a good many of them, and if you can’t manage it in any other + way.” + </p> + <p> + The result of this conversation was Allan’s appearance in the park, with a + volume of Blackstone’s Commentaries under his arm, on the fatal Monday + morning, when Miss Gwilt’s written engagement of marriage was placed in + Midwinter’s hands. Here again, in this, as in all other human instances, + the widely discordant elements of the grotesque and the terrible were + forced together by that subtle law of contrast which is one of the laws of + mortal life. Amid all the thickening complications now impending over + their heads—with the shadow of meditated murder stealing toward one + of them already from the lurking-place that hid Miss Gwilt—the two + sat down, unconscious of the future, with the book between them; and + applied themselves to the study of the law of marriage, with a grave + resolution to understand it, which, in two such students, was nothing less + than a burlesque in itself! + </p> + <p> + “Find the place,” said Neelie, as soon as they were comfortably + established. “We must manage this by what they call a division of labor. + You shall read, and I’ll take notes.” + </p> + <p> + She produced forthwith a smart little pocket-book and pencil, and opened + the book in the middle, where there was a blank page on the right hand and + the left. At the top of the right-hand page she wrote the word <i>Good</i>. + At the top of the left-hand page she wrote the word <i>Bad</i>. “‘Good’ + means where the law is on our side,” she explained; “and ‘Bad’ means where + the law is against us. We will have ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’ opposite each other, + all down the two pages; and when we get to the bottom, we’ll add them up, + and act accordingly. They say girls have no heads for business. Haven’t + they! Don’t look at me—look at Blackstone, and begin.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind giving one a kiss first?” asked Allan. + </p> + <p> + “I should mind it very much. In our serious situation, when we have both + got to exert our intellects, I wonder you can ask for such a thing!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s why I asked for it,” said the unblushing Allan. “I feel as if it + would clear my head.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if it would clear your head, that’s quite another thing! I must clear + your head, of course, at any sacrifice. Only one, mind,” she whispered, + coquettishly; “and pray be careful of Blackstone, or you’ll lose the + place.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause in the conversation. Blackstone and the pocket-book both + rolled on the ground together. + </p> + <p> + “If this happens again,” said Neelie, picking up the pocket-book, with her + eyes and her complexion at their brightest and best, “I shall sit with my + back to you for the rest of the morning. <i>Will</i> you go on?” + </p> + <p> + Allan found his place for the second time, and fell headlong into the + bottomless abyss of the English Law. + </p> + <p> + “Page 280,” he began. “Law of husband and wife. Here’s a bit I don’t + understand, to begin with: ‘It may be observed generally that the law + considers marriage in the light of a Contract.’ What does that mean? I + thought a contract was the sort of a thing a builder signs when he + promises to have the workmen out of the house in a given time, and when + the time comes (as my poor mother used to say) the workmen never go.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there nothing about Love?” asked Neelie. “Look a little lower down.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word. He sticks to his confounded ‘Contract’ all the way through.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he’s a brute! Go on to something else that’s more in our way.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s a bit that’s more in our way: ‘Incapacities. If any persons under + legal incapacities come together, it is a meretricious, and not a + matrimonial union.’ (Blackstone’s a good one at long words, isn’t he? I + wonder what he means by meretricious?) ‘The first of these legal + disabilities is a prior marriage, and having another husband or wife + living—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Neelie; “I must make a note of that.” She gravely made her + first entry on the page headed “Good,” as follows: “I have no husband, and + Allan has no wife. We are both entirely unmarried at the present time.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, so far,” remarked Allan, looking over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Neelie. “What next?” + </p> + <p> + “‘The next disability,’” proceeded Allan, “‘is want of age. The age for + consent to matrimony is, fourteen in males, and twelve in females.’ Come!” + cried Allan, cheerfully, “Blackstone begins early enough, at any rate!” + </p> + <p> + Neelie was too business-like to make any other remark, on her side, than + the necessary remark in the pocket-book. She made another entry under the + head of “Good”: “I am old enough to consent, and so is Allan too. Go on,” + resumed Neelie, looking over the reader’s shoulder. “Never mind all that + prosing of Blackstone’s, about the husband being of years of discretion, + and the wife under twelve. Abominable wretch! the wife under twelve! Skip + to the third incapacity, if there is one.” + </p> + <p> + “‘The third incapacity,’” Allan went on, “‘is want of reason.’” + </p> + <p> + Neelie immediately made a third entry on the side of “Good”: “Allan and I + are both perfectly reasonable. Skip to the next page.” + </p> + <p> + Allan skipped. “‘A fourth incapacity is in respect of proximity of + relationship.’” + </p> + <p> + A fourth entry followed instantly on the cheering side of the pocket-book: + “He loves me, and I love him—without our being in the slightest + degree related to each other. Any more?” asked Neelie, tapping her chin + impatiently with the end of the pencil. + </p> + <p> + “Plenty more,” rejoined Allan; “all in hieroglyphics. Look here: ‘Marriage + Acts, 4 Geo. IV., c. 76, and 6 and 7 Will. IV., c. 85 (<i>q</i>).’ + Blackstone’s intellect seems to be wandering here. Shall we take another + skip, and see if he picks himself up again on the next page?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a little,” said Neelie; “what’s that I see in the middle?” She read + for a minute in silence, over Allan’s shoulder, and suddenly clasped her + hands in despair. “I knew I was right!” she exclaimed. “Oh, heavens, here + it is!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” asked Allan. “I see nothing about languishing in prison, and + cropping a fellow’s hair close to his head, unless it’s in the + hieroglyphics. Is ‘4 Geo. IV.’ short for ‘Lock him up’? and does ‘c. 85 (<i>q</i>)’ + mean, ‘Send for the hair-cutter’?” + </p> + <p> + “Pray be serious,” remonstrated Neelie. “We are both sitting on a volcano. + There,” she said pointing to the place. “Read it! If anything can bring + you to a proper sense of our situation, <i>that</i> will.” + </p> + <p> + Allan cleared his throat, and Neelie held the point of her pencil ready on + the depressing side of the account—otherwise the “Bad” page of the + pocket-book. + </p> + <p> + “‘And as it is the policy of our law,’” Allan began, “‘to prevent the + marriage of persons under the age of twenty-one, without the consent of + parents and guardians’”—(Neelie made her first entry on the side of + “Bad!” “I’m only seventeen next birthday, and circumstances forbid me to + confide my attachment to papa”)—“‘it is provided that in the case of + the publication of banns of a person under twenty-one, not being a widower + or widow, who are deemed emancipated’”—(Neelie made another entry on + the depressing side: “Allan is not a widower, and I am not a widow; + consequently, we are neither of us emancipated”)—“‘if the parent or + guardian openly signifies his dissent at the time the banns are + published’”—(“which papa would be certain to do”)—“‘such + publication would be void.’ I’ll take breath here if you’ll allow me,” + said Allan. “Blackstone might put it in shorter sentences, I think, if he + can’t put it in fewer words. Cheer up, Neelie! there must be other ways of + marrying, besides this roundabout way, that ends in a Publication and a + Void. Infernal gibberish! I could write better English myself.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not at the end of it yet,” said Neelie. “The Void is nothing to + what is to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever it is,” rejoined Allan, “we’ll treat it like a dose of physic—we’ll + take it at once, and be done with it.” He went on reading: “‘And no + license to marry without banns shall be granted, unless oath shall be + first made by one of the parties that he or she believes that there is no + impediment of kindred or alliance’—well, I can take my oath of that + with a safe conscience! What next? ‘And one of the said parties must, for + the space of fifteen days immediately preceding such license, have had his + or her usual place of abode within the parish or chapelry within which + such marriage is to be solemnized!’ Chapelry! I’d live fifteen days in a + dog-kennel with the greatest pleasure. I say, Neelie, all this seems like + plain sailing enough. What are you shaking your head about? Go on, and I + shall see? Oh, all right; I’ll go on. Here we are: ‘And where one of the + said parties, not being a widower or widow, shall be under the age of + twenty-one years, oath must first be made that the consent of the person + or persons whose consent is required has been obtained, or that there is + no person having authority to give such consent. The consent required by + this act is that of the father—‘” At those last formidable words + Allan came to a full stop. “The consent of the father,” he repeated, with + all needful seriousness of look and manner. “I couldn’t exactly swear to + that, could I?” + </p> + <p> + Neelie answered in expressive silence. She handed him the pocket-book, + with the final entry completed, on the side of “Bad,” in these terms: “Our + marriage is impossible, unless Allan commits perjury.” + </p> + <p> + The lovers looked at each other, across the insuperable obstacle of + Blackstone, in speechless dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Shut up the book,” said Neelie, resignedly. “I have no doubt we should + find the police, and the prison, and the hair-cutting—all + punishments for perjury, exactly as I told you!—if we looked at the + next page. But we needn’t trouble ourselves to look; we have found out + quite enough already. It’s all over with us. I must go to school on + Saturday, and you must manage to forget me as soon as you can. Perhaps we + may meet in after-life, and you may be a widower and I may be a widow, and + the cruel law may consider us emancipated, when it’s too late to be of the + slightest use. By that time, no doubt, I shall be old and ugly, and you + will naturally have ceased to care about me, and it will all end in the + grave, and the sooner the better. Good-by,” concluded Neelie, rising + mournfully, with the tears in her eyes. “It’s only prolonging our misery + to stop here, unless—unless you have anything to propose?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got something to propose,” cried the headlong Allan. “It’s an + entirely new idea. Would you mind trying the blacksmith at Gretna Green?” + </p> + <p> + “No earthly consideration,” answered Neelie, indignantly, “would induce me + to be married by a blacksmith!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be offended,” pleaded Allan; “I meant it for the best. Lots of + people in our situation have tried the blacksmith, and found him quite as + good as a clergyman, and a most amiable man, I believe, into the bargain. + Never mind! We must try another string to our bow.” + </p> + <p> + “We haven’t got another to try,” said Neelie. + </p> + <p> + “Take my word for it,” persisted Allan, stoutly, “there must be ways and + means of circumventing Blackstone (without perjury), if we only knew of + them. It’s a matter of law, and we must consult somebody in the + profession. I dare say it’s a risk. But nothing venture, nothing have. + What do you say to young Pedgift? He’s a thorough good fellow. I’m sure we + could trust young Pedgift to keep our secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for worlds!” exclaimed Neelie. “You may be willing to trust your + secrets to the vulgar little wretch; I won’t have him trusted with mine. I + hate him. No!” she concluded, with a mounting color and a peremptory stamp + of her foot on the grass. “I positively forbid you to take any of the + Thorpe Ambrose people into your confidence. They would instantly suspect + me, and it would be all over the place in a moment. My attachment may be + an unhappy one,” remarked Neelie, with her handkerchief to her eyes, “and + papa may nip it in the bud, but I won’t have it profaned by the town + gossip!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” said Allan. “I won’t say a word at Thorpe Ambrose, I won’t + indeed!” He paused, and considered for a moment. “There’s another way!” he + burst out, brightening up on the instant. “We’ve got the whole week before + us. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll go to London!” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden rustling—heard neither by one nor the other—among + the trees behind them that screened Miss Gwilt. One more of the + difficulties in her way (the difficulty of getting Allan to London) now + promised to be removed by an act of Allan’s own will. + </p> + <p> + “To London?” repeated Neelie, looking up in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “To London!” reiterated Allan. “That’s far enough away from Thorpe + Ambrose, surely? Wait a minute, and don’t forget that this is a question + of law. Very well, I know some lawyers in London who managed all my + business for me when I first came in for this property; they are just the + men to consult. And if they decline to be mixed up in it, there’s their + head clerk, who is one of the best fellows I ever met with in my life. I + asked him to go yachting with me, I remember; and, though he couldn’t go, + he said he felt the obligation all the same. That’s the man to help us. + Blackstone’s a mere infant to him. Don’t say it’s absurd; don’t say it’s + exactly like <i>me</i>. Do pray hear me out. I won’t breathe your name or + your father’s. I’ll describe you as ‘a young lady to whom I am devotedly + attached.’ And if my friend the clerk asks where you live, I’ll say the + north of Scotland, or the west of Ireland, or the Channel Islands, or + anywhere else you like. My friend the clerk is a total stranger to Thorpe + Ambrose and everybody in it (which is one recommendation); and in five + minutes’ time he’d put me up to what to do (which is another). If you only + knew him! He’s one of those extraordinary men who appear once or twice in + a century—the sort of man who won’t allow you to make a mistake if + you try. All I have got to say to him (putting it short) is, ‘My dear + fellow, I want to be privately married without perjury.’ All he has got to + say to me (putting it short) is, ‘You must do so-and-so and so-and-so, and + you must be careful to avoid this, that, and the other.’ I have nothing in + the world to do but to follow his directions; and you have nothing in the + world to do but what the bride always does when the bridegroom is ready + and willing!” His arm stole round Neelie’s waist, and his lips pointed the + moral of the last sentence with that inarticulate eloquence which is so + uniformly successful in persuading a woman against her will. + </p> + <p> + All Neelie’s meditated objections dwindled, in spite of her, to one feeble + little question. “Suppose I allow you to go, Allan?” she whispered, toying + nervously with the stud in the bosom of his shirt. “Shall you be very long + away?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be off to-day,” said Allan, “by the eleven o’clock train. And I’ll + be back to-morrow, if I and my friend the clerk can settle it all in time. + If not, by Wednesday at latest.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll write to me every day?” pleaded Neelie, clinging a little closer + to him. “I shall sink under the suspense, if you don’t promise to write to + me every day.” + </p> + <p> + Allan promised to write twice a day, if she liked—letter-writing, + which was such an effort to other men, was no effort to <i>him</i>! + </p> + <p> + “And mind, whatever those people may say to you in London,” proceeded + Neelie, “I insist on your coming back for me. I positively decline to run + away, unless you promise to fetch me.” + </p> + <p> + Allan promised for the second time, on his sacred word of honor, and at + the full compass of his voice. But Neelie was not satisfied even yet. She + reverted to first principles, and insisted on knowing whether Allan was + quite sure he loved her. Allan called Heaven to witness how sure he was; + and got another question directly for his pains. Could he solemnly declare + that he would never regret taking Neelie away from home? Allan called + Heaven to witness again, louder than ever. All to no purpose! The ravenous + female appetite for tender protestations still hungered for more. “I know + what will happen one of these days,” persisted Neelie. “You will see some + other girl who is prettier than I am; and you will wish you had married + her instead of me!” + </p> + <p> + As Allan opened his lips for a final outburst of asseveration, the stable + clock at the great house was faintly audible in the distance striking the + hour. Neelie started guiltily. It was breakfast-time at the cottage—in + other words, time to take leave. At the last moment her heart went back to + her father; and her head sank on Allan’s bosom as she tried to say, + Good-by. “Papa has always been so kind to me, Allan,” she whispered, + holding him back tremulously when he turned to leave her. “It seems so + guilty and so heartless to go away from him and be married in secret. Oh, + do, do think before you really go to London; is there no way of making him + a little kinder and juster to <i>you</i>?” The question was useless; the + major’s resolutely unfavorable reception of Allan’s letter rose in + Neelie’s memory, and answered her as the words passed her lips. With a + girl’s impulsiveness she pushed Allan away before he could speak, and + signed to him impatiently to go. The conflict of contending emotions, + which she had mastered thus far, burst its way outward in spite of her + after he had waved his hand for the last time, and had disappeared in the + depths of the dell. When she turned from the place, on her side, her + long-restrained tears fell freely at last, and made the lonely way back to + the cottage the dimmest prospect that Neelie had seen for many a long day + past. + </p> + <p> + As she hurried homeward, the leaves parted behind her, and Miss Gwilt + stepped softly into the open space. She stood there in triumph, tall, + beautiful, and resolute. Her lovely color brightened while she watched + Neelie’s retreating figure hastening lightly away from her over the grass. + </p> + <p> + “Cry, you little fool!” she said, with her quiet, clear tones, and her + steady smile of contempt. “Cry as you have never cried yet! You have seen + the last of your sweetheart.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0040" id="H2_4_0040"></a> XII. A SCANDAL AT THE STATION. + </h2> + <p> + An hour later, the landlady at Miss Gwilt’s lodgings was lost in + astonishment, and the clamorous tongues of the children were in a state of + ungovernable revolt. “Unforeseen circumstances” had suddenly obliged the + tenant of the first floor to terminate the occupation of her apartments, + and to go to London that day by the eleven o’clock train. + </p> + <p> + “Please to have a fly at the door at half-past ten,” said Miss Gwilt, as + the amazed landlady followed her upstairs. “And excuse me, you good + creature, if I beg and pray not to be disturbed till the fly comes.” Once + inside the room, she locked the door, and then opened her writing-desk. + “Now for my letter to the major!” she said. “How shall I word it?” + </p> + <p> + A moment’s consideration apparently decided her. Searching through her + collection of pens, she carefully selected the worst that could be found, + and began the letter by writing the date of the day on a soiled sheet of + note-paper, in crooked, clumsy characters, which ended in a blot made + purposely with the feather of the pen. Pausing, sometimes to think a + little, sometimes to make another blot, she completed the letter in these + words: + </p> + <p> + “HON’D SIR—It is on my conscience to tell you something, which I + think you ought to know. You ought to know of the goings-on of Miss, your + daughter, with young Mister Armadale. I wish you to make sure, and, what + is more, I advise you to be quick about it, if she is going the way you + want her to go, when she takes her morning walk before breakfast. I scorn + to make mischief, where there is true love on both sides. But I don’t + think the young man means truly by Miss. What I mean is, I think Miss only + has his fancy. Another person, who shall be nameless betwixt us, has his + true heart. Please to pardon my not putting my name; I am only a humble + person, and it might get me into trouble. This is all at present, dear + sir, from yours, + </p> + <p> + “A WELL-WISHER.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Miss Gwilt, as she folded the letter up. “If I had been a + professed novelist, I could hardly have written more naturally in the + character of a servant than that!” She wrote the necessary address to + Major Milroy; looked admiringly for the last time at the coarse and clumsy + writing which her own delicate hand had produced; and rose to post the + letter herself, before she entered next on the serious business of packing + up. “Curious!” she thought, when the letter had been posted, and she was + back again making her traveling preparations in her own room; “here I am, + running headlong into a frightful risk—and I never was in better + spirits in my life!” + </p> + <p> + The boxes were ready when the fly was at the door, and Miss Gwilt was + equipped (as becomingly as usual) in her neat traveling costume. The thick + veil, which she was accustomed to wear in London, appeared on her country + straw bonnet for the first time. “One meets such rude men occasionally in + the railway,” she said to the landlady. “And though I dress quietly, my + hair is so very remarkable.” She was a little paler than usual; but she + had never been so sweet-tempered and engaging, so gracefully cordial and + friendly, as now, when the moment of departure had come. The simple people + of the house were quite moved at taking leave of her. She insisted on + shaking hands with the landlord—on speaking to him in her prettiest + way, and sunning him in her brightest smiles. “Come!” she said to the + landlady, “you have been so kind, you have been so like a mother to me, + you must give me a kiss at parting.” She embraced the children all + together in a lump, with a mixture of humor and tenderness delightful to + see, and left a shilling among them to buy a cake. “If I was only rich + enough to make it a sovereign,” she whispered to the mother, “how glad I + should be!” The awkward lad who ran on errands stood waiting at the fly + door. He was clumsy, he was frowsy, he had a gaping mouth and a turn-up + nose; but the ineradicable female delight in being charming accepted him, + for all that, in the character of a last chance. “You dear, dingy John!” + she said, kindly, at the carriage door. “I am so poor I have only sixpence + to give you—with my very best wishes. Take my advice, John—grow + to be a fine man, and find yourself a nice sweetheart! Thank you a + thousand times!” She gave him a friendly little pat on the cheek with two + of her gloved fingers, and smiled, and nodded, and got into the fly. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale next!” she said to herself as the carriage drove off. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s anxiety not to miss the train had brought him to the station in + better time than usual. After taking his ticket and putting his + portmanteau under the porter’s charge, he was pacing the platform and + thinking of Neelie, when he heard the rustling of a lady’s dress behind + him, and, turning round to look, found himself face to face with Miss + Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + There was no escaping her this time. The station wall was on his right + hand, and the line was on his left; a tunnel was behind him, and Miss + Gwilt was in front, inquiring in her sweetest tones whether Mr. Armadale + was going to London. + </p> + <p> + Allan colored scarlet with vexation and surprise. There he was obviously + waiting for the train; and there was his portmanteau close by, with his + name on it, already labeled for London! What answer but the true one could + he make after that? Could he let the train go without him, and lose the + precious hours so vitally important to Neelie and himself? Impossible! + Allan helplessly confirmed the printed statement on his portmanteau, and + heartily wished himself at the other end of the world as he said the + words. + </p> + <p> + “How very fortunate!” rejoined Miss Gwilt. “I am going to London too. + Might I ask you Mr. Armadale (as you seem to be quite alone), to be my + escort on the journey?” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at the little assembly of travelers, and travelers’ friends, + collected on the platform, near the booking-office door. They were all + Thorpe Ambrose people. He was probably known by sight, and Miss Gwilt was + probably known by sight, to every one of them. In sheer desperation, + hesitating more awkwardly than ever, he produced his cigar case. “I should + be delighted,” he said, with an embarrassment which was almost an insult + under the circumstances. “But I—I’m what the people who get sick + over a cigar call a slave to smoking.” + </p> + <p> + “I delight in smoking!” said Miss Gwilt, with undiminished vivacity and + good humor. “It’s one of the privileges of the men which I have always + envied. I’m afraid, Mr. Armadale, you must think I am forcing myself on + you. It certainly looks like it. The real truth is, I want particularly to + say a word to you in private about Mr. Midwinter.” + </p> + <p> + The train came up at the same moment. Setting Midwinter out of the + question, the common decencies of politeness left Allan no alternative but + to submit. After having been the cause of her leaving her situation at + Major Milroy’s, after having pointedly avoided her only a few days since + on the high-road, to have declined going to London in the same carriage + with Miss Gwilt would have been an act of downright brutality which it was + simply impossible to commit. “Damn her!” said Allan, internally, as he + handed his traveling companion into an empty carriage, officiously placed + at his disposal, before all the people at the station, by the guard. “You + shan’t be disturbed, sir,” the man whispered, confidentially, with a smile + and a touch of his hat. Allan could have knocked him down with the utmost + pleasure. “Stop!” he said, from the window. “I don’t want the carriage—” + It was useless; the guard was out of hearing; the whistle blew, and the + train started for London. + </p> + <p> + The select assembly of travelers’ friends, left behind on the platform, + congregated in a circle on the spot, with the station-master in the + center. + </p> + <p> + The station-master—otherwise Mr. Mack—was a popular character + in the neighborhood. He possessed two social qualifications which + invariably impress the average English mind—he was an old soldier, + and he was a man of few words. The conclave on the platform insisted on + taking his opinion, before it committed itself positively to an opinion of + its own. A brisk fire of remarks exploded, as a matter of course, on all + sides; but everybody’s view of the subject ended interrogatively, in a + question aimed pointblank at the station-master’s ears. + </p> + <p> + “She’s got him, hasn’t she?” “She’ll come back ‘Mrs. Armadale,’ won’t + she?” “He’d better have stuck to Miss Milroy, hadn’t he?” “Miss Milroy + stuck to <i>him</i>. She paid him a visit at the great house, didn’t she?” + “Nothing of the sort; it’s a shame to take the girl’s character away. She + was caught in a thunder-storm close by; he was obliged to give her + shelter; and she’s never been near the place since. Miss Gwilt’s been + there, if you like, with no thunderstorm to force <i>her</i> in; and Miss + Gwilt’s off with him to London in a carriage all to themselves, eh, Mr. + Mack?” “Ah, he’s a soft one, that Armadale! with all his money, to take up + with a red-haired woman, a good eight or nine years older than he is! + She’s thirty if she’s a day. That’s what I say, Mr. Mack. What do you + say?” “Older or younger, she’ll rule the roast at Thorpe Ambrose; and I + say, for the sake of the place, and for the sake of trade, let’s make the + best of it; and Mr. Mack, as a man of the world, sees it in the same light + as I do, don’t you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the station-master, with his abrupt military accent, and + his impenetrable military manner, “she’s a devilish fine woman. And when I + was Mr. Armadale’s age, it’s my opinion, if her fancy had laid that way, + she might have married Me.” + </p> + <p> + With that expression of opinion the station-master wheeled to the right, + and intrenched himself impregnably in the stronghold of his own office. + </p> + <p> + The citizens of Thorpe Ambrose looked at the closed door, and gravely + shook their heads. Mr. Mack had disappointed them. No opinion which openly + recognizes the frailty of human nature is ever a popular opinion with + mankind. “It’s as good as saying that any of <i>us</i> might have married + her if <i>we</i> had been Mr. Armadale’s age!” Such was the general + impression on the minds of the conclave, when the meeting had been + adjourned, and the members were leaving the station. + </p> + <p> + The last of the party to go was a slow old gentleman, with a habit of + deliberately looking about him. Pausing at the door, this observant person + stared up the platform and down the platform, and discovered in the latter + direction, standing behind an angle of the wall, an elderly man in black, + who had escaped the notice of everybody up to that time. “Why, bless my + soul!” said the old gentleman, advancing inquisitively by a step at a + time, “it can’t be Mr. Bashwood!” + </p> + <p> + It <i>was</i> Mr. Bashwood—Mr. Bashwood, whose constitutional + curiosity had taken him privately to the station, bent on solving the + mystery of Allan’s sudden journey to London—Mr. Bashwood, who had + seen and heard, behind his angle in the wall, what everybody else had seen + and heard, and who appeared to have been impressed by it in no ordinary + way. He stood stiffly against the wall, like a man petrified, with one + hand pressed on his bare head, and the other holding his hat—he + stood, with a dull flush on his face, and a dull stare in his eyes, + looking straight into the black depths of the tunnel outside the station, + as if the train to London had disappeared in it but the moment before. + </p> + <p> + “Is your head bad?” asked the old gentleman. “Take my advice. Go home and + lie down.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood listened mechanically, with his usual attention, and answered + mechanically, with his usual politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he said, in a low, lost tone, like a man between dreaming and + waking; “I’ll go home and lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” rejoined the old gentleman, making for the door. “And take + a pill, Mr. Bashwood—take a pill.” + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later, the porter charged with the business of locking up the + station found Mr. Bashwood, still standing bare-headed against the wall, + and still looking straight into the black depths of the tunnel, as if the + train to London had disappeared in it but a moment since. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir!” said the porter; “I must lock up. Are you out of sorts? + Anything wrong with your inside? Try a drop of gin-and-bitters.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Bashwood, answering the porter, exactly as he had answered + the old gentleman; “I’ll try a drop of gin-and-bitters.” + </p> + <p> + The porter took him by the arm, and led him out. “You’ll get it there,” + said the man, pointing confidentially to a public-house; “and you’ll get + it good.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall get it there,” echoed Mr. Bashwood, still mechanically repeating + what was said to him; “and I shall get it good.” + </p> + <p> + His will seemed to be paralyzed; his actions depended absolutely on what + other people told him to do. He took a few steps in the direction of the + public-house, hesitated, staggered, and caught at the pillar of one of the + station lamps near him. + </p> + <p> + The porter followed, and took him by the arm once more. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you’ve been drinking already!” exclaimed the man, with a suddenly + quickened interest in Mr. Bashwood’s case. “What was it? Beer?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood, in his low, lost tones, echoed the last word. + </p> + <p> + It was close on the porter’s dinner-time. But, when the lower orders of + the English people believe they have discovered an intoxicated man, their + sympathy with him is boundless. The porter let his dinner take its chance, + and carefully assisted Mr. Bashwood to reach the public-house. + “Gin-and-bitters will put you on your legs again,” whispered this + Samaritan setter-right of the alcoholic disasters of mankind. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Bashwood had really been intoxicated, the effect of the porter’s + remedy would have been marvelous indeed. Almost as soon as the glass was + emptied, the stimulant did its work. The long-weakened nervous system of + the deputy-steward, prostrated for the moment by the shock that had fallen + on it, rallied again like a weary horse under the spur. The dull flush on + his cheeks, the dull stare in his eyes, disappeared simultaneously. After + a momentary effort, he recovered memory enough of what had passed to thank + the porter, and to ask whether he would take something himself. The worthy + creature instantly accepted a dose of his own remedy—in the capacity + of a preventive—and went home to dinner as only those men can go + home who are physically warmed by gin-and-bitters and morally elevated by + the performance of a good action. + </p> + <p> + Still strangely abstracted (but conscious now of the way by which he + went), Mr. Bashwood left the public-house a few minutes later, in his + turn. He walked on mechanically, in his dreary black garments, moving like + a blot on the white surface of the sun-brightened road, as Midwinter had + seen him move in the early days at Thorpe Ambrose, when they had first + met. Arrived at the point where he had to choose between the way that led + into the town and the way that led to the great house, he stopped, + incapable of deciding, and careless, apparently, even of making the + attempt. “I’ll be revenged on her!” he whispered to himself, still + absorbed in his jealous frenzy of rage against the woman who had deceived + him. “I’ll be revenged on her,” he repeated, in louder tones, “if I spend + every half-penny I’ve got!” + </p> + <p> + Some women of the disorderly sort, passing on their way to the town, heard + him. “Ah, you old brute,” they called out, with the measureless license of + their class, “whatever she did, she served you right!” + </p> + <p> + The coarseness of the voices startled him, whether he comprehended the + words or not. He shrank away from more interruption and more insult, into + the quieter road that led to the great house. + </p> + <p> + At a solitary place by the wayside he stopped and sat down. He took off + his hat and lifted his youthful wig a little from his bald old head, and + tried desperately to get beyond the one immovable conviction which lay on + his mind like lead—the conviction that Miss Gwilt had been purposely + deceiving him from the first. It was useless. No effort would free him + from that one dominant impression, and from the one answering idea that it + had evoked—the idea of revenge. He got up again, and put on his hat + and walked rapidly forward a little way—then turned without knowing + why, and slowly walked back again “If I had only dressed a little + smarter!” said the poor wretch, helplessly. “If I had only been a little + bolder with her, she might have overlooked my being an old man!” The angry + fit returned on him. He clinched his clammy, trembling hands, and shook + them fiercely in the empty air. “I’ll be revenged on her,” he reiterated. + “I’ll be revenged on her, if I spend every half-penny I’ve got!” It was + terribly suggestive of the hold she had taken on him, that his vindictive + sense of injury could not get far enough away from her to reach the man + whom he believed to be his rival, even yet. In his rage, as in his love, + he was absorbed, body and soul, by Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + In a moment more, the noise of running wheels approaching from behind + startled him. He turned and looked round. There was Mr. Pedgift the elder, + rapidly overtaking him in the gig, just as Mr. Pedgift had overtaken him + once already, on that former occasion when he had listened under the + window at the great house, and when the lawyer had bluntly charged him + with feeling a curiosity about Miss Gwilt! + </p> + <p> + In an instant the inevitable association of ideas burst on his mind. The + opinion of Miss Gwilt, which he had heard the lawyer express to Allan at + parting, flashed back into his memory, side by side with Mr. Pedgift’s + sarcastic approval of anything in the way of inquiry which his own + curiosity might attempt. “I may be even with her yet,” he thought, “if Mr. + Pedgift will help me!—Stop, sir!” he called out, desperately, as the + gig came up with him. “If you please, sir, I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior slackened the pace of his fast-trotting mare, without + pulling up. “Come to the office in half an hour,” he said; “I’m busy now.” + Without waiting for an answer, without noticing Mr. Bashwood’s bow, he + gave the mare the rein again, and was out of sight in another minute. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood sat down once more in a shady place by the roadside. He + appeared to be incapable of feeling any slight but the one unpardonable + slight put upon him by Miss Gwilt. He not only declined to resent, he even + made the best of Mr. Pedgift’s unceremonious treatment of him. “Half an + hour,” he said, resignedly. “Time enough to compose myself; and I want + time. Very kind of Mr. Pedgift, though he mightn’t have meant it.” + </p> + <p> + The sense of oppression in his head forced him once again to remove his + hat. He sat with it on his lap, deep in thought; his face bent low, and + the wavering fingers of one hand drumming absently on the crown of the + hat. If Mr. Pedgift the elder, seeing him as he sat now, could only have + looked a little way into the future, the monotonously drumming hand of the + deputy-steward might have been strong enough, feeble as it was, to stop + the lawyer by the roadside. It was the worn, weary, miserable old hand of + a worn, weary, miserable old man; but it was, for all that (to use the + language of Mr. Pedgift’s own parting prediction to Allan), the hand that + was now destined to “let the light in on Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0041" id="H2_4_0041"></a> XIII. AN OLD MAN’S HEART. + </h2> + <p> + Punctual to the moment, when the half hour’s interval had expired, Mr. + Bashwood was announced at the office as waiting to see Mr. Pedgift by + special appointment. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer looked up from his papers with an air of annoyance: he had + totally forgotten the meeting by the roadside. “See what he wants,” said + Pedgift Senior to Pedgift Junior, working in the same room with him. “And + if it’s nothing of importance, put it off to some other time.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Junior swiftly disappeared and swiftly returned. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked the father. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” answered the son, “he is rather more shaky and unintelligible than + usual. I can make nothing out of him, except that he persists in wanting + to see you. My own idea,” pursued Pedgift Junior, with his usual, sardonic + gravity, “is that he is going to have a fit, and that he wishes to + acknowledge your uniform kindness to him by obliging you with a private + view of the whole proceeding.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior habitually matched everybody—his son included—with + their own weapons. “Be good enough to remember, Augustus,” he rejoined, + “that my Room is not a Court of Law. A bad joke is not invariably followed + by ‘roars of laughter’ <i>here</i>. Let Mr. Bashwood come in.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood was introduced, and Pedgift Junior withdrew. “You mustn’t + bleed him, sir,” whispered the incorrigible joker, as he passed the back + of his father’s chair. “Hot-water bottles to the soles of his feet, and a + mustard plaster on the pit of his stomach—that’s the modern + treatment.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Bashwood,” said Pedgift Senior when they were alone. “And don’t + forget that time’s money. Out with it, whatever it is, at the quickest + possible rate, and in the fewest possible words.” + </p> + <p> + These preliminary directions, bluntly but not at all unkindly spoken, + rather increased than diminished the painful agitation under which Mr. + Bashwood was suffering. He stammered more helplessly, he trembled more + continuously than usual, as he made his little speech of thanks, and added + his apologies at the end for intruding on his patron in business hours. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody in the place, Mr. Pedgift, sir, knows your time is valuable. + Oh, dear, yes! oh, dear, yes! most valuable, most valuable! Excuse me, + sir, I’m coming out with it. Your goodness—or rather your business—no, + your goodness gave me half an hour to wait—and I have thought of + what I had to say, and prepared it, and put it short.” Having got as far + as that, he stopped with a pained, bewildered look. He had put it away in + his memory, and now, when the time came, he was too confused to find it. + And there was Mr. Pedgift mutely waiting; his face and manner expressive + alike of that silent sense of the value of his own time which every + patient who has visited a great doctor, every client who has consulted a + lawyer in large practice, knows so well. “Have you heard the news, sir?” + stammered Mr. Bashwood, shifting his ground in despair, and letting the + uppermost idea in his mind escape him, simply because it was the one idea + in him that was ready to come out. + </p> + <p> + “Does it concern <i>me</i>?” asked Pedgift Senior, mercilessly brief, and + mercilessly straight in coming to the point. + </p> + <p> + “It concerns a lady, sir—no, not a lady—a young man, I ought + to say, in whom you used to feel some interest. Oh, Mr. Pedgift, sir, what + do you think! Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt have gone up to London together + to-day—alone, sir—alone in a carriage reserved for their two + selves. Do you think he’s going to marry her? Do you really think, like + the rest of them, he’s going to marry her?” + </p> + <p> + He put the question with a sudden flush in his face and a sudden energy in + his manner. His sense of the value of the lawyer’s time, his conviction of + the greatness of the lawyer’s condescension, his constitutional shyness + and timidity—all yielded together to his one overwhelming interest + in hearing Mr. Pedgift’s answer. He was loud for the first time in his + life in putting the question. + </p> + <p> + “After my experience of Mr. Armadale,” said the lawyer, instantly + hardening in look and manner, “I believe him to be infatuated enough to + marry Miss Gwilt a dozen times over, if Miss Gwilt chose to ask him. Your + news doesn’t surprise me in the least, Bashwood. I’m sorry for him. I can + honestly say that, though he <i>has</i> set my advice at defiance. And I’m + more sorry still,” he continued, softening again as his mind reverted to + his interview with Neelie under the trees of the park—“I’m more + sorry still for another person who shall be nameless. But what have I to + do with all this? And what on earth is the matter with you?” he resumed, + noticing for the first time the abject misery in Mr. Bashwood’s manner, + the blank despair in Mr. Bashwood’s face, which his answer had produced. + “Are you ill? Is there something behind the curtain that you’re afraid to + bring out? I don’t understand it. Have you come here—here in my + private room, in business hours—with nothing to tell me but that + young Armadale has been fool enough to ruin his prospects for life? Why, I + foresaw it all weeks since, and what is more, I as good as told him so at + the last conversation I had with him in the great house.” + </p> + <p> + At those last words, Mr. Bashwood suddenly rallied. The lawyer’s passing + reference to the great house had led him back in a moment to the purpose + that he had in view. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, sir!” he said, eagerly; “that’s what I wanted to speak to you + about; that’s what I’ve been preparing in my mind. Mr. Pedgift, sir, the + last time you were at the great house, when you came away in your gig, you—you + overtook me on the drive.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I did,” remarked Pedgift, resignedly. “My mare happens to be a + trifle quicker on her legs than you are on yours, Bashwood. Go on, go on. + We shall come in time, I suppose, to what you are driving at.” + </p> + <p> + “You stopped, and spoke to me, sir,” proceeded Mr. Bashwood, advancing + more and more eagerly to his end. “You said you suspected me of feeling + some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, and you told me (I remember the exact + words, sir)—you told me to gratify my curiosity by all means, for + you didn’t object to it.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior began for the first time to look interested in hearing + more. + </p> + <p> + “I remember something of the sort,” he replied; “and I also remember + thinking it rather remarkable that you should <i>happen</i>—we won’t + put it in any more offensive way—to be exactly under Mr. Armadale’s + open window while I was talking to him. It might have been accident, of + course; but it looked rather more like curiosity. I could only judge by + appearances,” concluded Pedgift, pointing his sarcasm with a pinch of + snuff; “and appearances, Bashwood, were decidedly against you.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t deny it, sir. I only mentioned the circumstance because I wished + to acknowledge that I <i>was</i> curious, and <i>am</i> curious about Miss + Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Pedgift Senior, seeing something under the surface in Mr. + Bashwood’s face and manner, but utterly in the dark thus far as to what + that something might be. + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment. The moment passed, Mr. Bashwood took the + refuge usually taken by nervous, unready men, placed in his circumstances, + when they are at a loss for an answer. He simply reiterated the assertion + that he had just made. “I feel some curiosity sir,” he said, with a + strange mixture of doggedness and timidity, “about Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + There was another moment of silence. In spite of his practiced acuteness + and knowledge of the world, the lawyer was more puzzled than ever. The + case of Mr. Bashwood presented the one human riddle of all others which he + was least qualified to solve. Though year after year witnesses in + thousands and thousands of cases, the remorseless disinheriting of nearest + and dearest relations, the unnatural breaking-up of sacred family ties, + the deplorable severance of old and firm friendships, due entirely to the + intense self-absorption which the sexual passion can produce when it + enters the heart of an old man, the association of love with infirmity and + gray hairs arouses, nevertheless, all the world over, no other idea than + the idea of extravagant improbability or extravagant absurdity in the + general mind. If the interview now taking place in Mr. Pedgift’s + consulting-room had taken place at his dinner-table instead, when wine had + opened his mind to humorous influences, it is possible that he might, by + this time, have suspected the truth. But, in his business hours, Pedgift + Senior was in the habit of investigating men’s motives seriously from the + business point of view; and he was on that very account simply incapable + of conceiving any improbability so startling, any absurdity so enormous, + as the absurdity and improbability of Mr. Bashwood’s being in love. + </p> + <p> + Some men in the lawyer’s position would have tried to force their way to + enlightenment by obstinately repeating the unanswered question. Pedgift + Senior wisely postponed the question until he had moved the conversation + on another step. “Well,” he resumed, “let us say you feel a curiosity + about Miss Gwilt. What next?” + </p> + <p> + The palms of Mr. Bashwood’s hands began to moisten under the influence of + his agitation, as they had moistened in the past days when he had told the + story of his domestic sorrows to Midwinter at the great house. Once more + he rolled his handkerchief into a ball, and dabbed it softly to and fro + from one hand to the other. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask if I am right, sir,” he began, “in believing that you have a + very unfavorable opinion of Miss Gwilt? You are quite convinced, I think—” + </p> + <p> + “My good fellow,” interrupted Pedgift Senior, “why need you be in any + doubt about it? You were under Mr. Armadale’s open window all the while I + was talking to him; and your ears, I presume, were not absolutely shut.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood showed no sense of the interruption. The little sting of the + lawyer’s sarcasm was lost in the nobler pain that wrung him from the wound + inflicted by Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite convinced, I think, sir,” he resumed, “that there are + circumstances in this lady’s past life which would be highly discreditable + to her if they were discovered at the present time?” + </p> + <p> + “The window was open at the great house, Bashwood; and your ears, I + presume, were not absolutely shut.” + </p> + <p> + Still impenetrable to the sting, Mr. Bashwood persisted more obstinately + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Unless I am greatly mistaken,” he said, “your long experience in such + things has even suggested to you, sir, that Miss Gwilt might turn out to + be known to the police?” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior’s patience gave way. “You have been over ten minutes in + this room,” he broke out. “Can you, or can you not, tell me in plain + English what you want?” + </p> + <p> + In plain English—with the passion that had transformed him, the + passion which (in Miss Gwilt’s own words) had made a man of him, burning + in his haggard cheeks—Mr. Bashwood met the challenge, and faced the + lawyer (as, the worried sheep faces the dog) on his own ground. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to say, sir,” he answered, “that your opinion in this matter is my + opinion too. I believe there is something wrong in Miss Gwilt’s past life + which she keeps concealed from everybody, and I want to be the man who + knows it.” + </p> + <p> + Pedgift Senior saw his chance, and instantly reverted to the question that + he had postponed. “Why?” he asked for the second time. + </p> + <p> + For the second time Mr. Bashwood hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Could he acknowledge that he had been mad enough to love her, and mean + enough to be a spy for her? Could he say, She has deceived me from the + first, and she has deserted me, now her object is served. After robbing me + of my happiness, robbing me of my honor, robbing me of my last hope left + in life, she has gone from me forever, and left me nothing but my old + man’s longing, slow and sly, and strong and changeless, for revenge. + Revenge that I may have, if I can poison her success by dragging her + frailties into the public view. Revenge that I will buy (for what is gold + or what is life to me?) with the last farthing of my hoarded money and the + last drop of my stagnant blood. Could he say that to the man who sat + waiting for his answer? No; he could only crush it down and be silent. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer’s expression began to harden once more. + </p> + <p> + “One of us must speak out,” he said; “and as you evidently won’t, I will. + I can only account for this extraordinary anxiety of yours to make + yourself acquainted with Miss Gwilt’s secrets, in one of two ways. Your + motive is either an excessively mean one (no offense, Bashwood, I am only + putting the case), or an excessively generous one. After my experience of + your honest character and your creditable conduct, it is only your due + that I should absolve you at once of the mean motive. I believe you are as + incapable as I am—I can say no more—of turning to mercenary + account any discoveries you might make to Miss Gwilt’s prejudice in Miss + Gwilt’s past life. Shall I go on any further? or would you prefer, on + second thoughts, opening your mind frankly to me of your own accord?” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer not interrupting you, sir,” said Mr. Bashwood. + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” pursued Pedgift Senior. “Having absolved you of the mean + motive, I come to the generous motive next. It is possible that you are an + unusually grateful man; and it is certain that Mr. Armadale has been + remarkably kind to you. After employing you under Mr. Midwinter, in the + steward’s office, he has had confidence enough in your honesty and your + capacity, now his friend has left him, to put his business entirely and + unreservedly in your hands. It’s not in my experience of human nature—but + it may be possible, nevertheless—that you are so gratefully sensible + of that confidence, and so gratefully interested in your employer’s + welfare, that you can’t see him, in his friendless position, going + straight to his own disgrace and ruin, without making an effort to save + him. To put it in two words. Is it your idea that Mr. Armadale might be + prevented from marrying Miss Gwilt, if he could be informed in time of her + real character? And do you wish to be the man who opens his eyes to the + truth? If that is the case—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped in astonishment. Acting under some uncontrollable impulse, Mr. + Bashwood had started to his feet. He stood, with his withered face lit up + by a sudden irradiation from within, which made him look younger than his + age by a good twenty years—he stood, gasping for breath enough to + speak, and gesticulated entreatingly at the lawyer with both hands. + </p> + <p> + “Say it again, sir!” he burst out, eagerly, recovering his breath before + Pedgift Senior had recovered his surprise. “The question about Mr. + Armadale, sir!—only once more!—only once more, Mr. Pedgift, + please!” + </p> + <p> + With his practiced observation closely and distrustfully at work on Mr. + Bashwood’ s face, Pedgift Senior motioned to him to sit down again, and + put the question for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Do I think,” said Mr. Bashwood, repeating the sense, but not the words of + the question, “that Mr. Armadale might be parted from Miss Gwilt, if she + could be shown to him as she really is? Yes, sir! And do I wish to be the + man who does it? Yes, sir! yes, sir!! yes, sir!!!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s rather strange,” remarked the lawyer, looking at him more and more + distrustfully, “that you should be so violently agitated, simply because + my question happens to have hit the mark.” + </p> + <p> + The question happened to have hit a mark which Pedgift little dreamed of. + It had released Mr. Bashwood’s mind in an instant from the dead pressure + of his one dominant idea of revenge, and had shown him a purpose to be + achieved by the discovery of Miss Gwilt’s secrets which had never occurred + to him till that moment. The marriage which he had blindly regarded as + inevitable was a marriage that might be stopped—not in Allan’s + interests, but in his own—and the woman whom he believed that he had + lost might yet, in spite of circumstances, be a woman won! His brain + whirled as he thought of it. His own roused resolution almost daunted him, + by its terrible incongruity with all the familiar habits of his mind, and + all the customary proceedings of his life. + </p> + <p> + Finding his last remark unanswered, Pedgift Senior considered a little + before he said anything more. + </p> + <p> + “One thing is clear,” reasoned the lawyer with himself. “His true motive + in this matter is a motive which he is afraid to avow. My question + evidently offered him a chance of misleading me, and he has accepted it on + the spot. That’s enough for <i>me</i>. If I was Mr. Armadale’s lawyer, the + mystery might be worth investigating. As things are, it’s no interest of + mine to hunt Mr. Bashwood from one lie to another till I run him to earth + at last. I have nothing whatever to do with it; and I shall leave him free + to follow his own roundabout courses, in his own roundabout way.” Having + arrived at that conclusion, Pedgift Senior pushed back his chair, and rose + briskly to terminate the interview. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be alarmed, Bashwood,” he began. “The subject of our conversation + is a subject exhausted, so far as I am concerned. I have only a few last + words to say, and it’s a habit of mine, as you know, to say my last words + on my legs. Whatever else I may be in the dark about, I have made one + discovery, at any rate. I have found out what you really want with me—at + last! You want me to help you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would be so very, very kind, sir!” stammered Mr. Bashwood. “If you + would only give me the great advantage of your opinion and advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, Bashwood. We will separate those two things, if you please. A + lawyer may offer an opinion like any other man; but when a lawyer gives + his advice—by the Lord Harry, sir, it’s Professional! You’re welcome + to my opinion in this matter; I have disguised it from nobody. I believe + there have been events in Miss Gwilt’s career which (if they could be + discovered) would even make Mr. Armadale, infatuated as he is, afraid to + marry her—supposing, of course, that he really <i>is</i> going to + marry her; for, though the appearances are in favor of it so far, it is + only an assumption, after all. As to the mode of proceeding by which the + blots on this woman’s character might or might not be brought to light in + time—she may be married by license in a fortnight if she likes—<i>that</i> + is a branch of the question on which I positively decline to enter. It + implies speaking in my character as a lawyer, and giving you, what I + decline positively to give you, my professional advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, don’t say that!” pleaded Mr. Bashwood. “Don’t deny me the great + favor, the inestimable advantage of your advice! I have such a poor head, + Mr. Pedgift! I am so old and so slow, sir, and I get so sadly startled and + worried when I’m thrown out of my ordinary ways. It’s quite natural you + should be a little impatient with me for taking up your time—I know + that time is money, to a clever man like you. Would you excuse me—would + you please excuse me, if I venture to say that I have saved a little + something, a few pounds, sir; and being quite lonely, with nobody + dependent on me, I’m sure I may spend my savings as I please?” Blind to + every consideration but the one consideration of propitiating Mr. Pedgift, + he took out a dingy, ragged old pocket-book, and tried, with trembling + fingers, to open it on the lawyer’s table. + </p> + <p> + “Put your pocket-book back directly,” said Pedgift Senior. “Richer men + than you have tried that argument with me, and have found that there is + such a thing (off the stage) as a lawyer who is not to be bribed. I will + have nothing to do with the case, under existing circumstances. If you + want to know why, I beg to inform you that Miss Gwilt ceased to be + professionally interesting to me on the day when I ceased to be Mr. + Armadale’s lawyer. I may have other reasons besides, which I don’t think + it necessary to mention. The reason already given is explicit enough. Go + your own way, and take your responsibility on your own shoulders. You <i>may</i> + venture within reach of Miss Gwilt’s claws and come out again without + being scratched. Time will show. In the meanwhile, I wish you good-morning—and + I own, to my shame, that I never knew till to-day what a hero you were.” + </p> + <p> + This time, Mr. Bashwood felt the sting. Without another word of + expostulation or entreaty, without even saying “Good-morning” on his side, + he walked to the door, opened it, softly, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + The parting look in his face, and the sudden silence that had fallen on + him, were not lost on Pedgift Senior. “Bashwood will end badly,” said the + lawyer, shuffling his papers, and returning impenetrably to his + interrupted work. + </p> + <p> + The change in Mr. Bashwood’s face and manner to something dogged and + self-contained was so startlingly uncharacteristic of him, that it even + forced itself on the notice of Pedgift Junior and the clerks as he passed + through the outer office. Accustomed to make the old man their butt, they + took a boisterously comic view of the marked alteration in him. Deaf to + the merciless raillery with which he was assailed on all sides, he stopped + opposite young Pedgift, and, looking him attentively in the face, said, in + a quiet, absent manner, like a man thinking aloud, “I wonder whether <i>you</i> + would help me?” + </p> + <p> + “Open an account instantly,” said Pedgift Junior to the clerks, “in the + name of Mr. Bashwood. Place a chair for Mr. Bashwood, with a footstool + close by, in case he wants it. Supply me with a quire of extra double-wove + satin paper, and a gross of picked quills, to take notes of Mr. Bashwood’s + case; and inform my father instantly that I am going to leave him and set + up in business for myself, on the strength of Mr. Bashwood’s patronage. + Take a seat, sir, pray take a seat, and express your feelings freely.” + </p> + <p> + Still impenetrably deaf to the raillery of which he was the object, Mr. + Bashwood waited until Pedgift Junior had exhausted himself, and then + turned quietly away. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have known better,” he said, in the same absent manner as + before. “He is his father’s son all over—he would make game of me on + my death-bed.” He paused a moment at the door, mechanically brushing his + hat with his hand, and went out into the street. + </p> + <p> + The bright sunshine dazzled his eyes, the passing vehicles and + foot-passengers startled and bewildered him. He shrank into a by-street, + and put his hand over his eyes. “I’d better go home,” he thought, “and + shut myself up, and think about it in my own room.” + </p> + <p> + His lodging was in a small house, in the poor quarter of the town. He let + himself in with his key, and stole softly upstairs. The one little room he + possessed met him cruelly, look round it where he might, with silent + memorials of Miss Gwilt. On the chimney-piece were the flowers she had + given him at various times, all withered long since, and all preserved on + a little china pedestal, protected by a glass shade. On the wall hung a + wretched colored print of a woman, which he had caused to be nicely framed + and glazed, because there was a look in it that reminded him of her face. + In his clumsy old mahogany writing-desk were the few letters, brief and + peremptory, which she had written to him at the time when he was watching + and listening meanly at Thorpe Ambrose to please <i>her</i>. And when, + turning his back on these, he sat down wearily on his sofa-bedstead—there, + hanging over one end of it, was the gaudy cravat of blue satin, which he + had bought because she had told him she liked bright colors, and which he + had never yet had the courage to wear, though he had taken it out morning + after morning with the resolution to put it on! Habitually quiet in his + actions, habitually restrained in his language, he now seized the cravat + as if it was a living thing that could feel, and flung it to the other end + of the room with an oath. + </p> + <p> + The time passed; and still, though his resolution to stand between Miss + Gwilt and her marriage remained unbroken, he was as far as ever from + discovering the means which might lead him to his end. The more he thought + and thought of it, the darker and the darker his course in the future + looked to him. + </p> + <p> + He rose again, as wearily as he had sat down, and went to his cupboard. + “I’m feverish and thirsty,” he said; “a cup of tea may help me.” He opened + his canister, and measured out his small allowance of tea, less carefully + than usual. “Even my own hands won’t serve me to-day!” he thought, as he + scraped together the few grains of tea that he had spilled, and put them + carefully back in the canister. + </p> + <p> + In that fine summer weather, the one fire in the house was the kitchen + fire. He went downstairs for the boiling water, with his teapot in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Nobody but the landlady was in the kitchen. She was one of the many + English matrons whose path through this world is a path of thorns; and who + take a dismal pleasure, whenever the opportunity is afforded them, in + inspecting the scratched and bleeding feet of other people in a like + condition with themselves. Her one vice was of the lighter sort—the + vice of curiosity; and among the many counterbalancing virtues she + possessed was the virtue of greatly respecting Mr. Bashwood, as a lodger + whose rent was regularly paid, and whose ways were always quiet and civil + from one year’s end to another. + </p> + <p> + “What did you please to want, sir?” asked the landlady. “Boiling water, is + it? Did you ever know the water boil, Mr. Bashwood, when you wanted it? + Did you ever see a sulkier fire than that? I’ll put a stick or two in, if + you’ll wait a little, and give me the chance. Dear, dear me, you’ll excuse + my mentioning it, sir, but how poorly you do look to-day!” + </p> + <p> + The strain on Mr. Bashwood’s mind was beginning to tell. Something of the + helplessness which he had shown at the station appeared again in his face + and manner as he put his teapot on the kitchen table and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “I’m in trouble, ma’am,” he said, quietly; “and I find trouble gets harder + to bear than it used to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you may well say that!” groaned the landlady. “<i>I’m</i> ready for + the undertaker, Mr. Bashwood, when <i>my</i> time comes, whatever you may + be. You’re too lonely, sir. When you’re in trouble, it’s some help—though + not much—to shift a share of it off on another person’s shoulders. + If your good lady had only been alive now, sir, what a comfort you would + have found her, wouldn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + A momentary spasm of pain passed across Mr. Bashwood’s face. The landlady + had ignorantly recalled him to the misfortunes of his married life. He had + been long since forced to quiet her curiosity about his family affairs by + telling her that he was a widower, and that his domestic circumstances had + not been happy ones; but he had taken her no further into his confidence + than this. The sad story which he had related to Midwinter, of his drunken + wife who had ended her miserable life in a lunatic asylum, was a story + which he had shrunk from confiding to the talkative woman, who would have + confided it in her turn to every one else in the house. + </p> + <p> + “What I always say to my husband when he’s low, sir,” pursued the + landlady, intent on the kettle, “is, ‘What would you do <i>now</i>, Sam, + without me?’ When his temper don’t get the better of him (it will boil + directly, Mr. Bashwood), he says, ‘Elizabeth, I could do nothing.’ When + his temper does get the better of him, he says, ‘I should try the + public-house, missus; and I’ll try it now.’ Ah, I’ve got <i>my</i> + troubles! A man with grown-up sons and daughters tippling in a + public-house! I don’t call to mind, Mr. Bashwood, whether <i>you</i> ever + had any sons and daughters? And yet, now I think of it, I seem to fancy + you said yes, you had. Daughters, sir, weren’t they? and, ah, dear! dear! + to be sure! all dead.” + </p> + <p> + “I had one daughter, ma’am,” said Mr. Bashwood, patiently—“only one, + who died before she was a year old.” + </p> + <p> + “Only one!” repeated the sympathizing landlady. “It’s as near boiling as + it ever will be, sir; give me the tea-pot. Only one! Ah, it comes heavier + (don’t it?) when it’s an only child? You said it was an only child, I + think, didn’t you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment, Mr. Bashwood looked at the woman with vacant eyes, and + without attempting to answer her. After ignorantly recalling the memory of + the wife who had disgraced him, she was now, as ignorantly, forcing him + back on the miserable remembrance of the son who had ruined and deserted + him. For the first time, since he had told his story to Midwinter, at + their introductory interview in the great house, his mind reverted once + more to the bitter disappointment and disaster of the past. Again he + thought of the bygone days, when he had become security for his son, and + when that son’s dishonesty had forced him to sell everything he possessed + to pay the forfeit that was exacted when the forfeit was due. “I have a + son, ma’am,” he said, becoming conscious that the landlady was looking at + him in mute and melancholy surprise. “I did my best to help him forward in + the world, and he has behaved very badly to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he, now?” rejoined the landlady, with an appearance of the greatest + interest. “Behaved badly to you—almost broke your heart, didn’t he? + Ah, it will come home to him, sooner or later. Don’t you fear! ‘Honor your + father and mother,’ wasn’t put on Moses’s tables of stone for nothing, Mr. + Bashwood. Where may he be, and what is he doing now, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The question was in effect almost the same as the question which Midwinter + had put when the circumstances had been described to him. As Mr. Bashwood + had answered it on the former occasion, so (in nearly the same words) he + answered it now. + </p> + <p> + “My son is in London, ma’am, for all I know to the contrary. He was + employed, when I last heard of him, in no very creditable way, at the + Private Inquiry Office—” + </p> + <p> + At those words he suddenly checked himself. His face flushed, his eyes + brightened; he pushed away the cup which had just been filled for him, and + rose from his seat. The landlady started back a step. There was something + in her lodger’s face that she had never seen in it before. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I’ve not offended you, sir,” said the woman, recovering her + self-possession, and looking a little too ready to take offense on her + side, at a moment’s notice. + </p> + <p> + “Far from it, ma’am, far from it!” he rejoined, in a strangely eager, + hurried way. “I have just remembered something—something very + important. I must go upstairs—it’s a letter, a letter, a letter. + I’ll come back to my tea, ma’am. I beg your pardon, I’m much obliged to + you, you’ve been very kind—I’ll say good-by, if you’ll allow me, for + the present.” To the landlady’s amazement, he cordially shook hands with + her, and made for the door, leaving tea and tea-pot to take care of + themselves. + </p> + <p> + The moment he reached his own room, he locked himself in. For a little + while he stood holding by the chimney-piece, waiting to recover his + breath. The moment he could move again, he opened his writing-desk on the + table. “That for you, Mr. Pedgift and Son!” he said, with a snap of his + fingers as he sat down. “I’ve got a son too!” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door—a knock, soft, considerate, and + confidential. The anxious landlady wished to know whether Mr. Bashwood was + ill, and begged to intimate for the second time that she earnestly trusted + she had given him no offense. + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” he called through the door. “I’m quite well—I’m writing, + ma’am, I’m writing—please to excuse me. She’s a good woman; she’s an + excellent woman,” he thought, when the landlady had retired. “I’ll make + her a little present. My mind’s so unsettled, I might never have thought + of it but for her. Oh, if my boy is at the office still! Oh, if I can only + write a letter that will make him pity me!” + </p> + <p> + He took up his pen, and sat thinking anxiously, thinking long, before he + touched the paper. Slowly, with many patient pauses to think and think + again, and with more than ordinary care to make his writing legible, he + traced these lines: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR JAMES—You will be surprised, I am afraid, to see my + handwriting. Pray don’t suppose I am going to ask you for money, or to + reproach you for having sold me out of house and home when you forfeited + your security, and I had to pay. I am willing and anxious to let by-gones + be by-gones, and to forget the past. + </p> + <p> + “It is in your power (if you are still at the Private Inquiry Office) to + do me a great service. I am in sore anxiety and trouble on the subject of + a person in whom I am interested. The person is a lady. Please don’t make + game of me for confessing this, if you can help it. If you knew what I am + now suffering, I think you would be more inclined to pity than to make + game of me. + </p> + <p> + “I would enter into particulars, only I know your quick temper, and I fear + exhausting your patience. Perhaps it may be enough to say that I have + reason to believe the lady’s past life has not been a very creditable one, + and that I am interested—more interested than words can tell—in + finding out what her life has really been, and in making the discovery + within a fortnight from the present time. + </p> + <p> + “Though I know very little about the ways of business in an office like + yours, I can understand that, without first having the lady’s present + address, nothing can be done to help me. Unfortunately, I am not yet + acquainted with her present address. I only know that she went to town + to-day, accompanied by a gentleman, in whose employment I now am, and who + (as I believe) will be likely to write to me for money before many days + more are over his head. + </p> + <p> + “Is this circumstance of a nature to help us? I venture to say ‘us,’ + because I count already, my dear boy, on your kind assistance and advice. + Don’t let money stand between us; I have saved a little something, and it + is all freely at your disposal. Pray, pray write to me by return of post! + If you will only try your best to end the dreadful suspense under which I + am now suffering, you will atone for all the grief and disappointment you + caused me in times that are past, and you will confer an obligation that + he will never forget on + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate father, + </p> + <p> + “FELIX BASHWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + After waiting a little, to dry his eyes, Mr. Bashwood added the date and + address, and directed the letter to his son, at “The Private Inquiry + Office, Shadyside Place, London.” That done, he went out at once, and + posted his letter with his own hands. It was then Monday; and, if the + answer was sent by return of post, the answer would be received on + Wednesday morning. + </p> + <p> + The interval day, the Tuesday, was passed by Mr. Bashwood in the steward’s + office at the great house. He had a double motive for absorbing himself as + deeply as might be in the various occupations connected with the + management of the estate. In the first place, employment helped him to + control the devouring impatience with which he looked for the coming of + the next day. In the second place, the more forward he was with the + business of the office, the more free he would be to join his son in + London, without attracting suspicion to himself by openly neglecting the + interests placed under his charge. + </p> + <p> + Toward the Tuesday afternoon, vague rumors of something wrong at the + cottage found their way (through Major Milroy’s servants) to the servants + at the great house, and attempted ineffectually through this latter + channel to engage the attention of Mr. Bashwood, impenetrably fixed on + other things. The major and Miss Neelie had been shut up together in + mysterious conference; and Miss Neelie’s appearance after the close of the + interview plainly showed that she had been crying. This had happened on + the Monday afternoon; and on the next day (that present Tuesday) the major + had startled the household by announcing briefly that his daughter wanted + a change to the air of the seaside, and that he proposed taking her + himself, by the next train, to Lowestoft. The two had gone away together, + both very serious and silent, but both, apparently, very good friends, for + all that. Opinions at the great house attributed this domestic revolution + to the reports current on the subject of Allan and Miss Gwilt. Opinions at + the cottage rejected that solution of the difficulty, on practical + grounds. Miss Neelie had remained inaccessibly shut up in her own room, + from the Monday afternoon to the Tuesday morning when her father took her + away. The major, during the same interval, had not been outside the door, + and had spoken to nobody And Mrs. Milroy, at the first attempt of her new + attendant to inform her of the prevailing scandal in the town, had sealed + the servant’s lips by flying into one of her terrible passions the instant + Miss Gwilt’s name was mentioned. Something must have happened, of course, + to take Major Milroy and his daughter so suddenly from home; but that + something was certainly not Mr. Armadale’s scandalous elopement, in broad + daylight, with Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + The afternoon passed, and the evening passed, and no other event happened + but the purely private and personal event which had taken place at the + cottage. Nothing occurred (for nothing in the nature of things <i>could</i> + occur) to dissipate the delusion on which Miss Gwilt had counted—the + delusion which all Thorpe Ambrose now shared with Mr. Bashwood, that she + had gone privately to London with Allan in the character of Allan’s future + wife. + </p> + <p> + On the Wednesday morning, the postman, entering the street in which Mr. + Bashwood lived, was encountered by Mr. Bashwood himself, so eager to know + if there was a letter for him that he had come out without his hat. There + <i>was</i> a letter for him—the letter that he longed for from his + vagabond son. + </p> + <p> + These were the terms in which Bashwood the younger answered his father’s + supplication for help—after having previously ruined his father’s + prospects for life: + </p> + <p> + “Shadyside Place. Tuesday, July 29th. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR DAD—We have some little practice in dealing with mysteries + at this office; but the mystery of your letter beats me altogether. Are + you speculating on the interesting hidden frailties of some charming + woman? Or, after <i>your</i> experience of matrimony, are you actually + going to give me a stepmother at this time of day? Whichever it is, upon + my life your letter interests me. + </p> + <p> + “I am not joking, mind—though the temptation is not an easy one to + resist. On the contrary, I have given you a quarter of an hour of my + valuable time already. The place you date from sounded somehow familiar to + me. I referred back to the memorandum book, and found that I was sent down + to Thorpe Ambrose to make private inquiries not very long since. My + employer was a lively old lady, who was too sly to give us her right name + and address. As a matter of course, we set to work at once, and found out + who she was. Her name is Mrs. Oldershaw; and, if you think of <i>her</i> + for my stepmother, I strongly recommend you to think again before you make + her Mrs. Bashwood. + </p> + <p> + “If it is not Mrs. Oldershaw, then all I can do, so far, is to tell you + how you may find out the unknown lady’s address. Come to town yourself as + soon as you get the letter you expect from the gentleman who has gone away + with her (I hope he is not a handsome young man, for your sake) and call + here. I will send somebody to help you in watching his hotel or lodgings; + and if he communicates with the lady, or the lady with him, you may + consider her address discovered from that moment. Once let me identify + her, and know where she is, and you shall see all her charming little + secrets as plainly as you see the paper on which your affectionate son is + now writing to you. + </p> + <p> + “A word more about the terms. I am as willing as you are to be friends + again; but, though I own you were out of pocket by me once, I can’t afford + to be out of pocket by you. It must be understood that you are answerable + for all the expenses of the inquiry. We may have to employ some of the + women attached to this office, if your lady is too wideawake or too + nice-looking to be dealt with by a man. There will be cab hire, and + postage-stamps—admissions to public amusements, if she is inclined + that way—shillings for pew-openers, if she is serious, and takes our + people into churches to hear popular preachers, and so on. My own + professional services you shall have gratis; but I can’t lose by you as + well. Only remember that, and you shall have your way. By-gones shall be + by-gones, and we will forget the past. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate son, + </p> + <p> + “JAMES BASHWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + In the ecstasy of seeing help placed at last within his reach, the father + put his son’s atrocious letter to his lips. “My good boy!” he murmured, + tenderly—“my dear, good boy!” + </p> + <p> + He put the letter down, and fell into a new train of thought. The next + question to face was the serious question of time. Mr. Pedgift had told + him Miss Gwilt might be married in a fortnight. One day of the fourteen + had passed already, and another was passing. He beat his hand impatiently + on the table at his side, wondering how soon the want of money would force + Allan to write to him from London. “To-morrow?” he asked himself. “Or next + day?” + </p> + <p> + The morrow passed, and nothing happened. The next day came, and the letter + arrived! It was on business, as he had anticipated; it asked for money, as + he had anticipated; and there, at the end of it, in a postscript, was the + address added, concluding with the words, “You may count on my staying + here till further notice.” + </p> + <p> + He gave one deep gasp of relief, and instantly busied himself—though + there were nearly two hours to spare before the train started for London—in + packing his bag. The last thing he put in was his blue satin cravat. “She + likes bright colors,” he said, “and she may see me in it yet!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0042" id="H2_4_0042"></a> XIV. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. + </h2> + <p> + “All Saints’ Terrace, New Road, London, July 28th, Monday night.—I + can hardly hold my head up, I am so tired. But in my situation, I dare not + trust anything to memory. Before I go to bed, I must write my customary + record of the events of the day. + </p> + <p> + “So far, the turn of luck in my favor (it was long enough before it took + the turn!) seems likely to continue. I succeeded in forcing Armadale—the + brute required nothing short of forcing!—to leave Thorpe Ambrose for + London, alone in the same carriage with me, before all the people in the + station. There was a full attendance of dealers in small scandal, all + staring hard at us, and all evidently drawing their own conclusions. + Either I knew nothing of Thorpe Ambrose—or the town gossip is busy + enough by this time with Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “I had some difficulty with him for the first half-hour after we left the + station. The guard (delightful man! I felt so grateful to him!) had shut + us up together, in expectation of half a crown at the end of the journey. + Armadale was suspicious of me, and he showed it plainly. Little by little + I tamed my wild beast—partly by taking care to display no curiosity + about his journey to town, and partly by interesting him on the subject of + his friend Midwinter; dwelling especially on the opportunity that now + offered itself for a reconciliation between them. I kept harping on this + string till I set his tongue going, and made him amuse me as a gentleman + is bound to do when he has the honor of escorting a lady on a long railway + journey. + </p> + <p> + “What little mind he has was full, of course, of his own affairs and Miss + Milroy’s. No words can express the clumsiness he showed in trying to talk + about himself, without taking me into his confidence or mentioning Miss + Milroy’s name. + </p> + <p> + “He was going to London, he gravely informed me, on a matter of + indescribable interest to him. It was a secret for the present, but he + hoped to tell it me soon; it had made a great difference already in the + way in which he looked at the slanders spoken of him in Thorpe Ambrose; he + was too happy to care what the scandal-mongers said of him now, and he + should soon stop their mouths by appearing in a new character that would + surprise them all. So he blundered on, with the firm persuasion that he + was keeping me quite in the dark. It was hard not to laugh, when I thought + of my anonymous letter on its way to the major; but I managed to control + myself—though, I must own, with some difficulty. As the time wore + on, I began to feel a terrible excitement; the position was, I think, a + little too much for me. There I was, alone with him, talking in the most + innocent, easy, familiar manner, and having it in my mind all the time to + brush his life out of my way, when the moment comes, as I might brush a + stain off my gown. It made my blood leap, and my cheeks flush. I caught + myself laughing once or twice much louder than I ought; and long before we + got to London I thought it desirable to put my face in hiding by pulling + down my veil. + </p> + <p> + “There was no difficulty, on reaching the terminus, in getting him to come + in the cab with me to the hotel where Midwinter is staying. He was all + eagerness to be reconciled with his dear friend—principally, I have + no doubt, because he wants the dear friend to lend a helping hand to the + elopement. The real difficulty lay, of course, with Midwinter. My sudden + journey to London had allowed me no opportunity of writing to combat his + superstitious conviction that he and his former friend are better apart. I + thought it wise to leave Armadale in the cab at the door, and to go into + the hotel by myself to pave the way for him. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, Midwinter had not gone out. His delight at seeing me some + days sooner than he had hoped had something infectious in it, I suppose. + Pooh! I may own the truth to my own diary! There was a moment when <i>I</i> + forgot everything in the world but our two selves as completely as he did. + I felt as if I was back in my teens—until I remembered the lout in + the cab at the door. And then I was five-and-thirty again in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “His face altered when he heard who was below, and what it was I wanted of + him; he looked not angry, but distressed. He yielded, however, before + long, not to my reasons, for I gave him none, but to my entreaties. His + old fondness for his friend might possibly have had some share in + persuading him against his will; but my own opinion is that he acted + entirely under the influence of his fondness for Me. + </p> + <p> + “I waited in the sitting-room while he went down to the door; so I knew + nothing of what passed between them when they first saw each other again. + But oh, the difference between the two men when the interval had passed, + and they came upstairs together and joined me. + </p> + <p> + “They were both agitated, but in such different ways! The hateful + Armadale, so loud and red and clumsy; the dear, lovable Midwinter, so pale + and quiet, with such a gentleness in his voice when he spoke, and such + tenderness in his eyes every time they turned my way. Armadale overlooked + me as completely as if I had not been in the room. <i>He</i> referred to + me over and over again in the conversation; <i>he</i> constantly looked at + me to see what I thought, while I sat in my corner silently watching them; + <i>he</i> wanted to go with me and see me safe to my lodgings, and spare + me all trouble with the cabman and the luggage. When I thanked him and + declined, Armadale looked unaffectedly relieved at the prospect of seeing + my back turned, and of having his friend all to himself. I left him, with + his awkward elbows half over the table, scrawling a letter (no doubt to + Miss Milroy), and shouting to the waiter that he wanted a bed at the + hotel. I had calculated on his staying, as a matter of course, where he + found his friend staying. It was pleasant to find my anticipations + realized, and to know that I have as good as got him now under my own eye. + </p> + <p> + “After promising to let Midwinter know where he could see me to-morrow, I + went away in the cab to hunt for lodgings by myself. + </p> + <p> + “With some difficulty I have succeeded in getting an endurable + sitting-room and bedroom in this house, where the people are perfect + strangers to me. Having paid a week’s rent in advance (for I naturally + preferred dispensing with a reference), I find myself with exactly three + shillings and ninepence left in my purse. It is impossible to ask + Midwinter for money, after he has already paid Mrs. Oldershaw’s note of + hand. I must borrow something to-morrow on my watch and chain at the + pawnbroker’s. Enough to keep me going for a fortnight is all, and more + than all, that I want. In that time, or in less than that time, Midwinter + will have married me.” + </p> + <p> + “July 29th.—Two o’clock.—Early in the morning I sent a line to + Midwinter, telling him that he would find me here at three this afternoon. + That done, I devoted the morning to two errands of my own. One is hardly + worth mentioning—it was only to raise money on my watch and chain. I + got more than I expected; and more (even supposing I buy myself one or two + little things in the way of cheap summer dress) than I am at all likely to + spend before the wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + “The other errand was of a far more serious kind. It led me into an + attorney’s office. + </p> + <p> + “I was well aware last night (though I was too weary to put it down in my + diary), that I could not possibly see Midwinter this morning—in the + position he now occupies toward me—without at least <i>appearing</i> + to take him into my confidence on the subject of myself and my + circumstances. Excepting one necessary consideration which I must be + careful not to overlook. There is not the least difficulty in my drawing + on my invention, and telling him any story I please—for thus far I + have told no story to anybody. Midwinter went away to London before it was + possible to approach the subject. As to the Milroys (having provided them + with the customary reference), I could fortunately keep them at + arms-length on all questions relating purely to myself. And lastly, when I + affected my reconciliation with Armadale on the drive in front of the + house, he was fool enough to be too generous to let me defend my + character. When I had expressed my regret for having lost my temper and + threatened Miss Milroy, and when I had accepted his assurance that my + pupil had never done or meant to do me any injury, he was too magnanimous + to hear a word on the subject of my private affairs. Thus I am quite + unfettered by any former assertions of my own; and I may tell any story I + please—with the one drawback hinted at already in the shape of a + restraint. Whatever I may invent in the way of pure fiction, I must + preserve the character in which I have appeared at Thorpe Ambrose; for, + with the notoriety that is attached to <i>my other name</i>, I have no + other choice but to marry Midwinter in my maiden name as ‘Miss Gwilt.’ + </p> + <p> + “This was the consideration that took me into the lawyer’s office. I felt + that I must inform myself, before I saw Midwinter later in the day, of any + awkward consequences that may follow the marriage of a widow if she + conceals her widow’s name. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing of no other professional person whom I could trust, I went boldly + to the lawyer who had my interests in his charge, at that terrible past + time in my life, which I have more reason than ever to shrink from + thinking of now. He was astonished, and, as I could plainly detect, by no + means pleased to see me. I had hardly opened my lips before he said he + hoped I was not consulting him <i>again</i> (with a strong emphasis on the + word) on my own account. I took the hint, and put the question I had come + to ask, in the interests of that accommodating personage on such occasions—an + absent friend. The lawyer evidently saw through it at once; but he was + sharp enough to turn my ‘friend’ to good account on his side. He said he + would answer the question as a matter of courtesy toward a lady + represented by myself; but he must make it a condition that this + consultation of him by deputy should go no further. + </p> + <p> + “I accepted his terms; for I really respected the clever manner in which + he contrived to keep me at arms-length without violating the laws of + good-breeding. In two minutes I heard what he had to say, mastered it in + my own mind, and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Short as it was, the consultation told me everything I wanted to know. I + risk nothing by marrying Midwinter in my maiden instead of my widow’s + name. The marriage is a good marriage in this way: that it can only be set + aside if my husband finds out the imposture, and takes proceedings to + invalidate our marriage in my lifetime. That is the lawyer’s answer in the + lawyer’s own words. It relieves me at once—in this direction, at any + rate—of all apprehension about the future. The only imposture my + husband will ever discover—and then only if he happens to be on the + spot—is the imposture that puts me in the place, and gives me the + income of Armadale’s widow; and by that time I shall have invalidated my + own marriage forever. + </p> + <p> + “Half-past two! Midwinter will be here in half an hour. I must go and ask + my glass how I look. I must rouse my invention, and make up my little + domestic romance. Am I feeling nervous about it? Something flutters in the + place where my heart used to be. At five-and-thirty, too! and after such a + life as mine!” + </p> + <p> + Six o’clock.—He has just gone. The day for our marriage is a day + determined on already. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried to rest and recover myself. I can’t rest. I have come back + to these leaves. There is much to be written in them since Midwinter has + been here, that concerns me nearly. + </p> + <p> + “Let me begin with what I hate most to remember, and so be the sooner done + with it—let me begin with the paltry string of falsehoods which I + told him about my family troubles. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>can</i> be the secret of this man’s hold on me? How is it that he + alters me so that I hardly know myself again? I was like myself in the + railway carriage yesterday with Armadale. It was surely frightful to be + talking to the living man, through the whole of that long journey, with + the knowledge in me all the while that I meant to be his widow—and + yet I was only excited and fevered. Hour after hour I never shrunk once + from speaking to Armadale; but the first trumpery falsehood I told + Midwinter turned me cold when I saw that he believed it! I felt a dreadful + hysterical choking in the throat when he entreated me not to reveal my + troubles. And once—I am horrified when I think of it—once, + when he said, ‘If I <i>could</i> love you more dearly, I should love you + more dearly now,’ I was within a hair-breadth of turning traitor to + myself. I was on the very point of crying out to him, ‘Lies! all lies! I’m + a fiend in human shape! Marry the wretchedest creature that prowls the + streets, and you will marry a better woman than me!’ Yes! the seeing his + eyes moisten, the hearing his voice tremble, while I was deceiving him, + shook me in that way. I have seen handsomer men by hundreds, cleverer men + by dozens. What can this man have roused in me? Is it Love? I thought I <i>had</i> + loved, never to love again. Does a woman not love when the man’s hardness + to her drives her to drown herself? A man drove <i>me</i> to that last + despair in days gone by. Did all my misery at that time come from + something which was not Love? Have I lived to be five-and-thirty, and am I + only feeling now what Love really is?—now, when it is too late? + Ridiculous! Besides, what is the use of asking? What do I know about it? + What does any woman ever know? The more we think of it, the more we + deceive ourselves. I wish I had been born an animal. My beauty might have + been of some use to me then—it might have got me a good master. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a whole page of my diary filled; and nothing written yet that is + of the slightest use to me! My miserable made-up story must be told over + again here, while the incidents are fresh in my memory—or how am I + to refer to it consistently on after-occasions when I may be obliged to + speak of it again? + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing new in what I told him; it was the commonplace rubbish + of the circulating libraries. A dead father; a lost fortune; vagabond + brothers, whom I dread ever seeing again; a bedridden mother dependent on + my exertions—No! I can’t write it down! I hate myself, I despise + myself, when I remember that <i>he</i> believed it because I said it—that + <i>he</i> was distressed by it because it was my story! I will face the + chances of contradicting myself—I will risk discovery and ruin—anything + rather than dwell on that contemptible deception of him a moment longer. + </p> + <p> + “My lies came to an end at last. And then he talked to me of himself and + of his prospects. Oh, what a relief it was to turn to that at the time! + What a relief it is to come to it now! + </p> + <p> + “He has accepted the offer about which he wrote to me at Thorpe Ambrose; + and he is now engaged as occasional foreign correspondent to the new + newspaper. His first destination is Naples. I wish it had been some other + place, for I have certain past associations with Naples which I am not at + all anxious to renew. It has been arranged that he is to leave England not + later than the eleventh of next month. By that time, therefore, I, who am + to go with him, must go with him as his wife. + </p> + <p> + “There is not the slightest difficulty about the marriage. All this part + of it is so easy that I begin to dread an accident. + </p> + <p> + “The proposal to keep the thing strictly private—which it might have + embarrassed me to make—comes from Midwinter. Marrying me in his own + name—the name that he has kept concealed from every living creature + but myself and Mr. Brock—it is his interest that not a soul who + knows him should be present at the ceremony; his friend Armadale least of + all. He has been a week in London already. When another week has passed, + he proposes to get the License, and to be married in the church belonging + to the parish in which the hotel is situated. These are the only necessary + formalities. I had but to say ‘Yes’ (he told me), and to feel no further + anxiety about the future. I said ‘Yes’ with such a devouring anxiety about + the future that I was afraid he would see it. What minutes the next few + minutes were, when he whispered delicious words to me, while I hid my face + on his breast! + </p> + <p> + “I recovered myself first, and led him back to the subject of Armadale, + having my own reasons for wanting to know what they said to each other + after I had left them yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “The manner in which Midwinter replied showed me that he was speaking + under the restraint of respecting a confidence placed in him by his + friend. Long before he had done, I detected what the confidence was. + Armadale had been consulting him (exactly as I anticipated) on the subject + of the elopement. Although he appears to have remonstrated against taking + the girl secretly away from her home, Midwinter seems to have felt some + delicacy about speaking strongly, remembering (widely different as the + circumstances are) that he was contemplating a private marriage himself. I + gathered, at any rate, that he had produced very little effect by what he + had said; and that Armadale had already carried out his absurd intention + of consulting the head-clerk in the office of his London lawyers. + </p> + <p> + “Having got as far as this, Midwinter put the question which I felt must + come sooner or later. He asked if I objected to our engagement being + mentioned, in the strictest secrecy, to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “‘I will answer,’ he said, ‘for Allan’s respecting any confidence that I + place in him. And I will undertake, when the time comes, so to use my + influence over him as to prevent his being present at the marriage, and + discovering (what he must never know) that my name is the same as his own. + It would help me,’ he went on, ‘to speak more strongly about the object + that has brought him to London, if I can requite the frankness with which + he has spoken of his private affairs to me by the same frankness on my + side.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had no choice but to give the necessary permission, and I gave it. It + is of the utmost importance to me to know what course Major Milroy takes + with his daughter and Armadale after receiving my anonymous letter; and, + unless I invite Armadale’s confidence in some way, I am nearly certain to + be kept in the dark. Let him once be trusted with the knowledge that I am + to be Midwinter’s wife, and what he tells his friend about his love affair + he will tell me. + </p> + <p> + “When it had been understood between us that Armadale was to be taken into + our confidence, we began to talk about ourselves again. How the time flew! + What a sweet enchantment it was to forget everything in his arms! How he + loves me!—ah, poor fellow, how he loves me! + </p> + <p> + “I have promised to meet him to-morrow morning in the Regent’s Park. The + less he is seen here the better. The people in this house are strangers to + me, certainly; but it may be wise to consult appearances, as if I was + still at Thorpe Ambrose, and not to produce the impression, even on their + minds, that Midwinter is engaged to me. If any after-inquiries are made, + when I have run my grand risk, the testimony of my London landlady might + be testimony worth having. + </p> + <p> + “That wretched old Bashwood! Writing of Thorpe Ambrose reminds me of him. + What will he say when the town gossip tells him that Armadale has taken me + to London, in a carriage reserved for ourselves? It really is too absurd + in a man of Bashwood’s age and appearance to presume to be in love!....” + </p> + <p> + “July 30th.—News at last! Armadale has heard from Miss Milroy. My + anonymous letter has produced its effect. The girl is removed from Thorpe + Ambrose already; and the whole project of the elopement is blown to the + winds at once and forever. This was the substance of what Midwinter had to + tell me when I met him in the Park. I affected to be excessively + astonished, and to feel the necessary feminine longing to know all the + particulars. ‘Not that I expect to have my curiosity satisfied,’ I added, + ‘for Mr. Armadale and I are little better than mere acquaintances, after + all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are far more than a mere acquaintance in Allan’s eyes,’ said + Midwinter. ‘Having your permission to trust him, I have already told him + how near and dear you are to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “Hearing this, I thought it desirable, before I put any questions about + Miss Milroy, to attend to my own interests first, and to find out what + effect the announcement of my coming marriage had produced on Armadale. It + was possible that he might be still suspicious of me, and that the + inquiries he made in London, at Mrs. Milroy’s instigation, might be still + hanging on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “‘Did Mr. Armadale seem surprised,’ I asked, ‘when you told him of our + engagement, and when you said it was to be kept a secret from everybody?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He seemed greatly surprised,’ said Midwinter, ‘to hear that we were + going to be married. All he said when I told him it must be kept a secret + was that he supposed there were reasons on your side for making the + marriage a private one.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What did you say,’ I inquired, ‘when he made that remark?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I said the reasons were on my side,’ answered Midwinter. ‘And I thought + it right to add—considering that Allan had allowed himself to be + misled by the ignorant distrust of you at Thorpe Ambrose—that you + had confided to me the whole of your sad family story, and that you had + amply justified your unwillingness; under any ordinary circumstances, to + speak of your private affairs.’” + </p> + <p> + (“I breathed freely again. He had said just what was wanted, just in the + right way.”) + </p> + <p> + “‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘for putting me right in your friend’s estimation. + Does he wish to see me?’ I added, by way of getting back to the other + subject of Miss Milroy and the elopement. + </p> + <p> + “‘He is longing to see you,’ returned Midwinter. ‘He is in great distress, + poor fellow—distress which I have done my best to soothe, but which, + I believe, would yield far more readily to a woman’s sympathy than to + mine.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Where is he now?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He was at the hotel; and to the hotel I instantly proposed that we should + go. It is a busy, crowded place; and (with my veil down) I have less fear + of compromising myself there than at my quiet lodgings. Besides, it is + vitally important to me to know what Armadale does next, under this total + change of circumstances—for I must so control his proceedings as to + get him away from England if I can. We took a cab: such was my eagerness + to sympathize with the heart-broken lover, that we took a cab! + </p> + <p> + “Anything so ridiculous as Armadale’s behavior under the double shock of + discovering that his young lady has been taken away from him, and that I + am to be married to Midwinter, I never before witnessed in all my + experience. To say that he was like a child is a libel on all children who + are not born idiots. He congratulated me on my coming marriage, and + execrated the unknown wretch who had written the anonymous letter, little + thinking that he was speaking of one and the same person in one and the + same breath. Now he submissively acknowledged that Major Milroy had his + rights as a father, and now he reviled the major as having no feeling for + anything but his mechanics and his clock. At one moment he started up, + with the tears in his eyes, and declared that his ‘darling Neelie’ was an + angel on earth. At another he sat down sulkily, and thought that a girl of + her spirit might have run away on the spot and joined him in London. After + a good half-hour of this absurd exhibition, I succeeded in quieting him; + and then a few words of tender inquiry produced what I had expressly come + to the hotel to see—Miss Milroy’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “It was outrageously long, and rambling, and confused; in short, the + letter of a fool. I had to wade through plenty of vulgar sentiment and + lamentation, and to lose time and patience over maudlin outbursts of + affection, and nauseous kisses inclosed in circles of ink. However, I + contrived to extract the information I wanted at last; and here it is: + </p> + <p> + “The major, on receipt of my anonymous warning, appears to have sent at + once for his daughter, and to have shown her the letter. ‘You know what a + hard life I lead with your mother; don’t make it harder still, Neelie, by + deceiving me.’ That was all the poor old gentleman said. I always did like + the major; and, though he was afraid to show it, I know he always liked + me. His appeal to his daughter (if <i>her</i> account of it is to be + believed) cut her to the heart. She burst out crying (let her alone for + crying at the right moment!) and confessed everything. + </p> + <p> + “After giving her time to recover herself (if he had given her a good box + on the ears it would have been more to the purpose!), the major seems to + have put certain questions, and to have become convinced (as I was + convinced myself) that his daughter’s heart, or fancy, or whatever she + calls it, was really and truly set on Armadale. The discovery evidently + distressed as well as surprised him. He appears to have hesitated, and to + have maintained his own unfavorable opinion of Miss Neelie’s lover for + some little time. But his daughter’s tears and entreaties (so like the + weakness of the dear old gentleman!) shook him at last. Though he firmly + refused to allow of any marriage engagement at present, he consented to + overlook the clandestine meetings in the park, and to put Armadale’s + fitness to become his son-in-law to the test, on certain conditions. + </p> + <p> + “These conditions are, that for the next six months to come all + communication is to be broken off, both personally and by writing, between + Armadale and Miss Milroy. That space of time is to be occupied by the + young gentleman as he himself thinks best, and by the young lady in + completing her education at school. If, when the six months have passed, + they are both still of the same mind, and if Armadale’s conduct in the + interval has been such as to improve the major’s opinion of him, he will + be allowed to present himself in the character of Miss Milroy’s suitor, + and, in six months more, if all goes well, the marriage may take place. + </p> + <p> + “I declare I could kiss the dear old major, if I was only within reach of + him! If I had been at his elbow, and had dictated the conditions myself, I + could have asked for nothing better than this. Six months of total + separation between Armadale and Miss Milroy! In half that time—with + all communication cut off between the two—it must go hard with me, + indeed, if I don’t find myself dressed in the necessary mourning, and + publicly recognized as Armadale’s widow. + </p> + <p> + “But I am forgetting the girl’s letter. She gives her father’s reasons for + making his conditions, in her father’s own words. The major seems to have + spoken so sensibly and so feelingly that he left his daughter no decent + alternative—and he leaves Armadale no decent alternative—but + to submit. As well as I can remember, he seems to have expressed himself + to Miss Neelie in these, or nearly in these terms: + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t think I am behaving cruelly to you, my dear: I am merely asking + you to put Mr. Armadale to the proof. It is not only right, it is + absolutely necessary, that you should hold no communication with him for + some time to come; and I will show you why. In the first place, if you go + to school, the necessary rules in such places—necessary for the sake + of the other girls—would not permit you to see Mr. Armadale or to + receive letters from him; and, if you are to become mistress of Thorpe + Ambrose, to school you must go, for you would be ashamed, and I should be + ashamed, if you occupied the position of a lady of station without having + the accomplishments which all ladies of station are expected to possess. + In the second place, I want to see whether Mr. Armadale will continue to + think of you as he thinks now, without being encouraged in his attachment + by seeing you, or reminded of it by hearing from you. If I am wrong in + thinking him flighty and unreliable, and if your opinion of him is the + right one, this is not putting the young man to an unfair test—true + love survives much longer separations than a separation of six months. And + when that time is over, and well over; and when I have had him under my + own eye for another six months, and have learned to think as highly of him + as you do—even then, my dear, after all that terrible delay, you + will still be a married woman before you are eighteen. Think of this, + Neelie, and show that you love me and trust me, by accepting my proposal. + I will hold no communication with Mr. Armadale myself. I will leave it to + you to write and tell him what has been decided on. He may write back one + letter, and one only, to acquaint you with his decision. After that, for + the sake of your reputation, nothing more is to be said, and nothing more + is to be done, and the matter is to be kept strictly private until the six + months’ interval is at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + “To this effect the major spoke. His behavior to that little slut of a + girl has produced a stronger impression on me than anything else in the + letter. It has set me thinking (me, of all the people in the world!) of + what they call ‘a moral difficulty.’ We are perpetually told that there + can be no possible connection between virtue and vice. Can there not? Here + is Major Milroy doing exactly what an excellent father, at once kind and + prudent, affectionate and firm, would do under the circumstances; and by + that very course of conduct he has now smoothed the way for <i>me</i>, as + completely as if he had been the chosen accomplice of that abominable + creature, Miss Gwilt. Only think of my reasoning in this way! But I am in + such good spirits, I can do anything to-day. I have not looked so bright + and so young as I look now for months past! + </p> + <p> + “To return to the letter, for the last time—it is so excessively + dull and stupid that I really can’t help wandering away from it into + reflections of my own, as a mere relief. + </p> + <p> + “After solemnly announcing that she meant to sacrifice herself to her + beloved father’s wishes (the brazen assurance of her setting up for a + martyr after what has happened exceeds anything I ever heard or read of!), + Miss Neelie next mentioned that the major proposed taking her to the + seaside for change of air, during the few days that were still to elapse + before she went to school. Armadale was to send his answer by return of + post, and to address her, under cover to her father, at Lowestoft. With + this, and with a last outburst of tender protestation, crammed crookedly + into a corner of the page, the letter ended. (N.B.—The major’s + object in taking her to the seaside is plain enough. He still privately + distrusts Armadale, and he is wisely determined to prevent any more + clandestine meetings in the park before the girl is safely disposed of at + school.) + </p> + <p> + “When I had done with the letter—I had requested permission to read + parts of it which I particularly admired, for the second and third time!—we + all consulted together in a friendly way about what Armadale was to do. + </p> + <p> + “He was fool enough, at the outset, to protest against submitting to Major + Milroy’s conditions. He declared, with his odious red face looking the + picture of brute health, that he should never survive a six months’ + separation from his beloved Neelie. Midwinter (as may easily be imagined) + seemed a little ashamed of him, and joined me in bringing him to his + senses. We showed him, what would have been plain enough to anybody but a + booby, that there was no honorable or even decent alternative left but to + follow the example of submission set by the young lady. ‘Wait, and you + will have her for your wife,’ was what I said. ‘Wait, and you will force + the major to alter his unjust opinion of you,’ was what Midwinter added. + With two clever people hammering common sense into his head at that rate, + it is needless to say that his head gave way, and he submitted. + </p> + <p> + “Having decided him to accept the major’s conditions (I was careful to + warn him, before he wrote to Miss Milroy, that my engagement to Midwinter + was to be kept as strictly secret from her as from everybody else), the + next question we had to settle related to his future proceedings. I was + ready with the necessary arguments to stop him, if he had proposed + returning to Thorpe Ambrose. But he proposed nothing of the sort. On the + contrary, he declared, of his own accord, that nothing would induce him to + go back. The place and the people were associated with everything that was + hateful to him. There would be no Miss Milroy now to meet him in the park, + and no Midwinter to keep him company in the solitary house. ‘I’d rather + break stones on the road,’ was the sensible and cheerful way in which he + put it, ‘than go back to Thorpe Ambrose.’ + </p> + <p> + “The first suggestion after this came from Midwinter. The sly old + clergyman who gave Mrs. Oldershaw and me so much trouble has, it seems, + been ill, but has been latterly reported better. ‘Why not go to + Somersetshire,’ said Midwinter, ‘and see your good friend, and my good + friend, Mr. Brock?’ + </p> + <p> + “Armadale caught at the proposal readily enough. He longed, in the first + place, to see ‘dear old Brock,’ and he longed, in the second place, to see + his yacht. After staying a few days more in London with Midwinter, he + would gladly go to Somersetshire. But what after that? + </p> + <p> + “Seeing my opportunity, <i>I</i> came to the rescue this time. ‘You have + got a yacht, Mr. Armadale,’ I said; ‘and you know that Midwinter is going + to Italy. When you are tired of Somersetshire, why not make a voyage to + the Mediterranean, and meet your friend, and your friend’s wife, at + Naples?’ + </p> + <p> + “I made the allusion to ‘his friend’s wife’ with the most becoming modesty + and confusion. Armadale was enchanted. I had hit on the best of all ways + of occupying the weary time. He started up, and wrung my hand in quite an + ecstasy of gratitude. How I do hate people who can only express their + feelings by hurting other people’s hands! + </p> + <p> + “Midwinter was as pleased with my proposal as Armadale; but he saw + difficulties in the way of carrying it out. He considered the yacht too + small for a cruise to the Mediterranean, and he thought it desirable to + hire a larger vessel. His friend thought otherwise. I left them arguing + the question. It was quite enough for me to have made sure, in the first + place, that Armadale will not return to Thorpe Ambrose; and to have + decided him, in the second place, on going abroad. He may go how he likes. + I should prefer the small yacht myself; for there seems to be a chance + that the small yacht might do me the inestimable service of drowning + him....” + </p> + <p> + “Five o’clock.—The excitement of feeling that I had got Armadale’s + future movements completely under my own control made me so restless, when + I returned to my lodgings, that I was obliged to go out again, and do + something. A new interest to occupy me being what I wanted, I went to + Pimlico to have it out with Mother Oldershaw. + </p> + <p> + “I walked; and made up my mind, on the way, that I would begin by + quarreling with her. + </p> + <p> + “One of my notes of hand being paid already, and Midwinter being willing + to pay the other two when they fall due, my present position with the old + wretch is as independent a one as I could desire. I always get the better + of her when it comes to a downright battle between us, and find her + wonderfully civil and obliging the moment I have made her feel that mine + is the strongest will of the two. In my present situation, she might be of + use to me in various ways, if I could secure her assistance, without + trusting her with secrets which I am now more than ever determined to keep + to myself. That was my idea as I walked to Pimlico. Upsetting Mother + Oldershaw’s nerves, in the first place, and then twisting her round my + little finger, in the second, promised me, as I thought, an interesting + occupation for the rest of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “When I got to Pimlico, a surprise was in store for we. The house was shut + up—not only on Mrs. Oldershaw’s side, but on Doctor Downward’s as + well. A padlock was on the shop door; and a man was hanging about on the + watch, who might have been an ordinary idler certainly, but who looked, to + my mind, like a policeman in disguise. + </p> + <p> + “Knowing the risks the doctor runs in his particular form of practice, I + suspected at once that something serious had happened, and that even + cunning Mrs. Oldershaw was compromised this time. Without stopping, or + making any inquiry, therefore, I called the first cab that passed me, and + drove to the post-office to which I had desired my letters to be forwarded + if any came for me after I left my Thorpe Ambrose lodging. + </p> + <p> + “On inquiry a letter was produced for ‘Miss Gwilt.’ It was in Mother + Oldershaw’s handwriting, and it told me (as I had supposed) that the + doctor had got into a serious difficulty—that she was herself most + unfortunately mixed up in the matter, and that they were both in hiding + for the present. The letter ended with some sufficiently venomous + sentences about my conduct at Thorpe Ambrose, and with a warning that I + have not heard the last of Mrs. Oldershaw yet. It relieved me to find her + writing in this way—for she would have been civil and cringing if + she had had any suspicion of what I have really got in view. I burned the + letter as soon as the candles came up. And there, for the present, is an + end of the connection between Mother Jezebel and me. I must do all my own + dirty work now; and I shall be all the safer, perhaps, for trusting + nobody’s hands to do it but my own.” + </p> + <p> + “July 31st.—More useful information for me. I met Midwinter again in + the Park (on the pretext that my reputation might suffer if he called too + often at my lodgings), and heard the last news of Armadale since I left + the hotel yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “After he had written to Miss Milroy, Midwinter took the opportunity of + speaking to him about the necessary business arrangements during his + absence from the great house. It was decided that the servants should be + put on board wages, and that Mr. Bashwood should be left in charge. + (Somehow, I don’t like this re-appearance of Mr. Bashwood in connection + with my present interests, but there is no help for it.) The next question—the + question of money—was settled at once by Mr. Armadale himself. All + his available ready-money (a large sum) is to be lodged by Mr. Bashwood in + Coutts’s Bank, and to be there deposited in Armadale’s name. This, he + said, would save him the worry of any further letter-writing to his + steward, and would enable him to get what he wanted, when he went abroad, + at a moment’s notice. The plan thus proposed, being certainly the simplest + and the safest, was adopted with Midwinter’s full concurrence; and here + the business discussion would have ended, if the everlasting Mr. Bashwood + had not turned up again in the conversation, and prolonged it in an + entirely new direction. + </p> + <p> + “On reflection, it seems to have struck Midwinter that the whole + responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose ought not to rest on Mr. Bashwood’s + shoulders. Without in the least distrusting him, Midwinter felt, + nevertheless, that he ought to have somebody set over him, to apply to in + case of emergency. Armadale made no objection to this; he only asked, in + his helpless way, who the person was to be? + </p> + <p> + “The answer was not an easy one to arrive at. + </p> + <p> + “Either of the two solicitors at Thorpe Ambrose might have been employed, + but Armadale was on bad terms with both of them. Any reconciliation with + such a bitter enemy as the elder lawyer, Mr. Darch, was out of the + question; and reinstating Mr. Pedgift in his former position implied a + tacit sanction on Armadale’s part of the lawyer’s abominable conduct + toward <i>me</i>, which was scarcely consistent with the respect and + regard that he felt for a lady who was soon to be his friend’s wife. After + some further discussion, Midwinter hit on a new suggestion which appeared + to meet the difficulty. He proposed that Armadale should write to a + respectable solicitor at Norwich, stating his position in general terms, + and requesting that gentleman to act as Mr. Bashwood’s adviser and + superintendent when occasion required. Norwich being within an easy + railway ride of Thorpe Ambrose, Armadale saw no objection to the proposal, + and promised to write to the Norwich lawyer. Fearing that he might make + some mistake if he wrote without assistance, Midwinter had drawn him out a + draft of the necessary letter, and Armadale was now engaged in copying the + draft, and also in writing to Mr. Bashwood to lodge the money immediately + in Coutts’s Bank. + </p> + <p> + “These details are so dry and uninteresting in themselves that I hesitated + at first about putting them down in my diary. But a little reflection has + convinced me that they are too important to be passed over. Looked at from + my point of view, they mean this—that Armadale’s own act is now + cutting him off from all communication with Thorpe Ambrose, even by + letter. <i>He is as good as dead already to everybody he leaves behind him</i>. + The causes which have led to such a result as that are causes which + certainly claim the best place I can give them in these pages.” + </p> + <p> + “August 1st.—Nothing to record, but that I have had a long, quiet, + happy day with Midwinter. He hired a carriage, and we drove to Richmond, + and dined there. After to-day’s experience, it is impossible to deceive + myself any longer. Come what may of it, I love him. + </p> + <p> + “I have fallen into low spirits since he left me. A persuasion has taken + possession of my mind that the smooth and prosperous course of my affairs + since I have been in London is too smooth and prosperous to last. There is + something oppressing me to-night, which is more than the oppression of the + heavy London air.” + </p> + <p> + “August 2d.—Three o’clock.—My presentiments, like other + people’s, have deceived me often enough; but I am almost afraid that my + presentiment of last night was really prophetic, for once in a way. + </p> + <p> + “I went after breakfast to a milliner’s in this neighborhood to order a + few cheap summer things, and thence to Midwinter’s hotel to arrange with + him for another day in the country. I drove to the milliner’s and to the + hotel, and part of the way back. Then, feeling disgusted with the horrid + close smell of the cab (somebody had been smoking in it, I suppose), I got + out to walk the rest of the way. Before I had been two minutes on my feet, + I discovered that I was being followed by a strange man. + </p> + <p> + “This may mean nothing but that an idle fellow has been struck by my + figure, and my appearance generally. My face could have made no impression + on him, for it was hidden as usual by my veil. Whether he followed me (in + a cab, of course) from the milliner’s, or from the hotel, I cannot say. + Nor am I quite certain whether he did or did not track me to this door. I + only know that I lost sight of him before I got back. There is no help for + it but to wait till events enlighten me. If there is anything serious in + what has happened, I shall soon discover it.” + </p> + <p> + “Five o’clock.—It <i>is</i> serious. Ten minutes since, I was in my + bedroom, which communicates with the sitting-room. I was just coming out, + when I heard a strange voice on the landing outside—a woman’s voice. + The next instant the sitting-room door was suddenly opened; the woman’s + voice said, ‘Are these the apartments you have got to let?’ and though the + landlady, behind her, answered, ‘No! higher up, ma’am,’ the woman came on + straight to my bedroom, as if she had not heard. I had just time to slam + the door in her face before she saw me. The necessary explanations and + apologies followed between the landlady and the stranger in the + sitting-room, and then I was left alone again. + </p> + <p> + “I have no time to write more. It is plain that somebody has an interest + in trying to identify me, and that, but for my own quickness, the strange + woman would have accomplished this object by taking me by surprise. She + and the man who followed me in the street are, I suspect, in league + together; and there is probably somebody in the background whose interests + they are serving. Is Mother Oldershaw attacking me in the dark? or who + else can it be? No matter who it is; my present situation is too critical + to be trifled with. I must get away from this house to-night, and leave no + trace behind me by which I can be followed to another place.” + </p> + <p> + “August 3d.—Gary Street, Tottenham Court Road.—I got away last + night (after writing an excuse to Midwinter, in which ‘my invalid mother’ + figured as the all-sufficient cause of my disappearance); and I have found + refuge here. It has cost me some money; but my object is attained! Nobody + can possibly have traced me from All Saints’ Terrace to this address. + </p> + <p> + “After paying my landlady the necessary forfeit for leaving her without + notice, I arranged with her son that he should take my boxes in a cab to + the cloak-room at the nearest railway station, and send me the ticket in a + letter, to wait my application for it at the post-office. While he went + his way in one cab, I went mine in another, with a few things for the + night in my little hand-bag. + </p> + <p> + “I drove straight to the milliner’s shop, which I had observed, when I was + there yesterday, had a back entrance into a mews, for the apprentices to + go in and out by. I went in at once, leaving the cab waiting for me at the + door. ‘A man is following me,’ I said, ‘and I want to get rid of him. Here + is my cab fare; wait ten minutes before you give it to the driver, and let + me out at once by the back way!’ In a moment I was out in the mews; in + another, I was in the next street; in a third, I hailed a passing omnibus, + and was a free woman again. + </p> + <p> + “Having now cut off all communication between me and my last lodgings, the + next precaution (in case Midwinter or Armadale are watched) is to cut off + all communication, for some days to come at least, between me and the + hotel. I have written to Midwinter—making my supposititious mother + once more the excuse—to say that I am tied to my nursing duties, and + that we must communicate by writing only for the present. Doubtful as I + still am of who my hidden enemy really is, I can do no more to defend + myself than I have done now.” + </p> + <p> + “August 4th.—The two friends at the hotel had both written to me. + Midwinter expresses his regret at our separation, in the tenderest terms. + Armadale writes an entreaty for help under very awkward circumstances. A + letter from Major Milroy has been forwarded to him from the great house, + and he incloses it in his letter to me. + </p> + <p> + “Having left the seaside, and placed his daughter safely at the school + originally chosen for her (in the neighborhood of Ely), the major appears + to have returned to Thorpe Ambrose at the close of last week; to have + heard then, for the first time, the reports about Armadale and me; and to + have written instantly to Armadale to tell him so. + </p> + <p> + “The letter is stern and short. Major Milroy dismisses the report as + unworthy of credit, because it is impossible for him to believe in such an + act of ‘cold-blooded treachery,’ as the scandal would imply, if the + scandal were true. He simply writes to warn Armadale that, if he is not + more careful in his actions for the future, he must resign all pretensions + to Miss Milroy’s hand. ‘I neither expect, nor wish for, an answer to this’ + (the letter ends), ‘for I desire to receive no mere protestations in + words. By your conduct, and by your conduct alone, I shall judge you as + time goes on. Let me also add that I positively forbid you to consider + this letter as an excuse for violating the terms agreed on between us, by + writing again to my daughter. You have no need to justify yourself in her + eyes, for I fortunately removed her from Thorpe Ambrose before this + abominable report had time to reach her; and I shall take good care, for + her sake, that she is not agitated and unsettled by hearing it where she + is now.’ + </p> + <p> + “Armadale’s petition to me, under these circumstances, entreats (as I am + the innocent cause of the new attack on his character) that I will write + to the major to absolve him of all indiscretion in the matter, and to say + that he could not, in common politeness, do otherwise than accompany me to + London. + </p> + <p> + “I forgive the impudence of his request, in consideration of the news that + he sends me. It is certainly another circumstance in my favor that the + scandal at Thorpe Ambrose is not to be allowed to reach Miss Milroy’s + ears. With her temper (if she did hear it) she might do something + desperate in the way of claiming her lover, and might compromise me + seriously. As for my own course with Armadale, it is easy enough. I shall + quiet him by promising to write to Major Milroy; and I shall take the + liberty, in my own private interests, of not keeping my word. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the least suspicious has happened to-day. Whoever my enemies + are, they have lost me, and between this and the time when I leave England + they shall not find me again. I have been to the post-office, and have got + the ticket for my luggage, inclosed to me in a letter from All Saints’ + Terrace, as I directed. The luggage itself I shall still leave at the + cloak-room, until I see the way before me more clearly than I see it now.” + </p> + <p> + “August 5th.—Two letters again from the hotel. Midwinter writes to + remind me, in the prettiest possible manner, that he will have lived long + enough in the parish by to-morrow to be able to get our marriage-license, + and that he proposes applying for it in the usual way at Doctors’ Commons. + Now, if I am ever to say it, is the time to say No. I can’t say No. There + is the plain truth—and there is an end of it! + </p> + <p> + “Armadale’s letter is a letter of farewell. He thanks me for my kindness + in consenting to write to the major, and bids me good-by, till we meet + again at Naples. He has learned from his friend that there are private + reasons which will oblige him to forbid himself the pleasure of being + present at our marriage. Under these circumstances, there is nothing to + keep him in London. He has made all his business arrangements; he goes to + Somersetshire by to-night’s train; and, after staying some time with Mr. + Brock, he will sail for the Mediterranean from the Bristol Channel (in + spite of Midwinter’s objections) in his own yacht. + </p> + <p> + “The letter incloses a jeweler’s box, with a ring in it—Armadale’s + present to me on my marriage. It is a ruby—but rather a small one, + and set in the worst possible taste. He would have given Miss Milroy a + ring worth ten times the money, if it had been <i>her</i> marriage + present. There is no more hateful creature, in my opinion, than a miserly + young man. I wonder whether his trumpery little yacht will drown him? + </p> + <p> + “I am so excited and fluttered, I hardly know what I am writing. Not that + I shrink from what is coming—I only feel as if I was being hurried + on faster than I quite like to go. At this rate, if nothing happens, + Midwinter will have married me by the end of the week. And then—!” + </p> + <p> + “August 6th.—If anything could startle me now, I should feel + startled by the news that has reached me to-day. + </p> + <p> + “On his return to the hotel this morning, after getting the + marriage-license, Midwinter found a telegram waiting for him. It contained + an urgent message from Armadale, announcing that Mr. Brock had had a + relapse, and that all hope of his recovery was pronounced by the doctors + to be at an end. By the dying man’s own desire, Midwinter was summoned to + take leave of him, and was entreated by Armadale not to lose a moment in + starting for the rectory by the first train. + </p> + <p> + “The hurried letter which tells me this tells me also that, by the time I + receive it, Midwinter will be on his way to the West. He promises to write + at greater length, after he has seen Mr. Brock, by to-night’s post. + </p> + <p> + “This news has an interest for me, which Midwinter little suspects. There + is but one human creature, besides myself, who knows the secret of his + birth and his name; and that one is the old man who now lies waiting for + him at the point of death. What will they say to each other at the last + moment? Will some chance word take them back to the time when I was in + Mrs. Armadale’s service at Madeira? Will they speak of Me?” + </p> + <p> + “August 7th.—The promised letter has just reached me. No parting + words have been exchanged between them: it was all over before Midwinter + reached Somersetshire. Armadale met him at the rectory gate with the news + that Mr. Brock was dead. + </p> + <p> + “I try to struggle against it, but, coming after the strange complication + of circumstances that has been closing round me for weeks past, there is + something in this latest event of all that shakes my nerves. But one last + chance of detection stood in my way when I opened my diary yesterday. When + I open it to-day, that chance is removed by Mr. Brock’s death. It means + something; I wish I knew what. + </p> + <p> + “The funeral is to be on Saturday morning. Midwinter will attend it as + well as Armadale. But he proposes returning to London first; and he writes + word that he will call to-night, in the hope of seeing me, on his way from + the station to the hotel. Even if there was any risk in it, I should see + him, as things are now. But there is no risk if he comes here from the + station instead of coming from the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Five o’clock.—I was not mistaken in believing that my nerves were + all unstrung. Trifles that would not have cost me a second thought at + other times weigh heavily on my mind now. + </p> + <p> + “Two hours since, in despair of knowing how to get through the day, I + bethought myself of the milliner who is making my summer dress. I had + intended to go and try it on yesterday; but it slipped out of my memory in + the excitement of hearing about Mr. Brock. So I went this afternoon, eager + to do anything that might help me to get rid of myself. I have returned, + feeling more uneasy and more depressed than I felt when I went out; for I + have come back fearing that I may yet have reason to repent not having + left my unfinished dress on the milliner’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing happened to me, this time, in the street. It was only in the + trying-on room that my suspicions were roused; and there it certainly did + cross my mind that the attempt to discover me, which I defeated at All + Saints’ Terrace, was not given up yet, and that some of the shop-women had + been tampered with, if not the mistress herself. + </p> + <p> + “Can I give myself anything in the shape of a reason for this impression? + Let me think a little. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly noticed two things which were out of the ordinary routine, + under the circumstances. In the first place, there were twice as many + women as were needed in the trying-on room. This looked suspicious; and + yet I might have accounted for it in more ways than one. Is it not the + slack time now? and don’t I know by experience that I am the sort of woman + about whom other women are always spitefully curious? I thought again, in + the second place, that one of the assistants persisted rather oddly in + keeping me turned in a particular direction, with my face toward the + glazed and curtained door that led into the work-room. But, after all, she + gave a reason when I asked for it. She said the light fell better on me + that way; and, when I looked round, there was the window to prove her + right. Still, these trifles produced such an effect on me, at the time, + that I purposely found fault with the dress, so as to have an excuse for + trying it on again, before I told them where I lived, and had it sent + home. Pure fancy, I dare say. Pure fancy, perhaps, at the present moment. + I don’t care; I shall act on instinct (as they say), and give up the + dress. In plainer words still, I won’t go back.” + </p> + <p> + “Midnight.—Midwinter came to see me as he promised. An hour has + passed since we said good-night; and here I still sit, with my pen in my + hand, thinking of him. No words of mine can describe what has passed + between us. The end of it is all I can write in these pages; and the end + of it is that he has shaken my resolution. For the first time since I saw + the easy way to Armadale’s life at Thorpe Ambrose, I feel as if the man + whom I have doomed in my own thoughts had a chance of escaping me. + </p> + <p> + “Is it my love for Midwinter that has altered me? Or is it <i>his</i> love + for <i>me</i> that has taken possession not only of all I wish to give + him, but of all I wish to keep from him as well? I feel as if I had lost + myself—lost myself, I mean, in <i>him</i>—all through the + evening. He was in great agitation about what had happened in + Somersetshire; and he made me feel as disheartened and as wretched about + it as he did. Though he never confessed it in words, I know that Mr. + Brock’s death has startled him as an ill omen for our marriage—I + know it, because I feel Mr. Brock’s death as an ill omen too. The + superstition—<i>his</i> superstition—took so strong a hold on + me, that when we grew calmer and he spoke of time future—when he + told me that he must either break his engagement with his new employers or + go abroad, as he is pledged to go, on Monday next—I actually shrank + at the thought of our marriage following close on Mr. Brock’s funeral; I + actually said to him, in the impulse of the moment, ‘Go, and begin your + new life alone! go, and leave me here to wait for happier times.’ + </p> + <p> + “He took me in his arms. He sighed, and kissed me with an angelic + tenderness. He said—oh, so softly and so sadly!—I have no life + now, apart from <i>you</i>.’ As those words passed his lips, the thought + seemed to rise in my mind like an echo, ‘Why not live out all the days + that are left to me, happy and harmless in a love like this!’ I can’t + explain it—I can’t realize it. That was the thought in me at the + time; and that is the thought in me still. I see my own hand while I write + the words—and I ask myself whether it is really the hand of Lydia + Gwilt! + </p> + <p> + “Armadale— + </p> + <p> + “No! I will never write, I will never think of Armadale again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! Let me write once more—let me think once more of him, because + it quiets me to know that he is going away, and that the sea will have + parted us before I am married. His old home is home to him no longer, now + that the loss of his mother has been followed by the loss of his best and + earliest friend. When the funeral is over, he has decided to sail the same + day for the foreign seas. We may, or we may not, meet at Naples. Shall I + be an altered woman if we do? I wonder; I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “August 8th.—A line from Midwinter. He has gone back to + Somersetshire to be in readiness for the funeral to-morrow; and he will + return here (after bidding Armadale good-by) to-morrow evening. + </p> + <p> + “The last forms and ceremonies preliminary to our marriage have been + complied with. I am to be his wife on Monday next. The hour must not be + later than half-past ten—which will give us just time, when the + service is over, to get from the church door to the railway, and to start + on our journey to Naples the same day. + </p> + <p> + “To-day—Saturday—Sunday! I am not afraid of the time; the time + will pass. I am not afraid of myself, if I can only keep all thoughts but + one out of my mind. I love him! Day and night, till Monday comes, I will + think of nothing but that. I love him!” + </p> + <p> + “Four o’clock.—Other thoughts are forced into my mind in spite of + me. My suspicions of yesterday were no mere fancies; the milliner has been + tampered with. My folly in going back to her house has led to my being + traced here. I am absolutely certain that I never gave the woman my + address; and yet my new gown was sent home to me at two o’clock to-day! + </p> + <p> + “A man brought it with the bill, and a civil message, to say that, as I + had not called at the appointed time to try it on again, the dress had + been finished and sent to me. He caught me in the passage; I had no choice + but to pay the bill, and dismiss him. Any other proceeding, as events have + now turned out, would have been pure folly. The messenger (not the man who + followed me in the street, but another spy sent to look at me, beyond all + doubt) would have declared he knew nothing about it, if I had spoken to + him. The milliner would tell me to my face, if I went to her, that I had + given her my address. The one useful thing to do now is to set my wits to + work in the interests of my own security, and to step out of the false + position in which my own rashness has placed me—if I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Seven o’clock.—My spirits have risen again. I believe I am in a + fair way of extricating myself already. + </p> + <p> + “I have just come back from a long round in a cab. First, to the + cloak-room of the Great Western, to get the luggage which I sent there + from All Saints’ Terrace. Next, to the cloak-room of the Southeastern, to + leave my luggage (labeled in Midwinter’s name), to wait for me till the + starting of the tidal train on Monday. Next, to the General Post-office, + to post a letter to Midwinter at the rectory, which he will receive + to-morrow morning. Lastly, back again to this house—from which I + shall move no more till Monday comes. + </p> + <p> + “My letter to Midwinter will, I have little doubt, lead to his seconding + (quite innocently) the precautions that I am taking for my own safety. The + shortness of the time at our disposal on Monday will oblige him to pay his + bill at the hotel and to remove his luggage before the marriage ceremony + takes place. All I ask him to do beyond this is to take the luggage + himself to the Southeastern (so as to make any inquiries useless which may + address themselves to the servants at the hotel)—and, that done, to + meet me at the church door, instead of calling for me here. The rest + concerns nobody but myself. When Sunday night or Monday morning comes, it + will be hard, indeed—freed as I am now from all incumbrances—if + I can’t give the people who are watching me the slip for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “It seems needless enough to have written to Midwinter to-day, when he is + coming back to me to-morrow night. But it was impossible to ask, what I + have been obliged to ask of him, without making my false family + circumstances once more the excuse; and having this to do—I must own + the truth—I wrote to him because, after what I suffered on the last + occasion, I can never again deceive him to his face.” + </p> + <p> + “August 9th.—Two o’clock.—I rose early this morning, more + depressed in spirits than usual. The re-beginning of one’s life, at the + re-beginning of every day, has already been something weary and hopeless + to me for years past. I dreamed, too, all through the night—not of + Midwinter and of my married life, as I had hoped to dream—but of the + wretched conspiracy to discover me, by which I have been driven from one + place to another, like a hunted animal. Nothing in the shape of a new + revelation enlightened me in my sleep. All I could guess dreaming was what + I had guessed waking, that Mother Oldershaw is the enemy who is attacking + me in the dark. + </p> + <p> + “My restless night has, however, produced one satisfactory result. It has + led to my winning the good graces of the servant here, and securing all + the assistance she can give me when the time comes for making my escape. + </p> + <p> + “The girl noticed this morning that I looked pale and anxious. I took her + into my confidence, to the extent of telling her that I was privately + engaged to be married, and that I had enemies who were trying to part me + from my sweetheart. This instantly roused her sympathy, and a present of a + ten-shilling piece for her kind services to me did the rest. In the + intervals of her housework she has been with me nearly the whole morning; + and I found out, among other things, that <i>her</i> sweetheart is a + private soldier in the Guards, and that she expects to see him to-morrow. + I have got money enough left, little as it is, to turn the head of any + Private in the British army; and, if the person appointed to watch me + to-morrow is a man, I think it just possible that he may find his + attention disagreeably diverted from Miss Gwilt in the course of the + evening. + </p> + <p> + “When Midwinter came here last from the railway, he came at half-past + eight. How am I to get through the weary, weary hours between this and the + evening? I think I shall darken my bedroom, and drink the blessing of + oblivion from my bottle of Drops.” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven o’clock.—We have parted for the last time before the day + comes that makes us man and wife. + </p> + <p> + “He has left me, as he left me before, with an absorbing subject of + interest to think of in his absence. I noticed a change in him the moment + he entered the room. When he told me of the funeral, and of his parting + with Armadale on board the yacht, though he spoke with feelings deeply + moved, he spoke with a mastery over himself which is new to me in my + experience of him. It was the same when our talk turned next on our own + hopes and prospects. He was plainly disappointed when he found that my + family embarrassments would prevent our meeting to-morrow, and plainly + uneasy at the prospect of leaving me to find my way by myself on Monday to + the church. But there was a certain hopefulness and composure of manner + underlying it all, which produced so strong an impression on me that I was + obliged to notice it. + </p> + <p> + “‘You know what odd fancies take possession of me sometimes,’ I said. + ‘Shall I tell you the fancy that has taken possession of me now? I can’t + help thinking that something has happened since we last saw each other + which you have not told me yet. + </p> + <p> + “‘Something <i>has</i> happened,’ he answered. ‘And it is something which + you ought to know.’ + </p> + <p> + “With those words he took out his pocket-book, and produced two written + papers from it. One he looked at and put back. The other he placed on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “‘Before I tell you what this is, and how it came into my possession,’ he + said, ‘I must own something that I have concealed from you. It is no more + serious confession than the confession of my own weakness.’ + </p> + <p> + “He then acknowledged to me that the renewal of his friendship with + Armadale had been clouded, through the whole period of their intercourse + in London, by his own superstitious misgivings. He had obeyed the summons + which called him to the rector’s bedside, with the firm intention of + confiding his previsions of coming trouble to Mr. Brock; and he had been + doubly confirmed in his superstition when he found that Death had entered + the house before him, and had parted them, in this world, forever. More + than this, he had traveled back to be present at the funeral, with a + secret sense of relief at the prospect of being parted from Armadale, and + with a secret resolution to make the after-meeting agreed on between us + three at Naples a meeting that should never take place. With that purpose + in his heart, he had gone up alone to the room prepared for him on his + arrival at the rectory, and had opened a letter which he found waiting for + him on the table. The letter had only that day been discovered—dropped + and lost—under the bed on which Mr. Brock had died. It was in the + rector’s handwriting throughout; and the person to whom it was addressed + was Midwinter himself. + </p> + <p> + “Having told me this, nearly in the words in which I have written it, he + gave me the written paper that lay on the table between us. + </p> + <p> + “‘Read it,’ he said; ‘and you will not need to be told that my mind is at + peace again, and that I took Allan’s hand at parting with a heart that was + worthier of Allan’s love.’ + </p> + <p> + “I read the letter. There was no superstition to be conquered in <i>my</i> + mind; there were no old feelings of gratitude toward Armadale to be roused + in <i>my</i> heart; and yet, the effect which the letter had had on + Midwinter was, I firmly believe, more than matched by the effect that the + letter now produced on me. + </p> + <p> + “It was vain to ask him to leave it, and to let me read it again (as I + wished) when I was left by myself. He is determined to keep it side by + side with that other paper which I had seen him take out of his + pocket-book, and which contains the written narrative of Armadale’s Dream. + All I could do was to ask his leave to copy it; and this he granted + readily. I wrote the copy in his presence; and I now place it here in my + diary, to mark a day which is one of the memorable days in my life. + </p> + <p> + “Boscombe Rectory, August 2d. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR MIDWINTER—For the first time since the beginning of my + illness, I found strength enough yesterday to look over my letters. One + among them is a letter from Allan, which has been lying unopened on my + table for ten days past. He writes to me in great distress, to say that + there has been dissension between you, and that you have left him. If you + still remember what passed between us, when you first opened your heart to + me in the Isle of Man, you will be at no loss to understand how I have + thought over this miserable news, through the night that has now passed, + and you will not be surprised to hear that I have roused myself this + morning to make the effort of writing to you. + </p> + <p> + “I want no explanation of the circumstances which have parted you from + your friend. If my estimate of your character is not founded on an entire + delusion, the one influence which can have led to your estrangement from + Allan is the influence of that evil spirit of Superstition which I have + once already cast out of your heart—which I will once again conquer, + please God, if I have strength enough to make my pen speak my mind to you + in this letter. + </p> + <p> + “It is no part of my design to combat the belief which I know you to hold, + that mortal creatures may be the objects of supernatural intervention in + their pilgrimage through this world. Speaking as a reasonable man, I own + that I cannot prove you to be wrong. Speaking as a believer in the Bible, + I am bound to go further, and to admit that you possess a higher than any + human warrant for the faith that is in you. The one object which I have it + at heart to attain is to induce you to free yourself from the paralyzing + fatalism of the heathen and the savage, and to look at the mysteries that + perplex, and the portents that daunt you, from the Christian’s point of + view. If I can succeed in this, I shall clear your mind of the ghastly + doubts that now oppress it, and I shall reunite you to your friend, never + to be parted from him again. + </p> + <p> + “I have no means of seeing and questioning you. I can only send this + letter to Allan to be forwarded, if he knows, or can discover, your + present address. Placed in this position toward you, I am bound to assume + all that <i>can</i> be assumed in your favor. I will take it for granted + that something has happened to you or to Allan which to your mind has not + only confirmed the fatalist conviction in which your father died, but has + added a new and terrible meaning to the warning which he sent you in his + death-bed letter. + </p> + <p> + “On this common ground I meet you. On this common ground I appeal to your + higher nature and your better sense. + </p> + <p> + “Preserve your present conviction that the events which have happened (be + they what they may) are not to be reconciled with ordinary mortal + coincidences and ordinary mortal laws; and view your own position by the + best and clearest light that your superstition can throw on it. What are + you? You are a helpless instrument in the hands of Fate. You are doomed, + beyond all human capacity of resistance, to bring misery and destruction + blindfold on a man to whom you have harmlessly and gratefully united + yourself in the bonds of a brother’s love. All that is morally firmest in + your will and morally purest in your aspirations avails nothing against + the hereditary impulsion of you toward evil, caused by a crime which your + father committed before you were born. In what does that belief end? It + ends in the darkness in which you are now lost; in the self-contradictions + in which you are now bewildered; in the stubborn despair by which a man + profanes his own soul, and lowers himself to the level of the brutes that + perish. + </p> + <p> + “Look up, my poor suffering brother—look up, my hardly tried, my + well-loved friend, higher than this! Meet the doubts that now assail you + from the blessed vantage-ground of Christian courage and Christian hope; + and your heart will turn again to Allan, and your mind will be at peace. + Happen what may, God is all-merciful, God is all-wise: natural or + supernatural, it happens through Him. The mystery of Evil that perplexes + our feeble minds, the sorrow and the suffering that torture us in this + little life, leave the one great truth unshaken that the destiny of man is + in the hands of his Creator, and that God’s blessed Son died to make us + worthier of it. Nothing that is done in unquestioning submission to the + wisdom of the Almighty is done wrong. No evil exists out of which, in + obedience to his laws, Good may not come. Be true to what Christ tells you + is true. Encourage in yourself, be the circumstances what they may, all + that is loving, all that is grateful, all that is patient, all that is + forgiving, toward your fellow-men. And humbly and trustfully leave the + rest to the God who made you, and to the Saviour who loved you better than + his own life. + </p> + <p> + “This is the faith in which I have lived, by the Divine help and mercy, + from my youth upward. I ask you earnestly, I ask you confidently, to make + it your faith, too. It is the mainspring of all the good I have ever done, + of all the happiness I have ever known; it lightens my darkness, it + sustains my hope; it comforts and quiets me, lying here, to live or die, I + know not which. Let it sustain, comfort, and enlighten you. It will help + you in your sorest need, as it has helped me in mine. It will show you + another purpose in the events which brought you and Allan together than + the purpose which your guilty father foresaw. Strange things, I do not + deny it, have happened to you already. Stranger things still may happen + before long, which I may not live to see. Remember, if that time comes, + that I died firmly disbelieving in your influence over Allan being other + than an influence for good. The great sacrifice of the Atonement—I + say it reverently—has its mortal reflections, even in this world. If + danger ever threatens Allan, you, whose father took his father’s life—YOU, + and no other, may be the man whom the providence of God has appointed to + save him. + </p> + <p> + “Come to me if I live. Go back to the friend who loves you, whether I live + or die. + </p> + <p> + “Yours affectionately to the last, + </p> + <p> + “DECIMUS BROCK.” + </p> + <p> + “‘You, and no other, may be the man whom the providence of God has + appointed to save him!’ + </p> + <p> + “Those are the words which have shaken me to the soul. Those are the words + which make me feel as if the dead man had left his grave, and had put his + hand on the place in my heart where my terrible secret lies hidden from + every living creature but myself. One part of the letter has come true + already. The danger that it foresees threatens Armadale at this moment—and + threatens him from Me! + </p> + <p> + “If the favoring circumstances which have driven me thus far drive me on + to the end, and if that old man’s last earthly conviction is prophetic of + the truth, Armadale will escape me, do what I may. And Midwinter will be + the victim who is sacrificed to save his life. + </p> + <p> + “It is horrible! it is impossible! it shall never be! At the thinking of + it only, my hand trembles and my heart sinks. I bless the trembling that + unnerves me! I bless the sinking that turns me faint! I bless those words + in the letter which have revived the relenting thoughts that first came to + me two days since! Is it hard, now that events are taking me, smoothly and + safely, nearer and nearer to the End—is it hard to conquer the + temptation to go on? No! If there is only a chance of harm coming to + Midwinter, the dread of that chance is enough to decide me—enough to + strengthen me to conquer the temptation, for his sake. I have never loved + him yet, never, never, never as I love him now!” + </p> + <p> + “Sunday, August 10th.—The eve of my wedding-day! I close and lock + this book, never to write in it, never to open it again. + </p> + <p> + “I have won the great victory; I have trampled my own wickedness under + foot. I am innocent; I am happy again. My love! my angel! when to-morrow + gives me to you, I will not have a thought in my heart which is not <i>your</i> + thought, as well as mine!” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0043" id="H2_4_0043"></a> XV. THE WEDDING-DAY. + </h2> + <p> + The time was nine o’clock in the morning. The place was a private room in + one of the old-fashioned inns which still remain on the Borough side of + the Thames. The date was Monday, the 11th of August. And the person was + Mr. Bashwood, who had traveled to London on a summons from his son, and + had taken up his abode at the inn on the previous day. + </p> + <p> + He had never yet looked so pitiably old and helpless as he looked now. The + fever and chill of alternating hope and despair had dried, and withered, + and wasted him. The angles of his figure had sharpened. The outline of his + face had shrunk. His dress pointed the melancholy change in him with a + merciless and shocking emphasis. Never, even in his youth, had he worn + such clothes as he wore now. With the desperate resolution to leave no + chance untried of producing an impression on Miss Gwilt, he had cast aside + his dreary black garments; he had even mustered the courage to wear his + blue satin cravat. His coat was a riding-coat of light gray. He had + ordered it, with a vindictive subtlety of purpose, to be made on the + pattern of a coat that he had seen Allan wear. His waistcoat was white; + his trousers were of the gayest summer pattern, in the largest check. His + wig was oiled and scented, and brushed round, on either side, to hide the + wrinkles on his temples. He was an object to laugh at; he was an object to + weep over. His enemies, if a creature so wretched could have had enemies, + would have forgiven him, on seeing him in his new dress. His friends—had + any of his friends been left—would have been less distressed if they + had looked at him in his coffin than if they had looked at him as he was + now. Incessantly restless, he paced the room from end to end. Now he + looked at his watch; now he looked out of the window; now he looked at the + well-furnished breakfast-table—always with the same wistful, uneasy + inquiry in his eyes. The waiter coming in, with the urn of boiling water, + was addressed for the fiftieth time in the one form of words which the + miserable creature seemed to be capable of uttering that morning: “My son + is coming to breakfast. My son is very particular. I want everything of + the best—hot things and cold things—and tea and coffee—and + all the rest of it, waiter; all the rest of it.” For the fiftieth time, he + now reiterated those anxious words. For the fiftieth time, the + impenetrable waiter had just returned his one pacifying answer, “All + right, sir; you may leave it to me”—when the sound of leisurely + footsteps was heard on the stairs; the door opened; and the long-expected + son sauntered indolently into the room, with a neat little black leather + bag in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, old gentleman!” said Bashwood the younger, surveying his + father’s dress with a smile of sardonic encouragement. “You’re ready to be + married to Miss Gwilt at a moment’s notice!” + </p> + <p> + The father took the son’s hand, and tried to echo the son’s laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You have such good spirits, Jemmy,” he said, using the name in its + familiar form, as he had been accustomed to use it in happier days. “You + always had good spirits, my dear, from a child. Come and sit down; I’ve + ordered you a nice breakfast. Everything of the best! everything of the + best! What a relief it is to see you! Oh, dear, dear, what a relief it is + to see you.” He stopped and sat down at the table, his face flushed with + the effort to control the impatience that was devouring him. “Tell me + about her!” he burst out, giving up the effort with a sudden + self-abandonment. “I shall die, Jemmy, if I wait for it any longer. Tell + me! tell me! tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “One thing at a time,” said Bashwood the younger, perfectly unmoved by his + father’s impatience. “We’ll try the breakfast first, and come to the lady + afterward! Gently does it, old gentleman—gently does it!” + </p> + <p> + He put his leather bag on a chair, and sat down opposite to his father, + composed, and smiling, and humming a little tune. + </p> + <p> + No ordinary observation, applying the ordinary rules of analysis, would + have detected the character of Bashwood the younger in his face. His + youthful look, aided by his light hair and his plump beardless cheeks, his + easy manner and his ever-ready smile, his eyes which met unshrinkingly the + eyes of every one whom he addressed, all combined to make the impression + of him a favorable impression in the general mind. No eye for reading + character, but such an eye as belongs to one person, perhaps, in ten + thousand, could have penetrated the smoothly deceptive surface of this + man, and have seen him for what he really was—the vile creature whom + the viler need of Society has fashioned for its own use. There he sat—the + Confidential Spy of modern times, whose business is steadily enlarging, + whose Private Inquiry Offices are steadily on the increase. There he sat—the + necessary Detective attendant on the progress of our national + civilization; a man who was, in this instance at least, the legitimate and + intelligible product of the vocation that employed him; a man + professionally ready on the merest suspicion (if the merest suspicion paid + him) to get under our beds, and to look through gimlet-holes in our doors; + a man who would have been useless to his employers if he could have felt a + touch of human sympathy in his father’s presence; and who would have + deservedly forfeited his situation if, under any circumstances whatever, + he had been personally accessible to a sense of pity or a sense of shame. + </p> + <p> + “Gently does it, old gentleman,” he repeated, lifting the covers from the + dishes, and looking under them one after the other all round the table. + “Gently does it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry with me, Jemmy,” pleaded his father. “Try, if you can, to + think how anxious I must be. I got your letter so long ago as yesterday + morning. I have had to travel all the way from Thorpe Ambrose—I have + had to get through the dreadful long evening and the dreadful long night—with + your letter telling me that you had found out who she is, and telling me + nothing more. Suspense is very hard to bear, Jemmy, when you come to my + age. What was it prevented you, my dear, from coming to me when I got here + yesterday evening?” + </p> + <p> + “A little dinner at Richmond,” said Bashwood the younger. “Give me some + tea.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood tried to comply with the request; but the hand with which he + lifted the teapot trembled so unmanageably that the tea missed the cup and + streamed out on the cloth. “I’m very sorry; I can’t help trembling when + I’m anxious,” said the old man, as his son took the tea-pot out of his + hand. “I’m afraid you bear me malice, Jemmy, for what happened when I was + last in town. I own I was obstinate and unreasonable about going back to + Thorpe Ambrose. I’m more sensible now. You were quite right in taking it + all on yourself, as soon as I showed you the veiled lady when we saw her + come out of the hotel; and you were quite right to send me back the same + day to my business in the steward’s office at the Great House.” He watched + the effect of these concessions on his son, and ventured doubtfully on + another entreaty. “If you won’t tell me anything else just yet,” he said, + faintly, “will you tell me how you found her out. Do, Jemmy, do!” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger looked up from his plate. “I’ll tell you that,” he + said. “The reckoning up of Miss Gwilt has cost more money and taken more + time than I expected; and the sooner we come to a settlement about it, the + sooner we shall get to what you want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word of expostulation, the father laid his dingy old pocket-book + and his purse on the table before the son. Bashwood the younger looked + into the purse; observed, with a contemptuous elevation of the eyebrows, + that it held no more than a sovereign and some silver; and returned it + intact. The pocket-book, on being opened next, proved to contain four + five-pound notes. Bashwood the younger transferred three of the notes to + his own keeping; and handed the pocket-book back to his father, with a bow + expressive of mock gratitude and sarcastic respect. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand thanks,” he said. “Some of it is for the people at our office, + and the balance is for myself. One of the few stupid things, my dear sir, + that I have done in the course of my life was to write you word, when you + first consulted me, that you might have my services gratis. As you see, I + hasten to repair the error. An hour or two at odd times I was ready enough + to give you. But this business has taken days, and has got in the way of + other jobs. I told you I couldn’t be out of pocket by you—I put it + in my letter, as plain as words could say it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Jemmy. I don’t complain, my dear, I don’t complain. Never mind + the money—tell me how you found her out.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” pursued Bashwood, the younger, proceeding impenetrably with his + justification of himself, “I have given you the benefit of my experience; + I’ve done it cheap. It would have cost double the money if another man had + taken this in hand. Another man would have kept a watch on Mr. Armadale as + well as Miss Gwilt. I have saved you that expense. You are certain that + Mr. Armadale is bent on marrying her. Very good. In that case, while we + have our eye on <i>her</i>, we have, for all useful purposes, got our eye + on <i>him</i>. Know where the lady is, and you know that the gentleman + can’t be far off.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, Jemmy. But how was it Miss Gwilt came to give you so much + trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “She’s a devilish clever woman,” said Bashwood the younger; “that’s how it + was. She gave us the slip at a milliner’s shop. We made it all right with + the milliner, and speculated on the chance of her coming back to try on a + gown she had ordered. The cleverest women lose the use of their wits in + nine cases out of ten where there’s a new dress in the case, and even Miss + Gwilt was rash enough to go back. That was all we wanted. One of the women + from our office helped to try on her new gown, and put her in the right + position to be seen by one of our men behind the door. He instantly + suspected who she was, on the strength of what he had been told of her; + for she’s a famous woman in her way. Of course, we didn’t trust to that. + We traced her to her new address; and we got a man from Scotland Yard, who + was certain to know her, if our own man’s idea was the right one. The man + from Scotland Yard turned milliner’s lad for the occasion, and took her + gown home. He saw her in the passage, and identified her in an instant. + You’re in luck, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt’s a public character. If we had + had a less notorious woman to deal with, she might have cost us weeks of + inquiry, and you might have had to pay hundreds of pounds. A day did it in + Miss Gwilt’s case; and another day put the whole story of her life, in + black and white, into my hand. There it is at the present moment, old + gentleman, in my black bag.” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the father made straight for the bag with eager eyes and + outstretched hand. Bashwood the son took a little key out of his waistcoat + pocket, winked, shook his head, and put the key back again. + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t done breakfast yet,” he said. “Gently does it, my dear sir—gently + does it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t wait!” cried the old man, struggling vainly to preserve his + self-control. “It’s past nine! It’s a fortnight to-day since she went to + London with Mr. Armadale! She may be married to him in a fortnight! She + may be married to him this morning! I can’t wait! I can’t wait!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no knowing what you can do till you try,” rejoined Bashwood the + younger. “Try, and you’ll find you can wait. What has become of your + curiosity?” he went on, feeding the fire ingeniously with a stick at a + time. “Why don’t you ask me what I mean by calling Miss Gwilt a public + character? Why don’t you wonder how I came to lay my hand on the story of + her life, in black and white? If you’ll sit down again, I’ll tell you. If + you won’t, I shall confine myself to my breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood sighed heavily, and went back to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you were not so fond of your joke, Jemmy,” he said. “I wish, my + dear, you were not quite so fond of your joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Joke?” repeated his son. “It would be serious enough in some people’s + eyes, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt has been tried for her life; and the + papers in that black bag are the lawyer’s instructions for the Defense. Do + you call that a joke?” + </p> + <p> + The father started to his feet, and looked straight across the table at + the son with a smile of exultation that was terrible to see. + </p> + <p> + “She’s been tried for her life!” he burst out, with a deep gasp of + satisfaction. “She’s been tried for her life!” He broke into a low, + prolonged laugh, and snapped his fingers exultingly. “Aha-ha-ha! Something + to frighten Mr. Armadale in <i>that</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Scoundrel as he was, the son was daunted by the explosion of pent-up + passion which burst on him in those words. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t excite yourself,” he said, with a sullen suppression of the mocking + manner in which he had spoken thus far. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood sat down again, and passed his handkerchief over his + forehead. “No,” he said, nodding and smiling at his son. “No, no—no + excitement, as you say—I can wait now, Jemmy; I can wait now.” + </p> + <p> + He waited with immovable patience. At intervals, he nodded, and smiled, + and whispered to himself, “Something to frighten Mr. Armadale in <i>that</i>!” + But he made no further attempt, by word, look, or action, to hurry his + son. + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger finished his breakfast slowly, out of pure bravado; + lit a cigar with the utmost deliberation; looked at his father, and, + seeing him still as immovably patient as ever, opened the black bag at + last, and spread the papers on the table. + </p> + <p> + “How will you have it?” he asked. “Long or short? I have got her whole + life here. The counsel who defended her at the trial was instructed to + hammer hard at the sympathies of the jury: he went head over ears into the + miseries of her past career, and shocked everybody in court in the most + workman-like manner. Shall I take the same line? Do you want to know all + about her, from the time when she was in short frocks and frilled + trousers? or do you prefer getting on at once to her first appearance as a + prisoner in the dock?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know all about her,” said his father, eagerly. “The worst, and + the best—the worst particularly. Don’t spare my feelings, Jemmy—whatever + you do, don’t spare my feelings! Can’t I look at the papers myself?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you can’t. They would be all Greek and Hebrew to you. Thank your + stars that you have got a sharp son, who can take the pith out of these + papers, and give it a smack of the right flavor in serving it up. There + are not ten men in England who could tell you this woman’s story as I can + tell it. It’s a gift, old gentleman, of the sort that is given to very few + people—and it lodges here.” + </p> + <p> + He tapped his forehead smartly, and turned to the first page of the + manuscript before him, with an unconcealed triumph at the prospect of + exhibiting his own cleverness, which was the first expression of a genuine + feeling of any sort that had escaped him yet. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Gwilt’s story begins,” said Bashwood the younger, “in the + market-place at Thorpe Ambrose. One day, something like a quarter of a + century ago, a traveling quack doctor, who dealt in perfumery as well as + medicines, came to the town with his cart, and exhibited, as a living + example of the excellence of his washes and hair-oils and so on, a pretty + little girl, with a beautiful complexion and wonderful hair. His name was + Oldershaw. He had a wife, who helped him in the perfumery part of his + business, and who carried it on by herself after his death. She has risen + in the world of late years; and she is identical with that sly old lady + who employed me professionally a short time since. As for the pretty + little girl, you know who she was as well as I do. While the quack was + haranguing the mob and showing them the child’s hair, a young lady, + driving through the marketplace, stopped her carriage to hear what it was + all about, saw the little girl, and took a violent fancy to her on the + spot. The young lady was the daughter of Mr. Blanchard, of Thorpe Ambrose. + She went home, and interested her father in the fate of the innocent + little victim of the quack doctor. The same evening, the Oldershaws were + sent for to the great house and were questioned. They declared themselves + to be her uncle and aunt—a lie, of course!—and they were quite + willing to let her attend the village school, while they stayed at Thorpe + Ambrose, when the proposal was made to them. The new arrangement was + carried out the next day. And the day after that, the Oldershaws had + disappeared, and had left the little girl on the squire’s hands! She + evidently hadn’t answered as they expected in the capacity of an + advertisement, and that was the way they took of providing for her for + life. There is the first act of the play for you! Clear enough, so far, + isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Clear enough, Jemmy, to clever people. But I’m old and slow. I don’t + understand one thing. Whose child was she?” + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible question. Sorry to inform you that nobody can answer it—Miss + Gwilt herself included. These Instructions that I’m referring to are + founded, of course, on her own statements, sifted by her attorney. All she + could remember, on being questioned, was that she was beaten and half + starved, somewhere in the country, by a woman who took in children at + nurse. The woman had a card with her, stating that her name was Lydia + Gwilt, and got a yearly allowance for taking care of her (paid through a + lawyer) till she was eight years old. At that time, the allowance stopped; + the lawyer had no explanation to offer; nobody came to look after her; + nobody wrote. The Oldershaws saw her, and thought she might answer to + exhibit; and the woman parted with her for a trifle to the Oldershaws; and + the Oldershaws parted with her for good and all to the Blanchards. That’s + the story of her birth, parentage, and education! She may be the daughter + of a duke, or the daughter of a costermonger. The circumstances may be + highly romantic, or utterly commonplace. Fancy anything you like—there’s + nothing to stop you. When you’ve had your fancy out, say the word, and + I’ll turn over the leaves and go on.” + </p> + <p> + “Please to go on, Jemmy—please to go on.” + </p> + <p> + “The next glimpse of Miss Gwilt,” resumed Bashwood the younger, turning + over the papers, “is a glimpse at a family mystery. The deserted child was + in luck’s way at last. She had taken the fancy of an amiable young lady + with a rich father, and she was petted and made much of at the great + house, in the character of Miss Blanchard’s last new plaything. Not long + afterward Mr. Blanchard and his daughter went abroad, and took the girl + with them in the capacity of Miss Blanchard’s little maid. When they came + back, the daughter had married, and become a widow, in the interval; and + the pretty little maid, instead of returning with them to Thorpe Ambrose, + turns up suddenly, all alone, as a pupil at a school in France. There she + was, at a first-rate establishment, with her maintenance and education + secured until she married and settled in life, on this understanding—that + she never returned to England. Those were all the particulars she could be + prevailed on to give the lawyer who drew up these instructions. She + declined to say what had happened abroad; she declined even, after all the + years that had passed, to mention her mistress’s married name. It’s quite + clear, of course, that she was in possession of some family secret; and + that the Blanchards paid for her schooling on the Continent to keep her + out of the way. And it’s equally plain that she would never have kept her + secret as she did if she had not seen her way to trading on it for her own + advantage at some future time. A clever woman, as I’ve told you already! A + devilish clever woman, who hasn’t been knocked about in the world, and + seen the ups and downs of life abroad and at home, for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Jemmy; quite true. How long did she stop, please, at the school + in France?” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger referred to the papers. “She stopped at the French + school,” he replied, “till she was seventeen. At that time something + happened at the school which I find mildly described in these papers as + ‘something unpleasant.’ The plain fact was that the music-master attached + to the establishment fell in love with Miss Gwilt. He was a respectable + middle-aged man, with a wife and family; and, finding the circumstances + entirely hopeless, he took a pistol, and, rashly assuming that he had + brains in his head, tried to blow them out. The doctor saved his life, but + not his reason; he ended, where he had better have begun, in an asylum. + Miss Gwilt’s beauty having been at the bottom of the scandal, it was, of + course, impossible—though she was proved to have been otherwise + quite blameless in the matter—for her to remain at the school after + what had happened. Her ‘friends’ (the Blanchards) were communicated with. + And her friends transferred her to another school; at Brussels, this time—What + are you sighing about? What’s wrong now?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help feeling a little for the poor music-master, Jemmy. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “According to her own account of it, dad, Miss Gwilt seems to have felt + for him too. She took a serious turn; and was ‘converted’ (as they call + it) by the lady who had charge of her in the interval before she went to + Brussels. The priest at the Belgium school appears to have been a man of + some discretion, and to have seen that the girl’s sensibilities were + getting into a dangerously excited state. Before he could quiet her down, + he fell ill, and was succeeded by another priest, who was a fanatic. You + will understand the sort of interest he took in the girl, and the way in + which he worked on her feelings, when I tell you that she announced it as + her decision, after having been nearly two years at the school, to end her + days in a convent! You may well stare! Miss Gwilt, in the character of a + Nun, is the sort of female phenomenon you don’t often set eyes on.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she go into the convent?” asked Mr. Bashwood. “Did they let her go + in, so friendless and so young, with nobody to advise her for the best?” + </p> + <p> + “The Blanchards were consulted, as a matter of form,” pursued Bashwood the + younger. “<i>They</i> had no objection to her shutting herself up in a + convent, as you may well imagine. The pleasantest letter they ever had + from her, I’ll answer for it, was the letter in which she solemnly took + leave of them in this world forever. The people at the convent were as + careful as usual not to commit themselves. Their rules wouldn’t allow her + to take the veil till she had tried the life for a year first, and then, + if she had any doubt, for another year after that. She tried the life for + the first year, accordingly, and doubted. She tried it for the second + year, and was wise enough, by that time, to give it up without further + hesitation. Her position was rather an awkward one when she found herself + at liberty again. The sisters at the convent had lost their interest in + her; the mistress at the school declined to take her back as teacher, on + the ground that she was too nice-looking for the place; the priest + considered her to be possessed by the devil. There was nothing for it but + to write to the Blanchards again, and ask them to start her in life as a + teacher of music on her own account. She wrote to her former mistress + accordingly. Her former mistress had evidently doubted the genuineness of + the girl’s resolution to be a nun, and had seized the opportunity offered + by her entry into the convent to cut off all further communication between + her ex-waiting-maid and herself. Miss Gwilt’s letter was returned by the + post-office. She caused inquiries to be made; and found that Mr. Blanchard + was dead, and that his daughter had left the great house for some place of + retirement unknown. The next thing she did, upon this, was to write to the + heir in possession of the estate. The letter was answered by his + solicitors, who were instructed to put the law in force at the first + attempt she made to extort money from any member of the family at Thorpe + Ambrose. The last chance was to get at the address of her mistress’s place + of retirement. The family bankers, to whom she wrote, wrote back to say + that they were instructed not to give the lady’s address to any one + applying for it, without being previously empowered to do so by the lady + herself. That last letter settled the question—Miss Gwilt could do + nothing more. With money at her command, she might have gone to England + and made the Blanchards think twice before they carried things with too + high a hand. Not having a half-penny at command, she was helpless. Without + money and without friends, you may wonder how she supported herself while + the correspondence was going on. She supported herself by playing the + piano-forte at a low concert-room in Brussels. The men laid siege to her, + of course, in all directions; but they found her insensible as adamant. + One of these rejected gentlemen was a Russian; and he was the means of + making her acquainted with a countrywoman of his, whose name is + unpronounceable by English lips. Let us give her her title, and call her + the baroness. The two women liked each other at their first introduction; + and a new scene opened in Miss Gwilt’s life. She became reader and + companion to the baroness. Everything was right, everything was smooth on + the surface. Everything was rotten and everything was wrong under it.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way, Jemmy? Please to wait a little, and tell me in what way.” + </p> + <p> + “In this way. The baroness was fond of traveling, and she had a select set + of friends about her who were quite of her way of thinking. They went from + one city on the Continent to another, and were such charming people that + they picked up acquaintances everywhere. The acquaintances were invited to + the baroness’s receptions, and card-tables were invariably a part of the + baroness’s furniture. Do you see it now? or must I tell you, in the + strictest confidence, that cards were not considered sinful on these + festive occasions, and that the luck, at the end of the evening, turned + out to be almost invariably on the side of the baroness and her friends? + Swindlers, all of them; and there isn’t a doubt on my mind, whatever there + may be on yours, that Miss Gwilt’s manners and appearance made her a + valuable member of the society in the capacity of a decoy. Her own + statement is that she was innocent of all knowledge of what really went + on; that she was quite ignorant of card-playing; that she hadn’t such a + thing as a respectable friend to turn to in the world; and that she + honestly liked the baroness, for the simple reason that the baroness was a + hearty good friend to her from first to last. Believe that or not, as you + please. For five years she traveled about all over the Continent with + these card-sharpers in high life, and she might have been among them at + this moment, for anything I know to the contrary, if the baroness had not + caught a Tartar at Naples, in the shape of a rich traveling Englishman, + named Waldron. Aha! that name startles you, does it? You’ve read the Trial + of the famous Mrs. Waldron, like the rest of the world? And you know who + Miss Gwilt is now, without my telling you?” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and looked at his father in sudden perplexity. Far from being + overwhelmed by the discovery which had just burst on him, Mr. Bashwood, + after the first natural movement of surprise, faced his son with a + self-possession which was nothing short of extraordinary under the + circumstances. There was a new brightness in his eyes, and a new color in + his face. If it had been possible to conceive such a thing of a man in his + position, he seemed to be absolutely encouraged instead of depressed by + what he had just heard. “Go on, Jemmy,” he said, quietly; “I am one of the + few people who didn’t read the trial; I only heard of it.” + </p> + <p> + Still wondering inwardly, Bashwood the younger recovered himself, and went + on. + </p> + <p> + “You always were, and you always will be, behind the age,” he said. “When + we come to the trial, I can tell you as much about it as you need know. In + the meantime, we must go back to the baroness and Mr. Waldron. For a + certain number of nights the Englishman let the card-sharpers have it all + their own way; in other words, he paid for the privilege of making himself + agreeable to Miss Gwilt. When he thought he had produced the necessary + impression on her, he exposed the whole confederacy without mercy. The + police interfered; the baroness found herself in prison; and Miss Gwilt + was put between the two alternatives of accepting Mr. Waldron’s protection + or being thrown on the world again. She was amazingly virtuous, or + amazingly clever, which you please. To Mr. Waldron’s astonishment, she + told him that she could face the prospect of being thrown on the world; + and that he must address her honorably or leave her forever. The end of it + was what the end always is, where the man is infatuated and the woman is + determined. To the disgust of his family and friends, Mr. Waldron made a + virtue of necessity, and married her.” + </p> + <p> + “How old was he?” asked Bashwood the elder, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger burst out laughing. “He was about old enough, daddy, + to be your son, and rich enough to have burst that precious pocket-book of + yours with thousand-pound notes! Don’t hang your head. It wasn’t a happy + marriage, though he <i>was</i> so young and so rich. They lived abroad, + and got on well enough at first. He made a new will, of course, as soon as + he was married, and provided handsomely for his wife, under the tender + pressure of the honey-moon. But women wear out, like other things, with + time; and one fine morning Mr. Waldron woke up with a doubt in his mind + whether he had not acted like a fool. He was an ill-tempered man; he was + discontented with himself; and of course he made his wife feel it. Having + begun by quarreling with her, he got on to suspecting her, and became + savagely jealous of every male creature who entered the house. They had no + incumbrances in the shape of children, and they moved from one place to + another, just as his jealousy inclined him, till they moved back to + England at last, after having been married close on four years. He had a + lonely old house of his own among the Yorkshire moors, and there he shut + his wife and himself up from every living creature, except his servants + and his dogs. Only one result could come, of course, of treating a + high-spirited young woman in that way. It may be her fate, or it may be + chance; but, whenever a woman is desperate, there is sure to be a man + handy to take advantage of it. The man in this case was rather a ‘dark + horse,’ as they say on the turf. He was a certain Captain Manuel, a native + of Cuba, and (according to his own account) an ex-officer in the Spanish + navy. He had met Mr. Waldron’s beautiful wife on the journey back to + England; had contrived to speak to her in spite of her husband’s jealousy; + and had followed her to her place of imprisonment in Mr. Waldron’s house + on the moors. The captain is described as a clever, determined fellow—of + the daring piratical sort—with the dash of mystery about him that + women like—” + </p> + <p> + “She’s not the same as other women!” interposed Mr. Bashwood, suddenly + interrupting his son. “Did she—?” His voice failed him, and he + stopped without bringing the question to an end. + </p> + <p> + “Did she like the captain?” suggested Bashwood the younger, with another + laugh. “According to her own account of it, she adored him. At the same + time her conduct (as represented by herself) was perfectly innocent. + Considering how carefully her husband watched her, the statement + (incredible as it appears) is probably true. For six weeks or so they + confined themselves to corresponding privately, the Cuban captain (who + spoke and wrote English perfectly) having contrived to make a go-between + of one of the female servants in the Yorkshire house. How it might have + ended we needn’t trouble ourselves to inquire—Mr. Waldron himself + brought matters to a crisis. Whether he got wind of the clandestine + correspondence or not, doesn’t appear. But this is certain, that he came + home from a ride one day in a fiercer temper than usual; that his wife + showed him a sample of that high spirit of hers which he had never yet + been able to break; and that it ended in his striking her across the face + with his riding-whip. Ungentlemanly conduct, I am afraid we must admit; + but, to all outward appearance, the riding-whip produced the most + astonishing results. From that moment the lady submitted as she had never + submitted before. For a fortnight afterward he did what he liked, and she + never thwarted him; he said what he liked, and she never uttered a word of + protest. Some men might have suspected this sudden reformation of hiding + something dangerous under the surface. Whether Mr. Waldron looked at it in + that light, I can’t tell you. All that is known is that, before the mark + of the whip was off his wife’s face, he fell ill, and that in two days + afterward he was a dead man. What do you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “I say he deserved it!” answered Mr. Bashwood, striking his hand excitedly + on the table, as his son paused and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor who attended the dying man was not of your way of thinking,” + remarked Bashwood the younger, dryly. “He called in two other medical men, + and they all three refused to certify the death. The usual legal + investigation followed. The evidence of the doctors and the evidence of + the servants pointed irresistibly in one and the same direction; and Mrs. + Waldron was committed for trial, on the charge of murdering her husband by + poison. A solicitor in first-rate criminal practice was sent for from + London to get up the prisoner’s defense, and these ‘Instructions’ took + their form and shape accordingly.—What’s the matter? What do you + want now?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly rising from his chair, Mr. Bashwood stretched across the table, + and tried to take the papers from his son. “I want to look at them,” he + burst out, eagerly. “I want to see what they say about the captain from + Cuba. He was at the bottom of it, Jemmy—I’ll swear he was at the + bottom of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody doubted that who was in the secret of the case at the time,” + rejoined his son. “But nobody could prove it. Sit down again, dad, and + compose yourself. There’s nothing here about Captain Manuel but the + lawyer’s private suspicions of him, for the counsel to act on or not, at + the counsel’s discretion. From first to last she persisted in screening + the captain. At the outset of the business she volunteered two statements + to the lawyer—both of which he suspected to be false. In the first + place she declared that she was innocent of the crime. He wasn’t + surprised, of course, so far; his clients were, as a general rule, in the + habit of deceiving him in that way. In the second place, while admitting + her private correspondence with the Cuban captain, she declared that the + letters on both sides related solely to a proposed elopement, to which her + husband’s barbarous treatment had induced her to consent. The lawyer + naturally asked to see the letters. ‘He has burned all my letters, and I + have burned all his,’ was the only answer he got. It was quite possible + that Captain Manuel might have burned <i>her</i> letters when he heard + there was a coroner’s inquest in the house. But it was in her solicitor’s + experience (as it is in my experience too) that, when a woman is fond of a + man, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, risk or no risk, she keeps his + letters. Having his suspicions roused in this way, the lawyer privately + made some inquiries about the foreign captain, and found that he was as + short of money as a foreign captain could be. At the same time, he put + some questions to his client about her expectations from her deceased + husband. She answered, in high indignation, that a will had been found + among her husband’s papers, privately executed only a few days before his + death, and leaving her no more, out of all his immense fortune, than five + thousand pounds. ‘Was there an older will, then,’ says the lawyer, ‘which + the new will revoked?’ Yes, there was; a will that he had given into her + own possession—a will made when they were first married. ‘Leaving + his widow well provided for?’ Leaving her just ten times as much as the + second will left her. ‘Had she ever mentioned that first will, now + revoked, to Captain Manuel?’ She saw the trap set for her, and said, ‘No, + never!’ without an instant’s hesitation. That reply confirmed the lawyer’s + suspicions. He tried to frighten her by declaring that her life might pay + the forfeit of her deceiving him in this matter. With the usual obstinacy + of women, she remained just as immovable as ever. The captain, on his + side, behaved in the most exemplary manner. He confessed to planning the + elopement; he declared that he had burned all the lady’s letters as they + reached him, out of regard for her reputation; he remained in the + neighborhood; and he volunteered to attend before the magistrates. Nothing + was discovered that could legally connect him with the crime, or that + could put him into court on the day of the trial, in any other capacity + than the capacity of a witness. I don’t believe myself that there’s any + moral doubt (as they call it) that Manuel knew of the will which left her + mistress of fifty thousand pounds; and that he was ready and willing, in + virtue of that circumstance, to marry her on Mr. Waldron’s death. If + anybody tempted her to effect her own release from her husband by making + herself a widow, the captain must have been the man. And unless she + contrived, guarded and watched as she was, to get the poison for herself, + the poison must have come to her in one of the captain’s letters.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe she used it, if it did come to her!” exclaimed Mr. + Bashwood. “I believe it was the captain himself who poisoned her husband!” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger, without noticing the interruption, folded up the + Instructions for the Defense, which had now served their purpose, put them + back in his bag, and produced a printed pamphlet in their place. + </p> + <p> + “Here is one of the published Reports of the Trial,” he said, “which you + can read at your leisure, if you like. We needn’t waste time now by going + into details. I have told you already how cleverly her counsel paved his + way for treating the charge of murder as the crowning calamity of the many + that had already fallen on an innocent woman. The two legal points relied + on for the defense (after this preliminary flourish) were: First, that + there was no evidence to connect her with the possession of poison; and, + secondly, that the medical witnesses, while positively declaring that her + husband had died by poison, differed in their conclusions as to the + particular drug that had killed him. Both good points, and both well + worked; but the evidence on the other side bore down everything before it. + The prisoner was proved to have had no less than three excellent reasons + for killing her husband. He had treated her with almost unexampled + barbarity; he had left her in a will (unrevoked so far as she knew) + mistress of a fortune on his death; and she was, by her own confession, + contemplating an elopement with another man. Having set forth these + motives, the prosecution next showed by evidence, which was never once + shaken on any single point, that the one person in the house who could by + any human possibility have administered the poison was the prisoner at the + bar. What could the judge and jury do, with such evidence before them as + this? The verdict was Guilty, as a matter of course; and the judge + declared that he agreed with it. The female part of the audience was in + hysterics; and the male part was not much better. The judge sobbed, and + the bar shuddered. She was sentenced to death in such a scene as had never + been previously witnessed in an English court of justice. And she is alive + and hearty at the present moment; free to do any mischief she pleases, and + to poison, at her own entire convenience, any man, woman, or child that + happens to stand in her way. A most interesting woman! Keep on good terms + with her, my dear sir, whatever you do, for the Law has said to her in the + plainest possible English, ‘My charming friend, I have no terrors for <i>you</i>!’” + </p> + <p> + “How was she pardoned?” asked Mr. Bashwood, breathlessly. “They told me at + the time, but I have forgotten. Was it the Home Secretary? If it was, I + respect the Home Secretary! I say the Home Secretary was deserving of his + place.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, old gentleman!” rejoined Bashwood the younger. “The Home + Secretary was the obedient humble servant of an enlightened Free Press, + and he <i>was</i> deserving of his place. Is it possible you don’t know + how she cheated the gallows? If you don’t, I must tell you. On the evening + of the trial, two or three of the young buccaneers of literature went down + to two or three newspaper offices, and wrote two or three heart-rending + leading articles on the subject of the proceedings in court. The next + morning the public caught light like tinder; and the prisoner was tried + over again, before an amateur court of justice, in the columns of the + newspapers. All the people who had no personal experience whatever on the + subject seized their pens, and rushed (by kind permission of the editor) + into print. Doctors who had <i>not</i> attended the sick man, and who had + <i>not</i> been present at the examination of the body, declared by dozens + that he had died a natural death. Barristers without business, who had <i>not</i> + heard the evidence, attacked the jury who had heard it, and judged the + judge, who had sat on the bench before some of them were born. The general + public followed the lead of the barristers and the doctors, and the young + buccaneers who had set the thing going. Here was the law that they all + paid to protect them actually doing its duty in dreadful earnest! + Shocking! shocking! The British Public rose to protest as one man against + the working of its own machinery; and the Home Secretary, in a state of + distraction, went to the judge. The judge held firm. He had said it was + the right verdict at the time, and he said so still. ‘But suppose,’ says + the Home Secretary, ‘that the prosecution had tried some other way of + proving her guilty at the trial than the way they did try, what would you + and the jury have done then?’ Of course it was quite impossible for the + judge to say. This comforted the Home Secretary, to begin with. And, when + he got the judge’s consent, after that, to having the conflict of medical + evidence submitted to one great doctor; and when the one great doctor took + the merciful view, after expressly stating, in the first instance, that he + knew nothing practically of the merits of the case, the Home Secretary was + perfectly satisfied. The prisoner’s death-warrant went into the + waste-paper basket; the verdict of the law was reversed by general + acclamation; and the verdict of the newspapers carried the day. But the + best of it is to come. You know what happened when the people found + themselves with the pet object of their sympathy suddenly cast loose on + their hands? A general impression prevailed directly that she was not + quite innocent enough, after all, to be let out of prison then and there! + Punish her a little—that was the state of the popular feeling—punish + her a little, Mr. Home Secretary, on general moral grounds. A small course + of gentle legal medicine, if you love us, and then we shall feel perfectly + easy on the subject to the end of our days.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t joke about it!” cried his father. “Don’t, don’t, don’t, Jemmy! Did + they try her again? They couldn’t! They durs’n’t! Nobody can be tried + twice over for the same offense.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! pooh! she could be tried a second time for a second offense,” + retorted Bashwood the younger—“and tried she was. Luckily for the + pacification of the public mind, she had rushed headlong into redressing + her own grievances (as women will), when she discovered that her husband + had cut her down from a legacy of fifty thousand pounds to a legacy of + five thousand by a stroke of his pen. The day before the inquest a locked + drawer in Mr. Waldron’s dressing-room table, which contained some valuable + jewelry, was discovered to have been opened and emptied; and when the + prisoner was committed by the magistrates, the precious stones were found + torn out of their settings and sewed up in her stays. The lady considered + it a case of justifiable self-compensation. The law declared it to be a + robbery committed on the executors of the dead man. The lighter offense—which + had been passed over when such a charge as murder was brought against her—was + just the thing to revive, to save appearances in the eyes of the public. + They had stopped the course of justice, in the case of the prisoner, at + one trial; and now all they wanted was to set the course of justice going + again, in the case of the prisoner, at another! She was arraigned for the + robbery, after having been pardoned for the murder. And, what is more, if + her beauty and her misfortunes hadn’t made a strong impression on her + lawyer, she would not only have had to stand another trial, but would have + had even the five thousand pounds, to which she was entitled by the second + will, taken away from her, as a felon, by the Crown.” + </p> + <p> + “I respect her lawyer! I admire her lawyer!” exclaimed Mr. Bashwood. “I + should like to take his hand, and tell him so.” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn’t thank you, if you did,” remarked Bashwood the younger. “He is + under a comfortable impression that nobody knows how he saved Mrs. + Waldron’s legacy for her but himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Jemmy,” interposed his father. “But don’t call her + Mrs. Waldron. Speak of her, please, by her name when she was innocent, and + young, and a girl at school. Would you mind, for my sake, calling her Miss + Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + “Not I! It makes no difference to me what name I give her. Bother your + sentiment! let’s go on with the facts. This is what the lawyer did before + the second trial came off. He told her she would be found guilty <i>again</i>, + to a dead certainty. ‘And this time,’ he said, ‘the public will let the + law take its course. Have you got an old friend whom you can trust?’ She + hadn’t such a thing as an old friend in the world. ‘Very well, then,’ says + the lawyer, you must trust me. Sign this paper; and you will have executed + a fictitious sale of all your property to myself. When the right time + comes, I shall first carefully settle with your husband’s executors; and I + shall then reconvey the money to you, securing it properly (in case you + ever marry again) in your own possession. The Crown, in other transactions + of this kind, frequently waives its right of disputing the validity of the + sale; and, if the Crown is no harder on you than on other people, when you + come out of prison you will have your five thousand pounds to begin the + world with again.’ Neat of the lawyer, when she was going to be tried for + robbing the executors, to put her up to a way of robbing the Crown, wasn’t + it? Ha! ha! what a world it is!” + </p> + <p> + The last effort of the son’s sarcasm passed unheeded by the father. “In + prison!” he said to himself. “Oh me, after all that misery, in prison + again!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bashwood the younger, rising and stretching himself, “that’s + how it ended. The verdict was Guilty; and the sentence was imprisonment + for two years. She served her time; and came out, as well as I can reckon + it, about three years since. If you want to know what she did when she + recovered her liberty, and how she went on afterward, I may be able to + tell you something about it—say, on another occasion, when you have + got an extra note or two in your pocket-book. For the present, all you + need know, you do know. There isn’t the shadow of a doubt that this + fascinating lady has the double slur on her of having been found guilty of + murder, and of having served her term of imprisonment for theft. There’s + your money’s worth for your money—with the whole of my wonderful + knack at stating a case clearly, thrown in for nothing. If you have any + gratitude in you, you ought to do something handsome, one of these days, + for your son. But for me, I’ll tell you what you would have done, old + gentleman. If you could have had your own way, you would have married Miss + Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood rose to his feet, and looked his son steadily in the face. + </p> + <p> + “If I could have my own way,” he said, “I would marry her now.” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger started back a step. “After all I have told you?” he + asked, in the blankest astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “After all you have told me.” + </p> + <p> + “With the chance of being poisoned, the first time you happened to offend + her?” + </p> + <p> + “With the chance of being poisoned,” answered Mr. Bashwood, “in + four-and-twenty hours.” + </p> + <p> + The Spy of the Private Inquiry Office dropped back into his chair, cowed + by his father’s words and his father’s looks. + </p> + <p> + “Mad!” he said to himself. “Stark mad, by jingo!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood looked at his watch, and hurriedly took his hat from a + side-table. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to hear the rest of it,” he said. “I should like to hear + every word you have to tell me about her, to the very last. But the time, + the dreadful, galloping time, is getting on. For all I know, they may be + on their way to be married at this very moment.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” asked Bashwood the younger, getting between + his father and the door. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to the hotel,” said the old man, trying to pass him. “I am + going to see Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To tell him everything you have told me.” He paused after making that + reply. The terrible smile of triumph which had once already appeared on + his face overspread it again. “Mr. Armadale is young; Mr. Armadale has all + his life before him,” he whispered, cunningly, with his trembling fingers + clutching his son’s arm. “What doesn’t frighten <i>me</i> will frighten <i>him</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute,” said Bashwood the younger. “Are you as certain as ever + that Mr. Armadale is the man?” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “The man who is going to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! yes! yes! Let me go, Jemmy—let me go.” + </p> + <p> + The spy set his back against the door, and considered for a moment. Mr. + Armadale was rich—Mr. Armadale (if <i>he</i> was not stark mad too) + might be made to put the right money-value on information that saved him + from the disgrace of marrying Miss Gwilt. “It may be a hundred pounds in + my pocket if I work it myself,” thought Bashwood the younger. “And it + won’t be a half-penny if I leave it to my father.” He took up his hat and + his leather bag. “Can you carry it all in your own addled old head, + daddy?” he asked, with his easiest impudence of manner. “Not you! I’ll go + with you and help you. What do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + The father threw his arms in an ecstasy round the son’s neck. “I can’t + help it, Jemmy,” he said, in broken tones. “You are so good to me. Take + the other note, my dear—I’ll manage without it—take the other + note.” + </p> + <p> + The son threw open the door with a flourish; and magnanimously turned his + back on the father’s offered pocket-book. “Hang it, old gentleman, I’m not + quite so mercenary as <i>that</i>!” he said, with an appearance of the + deepest feeling. “Put up your pocket-book, and let’s be off.” “If I took + my respected parent’s last five-pound note,” he thought to himself, as he + led the way downstairs, “how do I know he mightn’t cry halves when he sees + the color of Mr. Armadale’s money?” “Come along, dad!” he resumed. “We’ll + take a cab and catch the happy bridegroom before he starts for the + church!” + </p> + <p> + They hailed a cab in the street, and started for the hotel which had been + the residence of Midwinter and Allan during their stay in London. The + instant the door of the vehicle had closed, Mr. Bashwood returned to the + subject of Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me the rest,” he said, taking his son’s hand, and patting it + tenderly. “Let’s go on talking about her all the way to the hotel. Help me + through the time, Jemmy—help me through the time.” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger was in high spirits at the prospect of seeing the + color of Mr. Armadale’s money. He trifled with his father’s anxiety to the + very last. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see if you remember what I’ve told you already,” he began. “There’s + a character in the story that’s dropped out of it without being accounted + for. Come! can you tell me who it is?” + </p> + <p> + He had reckoned on finding his father unable to answer the question. But + Mr. Bashwood’s memory, for anything that related to Miss Gwilt, was as + clear and ready as his son’s. “The foreign scoundrel who tempted her, and + let her screen him at the risk of her own life,” he said, without an + instant’s hesitation. “Don’t speak of him, Jemmy—don’t speak of him + again!” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>must</i> speak of him,” retorted the other. “You want to know what + became of Miss Gwilt when she got out of prison, don’t you? Very good—I’m + in a position to tell you. She became Mrs. Manuel. It’s no use staring at + me, old gentleman. I know it officially. At the latter part of last year, + a foreign lady came to our place, with evidence to prove that she had been + lawfully married to Captain Manuel, at a former period of his career, when + he had visited England for the first time. She had only lately discovered + that he had been in this country again; and she had reason to believe that + he had married another woman in Scotland. Our people were employed to make + the necessary inquiries. Comparison of dates showed that the Scotch + marriage—if it was a marriage at all, and not a sham—had taken + place just about the time when Miss Gwilt was a free woman again. And a + little further investigation showed us that the second Mrs. Manuel was no + other than the heroine of the famous criminal trial—whom we didn’t + know then, but whom we do know now, to be identical with your fascinating + friend, Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood’s head sank on his breast. He clasped his trembling hands + fast in each other, and waited in silence to hear the rest. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up!” pursued his son. “She was no more the captain’s wife than you + are; and what is more, the captain himself is out of your way now. One + foggy day in December last he gave us the slip; and was off to the + continent, nobody knew where. He had spent the whole of the second Mrs. + Manuel’s five thousand pounds, in the time that had elapsed (between two + and three years) since she had come out of prison; and the wonder was, + where he had got the money to pay his traveling expenses. It turned out + that he had got it from the second Mrs. Manuel herself. She had filled his + empty pockets; and there she was, waiting confidently in a miserable + London lodging, to hear from him and join him as soon as he was safely + settled in foreign parts! Where had <i>she</i> got the money, you may ask + naturally enough? Nobody could tell at the time. My own notion is, now, + that her former mistress must have been still living, and that she must + have turned her knowledge of the Blanchards’ family secret to profitable + account at last. This is mere guess-work, of course; but there’s a + circumstance that makes it likely guess-work to my mind. She had an + elderly female friend to apply to at the time, who was just the woman to + help her in ferreting out her mistress’s address. Can you guess the name + of the elderly female friend? Not you! Mrs. Oldershaw, of course!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood suddenly looked up. “Why should she go back,” he asked, “to + the woman who had deserted her when she was a child?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t say,” rejoined his son, “unless she went back in the interests of + her own magnificent head of hair. The prison-scissors, I needn’t tell you, + had made short work of it with Miss Gwilt’s love-locks, in every sense of + the word and Mrs. Oldershaw, I beg to add, is the most eminent woman in + England, as restorer-general of the dilapidated heads and faces of the + female sex. Put two and two together; and perhaps you’ll agree with me, in + this case, that they make four.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; two and two make four,” repeated his father, impatiently. “But + I want to know something else. Did she hear from him again? Did he send + for her after he had gone away to foreign parts?” + </p> + <p> + “The captain? Why, what on earth can you be thinking of? Hadn’t he spent + every farthing of her money? and wasn’t he loose on the Continent out of + her reach? She waited to hear from him. I dare say, for she persisted in + believing in him. But I’ll lay you any wager you like, she never saw the + sight of his handwriting again. We did our best at the office to open her + eyes; we told her plainly that he had a first wife living, and that she + hadn’t the shadow of a claim on him. She wouldn’t believe us, though we + met her with the evidence. Obstinate, devilish obstinate. I dare say she + waited for months together before she gave up the last hope of ever seeing + him again.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood looked aside quickly out of the cab window. “Where could she + turn for refuge next?” he said, not to his son, but to himself. “What, in + Heaven’s name, could she do?” + </p> + <p> + “Judging by my experience of women,” remarked Bashwood the younger, + overhearing him, “I should say she probably tried to drown herself. But + that’s only guess-work again: it’s all guess-work at this part of her + story. You catch me at the end of my evidence, dad, when you come to Miss + Gwilt’s proceedings in the spring and summer of the present year. She + might, or she might not, have been desperate enough to attempt suicide; + and she might, or she might not, have been at the bottom of those + inquiries that I made for Mrs. Oldershaw. I dare say you’ll see her this + morning; and perhaps, if you use your influence, you may be able to make + her finish her own story herself.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood, still looking out of the cab window, suddenly laid his hand + on his son’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” he exclaimed, in violent agitation. “We have got there at + last. Oh, Jemmy, feel how my heart beats! Here is the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “Bother your heart,” said Bashwood the younger. “Wait here while I make + the inquiries.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll come with you!” cried his father. “I can’t wait! I tell you, I can’t + wait!” + </p> + <p> + They went into the hotel together, and asked for “Mr. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + The answer, after some little hesitation and delay, was that Mr. Armadale + had gone away six days since. A second waiter added that Mr. Armadale’s + friend—Mr. Midwinter—had only left that morning. Where had Mr. + Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where had Mr. Midwinter gone? + Nobody knew. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Stuff and nonsense!” said Bashwood the younger, pushing his father back + roughly into the cab. “He’s safe enough. We shall find him at Miss + Gwilt’s.” + </p> + <p> + The old man took his son’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you, my dear,” he + said, gratefully. “Thank you for comforting me.” + </p> + <p> + The cab was driven next to the second lodging which Miss Gwilt had + occupied, in the neighborhood of Tottenham Court Road. + </p> + <p> + “Stop here,” said the spy, getting out, and shutting his father into the + cab. “I mean to manage this part of the business myself.” + </p> + <p> + He knocked at the house door. “I have got a note for Miss Gwilt,” he said, + walking into the passage, the moment the door was opened. + </p> + <p> + “She’s gone,” answered the servant. “She went away last night.” + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. He insisted on + seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the announcement of Miss + Gwilt’s departure on the previous evening. Where had she gone to? The + woman couldn’t say. How had she left? On foot. At what hour? Between nine + and ten. What had she done with her luggage? She had no luggage. Had a + gentleman been to see her on the previous day? Not a soul, gentle or + simple, had come to the house to see Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + The father’s face, pale and wild, was looking out of the cab window as the + son descended the house steps. “Isn’t she there, Jemmy?” he asked, faintly—“isn’t + she there?” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue,” cried the spy, with the native coarseness of his + nature rising to the surface at last. “I’m not at the end of my inquiries + yet.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the road, and entered a coffee-shop situated exactly opposite + the house he had just left. + </p> + <p> + In the box nearest the window two men were sitting talking together + anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Which of you was on duty yesterday evening, between nine and ten + o’clock?” asked Bashwood the younger, suddenly joining them, and putting + his question in a quick, peremptory whisper. + </p> + <p> + “I was, sir,” said one of the men, unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you lose sight of the house?—Yes! I see you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Only for a minute, sir. An infernal blackguard of a soldier came in—” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” said Bashwood the younger. “I know what the soldier did, + and who sent him to do it. She has given us the slip again. You are the + greatest ass living. Consider yourself dismissed.” With those words, and + with an oath to emphasize them, he left the coffee-shop and returned to + the cab. + </p> + <p> + “She’s gone!” cried his father. “Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, I see it in your face!” + He fell back into his own corner of the cab, with a faint, wailing cry. + “They’re married,” he moaned to himself; his hands falling helplessly on + his knees; his hat falling unregarded from his head. “Stop them!” he + exclaimed, suddenly rousing himself, and seizing his son in a frenzy by + the collar of the coat. + </p> + <p> + “Go back to the hotel,” shouted Bashwood the younger to the cabman. “Hold + your noise!” he added, turning fiercely on his father. “I want to think.” + </p> + <p> + The varnish of smoothness was all off him by this time. His temper was + roused. His pride—even such a man has his pride!—was wounded + to the quick. Twice had he matched his wits against a woman’s; and twice + the woman had baffled him. + </p> + <p> + He got out, on reaching the hotel for the second time, and privately tried + the servants with the offer of money. The result of the experiment + satisfied him that they had, in this instance, really and truly no + information to sell. After a moment’s reflection, he stopped, before + leaving the hotel, to ask the way to the parish church. “The chance may be + worth trying,” he thought to himself, as he gave the address to the + driver. “Faster!” he called out, looking first at his watch, and then at + his father. “The minutes are precious this morning; and the old one is + beginning to give in.” + </p> + <p> + It was true. Still capable of hearing and of understanding, Mr. Bashwood + was past speaking by this time. He clung with both hands to his son’s + grudging arm, and let his head fall helplessly on his son’s averted + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The parish church stood back from the street, protected by gates and + railings, and surrounded by a space of open ground. Shaking off his + father’s hold, Bashwood the younger made straight for the vestry. The + clerk, putting away the books, and the clerk’s assistant, hanging up a + surplice, were the only persons in the room when he entered it and asked + leave to look at the marriage register for the day. + </p> + <p> + The clerk gravely opened the book, and stood aside from the desk on which + it lay. + </p> + <p> + The day’s register comprised three marriages solemnized that morning; and + the first two signatures on the page were “Allan Armadale” and “Lydia + Gwilt!” + </p> + <p> + Even the spy—ignorant as he was of the truth, unsuspicious as he was + of the terrible future consequences to which the act of that morning might + lead—even the spy started, when his eye first fell on the page. It + was done! Come what might of it, it was done now. There, in black and + white, was the registered evidence of the marriage, which was at once a + truth in itself, and a lie in the conclusion to which it led! There—through + the fatal similarity in the names—there, in Midwinter’s own + signature, was the proof to persuade everybody that, not Midwinter, but + Allan, was the husband of Miss Gwilt! + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger closed the book, and returned it to the clerk. He + descended the vestry steps, with his hands thrust doggedly into his + pockets, and with a serious shock inflicted on his professional + self-esteem. + </p> + <p> + The beadle met him under the church wall. He considered for a moment + whether it was worth while to spend a shilling in questioning the man, and + decided in the affirmative. If they could be traced and overtaken, there + might be a chance of seeing the color of Mr. Armadale’s money even yet. + </p> + <p> + “How long is it,” he asked, “since the first couple married here this + morning left the church?” + </p> + <p> + “About an hour,” said the beadle. + </p> + <p> + “How did they go away?” + </p> + <p> + The beadle deferred answering that second question until he had first + pocketed his fee. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t trace them from here, sir,” he said, when he had got his + shilling. “They went away on foot.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is all you know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “That, sir, is all I know about it.” + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, even the Detective of the Private Inquiry Office paused + for a moment before he returned to his father at the gate. He was roused + from his hesitation by the sudden appearance, within the church inclosure, + of the driver of the cab. + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid the old gentleman is going to be taken ill, sir,” said the + man. + </p> + <p> + Bashwood the younger frowned angrily, and walked back to the cab. As he + opened the door and looked in, his father leaned forward and confronted + him, with lips that moved speechlessly, and with a white stillness over + all the rest of his face. + </p> + <p> + “She’s done us,” said the spy. “They were married here this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The old man’s body swayed for a moment from one side to the other. The + instant after, his eyes closed and his head fell forward toward the front + seat of the cab. “Drive to the hospital!” cried his son. “He’s in a fit. + This is what comes of putting myself out of my way to please my father,” + he muttered, sullenly raising Mr. Bashwood’s head, and loosening his + cravat. “A nice morning’s work. Upon my soul, a nice morning’s work!” + </p> + <p> + The hospital was near, and the house surgeon was at his post. + </p> + <p> + “Will he come out of it?” asked Bashwood the younger, roughly. + </p> + <p> + “Who are <i>you</i>?” asked the surgeon, sharply, on his side. + </p> + <p> + “I am his son.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t have thought it,” rejoined the surgeon, taking the + restoratives that were handed to him by the nurse, and turning from the + son to the father with an air of relief which he was at no pains to + conceal. “Yes,” he added, after a minute or two; “your father will come + out of it this time.” + </p> + <p> + “When can he be moved away from here?” + </p> + <p> + “He can be moved from the hospital in an hour or two.” + </p> + <p> + The spy laid a card on the table. “I’ll come back for him or send for + him,” he said. “I suppose I can go now, if I leave my name and address?” + With those words, he put on his hat, and walked out. + </p> + <p> + “He’s a brute!” said the nurse. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the surgeon, quietly. “He’s a man.” + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + Between nine and ten o’clock that night, Mr. Bashwood awoke in his bed at + the inn in the Borough. He had slept for some hours since he had been + brought back from the hospital; and his mind and body were now slowly + recovering together. + </p> + <p> + A light was burning on the bedside table, and a letter lay on it, waiting + for him till he was awake. It was in his son’s handwriting, and it + contained these words: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR DAD—Having seen you safe out of the hospital, and back at + your hotel, I think I may fairly claim to have done my duty by you, and + may consider myself free to look after my own affairs. Business will + prevent me from seeing you to-night; and I don’t think it at all likely I + shall be in your neighborhood to-morrow morning. My advice to you is to go + back to Thorpe Ambrose, and to stick to your employment in the steward’s + office. Wherever Mr. Armadale may be, he must, sooner or later, write to + you on business. I wash my hands of the whole matter, mind, so far as I am + concerned, from this time forth. But if <i>you</i> like to go on with it, + my professional opinion is (though you couldn’t hinder his marriage), you + may part him from his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Pray take care of yourself. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate son, + </p> + <p> + “JAMES BASHWOOD.” + </p> + <p> + The letter dropped from the old man’s feeble hands. “I wish Jemmy could + have come to see me to-night,” he thought. “But it’s very kind of him to + advise me, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + He turned wearily on the pillow, and read the letter a second time. “Yes,” + he said, “there’s nothing left for me but to go back. I’m too poor and too + old to hunt after them all by myself.” He closed his eyes: the tears + trickled slowly over his wrinkled cheeks. “I’ve been a trouble to Jemmy,” + he murmured, faintly; “I’ve been a sad trouble, I’m afraid, to poor + Jemmy!” In a minute more his weakness overpowered him, and he fell asleep + again. + </p> + <p> + The clock of the neighboring church struck. It was ten. As the bell tolled + the hour, the tidal train—with Midwinter and his wife among the + passengers—was speeding nearer and nearer to Paris. As the bell + tolled the hour, the watch on board Allan’s outward-bound yacht had + sighted the light-house off the Land’s End, and had set the course of the + vessel for Ushant and Finisterre. + </p> + <p> + THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0044" id="H2_4_0044"></a> BOOK THE FOURTH. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0045" id="H2_4_0045"></a> I. MISS GWILT’S DIARY. + </h2> + <p> + “NAPLES, October 10th.—It is two months to-day since I declared that + I had closed my Diary, never to open it again. + </p> + <p> + “Why have I broken my resolution? Why have I gone back to this secret + friend of my wretchedest and wickedest hours? Because I am more friendless + than ever; because I am more lonely than ever, though my husband is + sitting writing in the next room to me. My misery is a woman’s misery, and + it <i>will</i> speak—here, rather than nowhere; to my second self, + in this book, if I have no one else to hear me. + </p> + <p> + “How happy I was in the first days that followed our marriage, and how + happy I made <i>him</i>! Only two months have passed, and that time is a + by-gone time already! I try to think of anything I might have said or done + wrongly, on my side—of anything he might have said or done wrongly, + on his; and I can remember nothing unworthy of my husband, nothing + unworthy of myself. I cannot even lay my finger on the day when the cloud + first rose between us. + </p> + <p> + “I could bear it, if I loved him less dearly than I do. I could conquer + the misery of our estrangement, if he only showed the change in him as + brutally as other men would show it. + </p> + <p> + “But this never has happened—never will happen. It is not in his + nature to inflict suffering on others. Not a hard word, not a hard look, + escapes him. It is only at night, when I hear him sighing in his sleep, + and sometimes when I see him dreaming in the morning hours, that I know + how hopelessly I am losing the love he once felt for me. He hides, or + tries to hide, it in the day, for my sake. He is all gentleness, all + kindness; but his heart is not on his lips when he kisses me now; his hand + tells me nothing when it touches mine. Day after day the hours that he + gives to his hateful writing grow longer and longer; day after day he + becomes more and more silent in the hours that he gives to me. + </p> + <p> + “And, with all this, there is nothing that I can complain of—nothing + marked enough to justify me in noticing it. His disappointment shrinks + from all open confession; his resignation collects itself by such fine + degrees that even my watchfulness fails to see the growth of it. Fifty + times a day I feel the longing in me to throw my arms round his neck, and + say: ‘For God’s sake, do anything to me, rather than treat me like this!’ + and fifty times a day the words are forced back into my heart by the cruel + considerateness of his conduct; which gives me no excuse for speaking + them. I thought I had suffered the sharpest pain that I could feel when my + first husband laid his whip across my face. I thought I knew the worst + that despair could do on the day when I knew that the other villain, the + meaner villain still, had cast me off. Live and learn. There is sharper + pain than I felt under Waldron’s whip; there is bitterer despair than the + despair I knew when Manuel deserted me. + </p> + <p> + “Am I too old for him? Surely not yet! Have I lost my beauty? Not a man + passes me in the street but his eyes tell me I am as handsome as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no! no! the secret lies deeper than <i>that</i>! I have thought and + thought about it till a horrible fancy has taken possession of me. He has + been noble and good in his past life, and I have been wicked and + disgraced. Who can tell what a gap that dreadful difference may make + between us, unknown to him and unknown to me? It is folly, it is madness; + but, when I lie awake by him in the darkness, I ask myself whether any + unconscious disclosure of the truth escapes me in the close intimacy that + now unites us? Is there an unutterable Something left by the horror of my + past life, which clings invisibly to me still? And is he feeling the + influence of it, sensibly, and yet incomprehensibly to himself? Oh me! is + there no purifying power in such love as mine? Are there plague-spots of + past wickedness on my heart which no after-repentance can wash out? + </p> + <p> + “Who can tell? There is something wrong in our married life—I can + only come back to that. There is some adverse influence that neither he + nor I can trace which is parting us further and further from each other + day by day. Well! I suppose I shall be hardened in time, and learn to bear + it. + </p> + <p> + “An open carriage has just driven by my window, with a nicely dressed lady + in it. She had her husband by her side, and her children on the seat + opposite. At the moment when I saw her she was laughing and talking in + high spirits—a sparkling, light-hearted, happy woman. Ah, my lady, + when you were a few years younger, if you had been left to yourself, and + thrown on the world like me—” + </p> + <p> + “October 11th.—The eleventh day of the month was the day (two months + since) when we were married. He said nothing about it to me when we woke, + nor I to him. But I thought I would make it the occasion, at + breakfast-time, of trying to win him back. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think I ever took such pains with my toilet before. I don’t think + I ever looked better than I looked when I went downstairs this morning. He + had breakfasted by himself, and I found a little slip of paper on the + table with an apology written on it. The post to England, he said, went + out that day and his letter to the newspaper must be finished. In his + place I would have let fifty posts go out rather than breakfast without + him. I went into his room. There he was, immersed body and soul in his + hateful writing! ‘Can’t you give me a little time this morning?’ I asked. + He got up with a start. ‘Certainly, if you wish it.’ He never even looked + at me as he said the words. The very sound of his voice told me that all + his interest was centered in the pen that he had just laid down. ‘I see + you are occupied,’ I said; ‘I don’t wish it.’ Before I had closed the door + on him he was back at his desk. I have often heard that the wives of + authors have been for the most part unhappy women. And now I know why. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose, as I said yesterday, I shall learn to bear it. (What <i>stuff</i>, + by-the-by, I seem to have written yesterday! How ashamed I should be if + anybody saw it but myself!) I hope the trumpery newspaper he writes for + won’t succeed! I hope his rubbishing letter will be well cut up by some + other newspaper as soon as it gets into print! + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do with myself all the morning? I can’t go out, it’s + raining. If I open the piano, I shall disturb the industrious journalist + who is scribbling in the next room. Oh, dear, it was lonely enough in my + lodging in Thorpe Ambrose, but how much lonelier it is here! Shall I read? + No; books don’t interest me; I hate the whole tribe of authors. I think I + shall look back through these pages, and live my life over again when I + was plotting and planning, and finding a new excitement to occupy me in + every new hour of the day. + </p> + <p> + “He might have looked at me, though he <i>was</i> so busy with his + writing.—He might have said, ‘How nicely you are dressed this + morning!’ He might have remembered—never mind what! All he remembers + is the newspaper.” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve o’clock.—I have been reading and thinking; and, thanks to my + Diary, I have got through an hour. + </p> + <p> + “What a time it was—what a life it was, at Thorpe Ambrose! I wonder + I kept my senses. It makes my heart beat, it makes my face flush, only to + read about it now! + </p> + <p> + “The rain still falls, and the journalist still scribbles. I don’t want to + think the thoughts of that past time over again. And yet, what else can I + do? + </p> + <p> + “Supposing—I only say supposing—I felt now, as I felt when I + traveled to London with Armadale; and when I saw my way to his life as + plainly as I saw the man himself all through the journey...? + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go and look out of the window. I’ll go and count the people as they + pass by. + </p> + <p> + “A funeral has gone by, with the penitents in their black hoods, and the + wax torches sputtering in the wet, and the little bell ringing, and the + priests droning their monotonous chant. A pleasant sight to meet me at the + window! I shall go back to my Diary. + </p> + <p> + “Supposing I was not the altered woman I am—I only say, supposing—how + would the Grand Risk that I once thought of running look now? I have + married Midwinter in the name that is really his own. And by doing that I + have taken the first of those three steps which were once to lead me, + through Armadale’s life, to the fortune and the station of Armadale’s + widow. No matter how innocent my intentions might have been on the + wedding-day—and they <i>were</i> innocent—this is one of the + unalterable results of the marriage. Well, having taken the first step, + then, whether I would or no, how—supposing I meant to take the + second step, which I don’t—how would present circumstances stand + toward me? Would they warn me to draw back, I wonder? or would they + encourage me to go on? + </p> + <p> + “It will interest me to calculate the chances; and I can easily tear the + leaf out, and destroy it, if the prospect looks too encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “We are living here (for economy’s sake) far away from the expensive + English quarter, in a suburb of the city, on the Portici side. We have + made no traveling acquaintances among our own country people. Our poverty + is against us; Midwinter’s shyness is against us; and (with the women) my + personal appearance is against us. The men from whom my husband gets his + information for the newspaper meet him at the cafe, and never come here. I + discourage his bringing any strangers to see me; for, though years have + passed since I was last at Naples, I cannot be sure that some of the many + people I once knew in this place may not be living still. The moral of all + this is (as the children’s storybooks say), that not a single witness has + come to this house who could declare, if any after-inquiry took place in + England, that Midwinter and I had been living here as man and wife. So + much for present circumstances as they affect me. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale next. Has any unforeseen accident led him to communicate with + Thorpe Ambrose? Has he broken the conditions which the major imposed on + him, and asserted himself in the character of Miss Milroy’s promised + husband since I saw him last? + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort has taken place. No unforeseen accident has altered + his position—his tempting position—toward myself. I know all + that has happened to him since he left England, through the letters which + he writes to Midwinter, and which Midwinter shows to me. + </p> + <p> + “He has been wrecked, to begin with. His trumpery little yacht has + actually tried to drown him, after all, and has failed! It happened (as + Midwinter warned him it might happen with so small a vessel) in a sudden + storm. They were blown ashore on the coast of Portugal. The yacht went to + pieces, but the lives, and papers, and so on, were saved. The men have + been sent back to Bristol, with recommendations from their master which + have already got them employment on board an outward-bound ship. And the + master himself is on his way here, after stopping first at Lisbon, and + next at Gibraltar, and trying ineffectually in both places to supply + himself with another vessel. His third attempt is to be made at Naples, + where there is an English yacht ‘laid up,’ as they call it, to be had for + sale or hire. He has had no occasion to write home since the wreck; for he + took away from Coutts’s the whole of the large sum of money lodged there + for him, in circular notes. And he has felt no inclination to go back to + England himself; for, with Mr. Brock dead, Miss Milroy at school, and + Midwinter here, he has not a living creature in whom he is interested to + welcome him if he returned. To see us, and to see the new yacht, are the + only two present objects he has in view. Midwinter has been expecting him + for a week past, and he may walk into this very room in which I am + writing, at this very moment, for all I know to the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “Tempting circumstances, these—with all the wrongs I have suffered + at his mother’s hands and at his, still alive in my memory; with Miss + Milroy confidently waiting to take her place at the head of his household; + with my dream of living happy and innocent in Midwinter’s love dispelled + forever, and with nothing left in its place to help me against myself. I + wish it wasn’t raining; I wish I could go out. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps something may happen to prevent Armadale from coming to Naples? + When he last wrote, he was waiting at Gibraltar for an English steamer in + the Mediterranean trade to bring him on here. He may get tired of waiting + before the steamer comes, or he may hear of a yacht at some other place + than this. A little bird whispers in my ear that it may possibly be the + wisest thing he ever did in his life if he breaks his engagement to join + us at Naples. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tear out the leaf on which all these shocking things have been + written? No. My Diary is so nicely bound—it would be positive + barbarity to tear out a leaf. Let me occupy myself harmlessly with + something else. What shall it be? My dressing-case—I will put my + dressing-case tidy, and polish up the few little things in it which my + misfortunes have still left in my possession. + </p> + <p> + “I have shut up the dressing-case again. The first thing I found in it was + Armadale’s shabby present to me on my marriage—the rubbishing little + ruby ring. That irritated me, to begin with. The second thing that turned + up was my bottle of Drops. I caught myself measuring the doses with my + eye, and calculating how many of them would be enough to take a living + creature over the border-land between sleep and death. Why I should have + locked the dressing-case in a fright, before I had quite completed my + calculation, I don’t know; but I did lock it. And here I am back again at + my Diary, with nothing, absolutely nothing, to write about. Oh, the weary + day! the weary day! Will nothing happen to excite me a little in this + horrible place?” + </p> + <p> + “October 12th.—Midwinter’s all-important letter to the newspaper was + dispatched by the post last night. I was foolish enough to suppose that I + might be honored by having some of his spare attention bestowed on me + to-day. Nothing of the sort! He had a restless night, after all his + writing, and got up with his head aching, and his spirits miserably + depressed. When he is in this state, his favorite remedy is to return to + his old vagabond habits, and go roaming away by himself nobody knows + where. He went through the form this morning (knowing I had no riding + habit) of offering to hire a little broken-kneed brute of a pony for me, + in case I wished to accompany him! I preferred remaining at home. I will + have a handsome horse and a handsome habit, or I won’t ride at all. He + went away, without attempting to persuade me to change my mind. I wouldn’t + have changed it, of course; but he might have tried to persuade me all the + same. + </p> + <p> + “I can open the piano in his absence—that is one comfort. And I am + in a fine humor for playing—that is another. There is a sonata of + Beethoven’s (I forget the number), which always suggests to me the agony + of lost spirits in a place of torment. Come, my fingers and thumbs, and + take me among the lost spirits this morning!” + </p> + <p> + “October 13th.—Our windows look out on the sea. At noon to-day we + saw a steamer coming in, with the English flag flying. Midwinter has gone + to the port, on the chance that this may be the vessel from Gibraltar, + with Armadale on board. + </p> + <p> + “Two o’clock.—It is the vessel from Gibraltar. Armadale has added + one more to the long list of his blunders: he has kept his engagement to + join us at Naples. + </p> + <p> + “How will it end <i>now</i>? + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “October 16th.—Two days missed out of my Diary! I can hardly tell + why, unless it is that Armadale irritates me beyond all endurance. The + mere sight of him takes me back to Thorpe Ambrose. I fancy I must have + been afraid of what I might write about him, in the course of the last two + days, if I indulged myself in the dangerous luxury of opening these pages. + </p> + <p> + “This morning I am afraid of nothing, and I take up my pen again + accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any limit, I wonder, to the brutish stupidity of some men? I + thought I had discovered Armadale’s limit when I was his neighbor in + Norfolk; but my later experience at Naples shows me that I was wrong. He + is perpetually in and out of this house (crossing over to us in a boat + from the hotel at Santa Lucia, where he sleeps); and he has exactly two + subjects of conversation—the yacht for sale in the harbor here, and + Miss Milroy. Yes! he selects ME as the <i>confidante</i> of his devoted + attachment to the major’s daughter! ‘It’s so nice to talk to a woman about + it!’ That is all the apology he has thought it necessary to make for + appealing to my sympathies—<i>my</i> sympathies!—on the + subject of ‘his darling Neelie,’ fifty times a day. He is evidently + persuaded (if he thinks about it at all) that I have forgotten, as + completely as he has forgotten, all that once passed between us when I was + first at Thorpe Ambrose. Such an utter want of the commonest delicacy and + the commonest tact, in a creature who is, to all appearance, possessed of + a skin, and not a hide, and who does, unless my ears deceive me, talk, and + not bray, is really quite incredible when one comes to think of it. But it + is, for all that, quite true. He asked me—he actually asked me, last + night—how many hundreds a year the wife of a rich man could spend on + her dress. ‘Don’t put it too low,’ the idiot added, with his intolerable + grin. ‘Neelie shall be one of the best-dressed women in England when I + have married her.’ And this to me, after having had him at my feet, and + then losing him again through Miss Milroy! This to me, with an alpaca gown + on, and a husband whose income must be helped by a newspaper! + </p> + <p> + “I had better not dwell on it any longer. I had better think and write of + something else. + </p> + <p> + “The yacht. As a relief from hearing about Miss Milroy, I declare the + yacht in the harbor is quite an interesting subject to me! She (the men + call a vessel ‘She’; and I suppose, if the women took an interest in such + things, <i>they</i> would call a vessel ‘He’)—she is a beautiful + model; and her ‘top-sides’ (whatever they may be) are especially + distinguished by being built of mahogany. But, with these merits, she has + the defect, on the other hand, of being old—which is a sad drawback—and + the crew and the sailing-master have been ‘paid off,’ and sent home to + England—which is additionally distressing. Still, if a new crew and + a new sailing-master can be picked up here, such a beautiful creature + (with all her drawbacks), is not to be despised. It might answer to hire + her for a cruise, and to see how she behaves. (If she is of <i>my</i> + mind, her behavior will rather astonish her new master!) The cruise will + determine what faults she has, and what repairs, through the unlucky + circumstance of her age, she really stands in need of. And then it will be + time to settle whether to buy her outright or not. Such is Armadale’s + conversation when he is not talking of ‘his darling Neelie.’ And + Midwinter, who can steal no time from his newspaper work for his wife, can + steal hours for his friend, and can offer them unreservedly to my + irresistible rival, the new yacht. + </p> + <p> + “I shall write no more to-day. If so lady-like a person as I am could feel + a tigerish tingling all over her to the very tips of her fingers, I should + suspect myself of being in that condition at the present moment. But, with + <i>my</i> manners and accomplishments, the thing is, of course, out of the + question. We all know that a lady has no passions.” + </p> + <p> + “October 17th.—A letter for Midwinter this morning from the + slave-owners—I mean the newspaper people in London—which has + set him at work again harder than ever. A visit at luncheon-time and + another visit at dinner-time from Armadale. Conversation at luncheon about + the yacht. Conversation at dinner about Miss Milroy. I have been honored, + in regard to that young lady, by an invitation to go with Armadale + to-morrow to the Toledo, and help him to buy some presents for the beloved + object. I didn’t fly out at him—I only made an excuse. Can words + express the astonishment I feel at my own patience? No words can express + it.” + </p> + <p> + “October 18th.—Armadale came to breakfast this morning, by way of + catching Midwinter before he shuts himself up over his work. + </p> + <p> + “Conversation the same as yesterday’s conversation at lunch. Armadale has + made his bargain with the agent for hiring the yacht. The agent + (compassionating his total ignorance of the language) has helped him to + find an interpreter, but can’t help him to find a crew. The interpreter is + civil and willing, but doesn’t understand the sea. Midwinter’s assistance + is indispensable; and Midwinter is requested (and consents!) to work + harder than ever, so as to make time for helping his friend. When the crew + is found, the merits and defects of the vessel are to be tried by a cruise + to Sicily, with Midwinter on board to give his opinion. Lastly (in case + she should feel lonely), the ladies’ cabin is most obligingly placed at + the disposal of Midwinter’s wife. All this was settled at the + breakfast-table; and it ended with one of Armadale’s neatly-turned + compliments, addressed to myself: ‘I mean to take Neelie sailing with me, + when we are married. And you have such good taste, you will be able to + tell me everything the ladies’ cabin wants between that time and this.’ + </p> + <p> + “If some women bring such men as this into the world, ought other women to + allow them to live? It is a matter of opinion. <i>I</i> think not. + </p> + <p> + “What maddens me is to see, as I do see plainly, that Midwinter finds in + Armadale’s company, and in Armadale’s new yacht, a refuge from me. He is + always in better spirits when Armadale is here. He forgets me in Armadale + almost as completely as he forgets me in his work. And I bear it! What a + pattern wife, what an excellent Christian I am!” + </p> + <p> + “October 19th.—Nothing new. Yesterday over again.” + </p> + <p> + “October 20th.—One piece of news. Midwinter is suffering from + nervous headache; and is working in spite of it, to make time for his + holiday with his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “October 21st.—Midwinter is worse. Angry and wild and + unapproachable, after two bad nights, and two uninterrupted days at his + desk. Under any other circumstances he would take the warning and leave + off. But nothing warns him now. He is still working as hard as ever, for + Armadale’s sake. How much longer will my patience last?” + </p> + <p> + “October 22d.—Signs, last night, that Midwinter is taxing his brains + beyond what his brains will bear. When he did fall asleep, he was + frightfully restless; groaning and talking and grinding his teeth. From + some of the words I heard, he seemed at one time to be dreaming of his + life when he was a boy, roaming the country with the dancing dogs. At + another time he was back again with Armadale, imprisoned all night on the + wrecked ship. Toward the early morning hours he grew quieter. I fell + asleep; and, waking after a short interval, found myself alone. My first + glance round showed me a light burning in Midwinter’s dressing-room. I + rose softly, and went to look at him. + </p> + <p> + “He was seated in the great, ugly, old-fashioned chair, which I ordered to + be removed into the dressing-room out of the way when we first came here. + His head lay back, and one of his hands hung listlessly over the arm of + the chair. The other hand was on his lap. I stole a little nearer, and saw + that exhaustion had overpowered him while he was either reading or + writing, for there were books, pens, ink, and paper on the table before + him. What had he got up to do secretly, at that hour of the morning? I + looked closer at the papers on the table. They were all neatly folded (as + he usually keeps them), with one exception; and that exception, lying open + on the rest, was Mr. Brock’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “I looked round at him again, after making this discovery, and then + noticed for the first time another written paper, lying under the hand + that rested on his lap. There was no moving it away without the risk of + waking him. Part of the open manuscript, however, was not covered by his + hand. I looked at it to see what he had secretly stolen away to read, + besides Mr. Brock’s letter; and made out enough to tell me that it was the + Narrative of Armadale’s Dream. + </p> + <p> + “That second discovery sent me back at once to my bed—with something + serious to think of. + </p> + <p> + “Traveling through France, on our way to this place, Midwinter’s shyness + was conquered for once, by a very pleasant man—an Irish doctor—whom + we met in the railway carriage, and who quite insisted on being friendly + and sociable with us all through the day’s journey. Finding that Midwinter + was devoting himself to literary pursuits, our traveling companion warned + him not to pass too many hours together at his desk. ‘Your face tells me + more than you think,’ the doctor said: ‘If you are ever tempted to + overwork your brain, you will feel it sooner than most men. When you find + your nerves playing you strange tricks, don’t neglect the warning—drop + your pen.’ + </p> + <p> + “After my last night’s discovery in the dressing-room, it looks as if + Midwinter’s nerves were beginning already to justify the doctor’s opinion + of them. If one of the tricks they are playing him is the trick of + tormenting him again with his old superstitious terrors, there will be a + change in our lives here before long. I shall wait curiously to see + whether the conviction that we two are destined to bring fatal danger to + Armadale takes possession of Midwinter’s mind once more. If it does, I + know what will happen. He will not stir a step toward helping his friend + to find a crew for the yacht; and he will certainly refuse to sail with + Armadale, or to let me sail with him, on the trial cruise.” + </p> + <p> + “October 23d.—Mr. Brock’s letter has, apparently, not lost its + influence yet. Midwinter is working again to-day, and is as anxious as + ever for the holiday-time that he is to pass with his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Two o’clock.—Armadale here as usual; eager to know when Midwinter + will be at his service. No definite answer to be given to the question + yet, seeing that it all depends on Midwinter’s capacity to continue at his + desk. Armadale sat down disappointed; he yawned, and put his great clumsy + hands in his pockets. I took up a book. The brute didn’t understand that I + wanted to be left alone; he began again on the unendurable subject of Miss + Milroy, and of all the fine things she was to have when he married her. + Her own riding-horse; her own pony-carriage; her own beautiful little + sitting-room upstairs at the great house, and so on. All that I might have + had once Miss Milroy is to have now—<i>if I let her</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Six o’clock.—More of the everlasting Armadale! Half an hour since, + Midwinter came in from his writing, giddy and exhausted. I had been pining + all day for a little music, and I knew they were giving ‘Norma’ at the + theater here. It struck me that an hour or two at the opera might do + Midwinter good, as well as me; and I said: ‘Why not take a box at the San + Carlo to-night?’ He answered, in a dull, uninterested manner, that he was + not rich enough to take a box. Armadale was present, and flourished his + well-filled purse in his usual insufferable way. ‘<i>I’m</i> rich enough, + old boy, and it comes to the same thing.’ With those words he took up his + hat, and trampled out on his great elephant’s feet to get the box. I + looked after him from the window as he went down the street. ‘Your widow, + with her twelve hundred a year,’ I thought to myself, ‘might take a box at + the San Carlo whenever she pleased, without being beholden to anybody.’ + The empty-headed wretch whistled as he went his way to the theater, and + tossed his loose silver magnificently to every beggar who ran after him.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Midnight.—I am alone again at last. Have I nerve enough to write + the history of this terrible evening, just as it has passed? I have nerve + enough, at any rate, to turn to a new leaf, and try.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0046" id="H2_4_0046"></a> II. THE DIARY CONTINUED. + </h2> + <p> + “We went to the San Carlo. Armadale’s stupidity showed itself, even in + such a simple matter as taking a box. He had confounded an opera with a + play, and had chosen a box close to the stage, with the idea that one’s + chief object at a musical performance is to see the faces of the singers + as plainly as possible! Fortunately for our ears, Bellini’s lovely + melodies are, for the most part, tenderly and delicately accompanied—or + the orchestra might have deafened us. + </p> + <p> + “I sat back in the box at first, well out of sight; for it was impossible + to be sure that some of my old friends of former days at Naples might not + be in the theater. But the sweet music gradually tempted me out of my + seclusion. I was so charmed and interested that I leaned forward without + knowing it, and looked at the stage. + </p> + <p> + “I was made aware of my own imprudence by a discovery which, for the + moment, literally chilled my blood. One of the singers, among the chorus + of Druids, was looking at me while he sang with the rest. His head was + disguised in the long white hair, and the lower part of his face was + completely covered with the flowing white beard proper to the character. + But the eyes with which he looked at me were the eyes of the one man on + earth whom I have most reason to dread ever seeing again—Manuel! + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for my smelling-bottle, I believe I should have lost + my senses. As it was, I drew back again into the shadow. Even Armadale + noticed the sudden change in me: he, as well as Midwinter, asked if I was + ill. I said I felt the heat, but hoped I should be better presently; and + then leaned back in the box, and tried to rally my courage. I succeeded in + recovering self-possession enough to be able to look again at the stage + (without showing myself) the next time the chorus appeared. There was the + man again! But to my infinite relief he never looked toward our box a + second time. This welcome indifference, on his part, helped to satisfy me + that I had seen an extraordinary accidental resemblance, and nothing more. + I still hold to this conclusion, after having had leisure to think; but my + mind would be more completely at ease than it is if I had seen the rest of + the man’s face without the stage disguises that hid it from all + investigation. + </p> + <p> + “When the curtain fell on the first act, there was a tiresome ballet to be + performed (according to the absurd Italian custom), before the opera went + on. Though I had got over my first fright, I had been far too seriously + startled to feel comfortable in the theater. I dreaded all sorts of + impossible accidents; and when Midwinter and Armadale put the question to + me, I told them I was not well enough to stay through the rest of the + performance. + </p> + <p> + “At the door of the theater Armadale proposed to say good-night. But + Midwinter—evidently dreading the evening with <i>me</i>—asked + him to come back to supper, if I had no objection. I said the necessary + words, and we all three returned together to this house. + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes’ quiet in my own room (assisted by a little dose of + eau-de-cologne and water) restored me to myself. I joined the men at the + supper-table. They received my apologies for taking them away from the + opera, with the complimentary assurance that I had not cost either of them + the slightest sacrifice of his own pleasure. Midwinter declared that he + was too completely worn out to care for anything but the two great + blessings, unattainable at the theater, of quiet and fresh air. Armadale + said—with an Englishman’s exasperating pride in his own stupidity + wherever a matter of art is concerned—that he couldn’t make head or + tail of the performance. The principal disappointment, he was good enough + to add, was mine, for I evidently understood foreign music, and enjoyed + it. Ladies generally did. His darling little Neelie— + </p> + <p> + “I was in no humor to be persecuted with his ‘Darling Neelie’ after what I + had gone through at the theater. It might have been the irritated state of + my nerves, or it might have been the eau-de-cologne flying to my head, but + the bare mention of the girl seemed to set me in a flame. I tried to turn + Armadale’s attention in the direction of the supper-table. He was much + obliged, but he had no appetite for more. I offered him wine next, the + wine of the country, which is all that our poverty allows us to place on + the table. He was much obliged again. The foreign wine was very little + more to his taste than the foreign music; but he would take some because I + asked him; and he would drink my health in the old-fashioned way, with his + best wishes for the happy time when we should all meet again at Thorpe + Ambrose, and when there would be a mistress to welcome me at the great + house. + </p> + <p> + “Was he mad to persist in this way? No; his face answered for him. He was + under the impression that he was making himself particularly agreeable to + me. + </p> + <p> + “I looked at Midwinter. He might have seen some reason for interfering to + change the conversation, if he had looked at me in return. But he sat + silent in his chair, irritable and overworked, with his eyes on the + ground, thinking. + </p> + <p> + “I got up and went to the window. Still impenetrable to a sense of his own + clumsiness, Armadale followed me. If I had been strong enough to toss him + out of the window into the sea, I should certainly have done it at that + moment. Not being strong enough, I looked steadily at the view over the + bay, and gave him a hint, the broadest and rudest I could think of, to go. + </p> + <p> + “‘A lovely night for a walk,’ I said, ‘if you are tempted to walk back to + the hotel.’ + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if he heard me. At any rate, I produced no sort of effect on him. + He stood staring sentimentally at the moonlight; and—there is really + no other word to express it—<i>blew</i> a sigh. I felt a + presentiment of what was coming, unless I stopped his mouth by speaking + first. + </p> + <p> + “‘With all your fondness for England,’ I said, ‘you must own that we have + no such moonlight as that at home.’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me vacantly, and blew another sigh. + </p> + <p> + “‘I wonder whether it is fine to-night in England as it is here?’ he said. + ‘I wonder whether my dear little girl at home is looking at the moonlight, + and thinking of me?’ + </p> + <p> + “I could endure it no longer. I flew out at him at last. + </p> + <p> + “‘Good heavens, Mr. Armadale!’ I exclaimed, ‘is there only one subject + worth mentioning, in the narrow little world you live in? I’m sick to + death of Miss Milroy. Do pray talk of something else?’ + </p> + <p> + “His great, broad, stupid face colored up to the roots of his hideous + yellow hair. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he stammered, with a kind of sulky + surprise. ‘I didn’t suppose—’ He stopped confusedly, and looked from + me to Midwinter. I understood what the look meant. ‘I didn’t suppose she + could be jealous of Miss Milroy after marrying <i>you</i>!’ That is what + he would have said to Midwinter, if I had left them alone together in the + room! + </p> + <p> + “As it was, Midwinter had heard us. Before I could speak again—before + Armadale could add another word—he finished his friend’s uncompleted + sentence, in a tone that I now heard, and with a look that I now saw, for + the first time. + </p> + <p> + “‘You didn’t suppose, Allan,’ he said, ‘that a lady’s temper could be so + easily provoked.’ + </p> + <p> + “The first bitter word of irony, the first hard look of contempt, I had + ever had from him! And Armadale the cause of it! + </p> + <p> + “My anger suddenly left me. Something came in its place which steadied me + in an instant, and took me silently out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “I sat down alone in the bedroom. I had a few minutes of thought with + myself, which I don’t choose to put into words, even in these secret + pages. I got up, and unlocked—never mind what. I went round to + Midwinter’s side of the bed, and took—no matter what I took. The + last thing I did before I left the room was to look at my watch. It was + half-past ten, Armadale’s usual time for leaving us. I went back at once + and joined the two men again. + </p> + <p> + “I approached Armadale good-humoredly, and said to him: + </p> + <p> + “No! On second thoughts. I won’t put down what I said to him, or what I + did afterward. I’m sick of Armadale! he turns up at every second word I + write. I shall pass over what happened in the course of the next hour—the + hour between half-past ten and half-past eleven—and take up my story + again at the time when Armadale had left us. Can I tell what took place, + as soon as our visitor’s back was turned, between Midwinter and me in our + own room? Why not pass over what happened, in that case as well as in the + other? Why agitate myself by writing it down? I don’t know! Why do I keep + a diary at all? Why did the clever thief the other day (in the English + newspaper) keep the very thing to convict him in the shape of a record of + everything he stole? Why are we not perfectly reasonable in all that we + do? Why am I not always on my guard and never inconsistent with myself, + like a wicked character in a novel? Why? why? why? + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care why! I must write down what happened between Midwinter and + me to-night, <i>because</i> I must. There’s a reason that nobody can + answer—myself included.” + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + “It was half-past eleven. Armadale had gone. I had put on my + dressing-gown, and had just sat down to arrange my hair for the night, + when I was surprised by a knock at the door, and Midwinter came in. + </p> + <p> + “He was frightfully pale. His eyes looked at me with a terrible despair in + them. He never answered when I expressed my surprise at his coming in so + much sooner than usual; he wouldn’t even tell me, when I asked the + question, if he was ill. Pointing peremptorily to the chair from which I + had risen on his entering the room, he told me to sit down again; and + then, after a moment, added these words: ‘I have something serious to say + to you.’ + </p> + <p> + “I thought of what I had done—or, no, of what I had tried to do—in + that interval between half-past ten and half-past eleven, which I have + left unnoticed in my diary—and the deadly sickness of terror, which + I never felt at the time, came upon me now. I sat down again, as I had + been told, without speaking to Midwinter, and without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “He took a turn up and down the room, and then came and stood over me. + </p> + <p> + “‘If Allan comes here to-morrow,’ he began, ‘and if you see him—’ + </p> + <p> + “His voice faltered, and he said no more. There was some dreadful grief at + his heart that was trying to master him. But there are times when his will + is a will of iron. He took another turn in the room, and crushed it down. + He came back, and stood over me again. + </p> + <p> + “‘When Allan comes here to-morrow,’ he resumed, ‘let him come into my + room, if he wants to see me. I shall tell him that I find it impossible to + finish the work I now have on hand as soon as I had hoped, and that he + must, therefore, arrange to find a crew for the yacht without any + assistance on my part. If he comes, in his disappointment, to appeal to + you, give him no hope of my being free in time to help him if he waits. + Encourage him to take the best assistance he can get from strangers, and + to set about manning the yacht without any further delay. The more + occupation he has to keep him away from this house, and the less you + encourage him to stay here if he does come, the better I shall be pleased. + Don’t forget that, and don’t forget one last direction which I have now to + give you. When the vessel is ready for sea, and when Allan invites us to + sail with him, it is my wish that you should positively decline to go. He + will try to make you change your mind; for I shall, of course, decline, on + my side, to leave you in this strange house, and in this foreign country, + by yourself. No matter what he says, let nothing persuade you to alter + your decision. Refuse, positively and finally! Refuse, I insist on it, to + set your foot on the new yacht!’ + </p> + <p> + “He ended quietly and firmly, with no faltering in his voice, and no signs + of hesitation or relenting in his face. The sense of surprise which I + might otherwise have felt at the strange words he had addressed to me was + lost in the sense of relief that they brought to my mind. The dread of <i>those + other words</i> that I had expected to hear from him left me as suddenly + as it had come. I could look at him, I could speak to him once more. + </p> + <p> + “‘You may depend,’ I answered, ‘on my doing exactly what you order me to + do. Must I obey you blindly? Or may I know your reason for the + extraordinary directions you have just given to me?’ + </p> + <p> + “His, face darkened, and he sat down on the other side of my + dressing-table, with a heavy, hopeless sigh. + </p> + <p> + “‘You may know the reason,’ he said, ‘if you wish it.’ He waited a little, + and considered. ‘You have a right to know the reason,’ he resumed, ‘for + you yourself are concerned in it.’ He waited a little again, and again + went on. ‘I can only explain the strange request I have just made to you + in one way,’ he said. ‘I must ask you to recall what happened in the next + room, before Allan left us to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me with a strange mixture of expressions in his face. At one + moment I thought he felt pity for me. At another, it seemed more like + horror of me. I began to feel frightened again; I waited for his next + words in silence. + </p> + <p> + “‘I know that I have been working too hard lately,’ he went on, ‘and that + my nerves are sadly shaken. It is possible, in the state I am in now, that + I may have unconsciously misinterpreted, or distorted, the circumstances + that really took place. You will do me a favor if you will test my + recollection of what has happened by your own. If my fancy has exaggerated + anything, if my memory is playing me false anywhere, I entreat you to stop + me, and tell me of it.’ + </p> + <p> + “I commanded myself sufficiently to ask what the circumstances were to + which he referred, and in what way I was personally concerned in them. + </p> + <p> + “‘You were personally concerned in them in this way,’ he answered. ‘The + circumstances to which I refer began with your speaking to Allan about + Miss Milroy, in what I thought a very inconsiderate and very impatient + manner. I am afraid I spoke just as petulantly on my side, and I beg your + pardon for what I said to you in the irritation of the moment. You left + the room. After a short absence, you came back again, and made a perfectly + proper apology to Allan, which he received with his usual kindness and + sweetness of temper. While this went on, you and he were both standing by + the supper-table; and Allan resumed some conversation which had already + passed between you about the Neapolitan wine. He said he thought he should + learn to like it in time, and he asked leave to take another glass of the + wine we had on the table. Am I right so far?’ + </p> + <p> + “The words almost died on my lips; but I forced them out, and answered him + that he was right so far. + </p> + <p> + “‘You took the flask out of Allan’s hand,’ he proceeded. ‘You said to him, + good-humoredly, “You know you don’t really like the wine, Mr. Armadale. + Let me make you something which may be more to your taste. I have a recipe + of my own for lemonade. Will you favor me by trying it?” In those words, + you made your proposal to him, and he accepted it. Did he also ask leave + to look on, and learn how the lemonade was made? and did you tell him that + he would only confuse you, and that you would give him the recipe in + writing, if he wanted it?’ + </p> + <p> + “This time the words did really die on my lips. I could only bow my head, + and answer ‘Yes’ mutely in that way. Midwinter went on. + </p> + <p> + “‘Allan laughed, and went to the window to look out at the Bay, and I went + with him. After a while Allan remarked, jocosely, that the mere sound of + the liquids you were pouring out made him thirsty. When he said this, I + turned round from the window. I approached you, and said the lemonade took + a long time to make. You touched me, as I was walking away again, and + handed me the tumbler filled to the brim. At the same time, Allan turned + round from the window; and I, in my turn, handed the tumbler to <i>him</i>.—Is + there any mistake so far?’ + </p> + <p> + “The quick throbbing of my heart almost choked me. I could just shake my + head—I could do no more. + </p> + <p> + “‘I saw Allan raise the tumbler to his lips.—Did <i>you</i> see it? + I saw his face turn white in an instant.—Did <i>you</i>? I saw the + glass fall from his hand on the floor. I saw him stagger, and caught him + before he fell. Are these things true? For God’s sake, search your memory, + and tell me—are these things true?’ + </p> + <p> + “The throbbing at my heart seemed, for one breathless instant, to stop. + The next moment something fiery, something maddening, flew through me. I + started to my feet, with my temper in a flame, reckless of all + consequences, desperate enough to say anything. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your questions are an insult! Your looks are an insult!’ I burst out. ‘<i>Do + you think I tried to poison him</i>?’ + </p> + <p> + “The words rushed out of my lips in spite of me. They were the last words + under heaven that any woman, in such a situation as mine, ought to have + spoken. And yet I spoke them! + </p> + <p> + “He rose in alarm and gave me my smelling-bottle. ‘Hush! hush!’ he said. + ‘You, too, are overwrought—you, too, are overexcited by all that has + happened to-night. You are talking wildly and shockingly. Good God! how + can you have so utterly misunderstood me? Compose yourself—pray, + compose yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + “He might as well have told a wild animal to compose herself. Having been + mad enough to say the words, I was mad enough next to return to the + subject of the lemonade, in spite of his entreaties to me to be silent. + </p> + <p> + “‘I told you what I had put in the glass, the moment Mr. Armadale + fainted,’ I went on; insisting furiously on defending myself, when no + attack was made on me. ‘I told you I had taken the flask of brandy which + you kept at your bedside, and mixed some of it with the lemonade. How + could I know that he had a nervous horror of the smell and taste of + brandy? Didn’t he say to me himself, when he came to his senses, It’s my + fault; I ought to have warned you to put no brandy in it? Didn’t he remind + you afterward of the time when you and he were in the Isle of Man + together, and when the doctor there innocently made the same mistake with + him that I made to-night?’” + </p> + <p> + [“I laid a great stress on my innocence—and with some reason too. + Whatever else I may be, I pride myself on not being a hypocrite. I <i>was</i> + innocent—so far as the brandy was concerned. I had put it into the + lemonade, in pure ignorance of Armadale’s nervous peculiarity, to disguise + the taste of—never mind what! Another of the things I pride myself + on is that I never wander from my subject. What Midwinter said next is + what I ought to be writing about now.”] + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me for a moment, as if he thought I had taken leave of my + senses. Then he came round to my side of the table and stood over me + again. + </p> + <p> + “‘If nothing else will satisfy you that you are entirely misinterpreting + my motives,’ he said, ‘and that I haven’t an idea of blaming <i>you</i> in + the matter—read this.’ + </p> + <p> + “He took a paper from the breast-pocket of his coat, and spread it open + under my eyes. It was the Narrative of Armadale’s Dream. + </p> + <p> + “In an instant the whole weight on my mind was lifted off it. I felt + mistress of myself again—I understood him at last. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked. ‘Do you remember what I said to you + at Thorpe Ambrose about Allan’s Dream? I told you then that two out of the + three Visions had already come true. I tell you now that the third Vision + has been fulfilled in this house to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “He turned over the leaves of the manuscript, and pointed to the lines + that he wished me to read. + </p> + <p> + “I read these, or nearly read these words, from the Narrative of the + Dream, as Midwinter had taken it down from Armadale’s own lips: + </p> + <p> + “‘The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me the Shadow of the + Man and the Shadow of the Woman together. The Man-Shade was the nearest; + the Woman-Shadow stood back. From where she stood, I heard a sound like + the pouring out of a liquid softly. I saw her touch the Shadow of the Man + with one hand, and give him a glass with the other. He took the glass and + handed it to me. At the moment when I put it to my lips, a deadly + faintness overcame me. When I recovered my senses again, the Shadows had + vanished, and the Vision was at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + “For the moment, I was as completely staggered by this extraordinary + coincidence as Midwinter himself. + </p> + <p> + “He put one hand on the open narrative and laid the other heavily on my + arm. + </p> + <p> + “‘<i>Now</i> do you understand my motive in coming here?’ he asked. ‘<i>Now</i> + do you see that the last hope I had to cling to was the hope that your + memory of the night’s events might prove my memory to be wrong? <i>Now</i> + do you know why I won’t help Allan? Why I won’t sail with him? Why I am + plotting and lying, and making you plot and lie too, to keep my best and + dearest friend out of the house?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Have you forgotten Mr. Brock’s letter?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He struck his hand passionately on the open manuscript. ‘If Mr. Brook had + lived to see what we have seen to-night he would have felt what I feel, he + would have said what I say!’ His voice sank mysteriously, and his great + black eyes glittered at me as he made that answer. ‘Thrice the Shadows of + the Vision warned Allan in his sleep,’ he went on; ‘and thrice those + Shadows have been embodied in the after-time by You and by Me! You, and no + other, stood in the Woman’s place at the pool. I, and no other, stood in + the Man’s place at the window. And you and I together, when the last + Vision showed the Shadows together, stand in the Man’s place and the + Woman’s place still! For <i>this</i>, the miserable day dawned when you + and I first met. For <i>this</i>, your influence drew me to you, when my + better angel warned me to fly the sight of your face. There is a curse on + our lives! there is a fatality in our footsteps! Allan’s future depends on + his separation from us at once and forever. Drive him from the place we + live in, and the air we breathe. Force him among strangers—the worst + and wickedest of them will be more harmless to him than we are! Let his + yacht sail, though he goes on his knees to ask us, without you and without + me; and let him know how I loved him in another world than this, where the + wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest!’ + </p> + <p> + “His grief conquered him; his voice broke into a sob when he spoke those + last words. He took the Narrative of the Dream from the table, and left me + as abruptly as he had come in. + </p> + <p> + “As I heard his door locked between us, my mind went back to what he had + said to me about myself. In remembering ‘the miserable day’ when we first + saw each other, and ‘the better angel’ that had warned him to ‘fly the + sight of my face,’ I forgot all else. It doesn’t matter what I felt—I + wouldn’t own it, even if I had a friend to speak to. Who cares for the + misery of such a woman as I am? who believes in it? Besides, he spoke + under the influence of a mad superstition that has got possession of him + again. There is every excuse for <i>him</i>—there is no excuse for + <i>me</i>. If I can’t help being fond of him through it all, I must take + the consequences and suffer. I deserve to suffer; I deserve neither love + nor pity from anybody.—Good heavens, what a fool I am! And how + unnatural all this would be, if it was written in a book! + </p> + <p> + “It has struck one. I can hear Midwinter still, pacing to and fro in his + room. + </p> + <p> + “He is thinking, I suppose? Well! I can think too. What am I to do next? I + shall wait and see. Events take odd turns sometimes; and events may + justify the fatalism of the amiable man in the next room, who curses the + day when he first saw my face. He may live to curse it for other reasons + than he has now. If I am the Woman pointed at in the Dream, there will be + another temptation put in my way before long; and there will be no brandy + in Armadale’s lemonade if I mix it for him a second time.” + </p> + <p> + “October 24th.—Barely twelve hours have passed since I wrote my + yesterday’s entry; and that other temptation has come, tried, and + conquered me already! + </p> + <p> + “This time there was no alternative. Instant exposure and ruin stared me + in the face: I had no choice but to yield in my own defense. In plainer + words still, it was no accidental resemblance that startled me at the + theater last night. The chorus-singer at the opera was Manuel himself! + </p> + <p> + “Not ten minutes after Midwinter had left the sitting-room for his study, + the woman of the house came in with a dirty little three-cornered note in + her hand. One look at the writing on the address was enough. He had + recognized me in the box; and the ballet between the acts of the opera had + given him time to trace me home. I drew that plain conclusion in the + moment that elapsed before I opened the letter. It informed me, in two + lines, that he was waiting in a by-street leading to the beach; and that, + if I failed to make my appearance in ten minutes, he should interpret my + absence as my invitation to him to call at the house. + </p> + <p> + “What I went through yesterday must have hardened me, I suppose. At any + rate, after reading the letter, I felt more like the woman I once was than + I have felt for months past. I put on my bonnet and went downstairs, and + left the house as if nothing had happened. + </p> + <p> + “He was waiting for me at the entrance to the street. + </p> + <p> + “In the instant when we stood face to face, all my wretched life with him + came back to me. I thought of my trust that he had betrayed; I thought of + the cruel mockery of a marriage that he had practiced on me, when he knew + that he had a wife living; I thought of the time when I had felt despair + enough at his desertion of me to attempt my own life. When I recalled all + this, and when the comparison between Midwinter and the mean, miserable + villain whom I had once believed in forced itself into my mind, I knew for + the first time what a woman feels when every atom of respect for herself + has left her. If he had personally insulted me at that moment, I believe I + should have submitted to it. + </p> + <p> + “But he had no idea of insulting me, in the more brutal meaning of the + word. He had me at his mercy, and his way of making me feel it was to + behave with an elaborate mockery of penitence and respect. I let him speak + as he pleased, without interrupting him, without looking at him a second + time, without even allowing my dress to touch him, as we walked together + toward the quieter part of the beach. I had noticed the wretched state of + his clothes, and the greedy glitter in his eyes, in my first look at him. + And I knew it would end—as it did end—in a demand on me for + money. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! After taking from me the last farthing I possessed of my own, and + the last farthing I could extort for him from my old mistress, he turned + on me as we stood by the margin of the sea, and asked if I could reconcile + it to my conscience to let him be wearing such a coat as he then had on + his back, and earning his miserable living as a chorus-singer at the + opera! + </p> + <p> + “My disgust, rather than my indignation, roused me into speaking to him at + last. + </p> + <p> + “‘You want money,’ I said. ‘Suppose I am too poor to give it to you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘In that case,’ he replied, ‘I shall be forced to remember that you are a + treasure in yourself. And I shall be under the painful necessity of + pressing my claim to you on the attention of one of those two gentlemen + whom I saw with you at the opera—the gentleman, of course, who is + now honored by your preference, and who lives provisionally in the light + of your smiles.’ + </p> + <p> + “I made him no answer, for I had no answer to give. Disputing his right to + claim me from anybody would have been a mere waste of words. He knew as + well as I did that he had not the shadow of a claim on me. But the mere + attempt to raise it would, as he was well aware, lead necessarily to the + exposure of my whole past life. + </p> + <p> + “Still keeping silence, I looked out over the sea. I don’t know why, + except that I instinctively looked anywhere rather than look at <i>him</i>. + </p> + <p> + “A little sailing-boat was approaching the shore. The man steering was + hidden from me by the sail; but the boat was so near that I thought I + recognized the flag on the mast. I looked at my watch. Yes! It was + Armadale coming over from Santa Lucia at his usual time, to visit us in + his usual way. + </p> + <p> + “Before I had put my watch back in my belt, the means of extricating + myself from the frightful position I was placed in showed themselves to me + as plainly as I see them now. + </p> + <p> + “I turned and led the way to the higher part of the beach, where some + fishing-boats were drawn up which completely screened us from the view of + any one landing on the shore below. Seeing probably that I had a purpose + of some kind, Manuel followed me without uttering a word. As soon as we + were safely under the shelter of the boats, I forced myself, in my own + defense, to look at him again. + </p> + <p> + “‘What should you say,’ I asked, ‘if I was rich instead of poor? What + should you say if I could afford to give you a hundred pounds?’ + </p> + <p> + “He started. I saw plainly that he had not expected so much as half the + sum I had mentioned. It is needless to add that his tongue lied, while his + face spoke the truth, and that when he replied to me the answer was, + ‘Nothing like enough.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Suppose,’ I went on, without taking any notice of what he had said, + ‘that I could show you a way of helping yourself to twice as much—three + times as much—five times as much as a hundred pounds, are you bold + enough to put out your hand and take it?’ + </p> + <p> + “The greedy glitter came into his eyes once more. His voice dropped low, + in breathless expectation of my next words. + </p> + <p> + “‘Who is the person?’ he asked. ‘And what is the risk?’ + </p> + <p> + “I answered him at once, in the plainest terms. I threw Armadale to him, + as I might have thrown a piece of meat to a wild beast who was pursuing + me. + </p> + <p> + “‘The person is a rich young Englishman,’ I said. ‘He has just hired the + yacht called the <i>Dorothea</i>, in the harbor here; and he stands in + need of a sailing-master and a crew. You were once an officer in the + Spanish navy—you speak English and Italian perfectly—you are + thoroughly well acquainted with Naples and all that belongs to it. The + rich young Englishman is ignorant of the language, and the interpreter who + assists him knows nothing of the sea. He is at his wits’ end for want of + useful help in this strange place; he has no more knowledge of the world + than that child who is digging holes with a stick there in the sand; and + he carries all his money with him in circular notes. So much for the + person. As for the risk, estimate it for yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + “The greedy glitter in his eyes grew brighter and brighter with every word + I said. He was plainly ready to face the risk before I had done speaking. + </p> + <p> + “‘When can I see the Englishman?’ he asked, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “I moved to the seaward end of the fishing-boat, and saw that Armadale was + at that moment disembarking on the shore. + </p> + <p> + “‘You can see him now,’ I answered, and pointed to the place. + </p> + <p> + “After a long look at Armadale walking carelessly up the slope of the + beach, Manuel drew back again under the shelter of the boat. He waited a + moment, considering something carefully with himself, and put another + question to me, in a whisper this time. + </p> + <p> + “‘When the vessel is manned,’ he said, ‘and the Englishman sails from + Naples, how many friends sail with him?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He has but two friends here,’ I replied; ‘that other gentleman whom you + saw with me at the opera, and myself. He will invite us both to sail with + him; and when the time comes, we shall both refuse.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you answer for that?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I answer for it positively.’ + </p> + <p> + “He walked a few steps away, and stood with his face hidden from me, + thinking again. All I could see was that he took off his hat and passed + his handkerchief over his forehead. All I could hear was that he talked to + himself excitedly in his own language. + </p> + <p> + “There was a change in him when he came back. His face had turned to a + livid yellow, and his eyes looked at me with a hideous distrust. + </p> + <p> + “‘One last question,’ he said, and suddenly came closer to me, suddenly + spoke with a marked emphasis on his next words: ‘<i>What is your interest + in this</i>?’ + </p> + <p> + “I started back from him. The question reminded me that I <i>had</i> an + interest in the matter, which was entirely unconnected with the interest + of keeping Manuel and Midwinter apart. Thus far I had only remembered that + Midwinter’s fatalism had smoothed the way for me, by abandoning Armadale + beforehand to any stranger who might come forward to help him. Thus far + the sole object I had kept in view was to protect myself, by the sacrifice + of Armadale, from the exposure that threatened me. I tell no lies to my + Diary. I don’t affect to have felt a moment’s consideration for the + interests of Armadale’s purse or the safety of Armadale’s life. I hated + him too savagely to care what pitfalls my tongue might be the means of + opening under his feet. But I certainly did not see (until that last + question was put to me) that, in serving his own designs, Manuel might—if + he dared go all lengths for the money—be serving my designs too. The + one overpowering anxiety to protect myself from exposure before Midwinter + had (I suppose) filled all my mind, to the exclusion of everything else. + </p> + <p> + “Finding that I made no reply for the moment, Manuel reiterated his + question, putting it in a new form. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have cast your Englishman at me,’ he said, ‘like the sop to + Cerberus. Would you have been quite so ready to do that if you had not had + a motive of your own? I repeat my question. You have an interest in this—what + is it?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have two interests,’ I answered. ‘The interest of forcing you to + respect my position here, and the interest of ridding myself of the sight + of you at once and forever!’ I spoke with a boldness he had not yet heard + from me. The sense that I was making the villain an instrument in my + hands, and forcing him to help my purpose blindly, while he was helping + his own, roused my spirits, and made me feel like myself again. + </p> + <p> + “He laughed. ‘Strong language, on certain occasions, is a lady’s + privilege,’ he said. ‘You may, or may not, rid yourself of the sight of + me, at once and forever. We will leave that question to be settled in the + future. But your other interest in this matter puzzles me. You have told + me all I need know about the Englishman and his yacht, and you have made + no conditions before you opened your lips. Pray, how are you to force me, + as you say, to respect your position here?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I will tell you how,’ I rejoined. ‘You shall hear my conditions first. I + insist on your leaving me in five minutes more. I insist on your never + again coming near the house where I live; and I forbid your attempting to + communicate in any way either with me or with that other gentleman whom + you saw with me at the theater—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And suppose I say no?’ he interposed. ‘In that case, what will you do?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘In that case,’ I answered, ‘I shall say two words in private to the rich + young Englishman, and you will find yourself back again among the chorus + at the opera.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are a bold woman to take it for granted that I have my designs on + the Englishman already, and that I am certain to succeed in them. How do + you know—?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I know <i>you</i>,’ I said. ‘And that is enough.’ + </p> + <p> + “There was a moment’s silence between us. He looked at me, and I looked at + him. We understood each other. + </p> + <p> + “He was the first to speak. The villainous smile died out of his face, and + his voice dropped again distrustfully to its lowest tones. + </p> + <p> + “‘I accept your terms,’ he said. ‘As long as your lips are closed, my lips + shall be closed too—except in the event of my finding that you have + deceived me; in which case the bargain is at an end, and you will see me + again. I shall present myself to the Englishman to-morrow, with the + necessary credentials to establish me in his confidence. Tell me his + name?’ + </p> + <p> + “I told it. + </p> + <p> + “‘Give me his address?’ + </p> + <p> + “I gave it, and turned to leave him. Before I had stepped out of the + shelter of the boats, I heard him behind me again. + </p> + <p> + “‘One last word,’ he said. ‘Accidents sometimes happen at sea. Have you + interest enough in the Englishman—if an accident happens in his case—to + wish to know what has become of him?’ + </p> + <p> + “I stopped, and considered on my side. I had plainly failed to persuade + him that I had no secret to serve in placing Armadale’s money and (as a + probable consequence) Armadale’s life at his mercy. And it was now equally + clear that he was cunningly attempting to associate himself with my + private objects (whatever they might be) by opening a means of + communication between us in the future. There could be no hesitation about + how to answer him under such circumstances as these. If the ‘accident’ at + which he hinted did really happen to Armadale, I stood in no need of + Manuel’s intervention to give me the intelligence of it. An easy search + through the obituary columns of the English papers would tell me the news—with + the great additional advantage that the papers might be relied on, in such + a matter as this, to tell the truth. I formally thanked Manuel, and + declined to accept his proposal. ‘Having no interest in the Englishman,’ I + said, ‘I have no wish whatever to know what becomes of him.’ + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me for a moment with steady attention, and with an interest + in me which he had not shown yet. + </p> + <p> + “‘What the game you are playing may be,’ he rejoined, speaking slowly and + significantly, ‘I don’t pretend to know. But I venture on a prophecy, + nevertheless—<i>you will win it</i>! If we ever meet again, remember + I said that.’ He took off his hat, and bowed to me gravely. ‘Go your way, + madam. And leave me to go mine!’ + </p> + <p> + “With those words, he released me from the sight of him. I waited a minute + alone, to recover myself in the air, and then returned to the house. + </p> + <p> + “The first object that met my eyes, on entering the sitting-room, was—Armadale + himself! + </p> + <p> + “He was waiting on the chance of seeing me, to beg that I would exert my + influence with his friend. I made the needful inquiry as to what he meant, + and found that Midwinter had spoken as he had warned me he would speak + when he and Armadale next met. He had announced that he was unable to + finish his work for the newspaper as soon as he had hoped; and he had + advised Armadale to find a crew for the yacht without waiting for any + assistance on his part. + </p> + <p> + “All that it was necessary for me to do, on hearing this, was to perform + the promise I had made to Midwinter, when he gave me my directions how to + act in the matter. Armadale’s vexation on finding me resolved not to + interfere expressed itself in the form of all others that is most + personally offensive to me. He declined to believe my reiterated + assurances that I possessed no influence to exert in his favor. ‘If I was + married to Neelie,’ he said, ‘she could do anything she liked with me; and + I am sure, when you choose, you can do anything you like with Midwinter.’ + If the infatuated fool had actually tried to stifle the last faint + struggles of remorse and pity left stirring in my heart, he could have + said nothing more fatally to the purpose than this! I gave him a look + which effectually silenced him, so far as I was concerned. He went out of + the room grumbling and growling to himself. ‘It’s all very well to talk + about manning the yacht. I don’t speak a word of their gibberish here; and + the interpreter thinks a fisherman and a sailor means the same thing. Hang + me if I know what to do with the vessel, now I have got her!’ + </p> + <p> + “He will probably know by to-morrow. And if he only comes here as usual, I + shall know too!” + </p> + <p> + “October 25th.—Ten at night.—Manuel has got him! + </p> + <p> + “He has just left us, after staying here more than an hour, and talking + the whole time of nothing but his own wonderful luck in finding the very + help he wanted, at the time when he needed it most. + </p> + <p> + “At noon to-day he was on the Mole, it seems, with his interpreter, trying + vainly to make himself understood by the vagabond population of the + water-side. Just as he was giving it up in despair, a stranger standing by + (Manuel had followed him, I suppose, to the Mole from his hotel) kindly + interfered to put things right. He said, ‘I speak your language and their + language, sir. I know Naples well; and I have been professionally + accustomed to the sea. Can I help you?’ The inevitable result followed. + Armadale shifted all his difficulties on to the shoulders of the polite + stranger, in his usual helpless, headlong way. His new friend, however, + insisted, in the most honorable manner, on complying with the customary + formalities before he would consent to take the matter into his own hands. + He begged leave to wait on Mr. Armadale, with his testimonials to + character and capacity. The same afternoon he had come by appointment to + the hotel, with all his papers, and with ‘the saddest story’ of his + sufferings and privations as ‘a political refugee’ that Armadale had ever + heard. The interview was decisive. Manuel left the hotel, commissioned to + find a crew for the yacht, and to fill the post of sailing-master on the + trial cruise. + </p> + <p> + “I watched Midwinter anxiously, while Armadale was telling us these + particulars, and afterward, when he produced the new sailing-master’s + testimonials, which he had brought with him for his friend to see. + </p> + <p> + “For the moment, Midwinter’s superstitious misgivings seemed to be all + lost in his natural anxiety for his friend. He examined the stranger’s + papers—after having told me that the sooner Armadale was in the + hands of strangers the better!—with the closest scrutiny and the + most business-like distrust. It is needless to say that the credentials + were as perfectly regular and satisfactory as credentials could be. When + Midwinter handed them back, his color rose: he seemed to feel the + inconsistency of his conduct, and to observe for the first time that I was + present noticing it. ‘There is nothing to object to in the testimonials, + Allan: I am glad you have got the help you want at last.’ That was all he + said at parting. As soon as Armadale’s back was turned, I saw no more of + him. He has locked himself up again for the night, in his own room. + </p> + <p> + “There is now—so far as I am concerned—but one anxiety left. + When the yacht is ready for sea, and when I decline to occupy the lady’s + cabin, will Midwinter hold to his resolution, and refuse to sail without + me?” + </p> + <p> + “October 26th.—Warnings already of the coming ordeal. A letter from + Armadale to Midwinter, which Midwinter has just sent in to me. Here it is: + </p> + <p> + “‘DEAR MID—I am too busy to come to-day. Get on with your work, for + Heaven’s sake! The new sailing-master is a man of ten thousand. He has got + an Englishman whom he knows to serve as mate on board already; and he is + positively certain of getting the crew together in three or four days’ + time. I am dying for a whiff of the sea, and so are you, or you are no + sailor. The rigging is set up, the stores are coming on board, and we + shall bend the sails to-morrow or next day. I never was in such spirits in + my life. Remember me to your wife, and tell her she will be doing me a + favor if she will come at once, and order everything she wants in the + lady’s cabin. Yours affectionately, A. A.’ + </p> + <p> + “Under this was written, in Midwinter’s hand: ‘Remember what I told you. + Write (it will break it to him more gently in that way), and beg him to + accept your apologies, and to excuse you from sailing on the trial + cruise.’ + </p> + <p> + “I have written without a moment’s loss of time. The sooner Manuel knows + (which he is certain to do through Armadale) that the promise not to sail + in the yacht is performed already, so far as I am concerned, the safer I + shall feel.” + </p> + <p> + “October 27th.—A letter from Armadale, in answer to mine. He is full + of ceremonious regrets at the loss of my company on the cruise; and he + politely hopes that Midwinter may yet induce me to alter my mind. Wait a + little, till he finds that Midwinter won’t sail with him either!.... + </p> + <p> + “October 30th.—Nothing new to record until to-day. To-day the change + in our lives here has come at last! + </p> + <p> + “Armadale presented himself this morning, in his noisiest high spirits, to + announce that the yacht was ready for sea, and to ask when Midwinter would + be able to go on board. I told him to make the inquiry himself in + Midwinter’s room. He left me, with a last request that I would consider my + refusal to sail with him. I answered by a last apology for persisting in + my resolution, and then took a chair alone at the window to wait the event + of the interview in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “My whole future depended now on what passed between Midwinter and his + friend! Everything had gone smoothly up to this time. The one danger to + dread was the danger of Midwinter’s resolution, or rather of Midwinter’s + fatalism, giving way at the last moment. If he allowed himself to be + persuaded into accompanying Armadale on the cruise, Manuel’s exasperation + against me would hesitate at nothing—he would remember that I had + answered to him for Armadale’s sailing from Naples alone; and he would be + capable of exposing my whole past life to Midwinter before the vessel left + the port. As I thought of this, and as the slow minutes followed each + other, and nothing reached my ears but the hum of voices in the next room, + my suspense became almost unendurable. It was vain to try and fix my + attention on what was going on in the street. I sat looking mechanically + out of the window, and seeing nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly—I can’t say in how long or how short a time—the hum + of voices ceased; the door opened; and Armadale showed himself on the + threshold, alone. + </p> + <p> + “‘I wish you good-by,’ he said, roughly. ‘And I hope, when I am married, + my wife may never cause Midwinter the disappointment that Midwinter’s wife + has caused <i>me</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + “He gave me an angry look, and made me an angry bow, and, turning sharply, + left the room. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the people in the street again! I saw the calm sea, and the masts + of the shipping in the harbor where the yacht lay! I could think, I could + breathe freely once more! The words that saved me from Manuel—the + words that might be Armadale’s sentence of death—had been spoken. + The yacht was to sail without Midwinter, as well as without me! + </p> + <p> + “My first feeling of exultation was almost maddening. But it was the + feeling of a moment only. My heart sank in me again when I thought of + Midwinter alone in the next room. + </p> + <p> + “I went out into the passage to listen, and heard nothing. I tapped gently + at his door, and got no answer. I opened the door and looked in. He was + sitting at the table, with his face hidden in his hands. I looked at him + in silence, and saw the glistening of the tears as they trickled through + his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “‘Leave me,’ he said, without moving his hands. ‘I must get over it by + myself.’ + </p> + <p> + “I went back into the sitting-room. Who can understand women? we don’t + even understand ourselves. His sending me away from him in that manner cut + me to the heart. I don’t believe the most harmless and most gentle woman + living could have felt it more acutely than I felt it. And this, after + what I have been doing! this, after what I was thinking of, the moment + before I went into his room! Who can account for it? Nobody—I least + of all! + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour later his door opened, and I heard him hurrying down the + stairs. I ran on without waiting to think, and asked if I might go with + him. He neither stopped nor answered. I went back to the window, and saw + him pass, walking rapidly away, with his back turned on Naples and the + sea. + </p> + <p> + “I can understand now that he might not have heard me. At the time I + thought him inexcusably and brutally unkind to me. I put on my bonnet, in + a frenzy of rage with him; I sent out for a carriage, and told the man to + take me where he liked. He took me, as he took other strangers, to the + Museum to see the statues and the pictures. I flounced from room to room, + with my face in a flame, and the people all staring at me. I came to + myself again, I don’t know how. I returned to the carriage, and made the + man drive me back in a violent hurry, I don’t know why. I tossed off my + cloak and bonnet, and sat down once more at the window. The sight of the + sea cooled me. I forgot Midwinter, and thought of Armadale and his yacht. + There wasn’t a breath of wind; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; the wide + waters of the Bay were as smooth as the surface of a glass. + </p> + <p> + “The sun sank; the short twilight came and went. I had some tea, and sat + at the table thinking and dreaming over it. When I roused myself and went + back to the window, the moon was up; but the quiet sea was as quiet as + ever. + </p> + <p> + “I was still looking out, when I saw Midwinter in the street below, coming + back. I was composed enough by this time to remember his habits, and to + guess that he had been trying to relieve the oppression on his mind by one + of his long solitary walks. When I heard him go into his own room, I was + too prudent to disturb him again: I waited his pleasure where I was. + </p> + <p> + “Before long I heard his window opened, and I saw him, from my window, + step into the balcony, and, after a look at the sea, hold up his hand to + the air. I was too stupid, for the moment, to remember that he had once + been a sailor, and to know what this meant. I waited, and wondered what + would happen next. + </p> + <p> + “He went in again; and, after an interval, came out once more, and held up + his hand as before to the air. This time he waited, leaning on the balcony + rail, and looking out steadily, with all his attention absorbed by the + sea. + </p> + <p> + “For a long, long time he never moved. Then, on a sudden, I saw him start. + The next moment he sank on his knees, with his clasped hands resting on + the balcony rail. ‘God Almighty bless and keep you, Allan!’ he said, + fervently. ‘Good-by, forever!’ + </p> + <p> + “I looked out to the sea. A soft, steady breeze was blowing, and the + rippled surface of the water was sparkling in the quiet moonlight. I + looked again, and there passed slowly, between me and the track of the + moon, a long black vessel with tall, shadowy, ghostlike sails, gliding + smooth and noiseless through the water, like a snake. + </p> + <p> + “The wind had come fair with the night; and Armadale’s yacht had sailed on + the trial cruise.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0047" id="H2_4_0047"></a> III. THE DIARY BROKEN OFF. + </h2> + <p> + “London, November 19th.—I am alone again in the Great City; alone, + for the first time since our marriage. Nearly a week since I started on my + homeward journey, leaving Midwinter behind me at Turin. + </p> + <p> + “The days have been so full of events since the month began, and I have + been so harassed, in mind and body both, for the greater part of the time, + that my Diary has been wretchedly neglected. A few notes, written in such + hurry and confusion that I can hardly understand them myself, are all that + I possess to remind me of what has happened since the night when + Armadale’s yacht left Naples. Let me try if I can set this right without + more loss of time; let me try if I can recall the circumstances in their + order as they have followed each other from the beginning of the month. + </p> + <p> + “On the 3d of November—being then still at Naples—Midwinter + received a hurried letter from Armadale, date ‘Messina.’ ‘The weather,’ he + said, ‘had been lovely, and the yacht had made one of the quickest + passages on record. The crew were rather a rough set to look at; but + Captain Manuel and his English mate’ (the latter described as ‘the best of + good fellows’) ‘managed them admirably.’ After this prosperous beginning, + Armadale had arranged, as a matter of course, to prolong the cruise; and, + at the sailing-master’s suggestion, he had decided to visit some of the + ports in the Adriatic, which the captain had described as full of + character, and well worth seeing. + </p> + <p> + “A postscript followed, explaining that Armadale had written in a hurry to + catch the steamer to Naples, and that he had opened his letter again, + before sending it off, to add something that he had forgotten. On the day + before the yacht sailed, he had been at the banker’s to get ‘a few + hundreds in gold,’ and he believed he had left his cigar-case there. It + was an old friend of his, and he begged that Midwinter would oblige him by + endeavoring recover it, and keeping it for him till they met again. + </p> + <p> + “That was the substance of the letter. + </p> + <p> + “I thought over it carefully when Midwinter had left me alone again, after + reading it. My idea was then (and is still) that Manuel had not persuaded + Armadale to cruise in a sea like the Adriatic, so much less frequented by + ships than the Mediterranean, for nothing. The terms, too, in which the + trifling loss of the cigar-case was mentioned struck me as being equally + suggestive of what was coming. I concluded that Armadale’s circular notes + had not been transformed into those ‘few hundreds in gold’ through any + forethought or business knowledge of his own. Manuel’s influence, I + suspected, had been exerted in this matter also, and once more not without + reason. At intervals through the wakeful night these considerations came + back again and again to me; and time after time they pointed obstinately + (so far as my next movements were concerned) in one and the same way—the + way back to England. + </p> + <p> + “How to get there, and especially how to get there unaccompanied by + Midwinter, was more than I had wit enough to discover that night. I tried + and tried to meet the difficulty, and fell asleep exhausted toward the + morning without having met it. + </p> + <p> + “Some hours later, as soon as I was dressed, Midwinter came in, with news + received by that morning’s post from his employers in London. The + proprietors of the newspaper had received from the editor so favorable a + report of his correspondence from Naples that they had determined on + advancing him to a place of greater responsibility and greater emolument + at Turin. His instructions were inclosed in the letter, and he was + requested to lose no time in leaving Naples for his new post. + </p> + <p> + “On hearing this, I relieved his mind, before he could put the question, + of all anxiety about my willingness to remove. Turin had the great + attraction, in my eyes, of being on the road to England. I assured him at + once that I was ready to travel as soon as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + “He thanked me for suiting myself to his plans, with more of his old + gentleness and kindness than I had seen in him for some time past. The + good news from Armadale on the previous day seemed to have roused him a + little from the dull despair in which he had been sunk since the sailing + of the yacht. And now the prospect of advancement in his profession, and, + more than that, the prospect of leaving the fatal place in which the Third + Vision of the Dream had come true, had (as he owned himself) additionally + cheered and relieved him. He asked, before he went away to make the + arrangements for our journey, whether I expected to hear from my ‘family’ + in England, and whether he should give instructions for the forwarding of + my letters with his own to the <i>poste restante</i> at Turin. I instantly + thanked him, and accepted the offer. His proposal had suggested to me, the + moment he made it, that my fictitious ‘family circumstances’ might be + turned to good account once more, as a reason for unexpectedly summoning + me from Italy to England. + </p> + <p> + “On the ninth of the month we were installed at Turin. + </p> + <p> + “On the thirteenth, Midwinter—being then very busy—asked if I + would save him a loss of time by applying for any letters which might have + followed us from Naples. I had been waiting for the opportunity he now + offered me; and I determined to snatch at it without allowing myself time + to hesitate. There were no letters at the <i>poste restante</i> for either + of us. But when he put the question on my return, I told him that there + had been a letter for me, with alarming news from ‘home.’ My ‘mother’ was + dangerously ill, and I was entreated to lose no time in hurrying back to + England to see her. + </p> + <p> + “It seems quite unaccountable—now that I am away from him—but + it is none the less true, that I could not, even yet, tell him a downright + premeditated falsehood, without a sense of shrinking and shame, which + other people would think, and which I think myself, utterly inconsistent + with such a character as mine. Inconsistent or not, I felt it. And what is + stranger—perhaps I ought to say madder—still, if he had + persisted in his first resolution to accompany me himself to England + rather than allow me to travel alone, I firmly believe I should have + turned my back on temptation for the second time, and have lulled myself + to rest once more in the old dream of living out my life happy and + harmless in my husband’s love. + </p> + <p> + “Am I deceiving myself in this? It doesn’t matter—I dare say I am. + Never mind what <i>might</i> have happened. What <i>did</i> happen is the + only thing of any importance now. + </p> + <p> + “It ended in Midwinter’s letting me persuade him that I was old enough to + take care of myself on the journey to England, and that he owed it to the + newspaper people, who had trusted their interests in his hands, not to + leave Turin just as he was established there. He didn’t suffer at taking + leave of me as he suffered when he saw the last of his friend. I saw that, + and set down the anxiety he expressed that I should write to him at its + proper value. I have quite got over my weakness for him at last. No man + who really loved me would have put what he owed to a peck of newspaper + people before what he owed to his wife. I hate him for letting me convince + him! I believe he was glad to get rid of me. I believe he has seen some + woman whom he likes at Turin. Well, let him follow his new fancy, if he + pleases! I shall be the widow of Mr. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose before + long; and what will his likes or dislikes matter to me then? + </p> + <p> + “The events on the journey were not worth mentioning, and my arrival in + London stands recorded already on the top of the new page. + </p> + <p> + “As for to-day, the one thing of any importance that I have done since I + got to the cheap and quiet hotel at which I am now staying, has been to + send for the landlord, and ask him to help me to a sight of the back + numbers of <i>The Times</i> newspaper. He has politely offered to + accompany me himself to-morrow morning to some place in the City where all + the papers are kept, as he calls it, in file. Till to-morrow, then, I must + control my impatience for news of Armadale as well as I can. And so + good-night to the pretty reflection of myself that appears in these + pages!” + </p> + <p> + “November 20th.—Not a word of news yet, either in the obituary + column or in any other part of the paper. I looked carefully through each + number in succession, dating from the day when Armadale’s letter was + written at Messina to this present 20th of the month, and I am certain, + whatever may have happened, that nothing is known in England as yet. + Patience! The newspaper is to meet me at the breakfast-table every morning + till further notice; and any day now may show me what I most want to see.” + </p> + <p> + “November 21st.—No news again. I wrote to Midwinter to-day, to keep + up appearances. + </p> + <p> + “When the letter was done, I fell into wretchedly low spirits—I + can’t imagine why—and felt such a longing for a little company that, + in despair of knowing where else to go, I actually went to Pimlico, on the + chance that Mother Oldershaw might have returned to her old quarters. + </p> + <p> + “There were changes since I had seen the place during my former stay in + London. Doctor Downward’s side of the house was still empty. But the shop + was being brightened up for the occupation of a milliner and dress-maker. + The people, when I went in to make inquiries, were all strangers to me. + They showed, however, no hesitation in giving me Mrs. Oldershaw’s address + when I asked for it—from which I infer that the little ‘difficulty’ + which forced her to be in hiding in August last is at an end, so far as + she is concerned. As for the doctor, the people at the shop either were, + or pretended to be, quite unable to tell me what had become of him. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know whether it was the sight of the place at Pimlico that + sickened me, or whether it was my own perversity, or what. But now that I + had got Mrs. Oldershaw’s address, I felt as if she was the very last + person in the world that I wanted to see. I took a cab, and told the man + to drive to the street she lived in, and then told him to drive back to + the hotel. I hardly know what is the matter with me—unless it is + that I am getting more impatient every hour for information about + Armadale. When will the future look a little less dark, I wonder? + To-morrow is Saturday. Will to-morrow’s newspaper lift the veil?” + </p> + <p> + “November 22d.—Saturday’s newspaper <i>has</i> lifted the veil! + Words are vain to express the panic of astonishment in which I write. I + never once anticipated it; I can’t believe it or realize it, now it has + happened. The winds and waves themselves have turned my accomplices! The + yacht has foundered at sea, and every soul on board has perished! + </p> + <p> + “Here is the account cut out of this morning’s newspaper: + </p> + <p> + “‘DISASTER AT SEA.—Intelligence has reached the Royal Yacht Squadron + and the insurers which leaves no reasonable doubt, we regret to say, of + the total loss, on the fifth of the present month, of the yacht <i>Dorothea</i>, + with every soul on board. The particulars are as follows: At daylight, on + the morning of the sixth, the Italian brig <i>Speranza</i>, bound from + Venice to Marsala for orders, encountered some floating objects off Cape + Spartivento (at the southernmost extremity of Italy) which attracted the + curiosity of the people of the brig. The previous day had been marked by + one of the most severe of the sudden and violent storms, peculiar to these + southern seas, which has been remembered for years. The <i>Speranza</i> + herself having been in danger while the gale lasted, the captain and crew + concluded that they were on the traces of a wreck, and a boat was lowered + for the purpose of examining the objects in the water. A hen-coop, some + broken spars, and fragments of shattered plank were the first evidences + discovered of the terrible disaster that had happened. Some of the lighter + articles of cabin furniture, wrenched and shattered, were found next. And, + lastly, a memento of melancholy interest turned up, in the shape of a + lifebuoy, with a corked bottle attached to it. These latter objects, with + the relics of cabin furniture, were brought on board the <i>Speranza</i>. + On the buoy the name of the vessel was painted, as follows: “<i>Dorothea, + R. Y. S.</i>” (meaning Royal Yacht Squadron). The bottle, on being + uncorked, contained a sheet of note-paper, on which the following lines + were hurriedly traced in pencil: “Off Cape Spartivento; two days out from + Messina. Nov. 5th, 4 P.M.” (being the hour at which the log of the Italian + brig showed the storm to have been at its height). “Both our boats are + stove in by the sea. The rudder is gone, and we have sprung a leak astern + which is more than we can stop. The Lord help us all—we are sinking. + (Signed) John Mitchenden, Mate.” On reaching Marsala, the captain of the + brig made his report to the British consul, and left the objects + discovered in that gentleman’s charge. Inquiry at Messina showed that the + ill-fated vessel had arrived there from Naples. At the latter port it was + ascertained that the <i>Dorothea</i> had been hired from the owner’s agent + by an English gentleman, Mr. Armadale, of Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk. Whether + Mr. Armadale had any friends on board with him has not been clearly + discovered. But there is unhappily no doubt that the ill-fated gentleman + himself sailed in the yacht from Naples, and that he was also on board of + the vessel when she left Messina.’ + </p> + <p> + “Such is the story of the wreck, as the newspaper tells it in the plainest + and fewest words. My head is in a whirl; my confusion is so great that I + think of fifty different things in trying to think of one. I must wait—a + day more or less is of no consequence now—I must wait till I can + face my new position, without feeling bewildered by it.” + </p> + <p> + “November 23d.—Eight in the morning.—I rose an hour ago, and + saw my way clearly to the first step that I must take under present + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “It is of the utmost importance to me to know what is doing at Thorpe + Ambrose; and it would be the height of rashness, while I am quite in the + dark in this matter, to venture there myself. The only other alternative + is to write to somebody on the spot for news; and the only person I can + write to is—Bashwood. + </p> + <p> + “I have just finished the letter. It is headed ‘private and confidential,’ + and signed ‘Lydia Armadale.’ There is nothing in it to compromise me, if + the old fool is mortally offended by my treatment of him, and if he + spitefully shows my letter to other people. But I don’t believe he will do + this. A man at his age forgives a woman anything, if the woman only + encourages him. I have requested him, as a personal favor, to keep our + correspondence for the present strictly private. I have hinted that my + married life with my deceased husband has not been a happy one; and that I + feel the injudiciousness of having married a <i>young</i> man. In the + postscript I go further still, and venture boldly on these comforting + words: ‘I can explain, dear Mr. Bashwood, what may have seemed fake and + deceitful in my conduct toward you when you give me a personal + opportunity.’ If he was on the right side of sixty, I should feel doubtful + of results. But he is on the wrong side of sixty, and I believe he will + give me my personal opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Ten o’clock.—I have been looking over the copy of my marriage + certificate, with which I took care to provide myself on the wedding-day; + and I have discovered, to my inexpressible dismay, an obstacle to my + appearance in the character of Armadale’s widow which I now see for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + “The description of Midwinter (under his own name) which the certificate + presents answers in every important particular to what would have been the + description of Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, if I had really married him. + ‘Name and Surname’—Allan Armadale. ‘Age’—twenty-one, instead + of twenty-two, which might easily pass for a mistake. ‘Condition’—Bachelor. + ‘Rank or profession’—Gentleman. ‘Residence at the time of Marriage’—Frant’s + Hotel, Darley Street. ‘Father’s Name and Surname’—Allan Armadale. + ‘Rank or Profession of Father’—Gentleman. Every particular (except + the year’s difference in their two ages) which answers for the one answers + for the other. But suppose, when I produce my copy of the certificate, + that some meddlesome lawyer insists on looking at the original register? + Midwinter’s writing is as different as possible from the writing of his + dead friend. The hand in which he has written ‘Allan Armadale’ in the book + has not a chance of passing for the hand in which Armadale of Thorpe + Ambrose was accustomed to sign his name. + </p> + <p> + “Can I move safely in the matter, with such a pitfall as I see here open + under my feet? How can I tell? Where can I find an experienced person to + inform me? I must shut up my diary and think.” + </p> + <p> + “Seven o’clock.—My prospects have changed again since I made my last + entry. I have received a warning to be careful in the future which I shall + not neglect; and I have (I believe) succeeded in providing myself with the + advice and assistance of which I stand in need. + </p> + <p> + “After vainly trying to think of some better person to apply to in the + difficulty which embarrassed me, I made a virtue of necessity, and set + forth to surprise Mrs. Oldershaw by a visit from her darling Lydia! It is + almost needless to add that I determined to sound her carefully, and not + to let any secret of importance out of my own possession. + </p> + <p> + “A sour and solemn old maid-servant admitted me into the house. When I + asked for her mistress, I was reminded with the bitterest emphasis that I + had committed the impropriety of calling on a Sunday. Mrs. Oldershaw was + at home, solely in consequence of being too unwell to go to church! The + servant thought it very unlikely that she would see me. I thought it + highly probable, on the contrary, that she would honor me with an + interview in her own interests, if I sent in my name as ‘Miss Gwilt’—and + the event proved that I was right. After being kept waiting some minutes I + was shown into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “There sat Mother Jezebel, with the air of a woman resting on the + high-road to heaven, dressed in a slate-colored gown, with gray mittens on + her hands, a severely simple cap on her head, and a volume of sermons on + her lap. She turned up the whites of her eyes devoutly at the sight of me, + and the first words she said were—‘Oh, Lydia! Lydia! why are you not + at church?’ + </p> + <p> + “If I had been less anxious, the sudden presentation of Mrs. Oldershaw in + an entirely new character might have amused me. But I was in no humor for + laughing, and (my notes of hand being all paid) I was under no obligation + to restrain my natural freedom of speech. ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ I said. + ‘Put your Sunday face in your pocket. I have got some news for you, since + I last wrote from Thorpe Ambrose.’ + </p> + <p> + “The instant I mentioned ‘Thorpe Ambrose,’ the whites of the old + hypocrite’s eyes showed themselves again, and she flatly refused to hear a + word more from me on the subject of my proceedings in Norfolk. I insisted; + but it was quite useless. Mother Oldershaw only shook her head and + groaned, and informed me that her connection with the pomps and vanities + of the world was at an end forever. ‘I have been born again, Lydia,’ said + the brazen old wretch, wiping her eyes. ‘Nothing will induce me to return + to the subject of that wicked speculation of yours on the folly of a rich + young man.’ + </p> + <p> + “After hearing this, I should have left her on the spot, but for one + consideration which delayed me a moment longer. + </p> + <p> + “It was easy to see, by this time, that the circumstances (whatever they + might have been) which had obliged Mother Oldershaw to keep in hiding, on + the occasion of my former visit to London, had been sufficiently serious + to force her into giving up, or appearing to give up, her old business. + And it was hardly less plain that she had found it to her advantage—everybody + in England finds it to their advantage in some way to cover the outer side + of her character carefully with a smooth varnish of Cant. This was, + however, no business of mine; and I should have made these reflections + outside instead of inside the house, if my interests had not been involved + in putting the sincerity of Mother Oldershaw’s reformation to the test—so + far as it affected her past connection with myself. At the time when she + had fitted me out for our enterprise, I remembered signing a certain + business document which gave her a handsome pecuniary interest in my + success, if I became Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. The chance of + turning this mischievous morsel of paper to good account, in the capacity + of a touchstone, was too tempting to be resisted. I asked my devout + friend’s permission to say one last word before I left the house. + </p> + <p> + “‘As you have no further interest in my wicked speculation at Thorpe + Ambrose,’ I said, ‘perhaps you will give me back the written paper that I + signed, when you were not quite such an exemplary person as you are now?’ + </p> + <p> + “The shameless old hypocrite instantly shut her eyes and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “‘Does that mean Yes, or No’?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘On moral and religious grounds, Lydia,’ said Mrs. Oldershaw, ‘it means + No.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘On wicked and worldly grounds,’ I rejoined, ‘I beg to thank you for + showing me your hand.’ + </p> + <p> + “There could, indeed, be no doubt now about the object she really had in + view. She would run no more risks and lend no more money; she would leave + me to win or lose single-handed. If I lost, she would not be compromised. + If I won, she would produce the paper I had signed, and profit by it + without remorse. In my present situation, it was mere waste of time and + words to prolong the matter by any useless recrimination on my side. I put + the warning away privately in my memory for future use, and got up to go. + </p> + <p> + “At the moment when I left my chair there was a sharp double knock at the + street door. Mrs. Oldershaw evidently recognized it. She rose in a violent + hurry, and rang the bell. ‘I am too unwell to see anybody,’ she said, when + the servant appeared. ‘Wait a moment, if you please,’ she added, turning + sharply on me, when the woman had left us to answer the door. + </p> + <p> + “It was small, very small, spitefulness on my part, I know; but the + satisfaction of thwarting Mother Jezebel, even in a trifle, was not to be + resisted. ‘I can’t wait,’ I said; ‘you reminded me just now that I ought + to be at church.’ Before she could answer I was out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “As I put my foot on the first stair the street door was opened, and a + man’s voice inquired whether Mrs. Oldershaw was at home. + </p> + <p> + “I instantly recognized the voice. Doctor Downward! + </p> + <p> + “The doctor repeated the servant’s message in a tone which betrayed + unmistakable irritation at finding himself admitted no further than the + door. + </p> + <p> + “‘Your mistress is not well enough to see visitors? Give her that card,’ + said the doctor, ‘and say I expect her, the next time I call, to be well + enough to see <i>me</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + “If his voice had not told me plainly that he felt in no friendly mood + toward Mrs. Oldershaw, I dare say I should have let him go without + claiming his acquaintance; but, as things were, I felt an impulse to speak + to him or to anybody who had a grudge against Mother Jezebel. There was + more of my small spitefulness in this, I suppose. Anyway, I slipped + downstairs; and, following the doctor out quietly, overtook him in the + street. + </p> + <p> + “I had recognized his voice, and I recognized his back as I walked behind + him. But when I called him by his name, and when he turned round with a + start and confronted me, I followed his example, and started on my side. + The doctor’s face was transformed into the face of a perfect stranger! His + baldness had hidden itself under an artfully grizzled wig. He had allowed + his whiskers to grow, and had dyed them to match his new head of hair. + Hideous circular spectacles bestrode his nose in place of the neat double + eyeglass that he used to carry in his hand; and a black neckerchief, + surmounted by immense shirt-collars, appeared as the unworthy successor of + the clerical white cravat of former times. Nothing remained of the man I + once knew but the comfortable plumpness of his figure, and the + confidential courtesy and smoothness of his manner and his voice. + </p> + <p> + “‘Charmed to see you again,’ said the doctor, looking about him a little + anxiously, and producing his card-case in a very precipitate manner. ‘But, + my dear Miss Gwilt, permit me to rectify a slight mistake on your part. + Doctor Downward of Pimlico is dead and buried; and you will infinitely + oblige me if you will never, on any consideration, mention him again!’ + </p> + <p> + “I took the card he offered me, and discovered that I was now supposed to + be speaking to ‘Doctor Le Doux, of the Sanitarium, Fairweather Vale, + Hampstead!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You seem to have found it necessary,’ I said, ‘to change a great many + things since I last saw you? Your name, your residence, your personal + appearance—?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And my branch of practice,’ interposed the doctor. ‘I have purchased of + the original possessor (a person of feeble enterprise and no resources) a + name, a diploma, and a partially completed sanitarium for the reception of + nervous invalids. We are open already to the inspection of a few + privileged friends—come and see us. Are you walking my way? Pray + take my arm, and tell me to what happy chance I am indebted for the + pleasure of seeing you again?’ + </p> + <p> + “I told him the circumstances exactly as they had happened, and I added + (with a view to making sure of his relations with his former ally at + Pimlico) that I had been greatly surprised to hear Mrs. Oldershaw’s door + shut on such an old friend as himself. Cautious as he was, the doctor’s + manner of receiving my remark satisfied me at once that my suspicions of + an estrangement were well founded. His smile vanished, and he settled his + hideous spectacles irritably on the bridge of his nose. + </p> + <p> + “‘Pardon me if I leave you to draw your own conclusions,’ he said. ‘The + subject of Mrs. Oldershaw is, I regret to say, far from agreeable to me + under existing circumstances—a business difficulty connected with + our late partnership at Pimlico, entirely without interest for a young and + brilliant woman like yourself. Tell me your news! Have you left your + situation at Thorpe Ambrose? Are you residing in London? Is there + anything, professional or otherwise, that I can do for you?’ + </p> + <p> + “That last question was a more important one than he supposed. Before I + answered it, I felt the necessity of parting company with him and of + getting a little time to think. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have kindly asked me, doctor, to pay you a visit,’ I said. ‘In your + quiet house at Hampstead, I may possibly have something to say to you + which I can’t say in this noisy street. When are you at home at the + Sanitarium? Should I find you there later in the day?’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor assured me that he was then on his way back, and begged that I + would name my own hour. I said, ‘Toward the afternoon;’ and, pleading an + engagement, hailed the first omnibus that passed us. ‘Don’t forget the + address,’ said the doctor, as he handed me in. ‘I have got your card,’ I + answered, and so we parted. + </p> + <p> + “I returned to the hotel, and went up into my room, and thought over it + very anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “The serious obstacle of the signature on the marriage register still + stood in my way as unmanageably as ever. All hope of getting assistance + from Mrs. Oldershaw was at an end. I could only regard her henceforth as + an enemy hidden in the dark—the enemy, beyond all doubt now, who had + had me followed and watched when I was last in London. To what other + counselor could I turn for the advice which my unlucky ignorance of law + and business obliged me to seek from some one more experienced than + myself? Could I go to the lawyer whom I consulted when I was about to + marry Midwinter in my maiden name? Impossible! To say nothing of his cold + reception of me when I had last seen him, the advice I wanted this time + related (disguise the facts as I might) to commission of a Fraud—a + fraud of the sort that no prosperous lawyer would consent to assist if he + had a character to lose. Was there any other competent person I could + think of? There was one, and one only—the doctor who had died at + Pimlico, and had revived again at Hampstead. + </p> + <p> + “I knew him to be entirely without scruples; to have the business + experience that I wanted myself; and to be as cunning, as clever, and as + far-seeing a man as could be found in all London. Beyond this, I had made + two important discoveries in connection with him that morning. In the + first place, he was on bad terms with Mrs. Oldershaw, which would protect + me from all danger of the two leaguing together against me if I trusted + him. In the second place, circumstances still obliged him to keep his + identity carefully disguised, which gave me a hold over him in no respect + inferior to any hold that <i>I</i> might give him over <i>me</i>. In every + way he was the right man, the only man, for my purpose; and yet I + hesitated at going to him—hesitated for a full hour and more, + without knowing why! + </p> + <p> + “It was two o’clock before I finally decided on paying the doctor a visit. + Having, after this, occupied nearly another hour in determining to a + hair-breadth how far I should take him into my confidence, I sent for a + cab at last, and set off toward three in the afternoon for Hampstead. + </p> + <p> + “I found the Sanitarium with some little difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Fairweather Vale proved to be a new neighborhood, situated below the high + ground of Hampstead, on the southern side. The day was overcast, and the + place looked very dreary. We approached it by a new road running between + trees, which might once have been the park avenue of a country house. At + the end we came upon a wilderness of open ground, with half-finished + villas dotted about, and a hideous litter of boards, wheelbarrows, and + building materials of all sorts scattered in every direction. At one + corner of this scene of desolation, stood a great overgrown dismal house, + plastered with drab-colored stucco, and surrounded by a naked, unfinished + garden, without a shrub or a flower in it, frightful to behold. On the + open iron gate that led into this inclosure was a new brass plate, with + ‘Sanitarium’ inscribed on it in great black letters. The bell, when the + cabman rang it, pealed through the empty house like a knell; and the + pallid, withered old man-servant in black who answered the door looked as + if he had stepped up out of his grave to perform that service. He let out + on me a smell of damp plaster and new varnish; and he let in with me a + chilling draft of the damp November air. I didn’t notice it at the time, + but, writing of it now, I remember that I shivered as I crossed the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “I gave my name to the servant as ‘Mrs. Armadale,’ and was shown into the + waiting-room. The very fire itself was dying of damp in the grate. The + only books on the table were the doctor’s Works, in sober drab covers; and + the only object that ornamented the walls was the foreign Diploma + (handsomely framed and glazed), of which the doctor had possessed himself + by purchase, along with the foreign name. + </p> + <p> + “After a moment or two, the proprietor of the Sanitarium came in, and held + up his hands in cheerful astonishment at the sight of me. + </p> + <p> + “‘I hadn’t an idea who “Mrs. Armadale” was!’ he said. ‘My dear lady, have + <i>you</i> changed your name too? How sly of you not to tell me when we + met this morning! Come into my private snuggery—I can’t think of + keeping an old and dear friend like you in the patients’ waiting-room.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor’s private snuggery was at the back of the house, looking out + on fields and trees, doomed but not yet destroyed by the builder. Horrible + objects in brass and leather and glass, twisted and turned as if they were + sentient things writhing in agonies of pain, filled up one end of the + room. A great book-case with glass doors extended over the whole of the + opposite wall, and exhibited on its shelves long rows of glass jars, in + which shapeless dead creatures of a dull white color floated in yellow + liquid. Above the fireplace hung a collection of photographic portraits of + men and women, inclosed in two large frames hanging side by side with a + space between them. The left-hand frame illustrated the effects of nervous + suffering as seen in the face; the right-hand frame exhibited the ravages + of insanity from the same point of view; while the space between was + occupied by an elegantly illuminated scroll, bearing inscribed on it the + time-honored motto, ‘Prevention is better than Cure.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Here I am, with my galvanic apparatus, and my preserved specimens, and + all the rest of it,’ said the doctor, placing me in a chair by the + fireside. ‘And there is my System mutely addressing you just above your + head, under a form of exposition which I venture to describe as frankness + itself. This is no mad-house, my dear lady. Let other men treat insanity, + if they like—<i>I</i> stop it! No patients in the house as yet. But + we live in an age when nervous derangement (parent of insanity) is + steadily on the increase; and in due time the sufferers will come. I can + wait as Harvey waited, as Jenner waited. And now do put your feet up on + the fender, and tell me about yourself. You are married, of course? And + what a pretty name! Accept my best and most heart-felt congratulations. + You have the two greatest blessings that can fall to a woman’s lot; the + two capital H’s, as I call them—Husband and Home.’ + </p> + <p> + “I interrupted the genial flow of the doctor’s congratulations at the + first opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “‘I am married; but the circumstances are by no means of the ordinary + kind,’ I said, seriously. My present position includes none of the + blessings that are usually supposed to fall to a woman’s lot. I am already + in a situation of very serious difficulty; and before long I may be in a + situation of very serious danger as well.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor drew his chair a little nearer to me, and fell at once into + his old professional manner and his old confidential tone. + </p> + <p> + “‘If you wish to consult me,’ he said, softly, ‘you know that I have kept + some dangerous secrets in my time, and you also know that I possess two + valuable qualities as an adviser. I am not easily shocked; and I can be + implicitly trusted.’ + </p> + <p> + “I hesitated even now, at the eleventh hour, sitting alone with him in his + own room. It was so strange to me to be trusting to anybody but myself! + And yet, how could I help trusting another person in a difficulty which + turned on a matter of law? + </p> + <p> + “‘Just as you please, you know,’ added the doctor. ‘I never invite + confidences. I merely receive them.’ + </p> + <p> + “There was no help for it; I had come there not to hesitate, but to speak. + I risked it, and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “‘The matter on which I wish to consult you,’ I said, ‘is not (as you seem + to think) within your experience as a professional man. But I believe you + may be of assistance to me, if I trust myself to your larger experience as + a man of the world. I warn you beforehand that I shall certainly surprise, + and possibly alarm, you before I have done.’ + </p> + <p> + “With that preface I entered on my story, telling him what I had settled + to tell him, and no more. + </p> + <p> + “I made no secret, at the outset, of my intention to personate Armadale’s + widow; and I mentioned without reserve (knowing that the doctor could go + to the office and examine the will for himself) the handsome income that + would be settled on me in the event of my success. Some of the + circumstances that followed next in succession I thought it desirable to + alter or conceal. I showed him the newspaper account of the loss of the + yacht, but I said nothing about events at Naples. I informed him of the + exact similarity of the two names; leaving him to imagine that it was + accidental. I told him, as an important element in the matter, that my + husband had kept his real name a profound secret from everybody but + myself; but (to prevent any communication between them) I carefully + concealed from the doctor what the assumed name under which Midwinter had + lived all his life really was. I acknowledged that I had left my husband + behind me on the Continent; but when the doctor put the question, I + allowed him to conclude—I couldn’t, with all my resolution, tell him + positively!—that Midwinter knew of the contemplated Fraud, and that + he was staying away purposely, so as not to compromise me by his presence. + This difficulty smoothed over—or, as I feel it now, this baseness + committed—I reverted to myself, and came back again to the truth. + One after another I mentioned all the circumstances connected with my + private marriage, and with the movements of Armadale and Midwinter, which + rendered any discovery of the false personation (through the evidence of + other people) a downright impossibility. ‘So much,’ I said, in conclusion, + ‘for the object in view. The next thing is to tell you plainly of a very + serious obstacle that stands in my way.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor, who had listened thus far without interrupting me, begged + permission here to say a few words on his side before I went on. + </p> + <p> + “The ‘few words’ proved to be all questions—clever, searching, + suspicious questions—which I was, however, able to answer with + little or no reserve, for they related, in almost every instance, to the + circumstances under which I had been married, and to the chances for and + against my lawful husband if he chose to assert his claim to me at any + future time. + </p> + <p> + “My replies informed the doctor, in the first place, that I had so managed + matters at Thorpe Ambrose as to produce a general impression that Armadale + intended to marry me; in the second place, that my husband’s early life + had not been of a kind to exhibit him favorably in the eyes of the world; + in the third place, that we had been married, without any witnesses + present who knew us, at a large parish church in which two other couples + had been married the same morning, to say nothing of the dozens on dozens + of other couples (confusing all remembrance of us in the minds of the + officiating people) who had been married since. When I had put the doctor + in possession of these facts—and when he had further ascertained + that Midwinter and I had gone abroad among strangers immediately after + leaving the church; and that the men employed on board the yacht in which + Armadale had sailed from Somersetshire (before my marriage) were now away + in ships voyaging to the other end of the world—his confidence in my + prospects showed itself plainly in his face. ‘So far as I can see,’ he + said, ‘your husband’s claim to you (after you have stepped into the place + of the dead Mr. Armadale’s widow) would rest on nothing but his own bare + assertion. And <i>that</i> I think you may safely set at defiance. Excuse + my apparent distrust of the gentleman. But there might be a + misunderstanding between you in the future, and it is highly desirable to + ascertain beforehand exactly what he could or could not do under those + circumstances. And now that we have done with the main obstacle that <i>I</i> + see in the way of your success, let us by all means come to the obstacle + that <i>you</i> see next!’ + </p> + <p> + “I was willing enough to come to it. The tone in which he spoke of + Midwinter, though I myself was responsible for it, jarred on me horribly, + and roused for the moment some of the old folly of feeling which I fancied + I had laid asleep forever. I rushed at the chance of changing the subject, + and mentioned the discrepancy in the register between the hand in which + Midwinter had signed the name of Allan Armadale, and the hand in which + Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose had been accustomed to write his name, with an + eagerness which it quite diverted the doctor to see. + </p> + <p> + “‘Is <i>that</i> all?’ he asked, to my infinite surprise and relief, when + I had done. ‘My dear lady, pray set your mind at ease! If the late Mr. + Armadale’s lawyers want a proof of your marriage, they won’t go to the + church-register for it, I can promise you!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What!’ I exclaimed, in astonishment. ‘Do you mean to say that the entry + in the register is not a proof of my marriage?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘It is a proof,’ said the doctor, ‘that you have been married to + somebody. But it is no proof that you have been married to Mr. Armadale of + Thorpe Ambrose. Jack Nokes or Tom Styles (excuse the homeliness of the + illustration!) might have got the license, and gone to the church to be + married to you under Mr. Armadale’s name; and the register (how could it + do otherwise?) must in that case have innocently assisted the deception. I + see I surprise you. My dear madam, when you opened this interesting + business you surprised <i>me</i>—I may own it now—by laying so + much stress on the curious similarity between the two names. You might + have entered on the very daring and romantic enterprise in which you are + now engaged, without necessarily marrying your present husband. Any other + man would have done just as well, provided he was willing to take Mr. + Armadale’s name for the purpose.’ + </p> + <p> + “I felt my temper going at this. ‘Any other man would <i>not</i> have done + just as well,’ I rejoined, instantly. ‘But for the similarity of the + names, I should never have thought of the enterprise at all.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor admitted that he had spoken too hastily. ‘That personal view + of the subject had, I confess, escaped me,’ he said. ‘However, let us get + back to the matter in hand. In the course of what I may term an + adventurous medical life, I have been brought more than once into contact + with the gentlemen of the law, and have had opportunities of observing + their proceedings in cases of, let us say, Domestic Jurisprudence. I am + quite sure I am correct in informing you that the proof which will be + required by Mr. Armadale’s representatives will be the evidence of a + witness present at the marriage who can speak to the identity of the bride + and bridegroom from his own personal knowledge.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘But I have already told you,’ I said, ‘that there was no such person + present.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Precisely,’ rejoined the doctor. ‘In that case, what you now want, + before you can safely stir a step in the matter, is—if you will + pardon me the expression—a ready-made witness, possessed of rare + moral and personal resources, who can be trusted to assume the necessary + character, and to make the necessary Declaration before a magistrate. Do + you know of any such person?’ asked the doctor, throwing himself back in + his chair, and looking at me with the utmost innocence. + </p> + <p> + “‘I only know you,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor laughed softly. ‘So like a woman!’ he remarked, with the most + exasperating good humor. ‘The moment she sees her object, she dashes at it + headlong the nearest way. Oh, the sex! the sex!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Never mind the sex!’ I broke out, impatiently. ‘I want a serious answer—Yes + or No?’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor rose, and waved his hand with great gravity and dignity all + round the room. ‘You see this vast establishment,’ he began; ‘you can + possibly estimate to some extent the immense stake I have in its + prosperity and success. Your excellent natural sense will tell you that + the Principal of this Sanitarium must be a man of the most unblemished + character—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why waste so many words,’ I said, ‘when one word will do? You mean No!’ + </p> + <p> + “The Principal of the Sanitarium suddenly relapsed into the character of + my confidential friend. + </p> + <p> + “‘My dear lady,’ he said, ‘it isn’t Yes, and it isn’t No, at a moment’s + notice. Give me till to-morrow afternoon. By that time I engage to be + ready to do one of two things—either to withdraw myself from this + business at once, or to go into it with you heart and soul. Do you agree + to that? Very good; we may drop the subject, then, till to-morrow. Where + can I call on you when I have decided what to do?’ + </p> + <p> + “There was no objection to my trusting him with my address at the hotel. I + had taken care to present myself there as ‘Mrs. Armadale’; and I had given + Midwinter an address at the neighboring post-office to write to when he + answered my letters. We settled the hour at which the doctor was to call + on me; and, that matter arranged, I rose to go, resisting all offers of + refreshment, and all proposals to show me over the house. His smooth + persistence in keeping up appearances after we had thoroughly understood + each other disgusted me. I got away from him as soon as I could, and came + back to my diary and my own room. + </p> + <p> + “We shall see how it ends to-morrow. My own idea is that my confidential + friend will say Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “November 24th.—The doctor has said Yes, as I supposed; but on terms + which I never anticipated. The condition on which I have secured his + services amounts to nothing less than the payment to him, on my stepping + into the place of Armadale’s widow, of half my first year’s income—in + other words, six hundred pounds! + </p> + <p> + “I protested against this extortionate demand in every way I could think + of. All to no purpose. The doctor met me with the most engaging frankness. + Nothing, he said, but the accidental embarrassment of his position at the + present time would have induced him to mix himself up in the matter at + all. He would honestly confess that he had exhausted his own resources, + and the resources of other persons whom he described as his ‘backers,’ in + the purchase and completion of the Sanitarium. Under those circumstances, + six hundred pounds in prospect was an object to him. For that sum he would + run the serious risk of advising and assisting me. Not a farthing less + would tempt him; and there he left it, with his best and friendliest + wishes, in my hands! + </p> + <p> + “It ended in the only way in which it could end. I had no choice but to + accept the terms, and to let the doctor settle things on the spot as he + pleased. The arrangement once made between us, I must do him the justice + to say that he showed no disposition to let the grass grow under his feet. + He called briskly for pen, ink and paper, and suggested opening the + campaign at Thorpe Ambrose by to-night’s post. + </p> + <p> + “We agreed on a form of letter which I wrote, and which he copied on the + spot. I entered into no particulars at starting. I simply asserted that I + was the widow of the deceased Mr. Armadale; that I had been privately + married to him; that I had returned to England on his sailing in the yacht + from Naples; and that I begged to inclose a copy of my marriage + certificate, as a matter of form with which I presumed it was customary to + comply. The letter was addressed to ‘The Representatives of the late Allan + Armadale, Esq., Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk.’ And the doctor himself carried + it away, and put it in the post. + </p> + <p> + “I am not so excited and so impatient for results as I expected to be, now + that the first step is taken. The thought of Midwinter haunts me like a + ghost. I have been writing to him again—as before, to keep up + appearances. It will be my last letter, I think. My courage feels shaken, + my spirits get depressed, when my thoughts go back to Turin. I am no more + capable of facing the consideration of Midwinter at this moment than I was + in the by-gone time, The day of reckoning with him, once distant and + doubtful, is a day that may come to me now, I know not how soon. And here + I am, trusting myself blindly to the chapter of Accidents still!” + </p> + <p> + “November 25th.—At two o’clock to-day the doctor called again by + appointment. He has been to his lawyers (of course without taking them + into our confidence) to put the case simply of proving my marriage. The + result confirms what he has already told me. The pivot on which the whole + matter will turn, if my claim is disputed, will be the question of + identity; and it may be necessary for the witness to make his Declaration + in the magistrate’s presence before the week is out. + </p> + <p> + “In this position of affairs, the doctor thinks it important that we + should be within easy reach of each other, and proposes to find a quiet + lodging for me in his neighborhood. I am quite willing to go anywhere; + for, among the other strange fancies that have got possession of me, I + have an idea that I shall feel more completely lost to Midwinter if I move + out of the neighborhood in which his letters are addressed to me. I was + awake and thinking of him again last night. This morning I have finally + decided to write to him no more. + </p> + <p> + “After staying half an hour, the doctor left me, having first inquired + whether I would like to accompany him to Hampstead to look for lodgings. I + informed him that I had some business of my own which would keep me in + London. He inquired what the business was. ‘You will see,’ I said, + ‘to-morrow or next day.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had a moment’s nervous trembling when I was by myself again. My + business in London, besides being a serious business in a woman’s eyes, + took my mind back to Midwinter in spite of me. The prospect of removing to + my new lodging had reminded me of the necessity of dressing in my new + character. The time had come now for getting <i>my widow’s weeds</i>. + </p> + <p> + “My first proceeding, after putting my bonnet on, was to provide myself + with money. I got what I wanted to fit me out for the character of + Armadale’s widow by nothing less than the sale of Armadale’s own present + to me on my marriage—the ruby ring! It proved to be a more valuable + jewel than I had supposed. I am likely to be spared all money anxieties + for some time to come. + </p> + <p> + “On leaving the jeweler’s, I went to the great mourning shop in Regent + Street. In four-and-twenty hours (if I can give them no more) they have + engaged to dress me in my widow’s costume from head to foot. I had another + feverish moment when I left the shop; and, by way of further excitement on + this agitating day, I found a surprise in store for me on my return to the + hotel. An elderly gentleman was announced to be waiting to see me. I + opened my sitting-room door, and there was old Bashwood! + </p> + <p> + “He had got my letter that morning, and had started for London by the next + train to answer it in person. I had expected a great deal from him, but I + had certainly not expected <i>that</i>. It flattered me. For the moment, I + declare it flattered me! + </p> + <p> + “I pass over the wretched old creature’s raptures and reproaches, and + groans and tears, and weary long prosings about the lonely months he had + passed at Thorpe Ambrose, brooding over my desertion of him. He was quite + eloquent at times; but I don’t want his eloquence here. It is needless to + say that I put myself right with him, and consulted his feelings before I + asked him for his news. What a blessing a woman’s vanity is sometimes! I + almost forgot my risks and responsibilities in my anxieties to be + charming. For a minute or two I felt a warm little flutter of triumph. And + it was a triumph—even with an old man! In a quarter of an hour I had + him smirking and smiling, hanging on my lightest words in an ecstasy, and + answering all the questions I put to him like a good little child. + </p> + <p> + “Here is his account of affairs at Thorpe Ambrose, as I gently extracted + it from him bit by bit: + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, the news of Armadale’s death has reached Miss Milroy. + It has so completely overwhelmed her that her father has been compelled to + remove her from the school. She is back at the cottage, and the doctor is + in daily attendance. Do I pity her? Yes! I pity her exactly as much as she + once pitied me! + </p> + <p> + “In the next place, the state of affairs at the great house, which I + expected to find some difficulty in comprehending, turns out to be quite + intelligible, and certainly not discouraging so far. Only yesterday, the + lawyers on both sides came to an understanding. Mr. Darch (the family + solicitor of the Blanchards, and Armadale’s bitter enemy in past times) + represents the interests of Miss Blanchard, who (in the absence of any + male heir) is next heir to the estate, and who has, it appears, been in + London for some time past. Mr. Smart, of Norwich (originally employed to + overlook Bashwood), represents the deceased Armadale. And this is what the + two lawyers have settled between them. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Darch, acting for Miss Blanchard, has claimed the possession of the + estate, and the right of receiving the rents at the Christmas audit, in + her name. Mr. Smart, on his side, has admitted that there is great weight + in the family solicitor’s application. He cannot see his way, as things + are now, to contesting the question of Armadale’s death, and he will + consent to offer no resistance to the application, if Mr. Darch will + consent, on his side, to assume the responsibility of taking possession in + Miss Blanchard’s name. This Mr. Darch has already done; and the estate is + now virtually in Miss Blanchard’s possession. + </p> + <p> + “One result of this course of proceeding will be (as Bashwood thinks) to + put Mr. Darch in the position of the person who really decides on my claim + to the widow’s place and the widow’s money. The income being charged on + the estate, it must come out of Miss Blanchard’s pocket; and the question + of paying it would appear, therefore, to be a question for Miss + Blanchard’s lawyer. To-morrow will probably decide whether this view is + the right one, for my letter to Armadale’s representatives will have been + delivered at the great house this morning. + </p> + <p> + “So much for what old Bashwood had to tell me. Having recovered my + influence over him, and possessed myself of all his information so far, + the next thing to consider was the right use to turn him to in the future. + He was entirely at my disposal, for his place at the steward’s office has + been already taken by Miss Blanchard’s man of business, and he pleaded + hard to be allowed to stay and serve my interests in London. There would + not have been the least danger in letting him stay, for I had, as a matter + of course, left him undisturbed in his conviction that I really am the + widow of Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. But with the doctor’s resources at my + command, I wanted no assistance of any sort in London; and it occurred to + me that I might make Bashwood more useful by sending him back to Norfolk + to watch events there in my interests. + </p> + <p> + “He looked sorely disappointed (having had an eye evidently to paying his + court to me in my widowed condition!) when I told him of the conclusion at + which I had arrived. But a few words of persuasion, and a modest hint that + he might cherish hopes in the future if he served me obediently in the + present, did wonders in reconciling him to the necessity of meeting my + wishes. He asked helplessly for ‘instructions’ when it was time for him to + leave me and travel back by the evening train. I could give him none, for + I had no idea as yet of what the legal people might or might not do. ‘But + suppose something happens,’ he persisted, ‘that I don’t understand, what + am I to do, so far away from you?’ I could only give him one answer. ‘Do + nothing,’ I said. ‘Whatever it is, hold your tongue about it, and write, + or come up to London immediately to consult me.’ With those parting + directions, and with an understanding that we were to correspond + regularly, I let him kiss my hand, and sent him off to the train. + </p> + <p> + “Now that I am alone again, and able to think calmly of the interview + between me and my elderly admirer, I find myself recalling a certain + change in old Bashwood’s manner which puzzled me at the time, and which + puzzles me still. + </p> + <p> + “Even in his first moments of agitation at seeing me, I thought that his + eyes rested on my face with a new kind of interest while I was speaking to + him. Besides this, he dropped a word or two afterward, in telling me of + his lonely life at Thorpe Ambrose, which seemed to imply that he had been + sustained in his solitude by a feeling of confidence about his future + relations with me when we next met. If he had been a younger and a bolder + man (and if any such discovery had been possible), I should almost have + suspected him of having found out something about my past life which had + made him privately confident of controlling me, if I showed any + disposition to deceive and desert him again. But such an idea as this in + connection with old Bashwood is simply absurd. Perhaps I am overexcited by + the suspense and anxiety of my present position? Perhaps the merest + fancies and suspicions are leading me astray? Let this be as it may, I + have, at any rate, more serious subjects than the subject of old Bashwood + to occupy me now. Tomorrow’s post may tell me what Armadale’s + representatives think of the claim of Armadale’s widow.” + </p> + <p> + “November 26th.—The answer has arrived this morning, in the form (as + Bashwood supposed) of a letter from Mr. Darch. The crabbed old lawyer + acknowledges my letter in three lines. Before he takes any steps, or + expresses any opinion on the subject, he wants evidence of identity as + well as the evidence of the certificate; and he ventures to suggest that + it may be desirable, before we go any further, to refer him to my legal + advisers. + </p> + <p> + “Two o’clock.—The doctor called shortly after twelve to say that he + had found a lodging for me within twenty minutes’ walk of the Sanitarium. + In return for his news, I showed him Mr. Darch’s letter. He took it away + at once to his lawyers, and came back with the necessary information for + my guidance. I have answered Mr. Darch by sending him the address of my + legal advisers—otherwise, the doctor’s lawyers—without making + any comment on the desire that he has expressed for additional evidence of + the marriage. This is all that can be done to-day. To-morrow will bring + with it events of greater interest, for to-morrow the doctor is to make + his Declaration before the magistrate, and to-morrow I am to move to my + new lodging in my widow’s weeds.” + </p> + <p> + “November 27th.—Fairweather Vale Villas.—The Declaration has + been made, with all the necessary formalities. And I have taken + possession, in my widow’s costume, of my new rooms. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be excited by the opening of this new act in the drama, and by + the venturesome part that I am playing in it myself. Strange to say, I am + quiet and depressed. The thought of Midwinter has followed me to my new + abode, and is pressing on me heavily at this moment. I have no fear of any + accident happening, in the interval that must still pass before I step + publicly into the place of Armadale’s widow. But when that time comes, and + when Midwinter finds me (as sooner or later find me he must!) figuring in + my false character, and settled in the position that I have usurped—<i>then</i>, + I ask myself, What will happen? The answer still comes as it first came to + me this morning, when I put on my widow’s dress. Now, as then, the + presentiment is fixed in my mind that he will kill me. If it was not too + late to draw back—Absurd! I shall shut up my journal.” + </p> + <p> + “November 28th.—The lawyers have heard from Mr. Darch, and have sent + him the Declaration by return of post. + </p> + <p> + “When the doctor brought me this news, I asked him whether his lawyers + were aware of my present address; and, finding that he had not yet + mentioned it to them, I begged that he would continue to keep it a secret + for the future. The doctor laughed. ‘Are you afraid of Mr. Darch’s + stealing a march on us, and coming to attack you personally?’ he asked. I + accepted the imputation, as the easiest way of making him comply with my + request. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I am afraid of Mr. Darch.’ + </p> + <p> + “My spirits have risen since the doctor left me. There is a pleasant + sensation of security in feeling that no strangers are in possession of my + address. I am easy enough in my mind to-day to notice how wonderfully well + I look in my widow’s weeds, and to make myself agreeable to the people of + the house. + </p> + <p> + “Midwinter disturbed me a little again last night; but I have got over the + ghastly delusion which possessed me yesterday. I know better now than to + dread violence from him when he discovers what I have done. And there is + still less fear of his stooping to assert his claim to a woman who has + practiced on him such a deception as mine. The one serious trial that I + shall be put to when the day of reckoning comes will be the trial of + preserving my false character in his presence. I shall be safe in his + loathing and contempt for me, after that. On the day when I have denied + him to his face, I shall have seen the last of him forever. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I be able to deny him to his face? Shall I be able to look at him + and speak to him as if he had never been more to me than a friend? How do + I know till the time comes? Was there ever such an infatuated fool as I + am, to be writing of him at all, when writing only encourages me to think + of him? I will make a new resolution. From this time forth, his name shall + appear no more in these pages.” + </p> + <p> + “Monday, December 1st.—The last month of the worn-out old year 1851! + If I allowed myself to look back, what a miserable year I should see added + to all the other miserable years that are gone! But I have made my + resolution to look forward only, and I mean to keep it. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to record of the last two days, except that on the + twenty-ninth I remembered Bashwood, and wrote to tell him of my new + address. This morning the lawyers heard again from Mr. Darch. He + acknowledges the receipt of the Declaration, but postpones stating the + decision at which he has arrived until he has communicated with the + trustees under the late Mr. Blanchard’s will, and has received his final + instructions from his client, Miss Blanchard. The doctor’s lawyers declare + that this last letter is a mere device for gaining time—with what + object they are, of course, not in a position to guess. The doctor himself + says, facetiously, it is the usual lawyer’s object of making a long bill. + My own idea is that Mr. Darch has his suspicions of something wrong, and + that his purpose in trying to gain time—” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Ten, at night.—I had written as far as that last unfinished + sentence (toward four in the afternoon) when I was startled by hearing a + cab drive up to the door. I went to the window, and got there just in time + to see old Bashwood getting out with an activity of which I should never + have supposed him capable. So little did I anticipate the tremendous + discovery that was going to burst on me in another minute, that I turned + to the glass, and wondered what the susceptible old gentleman would say to + me in my widow’s cap. + </p> + <p> + “The instant he entered the room, I saw that some serious disaster had + happened. His eyes were wild, his wig was awry. He approached me with a + strange mixture of eagerness and dismay. ‘I’ve done as you told me,’ he + whispered, breathlessly. ‘I’ve held my tongue about it, and come straight + to <i>you</i>!’ He caught me by the hand before I could speak, with a + boldness quite new in my experience of him. ‘Oh how can I break it to + you!’ he burst out. ‘I’m beside myself when I think of it!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘When you <i>can</i> speak,’ I said, putting him into a chair, ‘speak + out. I see in your face that you bring me news I don’t look for from + Thorpe Ambrose.’ + </p> + <p> + “He put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat, and drew out a + letter. He looked at the letter, and looked at me. ‘New—new—news + you don’t look for,’ he stammered; ‘but not from Thorpe Ambrose!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not from Thorpe Ambrose!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No. From the sea!’ + </p> + <p> + “The first dawning of the truth broke on me at those words. I couldn’t + speak—I could only hold out my hand to him for the letter. + </p> + <p> + “He still shrank from giving it to me. ‘I daren’t! I daren’t!’ he said to + himself, vacantly. ‘The shock of it might be the death of her.’ + </p> + <p> + “I snatched the letter from him. One glance at the writing on the address + was enough. My hands fell on my lap, with the letter fast held in them. I + sat petrified, without moving, without speaking, without hearing a word of + what Bashwood was saying to me, and slowly realized the terrible truth. + The man whose widow I had claimed to be was a living man to confront me! + In vain I had mixed the drink at Naples—in vain I had betrayed him + into Manuel’s hands. Twice I had set the deadly snare for him, and twice + Armadale had escaped me! I came to my sense of outward things again, and + found Bashwood on his knees at my feet, crying. + </p> + <p> + “‘You look angry,’ he murmured, helplessly. ‘Are you angry with <i>me</i>? + Oh, if you only knew what hopes I had when we last saw each other, and how + cruelly that letter has dashed them all to the ground!’ + </p> + <p> + “I put the miserable old creature back from me, but very gently. ‘Hush!’ I + said. ‘Don’t distress me now. I want composure; I want to read the + letter.’ + </p> + <p> + “He went away submissively to the other end of the room. As soon as my eye + was off him, I heard him say to himself, with impotent malignity, ‘If the + sea had been of my mind, the sea would have drowned him!’ + </p> + <p> + “One by one I slowly opened the folds of the letter; feeling, while I did + so, the strangest incapability of fixing my attention on the very lines + that I was burning to read. But why dwell any longer on sensations which I + can’t describe? It will be more to the purpose if I place the letter + itself, for future reference, on this page of my journal. + </p> + <p> + “‘Fiume, Illyria, November 21, 1851. + </p> + <p> + “MR. BASHWOOD—The address I date from will surprise you; and you + will be more surprised still when you hear how it is that I come to write + to you from a port on the Adriatic Sea. + </p> + <p> + “I have been the victim of a rascally attempt at robbery and murder. The + robbery has succeeded; and it is only through the mercy of God that the + murder did not succeed too. + </p> + <p> + “I hired a yacht rather more than a month ago at Naples; and sailed (I am + glad to think now) without any friend with me, for Messina. From Messina I + went for a cruise in the Adriatic. Two days out we were caught in a storm. + Storms get up in a hurry, and go down in a hurry, in those parts. The + vessel behaved nobly: I declare I feel the tears in my eyes now, when I + think of her at the bottom of the sea! Toward sunset it began to moderate; + and by midnight, except for a long, smooth swell, the sea was as quiet as + need be. I went below, a little tired (having helped in working the yacht + while the gale lasted), and fell asleep in five minutes. About two hours + after, I was woke by something falling into my cabin through a chink of + the ventilator in the upper part of the door. I jumped up, and found a bit + of paper with a key wrapped in it, and with writing on the inner side, in + a hand which it was not very easy to read. + </p> + <p> + “Up to this time I had not had the ghost of a suspicion that I was alone + at sea with a gang of murderous vagabonds (excepting one only) who would + stick at nothing. I had got on very well with my sailing-master (the worst + scoundrel of the lot), and better still with his English mate. The + sailors, being all foreigners, I had very little to say to. They did their + work, and no quarrels and nothing unpleasant happened. If anybody had told + me, before I went to bed on the night after the storm, that the + sailing-master and the crew and the mate (who had been no better than the + rest of them at starting) were all in a conspiracy to rob me of the money + I had on board, and then to drown me in my own vessel afterward, I should + have laughed in his face. Just remember that; and then fancy for yourself + (for I’m sure I can’t tell you) what I must have thought when I opened the + paper round the key, and read what I now copy (from the mate’s writing), + as follows: + </p> + <p> + “‘SIR—Stay in your bed till you hear a boat shove off from the + starboard side, or you are a dead man. Your money is stolen; and in five + minutes’ time the yacht will be scuttled, and the cabin hatch will be + nailed down on you. Dead men tell no tales; and the sailing-master’s + notion is to leave proofs afloat that the vessel has foundered with all on + board. It was his doing, to begin with, and we were all in it. I can’t + find it in my heart not to give you a chance for your life. It’s a bad + chance, but I can do no more. I should be murdered myself if I didn’t seem + to go with the rest. The key of your cabin door is thrown back to you, + inside this. Don’t be alarmed when you hear the hammer above. I shall do + it, and I shall have short nails in my hand as well as long, and use the + short ones only. Wait till you hear the boat with all of us shove off, and + then pry up the cabin hatch with your back. The vessel will float a + quarter of an hour after the holes are bored in her. Slip into the sea on + the port side, and keep the vessel between you and the boat. You will find + plenty of loose lumber, wrenched away on purpose, drifting about to hold + on by. It’s a fine night and a smooth sea, and there’s a chance that a + ship may pick you up while there’s life left in you. I can do no more.—Yours + truly, J. M.’ + </p> + <p> + “As I came to those last words, I heard the hammering down of the hatch + over my head. I don’t suppose I’m more of a coward than most people, but + there was a moment when the sweat poured down me like rain. I got to be my + own man again before the hammering was done, and found myself thinking of + somebody very dear to me in England. I said to myself: ‘I’ll have a try + for my life, for her sake, though the chances are dead against me.’ + </p> + <p> + “I put a letter from that person I have mentioned into one of the + stoppered bottles of my dressing-case, along with the mate’s warning, in + case I lived to see him again. I hung this, and a flask of whisky, in a + sling round my neck; and, after first dressing myself in my confusion, + thought better of it, and stripped, again, for swimming, to my shirt and + drawers. By the time I had done that the hammering was over and there was + such a silence that I could hear the water bubbling into the scuttled + vessel amidships. The next noise was the noise of the boat and the + villains in her (always excepting my friend, the mate) shoving off from + the starboard side. I waited for the splash of the oars in the water, and + then got my back under the hatch. The mate had kept his promise. I lifted + it easily—crept across the deck, under cover of the bulwarks, on all + fours—and slipped into the sea on the port side. Lots of things were + floating about. I took the first thing I came to—a hen-coop—and + swam away with it about a couple of hundred yards, keeping the yacht + between me and the boat. Having got that distance, I was seized with a + shivering fit, and I stopped (fearing the cramp next) to take a pull at my + flask. When I had closed the flask again, I turned for a moment to look + back, and saw the yacht in the act of sinking. In a minute more there was + nothing between me and the boat but the pieces of wreck that had been + purposely thrown out to float. The moon was shining; and, if they had had + a glass in the boat, I believe they might have seen my head, though I + carefully kept the hen-coop between me and them. + </p> + <p> + “As it was, they laid on their oars; and I heard loud voices among them + disputing. After what seemed an age to me, I discovered what the dispute + was about. The boat’s head was suddenly turned my way. Some cleverer + scoundrel than the rest (the sailing-master, I dare say) had evidently + persuaded them to row back over the place where the yacht had gone down, + and make quite sure that I had gone down with her. + </p> + <p> + “They were more than half-way across the distance that separated us, and I + had given myself up for lost, when I heard a cry from one of them, and saw + the boat’s progress suddenly checked. In a minute or two more the boat’s + head was turned again; and they rowed straight away from me like men + rowing for their lives. + </p> + <p> + “I looked on one side toward the land, and saw nothing. I looked on the + other toward the sea, and discovered what the boat’s crew had discovered + before me—a sail in the distance, growing steadily brighter and + bigger in the moonlight the longer I looked at it. In a quarter of an hour + more the vessel was within hail of me, and the crew had got me on board. + </p> + <p> + “They were all foreigners, and they quite deafened me by their jabber. I + tried signs, but before I could make them understand me I was seized with + another shivering fit, and was carried below. The vessel held on her + course, I have no doubt, but I was in no condition to know anything about + it. Before morning I was in a fever; and from that time I can remember + nothing clearly till I came to my senses at this place, and found myself + under the care of a Hungarian merchant, the consignee (as they call it) of + the coasting vessel that had picked me up. He speaks English as well or + better than I do; and he has treated me with a kindness which I can find + no words to praise. When he was a young man he was in England himself, + learning business, and he says he has remembrances of our country which + make his heart warm toward an Englishman. He has fitted me out with + clothes, and has lent me the money to travel with, as soon as the doctor + allows me to start for home. Supposing I don’t get a relapse, I shall be + fit to travel in a week’s time from this. If I can catch the mail at + Trieste, and stand the fatigue, I shall be back again at Thorpe Ambrose in + a week or ten days at most after you get my letter. You will agree with me + that it is a terribly long letter. But I can’t help that. I seem to have + lost my old knack at putting things short, and finishing on the first + page. However, I am near the end now; for I have nothing left to mention + but the reason why I write about what has happened to me, instead of + waiting till I get home, and telling it all by word of mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy my head is still muddled by my illness. At any rate, it only + struck me this morning that there is barely a chance of some vessel having + passed the place where the yacht foundered, and having picked up the + furniture, and other things wrenched out of her and left to float. Some + false report of my being drowned may, in that case, have reached England. + If this has happened (which I hope to God may be an unfounded fear on my + part), go directly to Major Milroy at the cottage. Show him this letter—I + have written it quite as much for his eye as for yours—and then give + him the inclosed note, and ask him if he doesn’t think the circumstances + justify me in hoping he will send it to Miss Milroy. I can’t explain why I + don’t write directly to the major, or to Miss Milroy, instead of to you. I + can only say there are considerations I am bound in honor to respect, + which oblige me to act in this roundabout way. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t ask you to answer this, for I shall be on my way home, I hope, + long before your letter could reach me in this out-of-the-way place. + Whatever you do, don’t lose a moment in going to Major Milroy. Go, on + second thoughts, whether the loss of the yacht is known in England or not. + </p> + <p> + “Yours truly, ALLAN ARMADALE.” + </p> + <p> + “I looked up when I had come to the end of the letter, and saw, for the + first time, that Bashwood had left his chair and had placed himself + opposite to me. He was intently studying my face, with the inquiring + expression of a man who was trying to read my thoughts. His eyes fell + guiltily when they met mine, and he shrank away to his chair. Believing, + as he did, that I was really married to Armadale, was he trying to + discover whether the news of Armadale’s rescue from the sea was good news + or bad news in my estimation? It was no time then for entering into + explanations with him. The first thing to be done was to communicate + instantly with the doctor. I called Bashwood back to me and gave him my + hand. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have done me a service,’ I said, ‘which makes us closer friends than + ever. I shall say more about this, and about other matters of some + interest to both of us, later in the day. I want you now to lend me Mr. + Armadale’s letter (which I promise to bring back) and to wait here till I + return. Will you do that for me, Mr. Bashwood?’ + </p> + <p> + “He would do anything I asked him, he said. I went into the bedroom and + put on my bonnet and shawl. + </p> + <p> + “‘Let me be quite sure of the facts before I leave you,’ I resumed, when I + was ready to go out. ‘You have not shown this letter to anybody but me?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Not a living soul has seen it but our two selves.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What have you done with the note inclosed to Miss Milroy?’ + </p> + <p> + “He produced it from his pocket. I ran it over rapidly—saw that + there was nothing in it of the slightest importance—and put it in + the fire on the spot. That done, I left Bashwood in the sitting-room, and + went to the Sanitarium, with Armadale’s letter in my hand. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor had gone out, and the servant was unable to say positively at + what time he would be back. I went into his study, and wrote a line + preparing him for the news I had brought with me, which I sealed up, with + Armadale’s letter, in an envelope, to await his return. Having told the + servant I would call again in an hour, I left the place. + </p> + <p> + “It was useless to go back to my lodgings and speak to Bashwood, until I + knew first what the doctor meant to do. I walked about the neighborhood, + up and down new streets and crescents and squares, with a kind of dull, + numbed feeling in me, which prevented, not only all voluntary exercise of + thought, but all sensation of bodily fatigue. I remembered the same + feeling overpowering me, years ago, on the morning when the people of the + prison came to take me into court to be tried for my life. All that + frightful scene came back again to my mind in the strangest manner, as if + it had been a scene in which some other person had figured. Once or twice + I wondered, in a heavy, senseless way, why they had not hanged me! + </p> + <p> + “When I went back to the Sanitarium, I was informed that the doctor had + returned half an hour since, and that he was in his own room anxiously + waiting to see me. + </p> + <p> + “I went into the study, and found him sitting close by the fire with his + head down and his hands on his knees. On the table near him, beside + Armadale’s letter and my note, I saw, in the little circle of light thrown + by the reading-lamp, an open railway guide. Was he meditating flight? It + was impossible to tell from his face, when he looked up at me, what he was + meditating, or how the shock had struck him when he first discovered that + Armadale was a living man. + </p> + <p> + “‘Take a seat near the fire,’ he said. ‘It’s very raw and cold to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + “I took a chair in silence. In silence, on his side, the doctor sat + rubbing his knees before the fire. + </p> + <p> + “‘Have you nothing to say to me?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He rose, and suddenly removed the shade from the reading-lamp, so that + the light fell on my face. + </p> + <p> + “‘You are not looking well,’ he said. ‘What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘My head feels dull, and my eyes are heavy and hot,’ I replied. ‘The + weather, I suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was strange how we both got further and further from the one vitally + important subject which we had both come together to discuss! + </p> + <p> + “‘I think a cup of tea would do you good,’ remarked the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I accepted his suggestion; and he ordered the tea. While it was coming, + he walked up and down the room, and I sat by the fire, and not a word + passed between us on either side. + </p> + <p> + “The tea revived me; and the doctor noticed a change for the better in my + face. He sat down opposite to me at the table, and spoke out at last. + </p> + <p> + “‘If I had ten thousand pounds at this moment,’ he began, ‘I would give + the whole of it never to have compromised myself in your desperate + speculation on Mr. Armadale’s death!’ + </p> + <p> + “He said those words with an abruptness, almost with a violence, which was + strangely uncharacteristic of his ordinary manner. Was he frightened + himself, or was he trying to frighten me? I determined to make him explain + himself at the outset, so far as I was concerned. ‘Wait a moment, doctor,’ + I said. ‘Do you hold me responsible for what has happened?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Certainly not,’ he replied, stiffly. ‘Neither you nor anybody could have + foreseen what has happened. When I say I would give ten thousand pounds to + be out of this business, I am blaming nobody but myself. And when I tell + you next that I, for one, won’t allow Mr. Armadale’s resurrection from the + sea to be the ruin of me without a fight for it, I tell you, my dear + madam, one of the plainest truths I ever told to man or woman in the whole + course of my life. Don’t suppose I am invidiously separating my interests + from yours in the common danger that now threatens us both. I simply + indicate the difference in the risk that we have respectively run. <i>You</i> + have not sunk the whole of your resources in establishing a Sanitarium; + and <i>you</i> have not made a false declaration before a magistrate, + which is punishable as perjury by the law.’ + </p> + <p> + “I interrupted him again. His selfishness did me more good than his tea: + it roused my temper effectually. ‘Suppose we let your risk and my risk + alone, and come to the point,’ I said. ‘What do you mean by making a fight + for it? I see a railway guide on your table. Does making a fight for it + mean—running away?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Running away?’ repeated the doctor. ‘You appear to forget that every + farthing I have in the world is embarked in this establishment.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You stop here, then?’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Unquestionably!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And what do you mean to do when Mr. Armadale comes to England?’ + </p> + <p> + “A solitary fly, the last of his race whom the winter had spared, was + buzzing feebly about the doctor’s face. He caught it before he answered + me, and held it out across the table in his closed hand. + </p> + <p> + “‘If this fly’s name was Armadale,’ he said, ‘and if you had got him as I + have got him now, what would <i>you</i> do?’ + </p> + <p> + “His eyes, fixed on my face up to this time, turned significantly, as he + ended this question, to my widow’s dress. I, too, looked at it when he + looked. A thrill of the old deadly hatred and the old deadly determination + ran through me again. + </p> + <p> + “‘I should kill him,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor started to his feet (with the fly still in his hand), and + looked at me—a little too theatrically—with an expression of + the utmost horror. + </p> + <p> + “‘Kill him!’ repeated the doctor, in a paroxysm of virtuous alarm. + ‘Violence—murderous violence—in My Sanitarium! You take my + breath away!’ + </p> + <p> + “I caught his eye while he was expressing himself in this elaborately + indignant manner, scrutinizing me with a searching curiosity which was, to + say the least of it, a little at variance with the vehemence of his + language and the warmth of his tone. He laughed uneasily when our eyes + met, and recovered his smoothly confidential manner in the instant that + elapsed before he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “‘I beg a thousand pardons,’ he said. ‘I ought to have known better than + to take a lady too literally at her word. Permit me to remind you, + however, that the circumstances are too serious for anything in the nature + of—let us say, an exaggeration or a joke. You shall hear what I + propose, without further preface.’ He paused, and resumed his figurative + use of the fly imprisoned in his hand. ‘Here is Mr. Armadale. I can let + him out, or keep him in, just as I please—and he knows it. I say to + him,’ continued the doctor, facetiously addressing the fly, ‘Give me + proper security, Mr. Armadale, that no proceedings of any sort shall be + taken against either this lady or myself, and I will let you out of the + hollow of my hand. Refuse—and, be the risk what it may, I will keep + you in.” Can you doubt, my dear madam, what Mr. Armadale’s answer is, + sooner or later, certain to be? Can you doubt,’ said the doctor, suiting + the action to the word, and letting the fly go, ‘that it will end to the + entire satisfaction of all parties, in this way?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I won’t say at present,’ I answered, ‘whether I doubt or not. Let me + make sure that I understand you first. You propose, if I am not mistaken, + to shut the doors of this place on Mr. Armadale, and not to let him out + again until he has agreed to the terms which it is our interest to impose + on him? May I ask, in that case, how you mean to make him walk into the + trap that you have set for him here?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I propose,’ said the doctor, with his hand on the railway guide, + ‘ascertaining first at what time during every evening of this month the + tidal trains from Dover and Folkestone reach the London Bridge terminus. + And I propose, next, posting a person whom Mr. Armadale knows, and whom + you and I can trust, to wait the arrival of the trains, and to meet our + man at the moment when he steps out of the railway carriage.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Have you thought,’ I inquired, ‘of who the person is to be?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have thought,’ said the doctor, taking up Armadale’s letter ‘of the + person to whom this letter is addressed.’ + </p> + <p> + “The answer startled me. Was it possible that he and Bashwood knew one + another? I put the question immediately. + </p> + <p> + “‘Until to-day I never so much as heard of the gentleman’s name,’ said the + doctor. ‘I have simply pursued the inductive process of reasoning, for + which we are indebted to the immortal Bacon. How does this very important + letter come into your possession? I can’t insult you by supposing it to + have been stolen. Consequently, it has come to you with the leave and + license of the person to whom it is addressed. Consequently, that person + is in your confidence. Consequently, he is the first person I think of. + You see the process? Very good. Permit me a question or two, on the + subject of Mr. Bashwood, before we go on any further.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor’s questions went as straight to the point as usual. My answers + informed him that Mr. Bashwood stood toward Armadale in the relation of + steward; that he had received the letter at Thorpe Ambrose that morning, + and had brought it straight to me by the first train; that he had not + shown it, or spoken of it before leaving, to Major Milroy or to any one + else; that I had not obtained this service at his hands by trusting him + with my secret; that I had communicated with him in the character of + Armadale’s widow; that he had suppressed the letter, under those + circumstances, solely in obedience to a general caution I had given him to + keep his own counsel, if anything strange happened at Thorpe Ambrose, + until he had first consulted me; and, lastly, that the reason why he had + done as I told him in this matter, was that in this matter, and in all + others, Mr. Bashwood was blindly devoted to my interests. + </p> + <p> + “At that point in the interrogatory, the doctor’s eyes began to look at me + distrustfully behind the doctor’s spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “‘What is the secret of this blind devotion of Mr. Bashwood’s to your + interests?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I hesitated for a moment—in pity to Bashwood, not in pity to + myself. ‘If you must know,’ I answered, ‘Mr. Bashwood is in love with me.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ay! ay!’ exclaimed the doctor, with an air of relief. ‘I begin to + understand now. Is he a young man?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is an old man.’ + </p> + <p> + “The doctor laid himself back in his chair, and chuckled softly. ‘Better + and better!’ he said. ‘Here is the very man we want. Who so fit as Mr. + Armadale’s steward to meet Mr. Armadale on his return to London? And who + so capable of influencing Mr. Bashwood in the proper way as the charming + object of Mr. Bashwood’s admiration?’ + </p> + <p> + “There could be no doubt that Bashwood was the man to serve the doctor’s + purpose, and that my influence was to be trusted to make him serve it. The + difficulty was not here: the difficulty was in the unanswered question + that I had put to the doctor a minute since. I put it to him again. + </p> + <p> + “‘Suppose Mr. Armadale’s steward meets his employer at the terminus,’ I + said. ‘May I ask once more how Mr. Armadale is to be persuaded to come + here?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t think me ungallant,’ rejoined the doctor in his gentlest manner, + ‘if I ask, on my side, how are men persuaded to do nine-tenths of the + foolish acts of their lives? They are persuaded by your charming sex. The + weak side of every man is the woman’s side of him. We have only to + discover the woman’s side of Mr. Armadale—to tickle him on it gently—and + to lead him our way with a silken string. I observe here,’ pursued the + doctor, opening Armadale’s letter, ‘a reference to a certain young lady, + which looks promising. Where is the note that Mr. Armadale speaks of as + addressed to Miss Milroy?’ + </p> + <p> + “Instead of answering him, I started, in a sudden burst of excitement, to + my feet. The instant he mentioned Miss Milroy’s name all that I had heard + from Bashwood of her illness, and of the cause of it, rushed back into my + memory. I saw the means of decoying Armadale into the Sanitarium as + plainly as I saw the doctor on the other side of the table, wondering at + the extraordinary change in me. What a luxury it was to make Miss Milroy + serve my interests at last! + </p> + <p> + “‘Never mind the note,’ I said. ‘It’s burned, for fear of accidents. I can + tell you all (and more) than the note could have told you. Miss Milroy + cuts the knot! Miss Milroy ends the difficulty! She is privately engaged + to him. She has heard the false report of his death; and she has been + seriously ill at Thorpe Ambrose ever since. When Bashwood meets him at the + station, the very first question he is certain to ask—’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I see!’ exclaimed the doctor, anticipating me. ‘Mr. Bashwood has nothing + to do but to help the truth with a touch of fiction. When he tells his + master that the false report has reached Miss Milroy, he has only to add + that the shock has affected her head, and that she is here under medical + care. Perfect! perfect! We shall have him at the Sanitarium as fast as the + fastest cab-horse in London can bring him to us. And mind! no risk—no + necessity for trusting other people. This is not a mad-house; this is not + a licensed establishment; no doctors’ certificates are necessary here! My + dear lady, I congratulate you; I congratulate myself. Permit me to hand + you the railway guide, with my best compliments to Mr. Bashwood, and with + the page turned down for him, as an additional attention, at the right + place.’ + </p> + <p> + “Remembering how long I had kept Bashwood waiting for me, I took the book + at once, and wished the doctor good-evening without further ceremony. As + he politely opened the door for me, he reverted, without the slightest + necessity for doing so, and without a word from me to lead to it, to the + outburst of virtuous alarm which had escaped him at the earlier part of + our interview. + </p> + <p> + “‘I do hope,’ he said, ‘that you will kindly forget and forgive my + extraordinary want of tact and perception when—in short, when I + caught the fly. I positively blush at my own stupidity in putting a + literal interpretation on a lady’s little joke! Violence in My + Sanitarium!’ exclaimed the doctor, with his eyes once more fixed + attentively on my face—‘violence in this enlightened nineteenth + century! Was there ever anything so ridiculous? Do fasten your cloak + before you go out, it is so cold and raw! Shall I escort you? Shall I send + my servant? Ah, you were always independent! always, if I may say so, a + host in yourself! May I call to-morrow morning, and hear what you have + settled with Mr. Bashwood?’ + </p> + <p> + “I said yes, and got away from him at last. In a quarter of an hour more I + was back at my lodgings, and was informed by the servant that ‘the elderly + gentleman’ was still waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + “I have not got the heart or the patience—I hardly know which—to + waste many words on what passed between me and Bashwood. It was so easy, + so degradingly easy, to pull the strings of the poor old puppet in any way + I pleased! I met none of the difficulties which I should have been obliged + to meet in the case of a younger man, or of a man less infatuated with + admiration for me. I left the allusions to Miss Milroy in Armadale’s + letter, which had naturally puzzled him, to be explained at a future time. + I never even troubled myself to invent a plausible reason for wishing him + to meet Armadale at the terminus, and to entrap him by a stratagem into + the doctor’s Sanitarium. All that I found it necessary to do was to refer + to what I had written to Mr. Bashwood, on my arrival in London, and to + what I had afterward said to him, when he came to answer my letter + personally at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + “‘You know already,’ I said, ‘that my marriage has not been a happy one. + Draw your own conclusions from that; and don’t press me to tell you + whether the news of Mr. Armadale’s rescue from the sea is, or is not, the + welcome news that it ought to be to his wife!’ That was enough to put his + withered old face in a glow, and to set his withered old hopes growing + again. I had only to add, ‘If you will do what I ask you to do, no matter + how incomprehensible and how mysterious my request may seem to be; and if + you will accept my assurances that you shall run no risk yourself, and + that you shall receive the proper explanations at the proper time, you + will have such a claim on my gratitude and my regard as no man living has + ever had yet!’ I had only to say those words, and to point them by a look + and a stolen pressure of his hand, and I had him at my feet, blindly eager + to obey me. If he could have seen what I thought of myself; but that + doesn’t matter: he saw nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Hours have passed since I sent him away (pledged to secrecy, possessed of + his instructions, and provided with his time-table) to the hotel near the + terminus, at which he is to stay till Armadale appears on the railway + platform. The excitement of the earlier part of the evening has all worn + off; and the dull, numbed sensation has got me again. Are my energies + wearing out, I wonder, just at the time when I most want them? Or is some + foreshadowing of disaster creeping over me which I don’t yet understand? + </p> + <p> + “I might be in a humor to sit here for some time longer, thinking thoughts + like these, and letting them find their way into words at their own will + and pleasure, if my Diary would only let me. But my idle pen has been busy + enough to make its way to the end of the volume. I have reached the last + morsel of space left on the last page; and whether I like it or not, I + must close the book this time for good and all, when I close it to-night. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, my old friend and companion of many a miserable day! Having + nothing else to be fond of, I half suspect myself of having been + unreasonably fond of <i>you</i>. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool I am!” + </p> + <p> + THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0048" id="H2_4_0048"></a> BOOK THE LAST. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0049" id="H2_4_0049"></a> I. AT THE TERMINUS. + </h2> + <p> + On the night of the 2d of December, Mr. Bashwood took up his post of + observation at the terminus of the South-eastern Railway for the first + time. It was an earlier date, by six days, than the date which Allan had + himself fixed for his return. But the doctor, taking counsel of his + medical experience, had considered it just probable that “Mr. Armadale + might be perverse enough, at his enviable age, to recover sooner than his + medical advisers might have anticipated.” For caution’s sake, therefore, + Mr. Bashwood was instructed to begin watching the arrival of the tidal + trains on the day after he had received his employer’s letter. + </p> + <p> + From the 2d to the 7th of December, the steward waited punctually on the + platform, saw the trains come in, and satisfied himself, evening after + evening, that the travelers were all strangers to him. From the 2d to the + 7th of December, Miss Gwilt (to return to the name under which she is best + known in these pages) received his daily report, sometimes delivered + personally, sometimes sent by letter. The doctor, to whom the reports were + communicated, received them in his turn with unabated confidence in the + precautions that had been adopted up to the morning of the 8th. On that + date the irritation of continued suspense had produced a change for the + worse in Miss Gwilt’s variable temper, which was perceptible to every one + about her, and which, strangely enough, was reflected by an equally marked + change in the doctor’s manner when he came to pay his usual visit. By a + coincidence so extraordinary that his enemies might have suspected it of + not being a coincidence at all, the morning on which Miss Gwilt lost her + patience proved to be also the morning on which the doctor lost his + confidence for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “No news, of course,” he said, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “Well! + well!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt looked up at him irritably from her work. + </p> + <p> + “You seem strangely depressed this morning,” she said. “What are you + afraid of now?” + </p> + <p> + “The imputation of being afraid, madam,” answered the doctor, solemnly, + “is not an imputation to cast rashly on any man—even when he belongs + to such an essentially peaceful profession as mine. I am not afraid. I am + (as you more correctly put it in the first instance) strangely depressed. + My nature is, as you know, naturally sanguine, and I only see to-day what + but for my habitual hopefulness I might have seen, and ought to have seen, + a week since.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt impatiently threw down her work. “If words cost money,” she + said, “the luxury of talking would be rather an expensive luxury in your + case!” + </p> + <p> + “Which I might have seen, and ought to have seen,” reiterated the doctor, + without taking the slightest notice of the interruption, “a week since. To + put it plainly, I feel by no means so certain as I did that Mr. Armadale + will consent, without a struggle, to the terms which it is my interest + (and in a minor degree yours) to impose on him. Observe! I don’t question + our entrapping him successfully into the Sanitarium: I only doubt whether + he will prove quite as manageable as I originally anticipated when we have + got him there. Say,” remarked the doctor, raising his eyes for the first + time, and fixing them in steady inquiry on Miss Gwilt—“say that he + is bold, obstinate, what you please; and that he holds out—holds out + for weeks together, for months together, as men in similar situations to + his have held out before him. What follows? The risk of keeping him + forcibly in concealment—of suppressing him, if I may so express + myself—increases at compound interest, and becomes Enormous! My + house is at this moment virtually ready for patients. Patients may present + themselves in a week’s time. Patients may communicate with Mr. Armadale, + or Mr. Armadale may communicate with patients. A note may be smuggled out + of the house, and may reach the Commissioners in Lunacy. Even in the case + of an unlicensed establishment like mine, those gentlemen—no! those + chartered despots in a land of liberty—have only to apply to the + Lord Chancellor for an order, and to enter (by heavens, to enter My + Sanitarium!) and search the house from top to bottom at a moment’s notice! + I don’t wish to despond; I don’t wish to alarm you; I don’t pretend to say + that the means we are taking to secure your own safety are any other than + the best means at our disposal. All I ask you to do is to imagine the + Commissioners in the house—and then to conceive the consequences. + The consequences!” repeated the doctor, getting sternly on his feet, and + taking up his hat as if he meant to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + “Have you anything more to say?” asked Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any remarks,” rejoined the doctor, “to offer on your side?” + </p> + <p> + He stood, hat in hand, waiting. For a full minute the two looked at each + other in silence. + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “I think I understand you,” she said, suddenly recovering her composure. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” returned the doctor, with his hand to his ear. “What + did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “If you happened to catch another fly this morning,” said Miss Gwilt, with + a bitterly sarcastic emphasis on the words, “I might be capable of + shocking you by another ‘little joke.’” + </p> + <p> + The doctor held up both hands, in polite deprecation, and looked as if he + was beginning to recover his good humor again. + </p> + <p> + “Hard,” he murmured, gently, “not to have forgiven me that unlucky blunder + of mine, even yet!” + </p> + <p> + “What else have you to say? I am waiting for you,” said Miss Gwilt. She + turned her chair to the window scornfully, and took up her work again, as + she spoke. + </p> + <p> + The doctor came behind her, and put his hand on the back of her chair. + </p> + <p> + “I have a question to ask, in the first place,” he said; “and a measure of + necessary precaution to suggest, in the second. If you will honor me with + your attention, I will put the question first.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “You know that Mr. Armadale is alive,” pursued the doctor, “and you know + that he is coming back to England. Why do you continue to wear your + widow’s dress?” + </p> + <p> + She answered him without an instant’s hesitation, steadily going on with + her work. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am of a sanguine disposition, like you. I mean to trust to the + chapter of accidents to the very last. Mr. Armadale may die yet, on his + way home.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose he gets home alive—what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is another chance still left.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “He may die in your Sanitarium.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” remonstrated the doctor, in the deep bass which he reserved for + his outbursts of virtuous indignation. “Wait! you spoke of the chapter of + accidents,” he resumed, gliding back into his softer conversational tones. + “Yes! yes! of course. I understand you this time. Even the healing art is + at the mercy of accidents; even such a Sanitarium as mine is liable to be + surprised by Death. Just so! just so!” said the doctor, conceding the + question with the utmost impartiality. “There <i>is</i> the chapter of + accidents, I admit—if you choose to trust to it. Mind! I say + emphatically, <i>if</i> you choose to trust to it.” + </p> + <p> + There was another moment of silence—silence so profound that nothing + was audible in the room but the rapid <i>click</i> of Miss Gwilt’s needle + through her work. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she said; “you haven’t done yet.” + </p> + <p> + “True!” said the doctor. “Having put my question, I have my measure of + precaution to impress on you next. You will see, my dear madam, that I am + not disposed to trust to the chapter of accidents on my side. Reflection + has convinced me that you and I are not (logically speaking) so + conveniently situated as we might be in case of emergency. Cabs are, as + yet, rare in this rapidly improving neighborhood. I am twenty minutes’ + walk from you; you are twenty minutes’ walk from me. I know nothing of Mr. + Armadale’s character; you know it well. It might be necessary—vitally + necessary—to appeal to your superior knowledge of him at a moment’s + notice. And how am I to do that unless we are within easy reach of each + other, under the same roof? In both our interests, I beg to invite you, my + dear madam, to become for a limited period an inmate of My Sanitarium.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt’s rapid needle suddenly stopped. “I understand you,” she said + again, as quietly as before. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, with another attack of deafness, and + with his hand once more at his ear. + </p> + <p> + She laughed to herself—a low, terrible laugh, which startled even + the doctor into taking his hand off the back of her chair. + </p> + <p> + “An inmate of your Sanitarium?” she repeated. “You consult appearances in + everything else; do you propose to consult appearances in receiving me + into your house?” + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly!” replied the doctor, with enthusiasm. “I am surprised at + your asking me the question! Did you ever know a man of any eminence in my + profession who set appearances at defiance? If you honor me by accepting + my invitation, you enter My Sanitarium in the most unimpeachable of all + possible characters—in the character of a Patient.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you want my answer?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you decide to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Have you anything more to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, then. <i>I</i> don’t keep up appearances. I wish to be alone, + and I say so. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the sex! the sex!” said the doctor, with his excellent temper in + perfect working order again. “So delightfully impulsive! so charmingly + reckless of what they say or how they say it! ‘Oh, woman, in our hours of + ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please!’ There! there! there! + Good-morning!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Gwilt rose and looked after him contemptuously from the window, when + the street door had closed, and he had left the house. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale himself drove me to it the first time,” she said. “Manuel drove + me to it the second time.—You cowardly scoundrel! shall I let <i>you</i> + drive me to it for the third time, and the last?” + </p> + <p> + She turned from the window, and looked thoughtfully at her widow’s dress + in the glass. + </p> + <p> + The hours of the day passed—and she decided nothing. The night came—and + she hesitated still. The new morning dawned—and the terrible + question was still unanswered. + </p> + <p> + By the early post there came a letter for her. It was Mr. Bashwood’s usual + report. Again he had watched for Allan’s arrival, and again in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll have more time!” she determined, passionately. “No man alive shall + hurry me faster than I like!” + </p> + <p> + At breakfast that morning (the morning of the 9th) the doctor was + surprised in his study by a visit from Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “I want another day,” she said, the moment the servant had closed the door + on her. + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at her before he answered, and saw the danger of driving + her to extremities plainly expressed in her face. + </p> + <p> + “The time is getting on,” he remonstrated, in his most persuasive manner. + “For all we know to the contrary, Mr. Armadale may be here to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I want another day!” she repeated, loudly and passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Granted!” said the doctor, looking nervously toward the door. “Don’t be + too loud—the servants may hear you. Mind!” he added, “I depend on + your honor not to press me for any further delay.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better depend on my despair,” she said, and left him. + </p> + <p> + The doctor chipped the shell of his egg, and laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, my dear!” he thought. “I remember where your despair led you + in past times; and I think I may trust it to lead you the same way now.” + </p> + <p> + At a quarter to eight o’clock that night Mr. Bashwood took up his post of + observation, as usual, on the platform of the terminus at London Bridge. + He was in the highest good spirits; he smiled and smirked in irrepressible + exultation. The sense that he held in reserve a means of influence over + Miss Gwilt, in virtue of his knowledge of her past career, had had no + share in effecting the transformation that now appeared in him. It had + upheld his courage in his forlorn life at Thorpe Ambrose, and it had given + him that increased confidence of manner which Miss Gwilt herself had + noticed; but, from the moment when he had regained his old place in her + favor, it had vanished as a motive power in him, annihilated by the + electric shock of her touch and her look. His vanity—the vanity + which in men at his age is only despair in disguise—had now lifted + him to the seventh heaven of fatuous happiness once more. He believed in + her again as he believed in the smart new winter overcoat that he wore—as + he believed in the dainty little cane (appropriate to the dawning dandyism + of lads in their teens) that he flourished in his hand. He hummed! The + worn-out old creature, who had not sung since his childhood, hummed, as he + paced the platform, the few fragments he could remember of a worn-out old + song. + </p> + <p> + The train was due as early as eight o’clock that night. At five minutes + past the hour the whistle sounded. In less than five minutes more the + passengers were getting out on the platform. + </p> + <p> + Following the instructions that had been given to him, Mr. Bashwood made + his way, as well as the crowd would let him, along the line of carriages, + and, discovering no familiar face on that first investigation, joined the + passengers for a second search among them in the custom-house waiting-room + next. + </p> + <p> + He had looked round the room, and had satisfied himself that the persons + occupying it were all strangers, when he heard a voice behind him, + exclaiming: “Can that be Mr. Bashwood!” He turned in eager expectation, + and found himself face to face with the last man under heaven whom he had + expected to see. + </p> + <p> + The man was MIDWINTER. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0050" id="H2_4_0050"></a> II. IN THE HOUSE. + </h2> + <p> + Noticing Mr. Bashwood’s confusion (after a moment’s glance at the change + in his personal appearance), Midwinter spoke first. + </p> + <p> + “I see I have surprised you,” he said. “You are looking, I suppose, for + somebody else? Have you heard from Allan? Is he on his way home again + already?” + </p> + <p> + The inquiry about Allan, though it would naturally have suggested itself + to any one in Midwinter’s position at that moment, added to Mr. Bashwood’s + confusion. Not knowing how else to extricate himself from the critical + position in which he was placed, he took refuge in simple denial. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about Mr. Armadale—oh dear, no, sir, I know nothing + about Mr. Armadale,” he answered, with needless eagerness and hurry. + “Welcome back to England, sir,” he went on, changing the subject in his + nervously talkative manner. “I didn’t know you had been abroad. It’s so + long since we have had the pleasure—since I have had the pleasure. + Have you enjoyed yourself, sir, in foreign parts? Such different manners + from ours—yes, yes, yes—such different manners from ours! Do + you make a long stay in England, now you have come back?” + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know,” said Midwinter. “I have been obliged to alter my plans, + and to come to England unexpectedly.” He hesitated a little; his manner + changed, and he added, in lower tones: “A serious anxiety has brought me + back. I can’t say what my plans will be until that anxiety is set at + rest.” + </p> + <p> + The light of a lamp fell on his face while he spoke, and Mr. Bashwood + observed, for the first time, that he looked sadly worn and changed. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry, sir—I’m sure I’m very sorry. If I could be of any use—” + suggested Mr. Bashwood, speaking under the influence in some degree of his + nervous politeness, and in some degree of his remembrance of what + Midwinter had done for him at Thorpe Ambrose in the by-gone time. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter thanked him and turned away sadly. “I am afraid you can be of no + use, Mr. Bashwood—but I am obliged to you for your offer, all the + same.” He stopped, and considered a little, “Suppose she should <i>not</i> + be ill? Suppose some misfortune should have happened?” he resumed, + speaking to himself, and turning again toward the steward. “If she has + left her mother, some trace of her <i>might</i> be found by inquiring at + Thorpe Ambrose.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood’s curiosity was instantly aroused. The whole sex was + interesting to him now, for the sake of Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “A lady, sir?” he inquired. “Are you looking for a lady?” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking,” said Midwinter, simply, “for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Married, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Bashwood. “Married since I last had the + pleasure of seeing you! Might I take the liberty of asking—?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter’s eyes dropped uneasily to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “You knew the lady in former times,” he said. “I have married Miss Gwilt.” + </p> + <p> + The steward started back as he might have started back from a loaded + pistol leveled at his head. His eyes glared as if he had suddenly lost his + senses, and the nervous trembling to which he was subject shook him from + head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” said Midwinter. There was no answer. “What is there + so very startling,” he went on, a little impatiently, “in Miss Gwilt’s + being my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Your</i> wife?” repeated Mr. Bashwood, helplessly. “Mrs. Armadale—!” + He checked himself by a desperate effort, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + The stupor of astonishment which possessed the steward was instantly + reflected in Midwinter’s face. The name in which he had secretly married + his wife had passed the lips of the last man in the world whom he would + have dreamed of admitting into his confidence! He took Mr. Bashwood by the + arm, and led him away to a quieter part of the terminus than the part of + it in which they had hitherto spoken to each other. + </p> + <p> + “You referred to my wife just now,” he said; “and you spoke of <i>Mrs. + Armadale</i> in the same breath. What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + Again there was no answer. Utterly incapable of understanding more than + that he had involved himself in some serious complication which was a + complete mystery to him, Mr. Bashwood struggled to extricate himself from + the grasp that was laid on him, and struggled in vain. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter sternly repeated the question. “I ask you again,” he said, “what + do you mean by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir! I give you my word of honor, I meant nothing!” He felt the + hand on his arm tightening its grasp; he saw, even in the obscurity of the + remote corner in which they stood, that Midwinter’s fiery temper was + rising, and was not to be trifled with. The extremity of his danger + inspired him with the one ready capacity that a timid man possesses when + he is compelled by main force to face an emergency—the capacity to + lie. “I only meant to say, sir,” he burst out, with a desperate effort to + look and speak confidently, “that Mr. Armadale would be surprised—” + </p> + <p> + “You said <i>Mrs.</i> Armadale!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—on my word of honor, on my sacred word of honor, you are + mistaken—you are, indeed! I said <i>Mr.</i> Armadale—how could + I say anything else? Please to let me go, sir—I’m pressed for time. + I do assure you I’m dreadfully pressed for time!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment longer Midwinter maintained his hold, and in that moment he + decided what to do. + </p> + <p> + He had accurately stated his motive for returning to England as proceeding + from anxiety about his wife—anxiety naturally caused (after the + regular receipt of a letter from her every other, or every third day) by + the sudden cessation of the correspondence between them on her side for a + whole week. The first vaguely terrible suspicion of some other reason for + her silence than the reason of accident or of illness, to which he had + hitherto attributed it, had struck through him like a sudden chill the + instant he heard the steward associate the name of “Mrs. Armadale” with + the idea of his wife. Little irregularities in her correspondence with + him, which he had thus far only thought strange, now came back on his + mind, and proclaimed themselves to be suspicions as well. He had hitherto + believed the reasons she had given for referring him, when he answered her + letters, to no more definite address than an address at a post-office. <i>Now</i> + he suspected her reasons of being excuses, for the first time. He had + hitherto resolved, on reaching London, to inquire at the only place he + knew of at which a clew to her could be found—the address she had + given him as the address at which “her mother” lived. <i>Now</i> (with a + motive which he was afraid to define even to himself, but which was strong + enough to overbear every other consideration in his mind) he determined, + before all things, to solve the mystery of Mr. Bashwood’s familiarity with + a secret, which was a marriage secret between himself and his wife. Any + direct appeal to a man of the steward’s disposition, in the steward’s + present state of mind, would be evidently useless. The weapon of deception + was, in this case, a weapon literally forced into Midwinter’s hands. He + let go of Mr. Bashwood’s arm, and accepted Mr. Bashwood’s explanation. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I have no doubt you are right. Pray + attribute my rudeness to over-anxiety and over-fatigue. I wish you + good-evening.” + </p> + <p> + The station was by this time almost a solitude, the passengers by the + train being assembled at the examination of their luggage in the + custom-house waiting-room. It was no easy matter, ostensibly to take leave + of Mr. Bashwood, and really to keep him in view. But Midwinter’s early + life with the gypsy master had been of a nature to practice him in such + stratagems as he was now compelled to adopt. He walked away toward the + waiting-room by the line of empty carriages; opened the door of one of + them, as if to look after something that he had left behind, and detected + Mr. Bashwood making for the cab-rank on the opposite side of the platform. + In an instant Midwinter had crossed, and had passed through the long row + of vehicles, so as to skirt it on the side furthest from the platform. He + entered the second cab by the left-hand door the moment after Mr. Bashwood + had entered the first cab by the right-hand door. “Double your fare, + whatever it is,” he said to the driver, “if you keep the cab before you in + view, and follow it wherever it goes.” In a minute more both vehicles were + on their way out of the station. + </p> + <p> + The clerk sat in the sentry-box at the gate, taking down the destinations + of the cabs as they passed. Midwinter heard the man who was driving him + call out “Hampstead!” as he went by the clerk’s window. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say ‘Hampstead’?” he asked, when they had left the station. + </p> + <p> + “Because the man before me said ‘Hampstead,’ sir,” answered the driver. + </p> + <p> + Over and over again, on the wearisome journey to the northwestern suburb, + Midwinter asked if the cab was still in sight. Over and over again, the + man answered, “Right in front of us.” + </p> + <p> + It was between nine and ten o’clock when the driver pulled up his horse at + last. Midwinter got out, and saw the cab before them waiting at a house + door. As soon as he had satisfied himself that the driver was the man whom + Mr. Bashwood had hired, he paid the promised reward, and dismissed his own + cab. + </p> + <p> + He took a turn backward and forward before the door. The vaguely terrible + suspicion which had risen in his mind at the terminus had forced itself by + this time into a definite form which was abhorrent to him. Without the + shadow of an assignable reason for it, he found himself blindly + distrusting his wife’s fidelity, and blindly suspecting Mr. Bashwood of + serving her in the capacity of go-between. In sheer horror of his own + morbid fancy, he determined to take down the number of the house, and the + name of the street in which it stood; and then, in justice to his wife, to + return at once to the address which she had given him as the address at + which her mother lived. He had taken out his pocket-book, and was on his + way to the corner of the street, when he observed the man who had driven + Mr. Bashwood looking at him with an expression of inquisitive surprise. + The idea of questioning the cab-driver, while he had the opportunity, + instantly occurred to him. He took a half-crown from his pocket and put it + into the man’s ready hand. + </p> + <p> + “Has the gentleman whom you drove from the station gone into that house?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear him inquire for anybody when the door was opened?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked for a lady, sir. Mrs.—” The man hesitated. “It wasn’t a + common name, sir; I should know it again if I heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it ‘Midwinter’?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. + </p> + <p> + “Armadale?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it, sir. Mrs. Armadale.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure it was ‘Mrs.’ and not ‘Mr.’?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m as sure as a man can be who hasn’t taken any particular notice, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The doubt implied in that last answer decided Midwinter to investigate the + matter on the spot. He ascended the house steps. As he raised his hand to + the bell at the side of the door, the violence of his agitation mastered + him physically for the moment. A strange sensation, as of something + leaping up from his heart to his brain, turned his head wildly giddy. He + held by the house railings and kept his face to the air, and resolutely + waited till he was steady again. Then he rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Is?”—he tried to ask for “Mrs. Armadale,” when the maid-servant had + opened the door, but not even his resolution could force the name to pass + his lips—“is your mistress at home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The girl showed him into a back parlor, and presented him to a little old + lady, with an obliging manner and a bright pair of eyes. + </p> + <p> + “There is some mistake,” said Midwinter. “I wished to see—” Once + more he tried to utter the name, and once more he failed to force it to + his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Armadale?” suggested the little old lady, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Show the gentleman upstairs, Jenny.” + </p> + <p> + The girl led the way to the drawing-room floor. + </p> + <p> + “Any name, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No name.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood had barely completed his report of what had happened at the + terminus; Mr. Bashwood’s imperious mistress was still sitting speechless + under the shock of the discovery that had burst on her—when the door + of the room opened; and, without a word of warning to proceed him, + Midwinter appeared on the threshold. He took one step into the room, and + mechanically pushed the door to behind him. He stood in dead silence, and + confronted his wife, with a scrutiny that was terrible in its unnatural + self-possession, and that enveloped her steadily in one comprehensive look + from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + In dead silence on her side, she rose from her chair. In dead silence she + stood erect on the hearth-rug, and faced her husband in widow’s weeds. He + took one step nearer to her, and stopped again. + </p> + <p> + He lifted his hand, and pointed with his lean brown finger at her dress. + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” he asked, without losing his terrible + self-possession, and without moving his outstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his voice, the quick rise and fall of her bosom—which + had been the one outward betrayal thus far of the inner agony that + tortured her—suddenly stopped. She stood impenetrably silent, + breathlessly still—as if his question had struck her dead, and his + pointing hand had petrified her. + </p> + <p> + He advanced one step nearer, and reiterated his words in a voice even + lower and quieter than the voice in which he had spoken first. + </p> + <p> + One moment more of silence, one moment more of inaction, might have been + the salvation of her. But the fatal force of her character triumphed at + the crisis of her destiny, and his. White and still, and haggard and old, + she met the dreadful emergency with a dreadful courage, and spoke the + irrevocable words which renounced him to his face. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Midwinter,” she said, in tones unnaturally hard and unnaturally + clear, “our acquaintance hardly entitles you to speak to me in that + manner.” Those were her words. She never lifted her eyes from the ground + while she spoke them. When she had done, the last faint vestige of color + in her cheeks faded out. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause. Still steadily looking at her, he set himself to fix + the language she had used to him in his mind. “She calls me ‘Mr. + Midwinter,’” he said, slowly, in a whisper. “She speaks of ‘our + acquaintance.’” He waited a little and looked round the room. His + wandering eyes encountered Mr. Bashwood for the first time. He saw the + steward standing near the fireplace, trembling, and watching him. + </p> + <p> + “I once did you a service,” he said; “and you once told me you were not an + ungrateful man. Are you grateful enough to answer me if I ask you + something?” + </p> + <p> + He waited a little again. Mr. Bashwood still stood trembling at the + fireplace, silently watching him. + </p> + <p> + “I see you looking at me,” he went on. “Is there some change in me that I + am not conscious of myself? Am I seeing things that you don’t see? Am I + hearing words that you don’t hear? Am I looking or speaking like a man out + of his senses?” + </p> + <p> + Again he waited, and again the silence was unbroken. His eyes began to + glitter; and the savage blood that he had inherited from his mother rose + dark and slow in his ashy cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Is that woman,” he asked, “the woman whom you once knew, whose name was + Miss Gwilt?” + </p> + <p> + Once more his wife collected her fatal courage. Once more his wife spoke + her fatal words. + </p> + <p> + “You compel me to repeat,” she said, “that you are presuming on our + acquaintance, and that you are forgetting what is due to me.” + </p> + <p> + He turned upon her, with a savage suddenness which forced a cry of alarm + from Mr. Bashwood’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “Are you, or are you not, My Wife?” he asked, through his set teeth. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes to his for the first time. Her lost spirit looked at + him, steadily defiant, out of the hell of its own despair. + </p> + <p> + “I am <i>not</i> your wife,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He staggered back, with his hands groping for something to hold by, like + the hands of a man in the dark. He leaned heavily against the wall of the + room, and looked at the woman who had slept on his bosom, and who had + denied him to his face. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood stole panic-stricken to her side. “Go in there!” he + whispered, trying to draw her toward the folding-doors which led into the + next room. “For God’s sake, be quick! He’ll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + She put the old man back with her hand. She looked at him with a sudden + irradiation of her blank face. She answered him with lips that struggled + slowly into a frightful smile. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Let</i> him kill me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + As the words passed her lips, he sprang forward from the wall, with a cry + that rang through the house. The frenzy of a maddened man flashed at her + from his glassy eyes, and clutched at her in his threatening hands. He + came on till he was within arms-length of her—and suddenly stood + still. The black flush died out of his face in the instant when he + stopped. His eyelids fell, his outstretched hands wavered and sank + helpless. He dropped, as the dead drop. He lay as the dead lie, in the + arms of the wife who had denied him. + </p> + <p> + She knelt on the floor, and rested his head on her knee. She caught the + arm of the steward hurrying to help her, with a hand that closed round it + like a vise. “Go for a doctor,” she said, “and keep the people of the + house away till he comes.” There was that in her eye, there was that in + her voice, which would have warned any man living to obey her in silence. + In silence Mr. Bashwood submitted, and hurried out of the room. + </p> + <p> + The instant she was alone she raised him from her knee. With both arms + clasped round him, the miserable woman lifted his lifeless face to hers + and rocked him on her bosom in an agony of tenderness beyond all relief in + tears, in a passion of remorse beyond all expression in words. In silence + she held him to her breast, in silence she devoured his forehead, his + cheeks, his lips, with kisses. Not a sound escaped her till she heard the + trampling footsteps outside, hurrying up the stairs. Then a low moan burst + from her lips, as she looked her last at him, and lowered his head again + to her knee, before the strangers came in. + </p> + <p> + The landlady and the steward were the first persons whom she saw when the + door was opened. The medical man (a surgeon living in the street) + followed. The horror and the beauty of her face as she looked up at him + absorbed the surgeon’s attention for the moment, to the exclusion of + everything else. She had to beckon to him, she had to point to the + senseless man, before she could claim his attention for his patient and + divert it from herself. + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The surgeon carried Midwinter to the sofa, and ordered the windows to be + opened. “It is a fainting fit,” he said; “nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + At that answer her strength failed her for the first time. She drew a deep + breath of relief, and leaned on the chimney-piece for support. Mr. + Bashwood was the only person present who noticed that she was overcome. He + led her to the opposite end of the room, where there was an easy-chair, + leaving the landlady to hand the restoratives to the surgeon as they were + wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to wait here till he recovers?” whispered the steward, + looking toward the sofa, and trembling as he looked. + </p> + <p> + The question forced her to a sense of her position—to a knowledge of + the merciless necessities which that position now forced her to confront. + With a heavy sigh she looked toward the sofa, considered with herself for + a moment, and answered Mr. Bashwood’s inquiry by a question on her side. + </p> + <p> + “Is the cab that brought you here from the railway still at the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Drive at once to the gates of the Sanitarium, and wait there till I join + you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood hesitated. She lifted her eyes to his, and, with a look, sent + him out of the room. + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman is coming to, ma’am,” said the landlady, as the steward + closed the door. “He has just breathed again.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed in mute reply, rose, and considered with herself once more—looked + toward the sofa for the second time—then passed through the + folding-doors into her own room. + </p> + <p> + After a short lapse of time the surgeon drew back from the sofa and + motioned to the landlady to stand aside. The bodily recovery of the + patient was assured. There was nothing to be done now but to wait, and let + his mind slowly recall its sense of what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” were the first words he said to the surgeon, and the + landlady anxiously watching him. + </p> + <p> + The landlady knocked at the folding-doors, and received no answer. She + went in, and found the room empty. A sheet of note-paper was on the + dressing-table, with the doctor’s fee placed on it. The paper contained + these lines, evidently written in great agitation or in great haste: “It + is impossible for me to remain here to-night, after what has happened. I + will return to-morrow to take away my luggage, and to pay what I owe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” Midwinter asked again, when the landlady returned alone to + the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Gone, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it!” + </p> + <p> + The old lady’s color rose. “If you know her handwriting, sir,” she + answered, handing him the sheet of note-paper, “perhaps you may believe <i>that</i>?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the paper. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said, as he handed + it back—“I beg your pardon, with all my heart.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in his face as he spoke those words which more than + soothed the old lady’s irritation: it touched her with a sudden pity for + the man who had offended her. “I am afraid there is some dreadful trouble, + sir, at the bottom of all this,” she said, simply. “Do you wish me to give + any message to the lady when she comes back?” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter rose and steadied himself for a moment against the sofa. “I will + bring my own message to-morrow,” he said. “I must see her before she + leaves your house.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon accompanied his patient into the street. “Can I see you home?” + he said, kindly. “You had better not walk, if it is far. You mustn’t + overexert yourself; you mustn’t catch a chill this cold night.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter took his hand and thanked him. “I have been used to hard walking + and cold nights, sir,” he said; “and I am not easily worn out, even when I + look so broken as I do now. If you will tell me the nearest way out of + these streets, I think the quiet of the country and the quiet of the night + will help me. I have something serious to do to-morrow,” he added, in a + lower tone; “and I can’t rest or sleep till I have thought over it + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon understood that he had no common man to deal with. He gave the + necessary directions without any further remark, and parted with his + patient at his own door. + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Midwinter paused, and looked up at the heavens in + silence. The night had cleared, and the stars were out—the stars + which he had first learned to know from his gypsy master on the hillside. + For the first time his mind went back regretfully to his boyish days. “Oh, + for the old life!” he thought, longingly. “I never knew till now how happy + the old life was!” + </p> + <p> + He roused himself, and went on toward the open country. His face darkened + as he left the streets behind him and advanced into the solitude and + obscurity that lay beyond. + </p> + <p> + “She has denied her husband to-night,” he said. “She shall know her master + to-morrow.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0051" id="H2_4_0051"></a> III. THE PURPLE FLASK. + </h2> + <p> + The cab was waiting at the gates as Miss Gwilt approached the Sanitarium. + Mr. Bashwood got out and advanced to meet her. She took his arm and led + him aside a few steps, out of the cabman’s hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Think what you like of me,” she said, keeping her thick black veil down + over her face, “but don’t speak to me to-night. Drive back to your hotel + as if nothing had happened. Meet the tidal train to-morrow as usual, and + come to me afterward at the Sanitarium. Go without a word, and I shall + believe there is one man in the world who really loves me. Stay and ask + questions, and I shall bid you good-by at once and forever!” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the cab. In a minute more it had left the Sanitarium and + was taking Mr. Bashwood back to his hotel. + </p> + <p> + She opened the iron gate and walked slowly up to the house door. A shudder + ran through her as she rang the bell. She laughed bitterly. “Shivering + again!” she said to herself. “Who would have thought I had so much feeling + left in me?” + </p> + <p> + For once in her life the doctor’s face told the truth, when the study door + opened between ten and eleven at night, and Miss Gwilt entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on me!” he exclaimed, with a look of the blankest bewilderment. + “What does this mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It means,” she answered, “that I have decided to-night instead of + deciding to-morrow. You, who know women so well, ought to know that they + act on impulse. I am here on an impulse. Take me or leave me, just as you + like.” + </p> + <p> + “Take you or leave you?” repeated the doctor, recovering his presence of + mind. “My dear lady, what a dreadful way of putting it! Your room shall be + got ready instantly! Where is your luggage? Will you let me send for it? + No? You can do without your luggage to-night? What admirable fortitude! + You will fetch it yourself to-morrow? What extraordinary independence! Do + take off your bonnet. Do draw in to the fire! What can I offer you?” + </p> + <p> + “Offer me the strongest sleeping draught you ever made in your life,” she + replied. “And leave me alone till the time comes to take it. I shall be + your patient in earnest!” she added, fiercely, as the doctor attempted to + remonstrate. “I shall be the maddest of the mad if you irritate me + to-night!” + </p> + <p> + The Principal of the Sanitarium became gravely and briefly professional in + an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down in that dark corner,” he said. “Not a soul shall disturb you. In + half an hour you will find your room ready, and your sleeping draught on + the table.”—“It’s been a harder struggle for her than I + anticipated,” he thought, as he left the room, and crossed to his + Dispensary on the opposite side of the hall. “Good heavens, what business + has she with a conscience, after such a life as hers has been!” + </p> + <p> + The Dispensary was elaborately fitted up with all the latest improvements + in medical furniture. But one of the four walls of the room was unoccupied + by shelves, and here the vacant space was filled by a handsome antique + cabinet of carved wood, curiously out of harmony, as an object, with the + unornamented utilitarian aspect of the place generally. On either side of + the cabinet two speaking-tubes were inserted in the wall, communicating + with the upper regions of the house, and labeled respectively “Resident + Dispenser” and “Head Nurse.” Into the second of these tubes the doctor + spoke, on entering the room. An elderly woman appeared, took her orders + for preparing Mrs. Armadale’s bed-chamber, courtesied, and retired. + </p> + <p> + Left alone again in the Dispensary, the doctor unlocked the center + compartment of the cabinet, and disclosed a collection of bottles inside, + containing the various poisons used in medicine. After taking out the + laudanum wanted for the sleeping draught, and placing it on the dispensary + table, he went back to the cabinet, looked into it for a little while, + shook his head doubtfully, and crossed to the open shelves on the opposite + side of the room. + </p> + <p> + Here, after more consideration, he took down one out of the row of large + chemical bottles before him, filled with a yellow liquid; placing the + bottle on the table, he returned to the cabinet, and opened a side + compartment, containing some specimens of Bohemian glass-work. After + measuring it with his eye, he took from the specimens a handsome purple + flask, high and narrow in form, and closed by a glass stopper. This he + filled with the yellow liquid, leaving a small quantity only at the bottom + of the bottle, and locking up the flask again in the place from which he + had taken it. The bottle was next restored to its place, after having been + filled up with water from the cistern in the Dispensary, mixed with + certain chemical liquids in small quantities, which restored it (so far as + appearances went) to the condition in which it had been when it was first + removed from the shelf. Having completed these mysterious proceedings, the + doctor laughed softly, and went back to his speaking-tubes to summon the + Resident Dispenser next. + </p> + <p> + The Resident Dispenser made his appearance shrouded in the necessary white + apron from his waist to his feet. The doctor solemnly wrote a prescription + for a composing draught, and handed it to his assistant. + </p> + <p> + “Wanted immediately, Benjamin,” he said in a soft and melancholy voice. “A + lady patient—Mrs. Armadale, Room No. 1, second floor. Ah, dear, + dear!” groaned the doctor, absently; “an anxious case, Benjamin—an + anxious case.” He opened the brand-new ledger of the establishment, and + entered the Case at full length, with a brief abstract of the + prescription. “Have you done with the laudanum? Put it back, and lock the + cabinet, and give me the key. Is the draught ready? Label it, ‘To be taken + at bedtime,’ and give it to the nurse, Benjamin—give it to the + nurse.” + </p> + <p> + While the doctor’s lips were issuing these directions, the doctor’s hands + were occupied in opening a drawer under the desk on which the ledger was + placed. He took out some gayly printed cards of admission “to view the + Sanitarium, between the hours of two and four P.M.,” and filled them up + with the date of the next day, “December 10th.” When a dozen of the cards + had been wrapped up in a dozen lithographed letters of invitation, and + inclosed in a dozen envelopes, he next consulted a list of the families + resident in the neighborhood, and directed the envelopes from the list. + Ringing a bell this time, instead of speaking through a tube, he summoned + the man-servant, and gave him the letters, to be delivered by hand the + first thing the next morning. “I think it will do,” said the doctor, + taking a turn in the Dispensary when the servant had gone out—“I + think it will do.” While he was still absorbed in his own reflections, the + nurse re-appeared to announce that the lady’s room was ready; and the + doctor thereupon formally returned to the study to communicate the + information to Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + She had not moved since he left her. She rose from her dark corner when he + made his announcement, and, without speaking or raising her veil, glided + out of the room like a ghost. + </p> + <p> + After a brief interval, the nurse came downstairs again, with a word for + her master’s private ear. + </p> + <p> + “The lady has ordered me to call her to-morrow at seven o’clock, sir,” she + said. “She means to fetch her luggage herself, and she wants to have a cab + at the door as soon as she is dressed. What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do what the lady tells you,” said the doctor. “She may be safely trusted + to return to the Sanitarium.” + </p> + <p> + The breakfast hour at the Sanitarium was half-past eight o’clock. By that + time Miss Gwilt had settled everything at her lodgings, and had returned + with her luggage in her own possession. The doctor was quite amazed at the + promptitude of his patient. + </p> + <p> + “Why waste so much energy?” he asked, when they met at the + breakfast-table. “Why be in such a hurry, my dear lady, when you had all + the morning before you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mere restlessness!” she said, briefly. “The longer I live, the more + impatient I get.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who had noticed before she spoke that her face looked + strangely pale and old that morning, observed, when she answered him, that + her expression—naturally mobile in no ordinary degree—remained + quite unaltered by the effort of speaking. There was none of the usual + animation on her lips, none of the usual temper in her eyes. He had never + seen her so impenetrably and coldly composed as he saw her now. “She has + made up her mind at last,” he thought. “I may say to her this morning what + I couldn’t say to her last night.” + </p> + <p> + He prefaced the coming remarks by a warning look at her widow’s dress. + </p> + <p> + “Now you have got your luggage,” he began, gravely, “permit me to suggest + putting that cap away, and wearing another gown.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember what you told me a day or two since?” asked the doctor. + “You said there was a chance of Mr. Armadale’s dying in my Sanitarium?” + </p> + <p> + “I will say it again, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “A more unlikely chance,” pursued the doctor, deaf as ever to all awkward + interruptions, “it is hardly possible to imagine! But as long as it is a + chance at all, it is worth considering. Say, then, that he dies—dies + suddenly and unexpectedly, and makes a Coroner’s Inquest necessary in the + house. What is our course in that case? Our course is to preserve the + characters to which we have committed ourselves—you as his widow, + and I as the witness of your marriage—and, <i>in</i> those + characters, to court the fullest inquiry. In the entirely improbable event + of his dying just when we want him to die, my idea—I might even say, + my resolution—is to admit that we knew of his resurrection from the + sea; and to acknowledge that we instructed Mr. Bashwood to entrap him into + this house, by means of a false statement about Miss Milroy. When the + inevitable questions follow, I propose to assert that he exhibited + symptoms of mental alienation shortly after your marriage; that his + delusion consisted in denying that you were his wife, and in declaring + that he was engaged to be married to Miss Milroy; that you were in such + terror of him on this account, when you heard he was alive and coming + back, as to be in a state of nervous agitation that required my care; that + at your request, and to calm that nervous agitation, I saw him + professionally, and got him quietly into the house by a humoring of his + delusion, perfectly justifiable in such a case; and, lastly, that I can + certify his brain to have been affected by one of those mysterious + disorders, eminently incurable, eminently fatal, in relation to which + medical science is still in the dark. Such a course as this (in the + remotely possible event which we are now supposing) would be, in your + interests and mine, unquestionably the right course to take; and such a + dress as <i>that</i> is, just as certainly, under existing circumstances, + the wrong dress to wear.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I take it off at once?” she asked, rising from the breakfast-table, + without a word of remark on what had just been said to her. + </p> + <p> + “Anytime before two o’clock to-day will do,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a languid curiosity—nothing more. “Why before + two?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Because this is one of my ‘Visitors’ Days,’ And the visitors’ time is + from two to four.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I to do with your visitors?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply this. I think it important that perfectly respectable and + perfectly disinterested witnesses should see you, in my house, in the + character of a lady who has come to consult me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your motive seems rather far-fetched. Is it the only motive you have in + the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, dear lady!” remonstrated the doctor, “have I any concealments + from <i>you</i>? Surely, you ought to know me better than that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, with a weary contempt. “It’s dull enough of me not to + understand you by this time. Send word upstairs when I am wanted.” She + left him, and went back to her room. + </p> + <p> + Two o’clock came; and in a quarter of an hour afterward the visitors had + arrived. Short as the notice had been, cheerless as the Sanitarium looked + to spectators from without, the doctor’s invitation had been largely + accepted, nevertheless, by the female members of the families whom he had + addressed. In the miserable monotony of the lives led by a large section + of the middle classes of England, anything is welcome to the women which + offers them any sort of harmless refuge from the established tyranny of + the principle that all human happiness begins and ends at home. While the + imperious needs of a commercial country limited the representatives of the + male sex, among the doctor’s visitors, to one feeble old man and one + sleepy little boy, the women, poor souls, to the number of no less than + sixteen—old and young, married and single—had seized the + golden opportunity of a plunge into public life. Harmoniously united by + the two common objects which they all had in view—in the first + place, to look at each other, and, in the second place, to look at the + Sanitarium—they streamed in neatly dressed procession through the + doctor’s dreary iron gates, with a thin varnish over them of assumed + superiority to all unladylike excitement, most significant and most + pitiable to see! + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the Sanitarium received his visitors in the hall with + Miss Gwilt on his arm. The hungry eyes of every woman in the company + overlooked the doctor as if no such person had existed; and, fixing on the + strange lady, devoured her from head to foot in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “My First Inmate,” said the doctor, presenting Miss Gwilt. “This lady only + arrived late last night; and she takes the present opportunity (the only + one my morning’s engagements have allowed me to give her) of going over + the Sanitarium.—Allow me, ma’am,” he went on, releasing Miss Gwilt, + and giving his arm to the eldest lady among the visitors. “Shattered + nerves—domestic anxiety,” he whispered, confidentially. “Sweet + woman! sad case!” He sighed softly, and led the old lady across the hall. + </p> + <p> + The flock of visitors followed, Miss Gwilt accompanying them in silence, + and walking alone—among them, but not of them—the last of all. + </p> + <p> + “The grounds, ladies and gentlemen,” said the doctor, wheeling round, and + addressing his audience from the foot of the stairs, “are, as you have + seen, in a partially unfinished condition. Under any circumstances, I + should lay little stress on the grounds, having Hampstead Heath so near at + hand, and carriage exercise and horse exercise being parts of my System. + In a lesser degree, it is also necessary for me to ask your indulgence for + the basement floor, on which we now stand. The waiting-room and study on + that side, and the Dispensary on the other (to which I shall presently ask + your attention), are completed. But the large drawing-room is still in the + decorator’s hands. In that room (when the walls are dry—not a moment + before) my inmates will assemble for cheerful society. Nothing will be + spared that can improve, elevate, and adorn life at these happy little + gatherings. Every evening, for example, there will be music for those who + like it.” + </p> + <p> + At this point there was a faint stir among the visitors. A mother of a + family interrupted the doctor. She begged to know whether music “every + evening” included Sunday evening; and, if so, what music was performed? + </p> + <p> + “Sacred music, of course, ma’am,” said the doctor. “Handel on Sunday + evening—and Haydn occasionally, when not too cheerful. But, as I was + about to say, music is not the only entertainment offered to my nervous + inmates. Amusing reading is provided for those who prefer books.” + </p> + <p> + There was another stir among the visitors. Another mother of a family + wished to know whether amusing reading meant novels. + </p> + <p> + “Only such novels as I have selected and perused myself, in the first + instance,” said the doctor. “Nothing painful, ma’am! There may be plenty + that is painful in real life; but for that very reason, we don’t want it + in books. The English novelist who enters my house (no foreign novelist + will be admitted) must understand his art as the healthy-minded English + reader understands it in our time. He must know that our purer modern + taste, our higher modern morality, limits him to doing exactly two things + for us, when he writes us a book. All we want of him is—occasionally + to make us laugh; and invariably to make us comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + There was a third stir among the visitors—caused plainly this time + by approval of the sentiments which they had just heard. The doctor, + wisely cautious of disturbing the favorable impression that he had + produced, dropped the subject of the drawing-room, and led the way + upstairs. As before, the company followed; and, as before, Miss Gwilt + walked silently behind them, last of all. One after another the ladies + looked at her with the idea of speaking, and saw something in her face, + utterly unintelligible to them, which checked the well-meant words on + their lips. The prevalent impression was that the Principal of the + Sanitarium had been delicately concealing the truth, and that his first + inmate was mad. + </p> + <p> + The doctor led the way—with intervals of breathing-time accorded to + the old lady on his arm—straight to the top of the house. Having + collected his visitors in the corridor, and having waved his hand + indicatively at the numbered doors opening out of it on either side, he + invited the company to look into any or all of the rooms at their own + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Numbers one to four, ladies and gentlemen,” said the doctor, “include the + dormitories of the attendants. Numbers four to eight are rooms intended + for the accommodation of the poorer class of patients, whom I receive on + terms which simply cover my expenditure—nothing more. In the cases + of these poorer persons among my suffering fellow creatures, personal + piety and the recommendation of two clergymen are indispensable to + admission. Those are the only conditions I make; but those I insist on. + Pray observe that the rooms are all ventilated, and the bedsteads all iron + and kindly notice, as we descend again to the second floor, that there is + a door shutting off all communication between the second story and the top + story when necessary. The rooms on the second floor, which we have now + reached, are (with the exception of my own room) entirely devoted to the + reception of lady-inmates—experience having convinced me that the + greater sensitiveness of the female constitution necessitates the higher + position of the sleeping apartment, with a view to the greater purity and + freer circulation of the air. Here the ladies are established immediately + under my care, while my assistant-physician (whom I expect to arrive in a + week’s time) looks after the gentlemen on the floor beneath. Observe, + again, as we descend to this lower, or first floor, a second door, closing + all communication at night between the two stories to every one but the + assistant physician and myself. And now that we have reached the + gentleman’s part of the house, and that you have observed for yourselves + the regulations of the establishment, permit me to introduce you to a + specimen of my system of treatment next. I can exemplify it practically, + by introducing you to a room fitted up, under my own direction, for the + accommodation of the most complicated cases of nervous suffering and + nervous delusion that can come under my care.” + </p> + <p> + He threw open the door of a room at one extremity of the corridor, + numbered Four. “Look in, ladies and gentlemen,” he said; “and, if you see + anything remarkable, pray mention it.” + </p> + <p> + The room was not very large, but it was well lit by one broad window. + Comfortably furnished as a bedroom, it was only remarkable among other + rooms of the same sort in one way. It had no fireplace. The visitors + having noticed this, were informed that the room was warmed in winter by + means of hot water; and were then invited back again into the corridor, to + make the discoveries, under professional direction, which they were unable + to make for themselves. + </p> + <p> + “A word, ladies and gentlemen,” said the doctor; “literally a word, on + nervous derangement first. What is the process of treatment, when, let us + say, mental anxiety has broken you down, and you apply to your doctor? He + sees you, hears you, and gives you two prescriptions. One is written on + paper, and made up at the chemist’s. The other is administered by word of + mouth, at the propitious moment when the fee is ready; and consists in a + general recommendation to you to keep your mind easy. That excellent + advice given, your doctor leaves you to spare yourself all earthly + annoyances by your own unaided efforts, until he calls again. Here my + System steps in and helps you! When <i>I</i> see the necessity of keeping + your mind easy, I take the bull by the horns and do it for you. I place + you in a sphere of action in which the ten thousand trifles which must, + and do, irritate nervous people at home are expressly considered and + provided against. I throw up impregnable moral intrenchments between Worry + and You. Find a door banging in <i>this</i> house, if you can! Catch a + servant in <i>this</i> house rattling the tea-things when he takes away + the tray! Discover barking dogs, crowing cocks, hammering workmen, + screeching children <i>here</i>—and I engage to close My Sanitarium + to-morrow! Are these nuisances laughing matters to nervous people? Ask + them! Can they escape these nuisances at home? Ask them! Will ten minutes’ + irritation from a barking dog or a screeching child undo every atom of + good done to a nervous sufferer by a month’s medical treatment? There + isn’t a competent doctor in England who will venture to deny it! On those + plain grounds my System is based. I assert the medical treatment of + nervous suffering to be entirely subsidiary to the moral treatment of it. + That moral treatment of it you find here. That moral treatment, sedulously + pursued throughout the day, follows the sufferer into his room at night; + and soothes, helps and cures him, without his own knowledge—you + shall see how.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor paused to take breath and looked, for the first time since the + visitors had entered the house, at Miss Gwilt. For the first time, on her + side, she stepped forward among the audience, and looked at him in return. + After a momentary obstruction in the shape of a cough, the doctor went on. + </p> + <p> + “Say, ladies and gentlemen,” he proceeded, “that my patient has just come + in. His mind is one mass of nervous fancies and caprices, which his + friends (with the best possible intentions) have been ignorantly + irritating at home. They have been afraid of him, for instance, at night. + They have forced him to have somebody to sleep in the room with him, or + they have forbidden him, in case of accidents, to lock his door. He comes + to me the first night, and says: ‘Mind, I won’t have anybody in my room!’—‘Certainly + not!’—‘I insist on locking my door.’—‘By all means!’ In he + goes, and locks his door; and there he is, soothed and quieted, + predisposed to confidence, predisposed to sleep, by having his own way. + ‘This is all very well,’ you may say; ‘but suppose something happens, + suppose he has a fit in the night, what then?’ You shall see! Hallo, my + young friend!” cried the doctor, suddenly addressing the sleepy little + boy. “Let’s have a game. You shall be the poor sick man, and I’ll be the + good doctor. Go into that room and lock the door. There’s a brave boy! + Have you locked it? Very good! Do you think I can’t get at you if I like? + I wait till you’re asleep—I press this little white button, hidden + here in the stencilled pattern of the outer wall—the mortise of the + lock inside falls back silently against the door-post—and I walk + into the room whenever I like. The same plan is pursued with the window. + My capricious patient won’t open it at night, when he ought. I humor him + again. ‘Shut it, dear sir, by all means!’ As soon as he is asleep, I pull + the black handle hidden here, in the corner of the wall. The window of the + room inside noiselessly opens, as you see. Say the patient’s caprice is + the other way—he persists in opening the window when he ought to + shut it. Let him! by all means, let him! I pull a second handle when he is + snug in his bed, and the window noiselessly closes in a moment. Nothing to + irritate him, ladies and gentlemen—absolutely nothing to irritate + him! But I haven’t done with him yet. Epidemic disease, in spite of all my + precautions, may enter this Sanitarium, and may render the purifying of + the sick-room necessary. Or the patient’s case may be complicated by other + than nervous malady—say, for instance, asthmatic difficulty of + breathing. In the one case, fumigation is necessary; in the other, + additional oxygen in the air will give relief. The epidemic nervous + patient says, ‘I won’t be smoked under my own nose!’ The asthmatic nervous + patient gasps with terror at the idea of a chemical explosion in his room. + I noiselessly fumigate one of them; I noiselessly oxygenize the other, by + means of a simple Apparatus fixed outside in the corner here. It is + protected by this wooden casing; it is locked with my own key; and it + communicates by means of a tube with the interior of the room. Look at + it!” + </p> + <p> + With a preliminary glance at Miss Gwilt, the doctor unlocked the lid of + the wooden casing, and disclosed inside nothing more remarkable than a + large stone jar, having a glass funnel, and a pipe communicating with the + wall, inserted in the cork which closed the mouth of it. With another look + at Miss Gwilt, the doctor locked the lid again, and asked, in the blandest + manner, whether his System was intelligible now? + </p> + <p> + “I might introduce you to all sorts of other contrivances of the same + kind,” he resumed, leading the way downstairs; “but it would be only the + same thing over and over again. A nervous patient who always has his own + way is a nervous patient who is never worried; and a nervous patient who + is never worried is a nervous patient cured. There it is in a nutshell! + Come and see the Dispensary, ladies; the Dispensary and the kitchen next!” + </p> + <p> + Once more, Miss Gwilt dropped behind the visitors, and waited alone—looking + steadfastly at the Room which the doctor had opened, and at the apparatus + which the doctor had unlocked. Again, without a word passing between them, + she had understood him. She knew, as well as if he had confessed it, that + he was craftily putting the necessary temptation in her way, before + witnesses who could speak to the superficially innocent acts which they + had seen, if anything serious happened. The apparatus, originally + constructed to serve the purpose of the doctor’s medical crotchets, was + evidently to be put to some other use, of which the doctor himself had + probably never dreamed till now. And the chances were that, before the day + was over, that other use would be privately revealed to her at the right + moment, in the presence of the right witness. “Armadale will die this + time,” she said to herself, as she went slowly down the stairs. “The + doctor will kill him, by my hands.” + </p> + <p> + The visitors were in the Dispensary when she joined them. All the ladies + were admiring the beauty of the antique cabinet; and, as a necessary + consequence, all the ladies were desirous of seeing what was inside. The + doctor—after a preliminary look at Miss Gwilt—good-humoredly + shook his head. “There is nothing to interest you inside,” he said. + “Nothing but rows of little shabby bottles containing the poisons used in + medicine which I keep under lock and key. Come to the kitchen, ladies, and + honor me with your advice on domestic matters below stairs.” He glanced + again at Miss Gwilt as the company crossed the hall, with a look which + said plainly, “Wait here.” + </p> + <p> + In another quarter of an hour the doctor had expounded his views on + cookery and diet, and the visitors (duly furnished with prospectuses) were + taking leave of him at the door. “Quite an intellectual treat!” they said + to each other, as they streamed out again in neatly dressed procession + through the iron gates. “And what a very superior man!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor turned back to the Dispensary, humming absently to himself, and + failing entirely to observe the corner of the hall in which Miss Gwilt + stood retired. After an instant’s hesitation, she followed him. The + assistant was in the room when she entered it—summoned by his + employer the moment before. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” she said, coldly and mechanically, as if she was repeating a + lesson, “I am as curious as the other ladies about that pretty cabinet of + yours. Now they are all gone, won’t you show the inside of it to <i>me</i>?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor laughed in his pleasantest manner. + </p> + <p> + “The old story,” he said. “Blue-Beard’s locked chamber, and female + curiosity! (Don’t go, Benjamin, don’t go.) My dear lady, what interest can + you possibly have in looking at a medical bottle, simply because it + happens to be a bottle of poison?” + </p> + <p> + She repeated her lesson for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “I have the interest of looking at it,” she said, “and of thinking, if it + got into some people’s hands, of the terrible things it might do.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor glanced at his assistant with a compassionate smile. + </p> + <p> + “Curious, Benjamin,” he said, “the romantic view taken of these drugs of + ours by the unscientific mind! My dear lady,” he added, turning to Miss + Gwilt, “if <i>that</i> is the interest you attach to looking at poisons, + you needn’t ask me to unlock my cabinet—you need only look about you + round the shelves of this room. There are all sorts of medical liquids and + substances in those bottles—most innocent, most useful in themselves—which, + in combination with other substances and other liquids, become poisons as + terrible and as deadly as any that I have in my cabinet under lock and + key.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment, and creased to the opposite side of the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Show me one,” she said, + </p> + <p> + Still smiling as good-humoredly as ever, the doctor humored his nervous + patient. He pointed to the bottle from which he had privately removed the + yellow liquid on the previous day, and which he had filled up again with a + carefully-colored imitation in the shape of a mixture of his own. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that bottle,” he said—“that plump, round, + comfortable-looking bottle? Never mind the name of what is beside it; let + us stick to the bottle, and distinguish it, if you like, by giving it a + name of our own. Suppose we call it ‘our Stout Friend’? Very good. Our + Stout Friend, by himself, is a most harmless and useful medicine. He is + freely dispensed every day to tens of thousands of patients all over the + civilized world. He has made no romantic appearances in courts of law; he + has excited no breathless interest in novels; he has played no terrifying + part on the stage. There he is, an innocent, inoffensive creature, who + troubles nobody with the responsibility of locking him up! <i>But</i> + bring him into contact with something else—introduce him to the + acquaintance of a certain common mineral substance, of a universally + accessible kind, broken into fragments; provide yourself with (say) six + doses of our Stout Friend, and pour those doses consecutively on the + fragments I have mentioned, at intervals of not less than five minutes. + Quantities of little bubbles will rise at every pouring; collect the gas + in those bubbles, and convey it into a closed chamber—and let Samson + himself be in that closed chamber; our stout Friend will kill him in half + an hour! Will kill him slowly, without his seeing anything, without his + smelling anything, without his feeling anything but sleepiness. Will kill + him, and tell the whole College of Surgeons nothing, if they examine him + after death, but that he died of apoplexy or congestion of the lungs! What + do you think of <i>that</i>, my dear lady, in the way of mystery and + romance? Is our harmless Stout Friend as interesting <i>now</i> as if he + rejoiced in the terrible popular fame of the Arsenic and the Strychnine + which I keep locked up there? Don’t suppose I am exaggerating! Don’t + suppose I’m inventing a story to put you off with, as the children say. + Ask Benjamin there,” said the doctor, appealing to his assistant, with his + eyes fixed on Miss Gwilt. “Ask Benjamin,” he repeated, with the steadiest + emphasis on the next words, “if six doses from that bottle, at intervals + of five minutes each, would not, under the conditions I have stated, + produce the results I have described?” + </p> + <p> + The Resident Dispenser, modestly admiring Miss Gwilt at a distance, + started and colored up. He was plainly gratified by the little attention + which had included him in the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor is quite right, ma’am,” he said, addressing Miss Gwilt, with + his best bow; “the production of the gas, extended over half an hour, + would be quite gradual enough. And,” added the Dispenser, silently + appealing to his employer to let him exhibit a little chemical knowledge + on his own account, “the volume of the gas would be sufficient at the end + of the time—if I am not mistaken, sir?—to be fatal to any + person entering the room in less than five minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “Unquestionably, Benjamin,” rejoined the doctor. “But I think we have had + enough of chemistry for the present,” he added, turning to Miss Gwilt. + “With every desire, my dear lady, to gratify every passing wish you may + form, I venture to propose trying a more cheerful subject. Suppose we + leave the Dispensary, before it suggests any more inquiries to that active + mind of yours? No? You want to see an experiment? You want to see how the + little bubbles are made? Well, well! there is no harm in that. We will let + Mrs. Armadale see the bubbles,” continued the doctor, in the tone of a + parent humoring a spoiled child. “Try if you can find a few of those + fragments that we want, Benjamin. I dare say the workmen (slovenly + fellows!) have left something of the sort about the house or the grounds.” + </p> + <p> + The Resident Dispenser left the room. + </p> + <p> + As soon as his back was turned, the doctor began opening and shutting + drawers in various parts of the Dispensary, with the air of a man who + wants something in a hurry, and does not know where to find it. “Bless my + soul!” he exclaimed, suddenly stopping at the drawer from which he had + taken his cards of invitation on the previous day, “what’s this? A key? A + duplicate key, as I’m alive, of my fumigating apparatus upstairs! Oh dear, + dear, how careless I get,” said the doctor, turning round briskly to Miss + Gwilt. “I hadn’t the least idea that I possessed this second key. I should + never have missed it. I do assure you I should never have missed it if + anybody had taken it out of the drawer!” He bustled away to the other end + of the room—without closing the drawer, and without taking away the + duplicate key. + </p> + <p> + In silence, Miss Gwilt listened till he had done. In silence, she glided + to the drawer. In silence, she took the key and hid it in her apron + pocket. + </p> + <p> + The Dispenser came back, with the fragments required of him, collected in + a basin. “Thank you, Benjamin,” said the doctor. “Kindly cover them with + water, while I get the bottle down.” + </p> + <p> + As accidents sometimes happen in the most perfectly regulated families, so + clumsiness sometimes possesses itself of the most perfectly disciplined + hands. In the process of its transfer from the shelf to the doctor, the + bottle slipped and fell smashed to pieces on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my fingers and thumbs!” cried the doctor, with an air of comic + vexation, “what in the world do you mean by playing me such a wicked trick + as that? Well, well, well—it can’t be helped. Have we got any more + of it, Benjamin?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a drop, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a drop!” echoed the doctor. “My dear madam, what excuses can I offer + you? My clumsiness has made our little experiment impossible for to-day. + Remind me to order some more to-morrow, Benjamin, and don’t think of + troubling yourself to put that mess to rights. I’ll send the man here to + mop it all up. Our Stout Friend is harmless enough now, my dear lady—in + combination with a boarded floor and a coming mop! I’m so sorry; I really + am so sorry to have disappointed you.” With those soothing words, he + offered his arm, and led Miss Gwilt out of the Dispensary. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done with me for the present?” she asked, when they were in the + hall. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, dear, what a way of putting it!” exclaimed the doctor. “Dinner + at six,” he added, with his politest emphasis, as she turned from him in + disdainful silence, and slowly mounted the stairs to her own room. + </p> + <p> + A clock of the noiseless sort—incapable of offending irritable + nerves—was fixed in the wall, above the first-floor landing, at the + Sanitarium. At the moment when the hands pointed to a quarter before six, + the silence of the lonely upper regions was softly broken by the rustling + of Miss Gwilt’s dress. She advanced along the corridor of the first floor—paused + at the covered apparatus fixed outside the room numbered Four—listened + for a moment—and then unlocked the cover with the duplicate key. + </p> + <p> + The open lid cast a shadow over the inside of the casing. All she saw at + first was what she had seen already—the jar, and the pipe and glass + funnel inserted in the cork. She removed the funnel; and, looking about + her, observed on the window-sill close by a wax-tipped wand used for + lighting the gas. She took the wand, and, introducing it through the + aperture occupied by the funnel, moved it to and fro in the jar. The faint + splash of some liquid, and the grating noise of certain hard substances + which she was stirring about, were the two sounds that caught her ear. She + drew out the wand, and cautiously touched the wet left on it with the tip + of her tongue. Caution was quite needless in this case. The liquid was—water. + </p> + <p> + In putting the funnel back in its place, she noticed something faintly + shining in the obscurely lit vacant space at the side of the jar. She drew + it out, and produced a Purple Flask. The liquid with which it was filled + showed dark through the transparent coloring of the glass; and fastened at + regular intervals down one side of the Flask were six thin strips of + paper, which divided the contents into six equal parts. + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt now that the apparatus had been secretly prepared for + her—the apparatus of which she alone (besides the doctor) possessed + the key. + </p> + <p> + She put back the Flask, and locked the cover of the casing. For a moment + she stood looking at it, with the key in her hand. On a sudden, her lost + color came back. On a sudden, its natural animation returned, for the + first time that day, to her face. She turned and hurried breathlessly + upstairs to her room on the second floor. With eager hands she snatched + her cloak out of the wardrobe, and took her bonnet from the box. “I’m not + in prison!” she burst out, impetuously. “I’ve got the use of my limbs! I + can go—no matter where, as long as I am out of this house!” + </p> + <p> + With her cloak on her shoulders, with her bonnet in her hand, she crossed + the room to the door. A moment more—and she would have been out in + the passage. In that moment the remembrance flashed back on her of the + husband whom she had denied to his face. She stopped instantly, and threw + the cloak and bonnet from her on the bed. “No!” she said; “the gulf is dug + between us—the worst is done!” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. The doctor’s voice outside politely + reminded her that it was six o’clock. + </p> + <p> + She opened the door, and stopped him on his way downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “What time is the train due to-night?” she asked, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “At ten,” answered the doctor, in a voice which all the world might hear, + and welcome. + </p> + <p> + “What room is Mr. Armadale to have when he comes?” + </p> + <p> + “What room would you like him to have?” + </p> + <p> + “Number Four.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor kept up appearances to the very last. + </p> + <p> + “Number Four let it be,” he said, graciously. “Provided, of course, that + Number Four is unoccupied at the time.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The evening wore on, and the night came. + </p> + <p> + At a few minutes before ten, Mr. Bashwood was again at his post, once more + on the watch for the coming of the tidal train. + </p> + <p> + The inspector on duty, who knew him by sight, and who had personally + ascertained that his regular attendance at the terminus implied no designs + on the purses and portmanteaus of the passengers, noticed two new + circumstances in connection with Mr. Bashwood that night. In the first + place, instead of exhibiting his customary cheerfulness, he looked anxious + and depressed. In the second place, while he was watching for the train, + he was to all appearance being watched in his turn, by a slim, dark, + undersized man, who had left his luggage (marked with the name of + Midwinter) at the custom-house department the evening before, and who had + returned to have it examined about half an hour since. + </p> + <p> + What had brought Midwinter to the terminus? And why was he, too, waiting + for the tidal train? + </p> + <p> + After straying as far as Hendon during his lonely walk of the previous + night, he had taken refuge at the village inn, and had fallen asleep (from + sheer exhaustion) toward those later hours of the morning which were the + hours that his wife’s foresight had turned to account. When he returned to + the lodging, the landlady could only inform him that her tenant had + settled everything with her, and had left (for what destination neither + she nor her servant could tell) more than two hours since. + </p> + <p> + Having given some little time to inquiries, the result of which convinced + him that the clew was lost so far, Midwinter had quitted the house, and + had pursued his way mechanically to the busier and more central parts of + the metropolis. With the light now thrown on his wife’s character, to call + at the address she had given him as the address at which her mother lived + would be plainly useless. He went on through the streets, resolute to + discover her, and trying vainly to see the means to his end, till the + sense of fatigue forced itself on him once more. Stopping to rest and + recruit his strength at the first hotel he came to, a chance dispute + between the waiter and a stranger about a lost portmanteau reminded him of + his own luggage, left at the terminus, and instantly took his mind back to + the circumstances under which he and Mr. Bashwood had met. In a moment + more, the idea that he had been vainly seeking on his way through the + streets flashed on him. In a moment more, he had determined to try the + chance of finding the steward again on the watch for the person whose + arrival he had evidently expected by the previous evening’s train. + </p> + <p> + Ignorant of the report of Allan’s death at sea; uninformed, at the + terrible interview with his wife, of the purpose which her assumption of a + widow’s dress really had in view, Midwinter’s first vague suspicions of + her fidelity had now inevitably developed into the conviction that she was + false. He could place but one interpretation on her open disavowal of him, + and on her taking the name under which he had secretly married her. Her + conduct forced the conclusion on him that she was engaged in some infamous + intrigue; and that she had basely secured herself beforehand in the + position of all others in which she knew it would be most odious and most + repellent to him to claim his authority over her. With that conviction he + was now watching Mr. Bashwood, firmly persuaded that his wife’s + hiding-place was known to the vile servant of his wife’s vices; and darkly + suspecting, as the time wore on, that the unknown man who had wronged him, + and the unknown traveler for whose arrival the steward was waiting, were + one and the same. + </p> + <p> + The train was late that night, and the carriages were more than usually + crowded when they arrived at last. Midwinter became involved in the + confusion on the platform, and in the effort to extricate himself he lost + sight of Mr. Bashwood for the first time. + </p> + <p> + A lapse of some few minutes had passed before he again discovered the + steward talking eagerly to a man in a loose shaggy coat, whose back was + turned toward him. Forgetful of all the cautions and restraints which he + had imposed on himself before the train appeared, Midwinter instantly + advanced on them. Mr. Bashwood saw his threatening face as he came on, and + fell back in silence. The man in the loose coat turned to look where the + steward was looking, and disclosed to Midwinter, in the full light of the + station-lamp, Allan’s face! + </p> + <p> + For the moment they both stood speechless, hand in hand, looking at each + other. Allan was the first to recover himself. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God for this!” he said, fervently. “I don’t ask how you came here: + it’s enough for me that you have come. Miserable news has met me already, + Midwinter. Nobody but you can comfort me, and help me to bear it.” His + voice faltered over those last words, and he said no more. + </p> + <p> + The tone in which he had spoken roused Midwinter to meet the circumstances + as they were, by appealing to the old grateful interest in his friend + which had once been the foremost interest of his life. He mastered his + personal misery for the first time since it had fallen on him, and gently + taking Allan aside, asked what had happened. + </p> + <p> + The answer—after informing him of his friend’s reported death at sea—announced + (on Mr. Bashwood’s authority) that the news had reached Miss Milroy, and + that the deplorable result of the shock thus inflicted had obliged the + major to place his daughter in the neighborhood of London, under medical + care. + </p> + <p> + Before saying a word on his side, Midwinter looked distrustfully behind + him. Mr. Bashwood had followed them. Mr. Bashwood was watching to see what + they did next. + </p> + <p> + “Was he waiting your arrival here to tell you this about Miss Milroy?” + asked Midwinter, looking again from the steward to Allan. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Allan. “He has been kindly waiting here, night after night, to + meet me, and break the news to me.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter paused once more. The attempt to reconcile the conclusion he had + drawn from his wife’s conduct with the discovery that Allan was the man + for whose arrival Mr. Bashwood had been waiting was hopeless. The one + present chance of discovering a truer solution of the mystery was to press + the steward on the one available point in which he had laid himself open + to attack. He had positively denied on the previous evening that he knew + anything of Allan’s movements, or that he had any interest in Allan’s + return to England. Having detected Mr. Bashwood in one lie told to + himself. Midwinter instantly suspected him of telling another to Allan. He + seized the opportunity of sifting the statement about Miss Milroy on the + spot. + </p> + <p> + “How have you become acquainted with this sad news?” he inquired, turning + suddenly on Mr. Bashwood. + </p> + <p> + “Through the major, of course,” said Allan, before the steward could + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the doctor who has the care of Miss Milroy?” persisted Midwinter, + still addressing Mr. Bashwood. + </p> + <p> + For the second time the steward made no reply. For the second time, Allan + answered for him. + </p> + <p> + “He is a man with a foreign name,” said Allan. “He keeps a Sanitarium near + Hampstead. What did you say the place was called, Mr. Bashwood?” + </p> + <p> + “Fairweather Vale, sir,” said the steward, answering his employer, as a + matter of necessity, but answering very unwillingly. + </p> + <p> + The address of the Sanitarium instantly reminded Midwinter that he had + traced his wife to Fairweather Vale Villas the previous night. He began to + see light through the darkness, dimly, for the first time. The instinct + which comes with emergency, before the slower process of reason can assert + itself, brought him at a leap to the conclusion that Mr. Bashwood—who + had been certainly acting under his wife’s influence the previous day—might + be acting again under his wife’s influence now. He persisted in sifting + the steward’s statement, with the conviction growing firmer and firmer in + his mind that the statement was a lie, and that his wife was concerned in + it. + </p> + <p> + “Is the major in Norfolk?” he asked, “or is he near his daughter in + London?” + </p> + <p> + “In Norfolk,” said Mr. Bashwood. Having answered Allan’s look of inquiry, + instead of Midwinter’s spoken question, in those words, he hesitated, + looked Midwinter in the face for the first time, and added, suddenly: “I + object, if you please, to be cross-examined, sir. I know what I have told + Mr. Armadale, and I know no more.” + </p> + <p> + The words, and the voice in which they were spoken, were alike at variance + with Mr. Bashwood’s usual language and Mr. Bashwood’s usual tone. There + was a sullen depression in his face—there was a furtive distrust and + dislike in his eyes when they looked at Midwinter, which Midwinter himself + now noticed for the first time. Before he could answer the steward’s + extraordinary outbreak, Allan interfered. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think me impatient,” he said; “but it’s getting late; it’s a long + way to Hampstead. I’m afraid the Sanitarium will be shut up.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter started. “You are not going to the Sanitarium to-night!” he + exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Allan took his friend’s hand and wrung it hard. “If you were as fond of + her as I am,” he whispered, “you would take no rest, you could get no + sleep, till you had seen the doctor, and heard the best and the worst he + had to tell you. Poor dear little soul! who knows, if she could only see + me alive and well—” The tears came into his eyes, and he turned away + his head in silence. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter looked at the steward. “Stand back,” he said. “I want to speak + to Mr. Armadale.” There was something in his eye which it was not safe to + trifle with. Mr. Bashwood drew back out of hearing, but not out of sight. + Midwinter laid his hand fondly on his friend’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Allan,” he said, “I have reasons—” He stopped. Could the reasons be + given before he had fairly realized them himself; at that time, too, and + under those circumstances? Impossible! “I have reasons,” he resumed, “for + advising you not to believe too readily what Mr. Bashwood may say. Don’t + tell him this, but take the warning.” + </p> + <p> + Allan looked at his friend in astonishment. “It was you who always liked + Mr. Bashwood!” he exclaimed. “It was you who trusted him, when he first + came to the great house!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I was wrong, Allan, and perhaps you were right. Will you only + wait till we can telegraph to Major Milroy and get his answer? Will you + only wait over the night?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go mad if I wait over the night,” said Allan. “You have made me + more anxious than I was before. If I am not to speak about it to Bashwood, + I must and will go to the Sanitarium, and find out whether she is or is + not there, from the doctor himself.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter saw that it was useless. In Allan’s interests there was only one + other course left to take. “Will you let me go with you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Allan’s face brightened for the first time. “You dear, good fellow!” he + exclaimed. “It was the very thing I was going to beg of you myself.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter beckoned to the steward. “Mr. Armadale is going to the + Sanitarium,” he said, “and I mean to accompany him. Get a cab and come + with us.” + </p> + <p> + He waited, to see whether Mr. Bashwood would comply. Having been strictly + ordered, when Allan did arrive, not to lose sight of him, and having, in + his own interests, Midwinter’s unexpected appearance to explain to Miss + Gwilt, the steward had no choice but to comply. In sullen submission he + did as he had been told. The keys of Allan’s baggage was given to the + foreign traveling servant whom he had brought with him, and the man was + instructed to wait his master’s orders at the terminus hotel. In a minute + more the cab was on its way out of the station—with Midwinter and + Allan inside, and Mr. Bashwood by the driver on the box. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Between eleven and twelve o’clock that night, Miss Gwilt, standing alone + at the window which lit the corridor of the Sanitarium on the second + floor, heard the roll of wheels coming toward her. The sound, gathering + rapidly in volume through the silence of the lonely neighborhood, stopped + at the iron gates. In another minute she saw the cab draw up beneath her, + at the house door. + </p> + <p> + The earlier night had been cloudy, but the sky was clearing now and the + moon was out. She opened the window to see and hear more clearly. By the + light of the moon she saw Allan get out of the cab, and turn round to + speak to some other person inside. The answering voice told her, before he + appeared in his turn, that Armadale’s companion was her husband. + </p> + <p> + The same petrifying influence that had fallen on her at the interview with + him of the previous day fell on her now. She stood by the window, white + and still, and haggard and old—as she had stood when she first faced + him in her widow’s weeds. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood, stealing up alone to the second floor to make his report, + knew, the instant he set eyes on her, that the report was needless. “It’s + not my fault,” was all he said, as she slowly turned her head and looked + at him. “They met together, and there was no parting them.” + </p> + <p> + She drew a long breath, and motioned him to be silent. “Wait a little,” + she said; “I know all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Turning from him at those words, she slowly paced the corridor to its + furthest end; turned, and slowly came back to him with frowning brow and + drooping head—with all the grace and beauty gone from her, but the + inbred grace and beauty in the movement of her limbs. + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to speak to me?” she asked; her mind far away from him, and + her eyes looking at him vacantly as she put the question. + </p> + <p> + He roused his courage as he had never roused it in her presence yet. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t drive me to despair!” he cried, with a startling abruptness. “Don’t + look at me in that way, now I have found it out!” + </p> + <p> + “What have you found out?” she asked, with a momentary surprise on her + face, which faded from it again before he could gather breath enough to go + on. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Armadale is not the man who took you away from me,” he answered. “Mr. + Midwinter is the man. I found it out in your face yesterday. I see it in + your face now. Why did you sign your name ‘Armadale’ when you wrote to me? + Why do you call yourself ‘Mrs. Armadale’ still?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke those bold words at long intervals, with an effort to resist her + influence over him, pitiable and terrible to see. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for the first time with softened eyes. “I wish I had + pitied you when we first met,” she said, gently, “as I pity you now.” + </p> + <p> + He struggled desperately to go on and say the words to her which he had + strung himself to the pitch of saying on the drive from the terminus. They + were words which hinted darkly at his knowledge of her past life; words + which warned her—do what else she might, commit what crimes she + pleased—to think twice before she deceived and deserted him again. + In those terms he had vowed to himself to address her. He had the phrases + picked and chosen; he had the sentences ranged and ordered in his mind; + nothing was wanting but to make the one crowning effort of speaking them—and, + even now, after all he had said and all he had dared, the effort was more + than he could compass! In helpless gratitude, even for so little as her + pity, he stood looking at her, and wept the silent, womanish tears that + fall from old men’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + She took his hand and spoke to him—with marked forbearance, but + without the slightest sign of emotion on her side. + </p> + <p> + “You have waited already at my request,” she said. “Wait till to-morrow, + and you will know all. If you trust nothing else that I have told you, you + may trust what I tell you now. <i>It will end to-night</i>.” + </p> + <p> + As she said the words, the doctor’s step was heard on the stairs. Mr. + Bashwood drew back from her, with his heart beating fast in unutterable + expectation. “It will end to-night!” he repeated to himself, under his + breath, as he moved away toward the far end of the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let me disturb you, sir,” said the doctor, cheerfully, as they met. + “I have nothing to say to Mrs. Armadale but what you or anybody may hear.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood went on, without answering, to the far end of the corridor, + still repeating to himself: “It will end to-night!” The doctor, passing + him in the opposite direction, joined Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard, no doubt,” he began, in his blandest manner and his + roundest tones, “that Mr. Armadale has arrived. Permit me to add, my dear + lady, that there is not the least reason for any nervous agitation on your + part. He has been carefully humored, and he is as quiet and manageable as + his best friends could wish. I have informed him that it is impossible to + allow him an interview with the young lady to-night; but that he may count + on seeing her (with the proper precautions) at the earliest propitious + hour, after she is awake to-morrow morning. As there is no hotel near, and + as the propitious hour may occur at a moment’s notice, it was clearly + incumbent on me, under the peculiar circumstances, to offer him the + hospitality of the Sanitarium. He has accepted it with the utmost + gratitude; and has thanked me in a most gentlemanly and touching manner + for the pains I have taken to set his mind at ease. Perfectly gratifying, + perfectly satisfactory, so far! But there has been a little hitch—now + happily got over—which I think it right to mention to you before we + all retire for the night.” + </p> + <p> + Having paved the way in those words (and in Mr. Bashwood’s hearing) for + the statement which he had previously announced his intention of making, + in the event of Allan’s dying in the Sanitarium, the doctor was about to + proceed, when his attention was attracted by a sound below like the trying + of a door. + </p> + <p> + He instantly descended the stairs, and unlocked the door of communication + between the first and second floors, which he had locked behind him on his + way up. But the person who had tried the door—if such a person there + really had been—was too quick for him. He looked along the corridor, + and over the staircase into the hall, and, discovering nothing, returned + to Miss Gwilt, after securing the door of communication behind him once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he resumed, “I thought I heard something downstairs. With + regard to the little hitch that I adverted to just now, permit me to + inform you that Mr. Armadale has brought a friend here with him, who bears + the strange name of Midwinter. Do you know the gentleman at all?” asked + the doctor, with a suspicious anxiety in his eyes, which strangely belied + the elaborate indifference of his tone. + </p> + <p> + “I know him to be an old friend of Mr. Armadale’s,” she said. “Does he—?” + Her voice failed her, and her eyes fell before the doctor’s steady + scrutiny. She mastered the momentary weakness, and finished her question. + “Does he, too, stay here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Midwinter is a person of coarse manners and suspicious temper,” + rejoined the doctor, steadily watching her. “He was rude enough to insist + on staying here as soon as Mr. Armadale had accepted my invitation.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to note the effect of those words on her. Left utterly in the + dark by the caution with which she had avoided mentioning her husband’s + assumed name to him at their first interview, the doctor’s distrust of her + was necessarily of the vaguest kind. He had heard her voice fail her—he + had seen her color change. He suspected her of a mental reservation on the + subject of Midwinter—and of nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “Did you permit him to have his way?” she asked. “In your place, I should + have shown him the door.” + </p> + <p> + The impenetrable composure of her tone warned the doctor that her + self-command was not to be further shaken that night. He resumed the + character of Mrs. Armadale’s medical referee on the subject of Mr. + Armadale’s mental health. + </p> + <p> + “If I had only had my own feelings to consult,” he said, “I don’t disguise + from you that I should (as you say) have shown Mr. Midwinter the door. But + on appealing to Mr. Armadale, I found he was himself anxious not to be + parted from his friend. Under those circumstances, but one alternative was + left—the alternative of humoring him again. The responsibility of + thwarting him—to say nothing,” added the doctor, drifting for a + moment toward the truth, “of my natural apprehension, with such a temper + as his friend’s, of a scandal and disturbance in the house—was not + to be thought of for a moment. Mr. Midwinter accordingly remains here for + the night; and occupies (I ought to say, insists on occupying) the next + room to Mr. Armadale. Advise me, my dear madam, in this emergency,” + concluded the doctor, with his loudest emphasis. “What rooms shall we put + them in, on the first floor?” + </p> + <p> + “Put Mr. Armadale in Number Four.” + </p> + <p> + “And his friend next to him, in Number Three?” said the doctor. “Well! + well! well! perhaps they <i>are</i> the most comfortable rooms. I’ll give + my orders immediately. Don’t hurry away, Mr. Bashwood,” he called out, + cheerfully, as he reached the top of the staircase. “I have left the + assistant physician’s key on the window-sill yonder, and Mrs. Armadale can + let you out at the staircase door whenever she pleases. Don’t sit up late, + Mrs. Armadale! Yours is a nervous system that requires plenty of sleep. + ‘Tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep.’ Grand line! God bless you—good-night!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood came back from the far end of the corridor—still + pondering, in unutterable expectation, on what was to come with the night. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to go now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. You are to stay. I said you should know all if you waited till the + morning. Wait here.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, and looked about him. “The doctor,” he faltered. “I thought + the doctor said—” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor will interfere with nothing that I do in this house to-night. + I tell you to stay. There are empty rooms on the floor above this. Take + one of them.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood felt the trembling fit coming on him again as he looked at + her. “May I ask—?” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Ask nothing. I want you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you please to tell me—?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you nothing till the night is over and the morning has come.” + </p> + <p> + His curiosity conquered his fear. He persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Is it something dreadful?” he whispered. “Too dreadful to tell me?” + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot with a sudden outbreak of impatience. “Go!” she said, + snatching the key of the staircase door from the window-sill. “You do + quite right to distrust me—you do quite right to follow me no + further in the dark. Go before the house is shut up. I can do without + you.” She led the way to the stairs, with the key in one hand, and the + candle in the other. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood followed her in silence. No one, knowing what he knew of her + earlier life, could have failed to perceive that she was a woman driven to + the last extremity, and standing consciously on the brink of a Crime. In + the first terror of the discovery, he broke free from the hold she had on + him: he thought and acted like a man who had a will of his own again. + </p> + <p> + She put the key in the door, and turned to him before she opened it, with + the light of the candle on her face. “Forget me, and forgive me,” she + said. “We meet no more.” + </p> + <p> + She opened the door, and, standing inside it, after he had passed her, + gave him her hand. He had resisted her look, he had resisted her words, + but the magnetic fascination of her touch conquered him at the final + moment. “I can’t leave you!” he said, holding helplessly by the hand she + had given him. “What must I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Come and see,” she answered, without allowing him an instant to reflect. + </p> + <p> + Closing her hand firmly on his, she led him along the first floor corridor + to the room numbered Four. “Notice that room,” she whispered. After a look + over the stairs to see that they were alone, she retraced her steps with + him to the opposite extremity of the corridor. Here, facing the window + which lit the place at the other end, was one little room, with a narrow + grating in the higher part of the door, intended for the sleeping + apartment of the doctor’s deputy. From the position of this room, the + grating commanded a view of the bed-chambers down each side of the + corridor, and so enabled the deputy-physician to inform himself of any + irregular proceedings on the part of the patients under his care, with + little or no chance of being detected in watching them. Miss Gwilt opened + the door and led the way into the empty room. + </p> + <p> + “Wait here,” she said, “while I go back upstairs; and lock yourself in, if + you like. You will be in the dark, but the gas will be burning in the + corridor. Keep at the grating, and make sure that Mr. Armadale goes into + the room I have just pointed out to you, and that he doesn’t leave it + afterward. If you lose sight of the room for a single moment before I come + back, you will repent it to the end of your life. If you do as I tell you, + you shall see me to-morrow, and claim your own reward. Quick with your + answer! Is it Yes or No?” + </p> + <p> + He could make no reply in words. He raised her hand to his lips, and + kissed it rapturously. She left him in the room. From his place at the + grating he saw her glide down the corridor to the staircase door. She + passed through it, and locked it. Then there was silence. + </p> + <p> + The next sound was the sound of the women-servants’ voices. Two of them + came up to put the sheets on the beds in Number Three and Number Four. The + women were in high good-humor, laughing and talking to each other through + the open doors of the rooms. The master’s customers were coming in at + last, they said, with a vengeance; the house would soon begin to look + cheerful, if things went on like this. + </p> + <p> + After a little, the beds were got ready and the women returned to the + kitchen floor, on which the sleeping-rooms of the domestic servants were + all situated. Then there was silence again. + </p> + <p> + The next sound was the sound of the doctor’s voice. He appeared at the end + of the corridor, showing Allan and Midwinter the way to their rooms. They + all went together into Number Four. After a little, the doctor came out + first. He waited till Midwinter joined him, and pointed with a formal bow + to the door of Number Three. Midwinter entered the room without speaking, + and shut himself in. The doctor, left alone, withdrew to the staircase + door and unlocked it, then waited in the corridor, whistling to himself + softly, under his breath. + </p> + <p> + Voices pitched cautiously low became audible in a minute more in the hall. + The Resident Dispenser and the Head Nurse appeared, on their way to the + dormitories of the attendants at the top of the house. The man bowed + silently, and passed the doctor; the woman courtesied silently, and + followed the man. The doctor acknowledged their salutations by a courteous + wave of his hand; and, once more left alone, paused a moment, still + whistling softly to himself, then walked to the door of Number Four, and + opened the case of the fumigating apparatus fixed near it in the corner of + the wall. As he lifted the lid and looked in, his whistling ceased. He + took a long purple bottle out, examined it by the gas-light, put it back, + and closed the case. This done, he advanced on tiptoe to the open + staircase door, passed through it, and secured it on the inner side as + usual. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bashwood had seen him at the apparatus; Mr. Bashwood had noticed the + manner of his withdrawal through the staircase door. Again the sense of an + unutterable expectation throbbed at his heart. A terror that was slow and + cold and deadly crept into his hands, and guided them in the dark to the + key that had been left for him in the inner side of the door. He turned it + in vague distrust of what might happen next, and waited. + </p> + <p> + The slow minutes passed, and nothing happened. The silence was horrible; + the solitude of the lonely corridor was a solitude of invisible + treacheries. He began to count to keep his mind employed—to keep his + own growing dread away from him. The numbers, as he whispered them, + followed each other slowly up to a hundred, and still nothing happened. He + had begun the second hundred; he had got on to twenty—when, without + a sound to betray that he had been moving in his room, Midwinter suddenly + appeared in the corridor. + </p> + <p> + He stood for a moment and listened; he went to the stairs and looked over + into the hall beneath. Then, for the second time that night, he tried the + staircase door, and for the second time found it fast. After a moment’s + reflection, he tried the doors of the bedrooms on his right hand next, + looked into one after the other, and saw that they were empty, then came + to the door of the end room in which the steward was concealed. Here, + again, the lock resisted him. He listened, and looked up at the grating. + No sound was to be heard, no light was to be seen inside. “Shall I break + the door in,” he said to himself, “and make sure? No; it would be giving + the doctor an excuse for turning me out of the house.” He moved away, and + looked into the two empty rooms in the row occupied by Allan and himself, + then walked to the window at the staircase end of the corridor. Here the + case of the fumigating apparatus attracted his attention. After trying + vainly to open it, his suspicion seemed to be aroused. He searched back + along the corridor, and observed that no object of a similar kind appeared + outside any of the other bed-chambers. Again at the window, he looked + again at the apparatus, and turned away from it with a gesture which + plainly indicated that he had tried, and failed, to guess what it might + be. + </p> + <p> + Baffled at all points, he still showed no sign of returning to his + bed-chamber. He stood at the window, with his eyes fixed on the door of + Allan’s room, thinking. If Mr. Bashwood, furtively watching him through + the grating, could have seen him at that moment in the mind as well as in + the body, Mr. Bashwood’s heart might have throbbed even faster than it was + throbbing now, in expectation of the next event which Midwinter’s decision + of the next minute was to bring forth. + </p> + <p> + On what was his mind occupied as he stood alone, at the dead of night, in + the strange house? + </p> + <p> + His mind was occupied in drawing its disconnected impressions together, + little by little, to one point. Convinced from the first that some hidden + danger threatened Allan in the Sanitarium, his distrust—vaguely + associated, thus far, with the place itself; with his wife (whom he firmly + believed to be now under the same roof with him); with the doctor, who was + as plainly in her confidence as Mr. Bashwood himself—now narrowed + its range, and centered itself obstinately in Allan’s room. Resigning all + further effort to connect his suspicion of a conspiracy against his friend + with the outrage which had the day before been offered to himself—an + effort which would have led him, if he could have maintained it, to a + discovery of the fraud really contemplated by his wife—his mind, + clouded and confused by disturbing influences, instinctively took refuge + in its impressions of facts as they had shown themselves since he had + entered the house. Everything that he had noticed below stairs suggested + that there was some secret purpose to be answered by getting Allan to + sleep in the Sanitarium. Everything that he had noticed above stairs + associated the lurking-place in which the danger lay hid with Allan’s + room. To reach this conclusion, and to decide on baffling the conspiracy, + whatever it might be, by taking Allan’s place, was with Midwinter the work + of an instant. Confronted by actual peril, the great nature of the man + intuitively freed itself from the weaknesses that had beset it in happier + and safer times. Not even the shadow of the old superstition rested on his + mind now—no fatalist suspicion of himself disturbed the steady + resolution that was in him. The one last doubt that troubled him, as he + stood at the window thinking, was the doubt whether he could persuade + Allan to change rooms with him, without involving himself in an + explanation which might lead Allan to suspect the truth. + </p> + <p> + In the minute that elapsed, while he waited with his eyes on the room, the + doubt was resolved—he found the trivial, yet sufficient, excuse of + which he was in search. Mr. Bashwood saw him rouse himself and go to the + door. Mr. Bashwood heard him knock softly, and whisper, “Allan, are you in + bed?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered the voice inside; “come in.” + </p> + <p> + He appeared to be on the point of entering the room, when he checked + himself as if he had suddenly remembered something. “Wait a minute,” he + said, through the door, and, turning away, went straight to the end room. + “If there is anybody watching us in there,” he said aloud, “let him watch + us through this!” He took out his handkerchief, and stuffed it into the + wires of the grating, so as completely to close the aperture. Having thus + forced the spy inside (if there was one) either to betray himself by + moving the handkerchief, or to remain blinded to all view of what might + happen next, Midwinter presented himself in Allan’s room. + </p> + <p> + “You know what poor nerves I have,” he said, “and what a wretched sleeper + I am at the best of times. I can’t sleep to-night. The window in my room + rattles every time the wind blows. I wish it was as fast as your window + here.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow!” cried Allan, “I don’t mind a rattling window. Let’s + change rooms. Nonsense! Why should you make excuses to <i>me</i>? Don’t I + know how easily trifles upset those excitable nerves of yours? Now the + doctor has quieted my mind about my poor little Neelie, I begin to feel + the journey; and I’ll answer for sleeping anywhere till to-morrow comes.” + He took up his traveling-bag. “We must be quick about it,” he added, + pointing to his candle. “They haven’t left me much candle to go to bed + by.” + </p> + <p> + “Be very quiet, Allan,” said Midwinter, opening the door for him. “We + mustn’t disturb the house at this time of night.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” returned Allan, in a whisper. “Good-night; I hope you’ll sleep + as well as I shall.” + </p> + <p> + Midwinter saw him into Number Three, and noticed that his own candle + (which he had left there) was as short as Allan’s. “Good-night,” he said, + and came out again into the corridor. + </p> + <p> + He went straight to the grating, and looked and listened once more. The + handkerchief remained exactly as he had left it, and still there was no + sound to be heard within. He returned slowly along the corridor, and + thought of the precautions he had taken, for the last time. Was there no + other way than the way he was trying now? There was none. Any openly + avowed posture of defense—while the nature of the danger, and the + quarter from which it might come, were alike unknown—would be + useless in itself, and worse than useless in the consequences which it + might produce by putting the people of the house on their guard. Without a + fact that could justify to other minds his distrust of what might happen + with the night, incapable of shaking Allan’s ready faith in the fair + outside which the doctor had presented to him, the one safeguard in his + friend’s interests that Midwinter could set up was the safeguard of + changing the rooms—the one policy he could follow, come what might + of it, was the policy of waiting for events. “I can trust to one thing,” + he said to himself, as he looked for the last time up and down the + corridor—“I can trust myself to keep awake.” + </p> + <p> + After a glance at the clock on the wall opposite, he went into Number + Four. The sound of the closing door was heard, the sound of the turning + lock followed it. Then the dead silence fell over the house once more. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, the steward’s horror of the stillness and the darkness + overcame his dread of moving the handkerchief. He cautiously drew aside + one corner of it, waited, looked, and took courage at last to draw the + whole handkerchief through the wires of the grating. After first hiding it + in his pocket, he thought of the consequences if it was found on him, and + threw it down in a corner of the room. He trembled when he had cast it + from him, as he looked at his watch and placed himself again at the + grating to wait for Miss Gwilt. + </p> + <p> + It was a quarter to one. The moon had come round from the side to the + front of the Sanitarium. From time to time her light gleamed on the window + of the corridor when the gaps in the flying clouds let it through. The + wind had risen, and sung its mournful song faintly, as it swept at + intervals over the desert ground in front of the house. + </p> + <p> + The minute hand of the clock traveled on halfway round the circle of the + dial. As it touched the quarter-past one, Miss Gwilt stepped noiselessly + into the corridor. “Let yourself out,” she whispered through the grating, + “and follow me.” She returned to the stairs by which she had just + descended, pushed the door to softly after Mr. Bashwood had followed her + and led the way up to the landing of the second floor. There she put the + question to him which she had not ventured to put below stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Was Mr. Armadale shown into Number Four?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He bowed his head without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me in words. Has Mr. Armadale left the room since?” + </p> + <p> + He answered, “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never lost sight of Number Four since I left you?” + </p> + <p> + He answered, “<i>Never</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Something strange in his manner, something unfamiliar in his voice, as he + made that last reply, attracted her attention. She took her candle from a + table near, on which she had left it, and threw its light on him. His eyes + were staring, his teeth chattered. There was everything to betray him to + her as a terrified man; there was nothing to tell her that the terror was + caused by his consciousness of deceiving her, for the first time in his + life, to her face. If she had threatened him less openly when she placed + him on the watch; if she had spoken less unreservedly of the interview + which was to reward him in the morning, he might have owned the truth. As + it was, his strongest fears and his dearest hopes were alike interested in + telling her the fatal lie that he had now told—the fatal lie which + he reiterated when she put her question for the second time. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, deceived by the last man on earth whom she would have + suspected of deception—the man whom she had deceived herself. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to be overexcited,” she said quietly. “The night has been too + much for you. Go upstairs, and rest. You will find the door of one of the + rooms left open. That is the room you are to occupy. Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + She put the candle (which she had left burning for him) on the table, and + gave him her hand. He held her back by it desperately as she turned to + leave him. His horror of what might happen when she was left by herself + forced the words to his lips which he would have feared to speak to her at + any other time. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t,” he pleaded, in a whisper; “oh, don’t, don’t, don’t go downstairs + to-night!” + </p> + <p> + She released her hand, and signed to him to take the candle. “You shall + see me to-morrow,” she said. “Not a word more now!” + </p> + <p> + Her stronger will conquered him at that last moment, as it had conquered + him throughout. He took the candle and waited, following her eagerly with + his eyes as she descended the stairs. The cold of the December night + seemed to have found its way to her through the warmth of the house. She + had put on a long, heavy black shawl, and had fastened it close over her + breast. The plaited coronet in which she wore her hair seemed to have + weighed too heavily on her head. She had untwisted it, and thrown it back + over her shoulders. The old man looked at her flowing hair, as it lay red + over the black shawl—at her supple, long-fingered hand, as it slid + down the banisters—at the smooth, seductive grace of every movement + that took her further and further away from him. “The night will go + quickly,” he said to himself, as she passed from his view; “I shall dream + of her till the morning comes!” + </p> + <p> + She secured the staircase door, after she had passed through it—listened, + and satisfied herself that nothing was stirring—then went on slowly + along the corridor to the window. Leaning on the window-sill, she looked + out at the night. The clouds were over the moon at that moment; nothing + was to be seen through the darkness but the scattered gas-lights in the + suburb. Turning from the window, she looked at the clock. It was twenty + minutes past one. + </p> + <p> + For the last time, the resolution that had come to her in the earlier + night, with the knowledge that her husband was in the house, forced itself + uppermost in her mind. For the last time, the voice within her said, + “Think if there is no other way!” + </p> + <p> + She pondered over it till the minute-hand of the clock pointed to the + half-hour. “No!” she said, still thinking of her husband. “The one chance + left is to go through with it to the end. He will leave the thing undone + which he has come here to do; he will leave the words unspoken which he + has come here to say—when he knows that the act may make me a public + scandal, and that the words may send me to the scaffold!” Her color rose, + and she smiled with a terrible irony as she looked for the first time at + the door of the Room. “I shall be your widow,” she said, “in half an + hour!” + </p> + <p> + She opened the case of the apparatus and took the Purple Flask in her + hand. After marking the time by a glance at the clock, she dropped into + the glass funnel the first of the six separate Pourings that were measured + for her by the paper slips. + </p> + <p> + When she had put the Flask back, she listened at the mouth of the funnel. + Not a sound reached her ear: the deadly process did its work in the + silence of death itself. When she rose and looked up the moon was shining + in at the window, and the moaning wind was quiet. + </p> + <p> + Oh, the time! the time! If it could only have been begun and ended with + the first Pouring! + </p> + <p> + She went downstairs into the hall; she walked to and fro, and listened at + the open door that led to the kitchen stairs. She came up again; she went + down again. The first of the intervals of five minutes was endless. The + time stood still. The suspense was maddening. + </p> + <p> + The interval passed. As she took the Flask for the second time, and + dropped in the second Pouring, the clouds floated over the moon, and the + night view through the window slowly darkened. + </p> + <p> + The restlessness that had driven her up and down the stairs, and backward + and forward in the hall, left her as suddenly as it had come. She waited + through the second interval, leaning on the window-sill, and staring, + without conscious thought of any kind, into the black night. The howling + of a belated dog was borne toward her on the wind, at intervals, from some + distant part of the suburb. She found herself following the faint sound as + it died away into silence with a dull attention, and listening for its + coming again with an expectation that was duller still. Her arms lay like + lead on the window-sill; her forehead rested against the glass without + feeling the cold. It was not till the moon struggled out again that she + was startled into sudden self-remembrance. She turned quickly, and looked + at the clock; seven minutes had passed since the second Pouring. + </p> + <p> + As she snatched up the Flask, and fed the funnel for the third time, the + full consciousness of her position came back to her. The fever-heat + throbbed again in her blood, and flushed fiercely in her cheeks. Swift, + smooth, and noiseless, she paced from end to end of the corridor, with her + arms folded in her shawl and her eye moment after moment on the clock. + </p> + <p> + Three out of the next five minutes passed, and again the suspense began to + madden her. The space in the corridor grew too confined for the + illimitable restlessness that possessed her limbs. She went down into the + hall again, and circled round and round it like a wild creature in a cage. + At the third turn, she felt something moving softly against her dress. The + house-cat had come up through the open kitchen door—a large, tawny, + companionable cat that purred in high good temper, and followed her for + company. She took the animal up in her arms—it rubbed its sleek head + luxuriously against her chin as she bent her face over it. “Armadale hates + cats,” she whispered in the creature’s ear. “Come up and see Armadale + killed!” The next moment her own frightful fancy horrified her. She + dropped the cat with a shudder; she drove it below again with threatening + hands. For a moment after, she stood still, then in headlong haste + suddenly mounted the stairs. Her husband had forced his way back again + into her thoughts; her husband threatened her with a danger which had + never entered her mind till now. What if he were not asleep? What if he + came out upon her, and found her with the Purple Flask in her hand? + </p> + <p> + She stole to the door of Number Three and listened. The slow, regular + breathing of a sleeping man was just audible. After waiting a moment to + let the feeling of relief quiet her, she took a step toward Number Four, + and checked herself. It was needless to listen at <i>that</i> door. The + doctor had told her that Sleep came first, as certainly as Death + afterward, in the poisoned air. She looked aside at the clock. The time + had come for the fourth Pouring. + </p> + <p> + Her hand began to tremble violently as she fed the funnel for the fourth + time. The fear of her husband was back again in her heart. What if some + noise disturbed him before the sixth Pouring? What if he woke on a sudden + (as she had often seen him wake) without any noise at all? She looked up + and down the corridor. The end room, in which Mr. Bashwood had been + concealed, offered itself to her as a place of refuge. “I might go in + there!” she thought. “Has he left the key?” She opened the door to look, + and saw the handkerchief thrown down on the floor. Was it Mr. Bashwood’s + handkerchief, left there by accident? She examined it at the corners. In + the second corner she found her husband’s name! + </p> + <p> + Her first impulse hurried her to the staircase door, to rouse the steward + and insist on an explanation. The next moment she remembered the Purple + Flask, and the danger of leaving the corridor. She turned, and looked at + the door of Number Three. Her husband, on the evidence of the handkerchief + had unquestionably been out of his room—and Mr. Bashwood had not + told her. Was he in his room now? In the violence of her agitation, as the + question passed through her mind, she forgot the discovery which she had + herself made not a minute before. Again she listened at the door; again + she heard the slow, regular breathing of the sleeping man. The first time + the evidence of her ears had been enough to quiet her; <i>this</i> time, + in the tenfold aggravation of her suspicion and her alarm, she was + determined to have the evidence of her eyes as well. “All the doors open + softly in this house,” she said to herself; “there’s no fear of my waking + him.” Noiselessly, by an inch at a time, she opened the unlocked door, and + looked in the moment the aperture was wide enough. In the little light she + had let into the room, the sleeper’s head was just visible on the pillow. + Was it quite as dark against the white pillow as her husband’s head looked + when he was in bed? Was the breathing as light as her husband’s breathing + when he was asleep? + </p> + <p> + She opened the door more widely, and looked in by the clearer light. + </p> + <p> + There lay the man whose life she had attempted for the third time, + peacefully sleeping in the room that had been given to her husband, and in + the air that could harm nobody! + </p> + <p> + The inevitable conclusion overwhelmed her on the instant. With a frantic + upward action of her hands she staggered back into the passage. The door + of Allan’s room fell to, but not noisily enough to wake him. She turned as + she heard it close. For one moment she stood staring at it like a woman + stupefied. The next, her instinct rushed into action, before her reason + recovered itself. In two steps she was at the door of Number Four. + </p> + <p> + The door was locked. + </p> + <p> + She felt over the wall with both hands, wildly and clumsily, for the + button which she had seen the doctor press when he was showing the room to + the visitors. Twice she missed it. The third time her eyes helped her + hands; she found the button and pressed on it. The mortise of the lock + inside fell back, and the door yielded to her. + </p> + <p> + Without an instant’s hesitation she entered the room. Though the door was + open—though so short a time had elapsed since the fourth Pouring + that but little more than half the contemplated volume of gas had been + produced as yet—the poisoned air seized her, like the grasp of a + hand at her throat, like the twisting of a wire round her head. She found + him on the floor at the foot of the bed: his head and one arm were toward + the door, as if he had risen under the first feeling of drowsiness, and + had sunk in the effort to leave the room. With the desperate concentration + of strength of which women are capable in emergencies, she lifted him and + dragged him out into the corridor. Her brain reeled as she laid him down, + and crawled back on her knees to the room to shut out the poisoned air + from pursuing them into the passage. After closing the door, she waited, + without daring to look at him the while, for strength enough to rise and + get to the window over the stairs. When the window was opened, when the + keen air of the early winter morning blew steadily in, she ventured back + to him and raised his head, and looked for the first time closely at his + face. + </p> + <p> + Was it death that spread the livid pallor over his forehead and his + cheeks, and the dull leaden hue on his eyelids and his lips? + </p> + <p> + She loosened his cravat and opened his waistcoat, and bared his throat and + breast to the air. With her hand on his heart, with her bosom supporting + his head, so that he fronted the window, she waited the event. A time + passed: a time short enough to be reckoned by minutes on the clock; and + yet long enough to take her memory back over all her married life with him—long + enough to mature the resolution that now rose in her mind as the one + result that could come of the retrospect. As her eyes rested on him, a + strange composure settled slowly on her face. She bore the look of a woman + who was equally resigned to welcome the chance of his recovery, or to + accept the certainty of his death. + </p> + <p> + Not a cry or a tear had escaped her yet. Not a cry or a tear escaped her + when the interval had passed, and she felt the first faint fluttering of + his heart, and heard the first faint catching of the breath of his lips. + She silently bent over him and kissed his forehead. When she looked up + again, the hard despair had melted from her face. There was something + softly radiant in her eyes, which lit her whole countenance as with an + inner light, and made her womanly and lovely once more. + </p> + <p> + She laid him down, and, taking off her shawl, made a pillow of it to + support his head. “It might have been hard, love,” she said, as she felt + the faint pulsation strengthening at his heart. “You have made it easy + now.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, and, turning from him, noticed the Purple Flask in the place + where she had left it since the fourth Pouring. “Ah,” she thought, + quietly, “I had forgotten my best friend—I had forgotten that there + is more to pour in yet.” + </p> + <p> + With a steady hand, with a calm, attentive face, she fed the funnel for + the fifth time. “Five minutes more,” she said, when she had put the Flask + back, after a look at the clock. + </p> + <p> + She fell into thought—thought that only deepened the grave and + gentle composure of her face. “Shall I write him a farewell word?” she + asked herself. “Shall I tell him the truth before I leave him forever?” + </p> + <p> + Her little gold pencil-case hung with the other toys at her watch-chain. + After looking about her for a moment, she knelt over her husband and put + her hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. + </p> + <p> + His pocket-book was there. Some papers fell from it as she unfastened the + clasp. One of them was the letter which had come to him from Mr. Brock’s + death-bed. She turned over the two sheets of note-paper on which the + rector had written the words that had now come true, and found the last + page of the last sheet a blank. On that page she wrote her farewell words, + kneeling at her husband’s side. + </p> + <p> + “I am worse than the worst you can think of me. You have saved Armadale by + changing rooms with him to-night; and you have saved him from me. You can + guess now whose widow I should have claimed to be, if you had not + preserved his life; and you will know what a wretch you married when you + married the woman who writes these lines. Still, I had some innocent + moments, and then I loved you dearly. Forget me, my darling, in the love + of a better woman than I am. I might, perhaps, have been that better woman + myself, if I had not lived a miserable life before you met with me. It + matters little now. The one atonement I can make for all the wrong I have + done you is the atonement of my death. It is not hard for me to die, now I + know you will live. Even my wickedness has one merit—it has not + prospered. I have never been a happy woman.” + </p> + <p> + She folded the letter again, and put it into his hand, to attract his + attention in that way when he came to himself. As she gently closed his + fingers on the paper and looked up, the last minute of the last interval + faced her, recorded on the clock. + </p> + <p> + She bent over him, and gave him her farewell kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Live, my angel, live!” she murmured, tenderly, with her lips just + touching his. “All your life is before you—a happy life, and an + honored life, if you are freed from <i>me</i>!” + </p> + <p> + With a last, lingering tenderness, she parted the hair back from his + forehead. “It is no merit to have loved you,” she said. “You are one of + the men whom women all like.” She sighed and left him. It was her last + weakness. She bent her head affirmatively to the clock, as if it had been + a living creature speaking to her; and fed the funnel for the last time, + to the last drop left in the Flask. + </p> + <p> + The waning moon shone in faintly at the window. With her hand on the door + of the room, she turned and looked at the light that was slowly fading out + of the murky sky. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God, forgive me!” she said. “Oh, Christ, bear witness that I have + suffered!” + </p> + <p> + One moment more she lingered on the threshold; lingered for her last look + in this world—and turned that look on <i>him</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by!” she said, softly. + </p> + <p> + The door of the room opened, and closed on her. There was an interval of + silence. + </p> + <p> + Then a sound came dull and sudden, like the sound of a fall. + </p> + <p> + Then there was silence again. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The hands of the clock, following their steady course, reckoned the + minutes of the morning as one by one they lapsed away. It was the tenth + minute since the door of the room had opened and closed, before Midwinter + stirred on his pillow, and, struggling to raise himself, felt the letter + in his hand. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a key was turned in the staircase door. And the doctor, + looking expectantly toward the fatal room, saw the Purple Flask on the + window-sill, and the prostrate man trying to raise himself from the floor. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_EPIL" id="H2_EPIL"></a> EPILOGUE. + </h2> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0053" id="H2_4_0053"></a> I. NEWS FROM NORFOLK. + </h2> + <p> + <i>From Mr. Pedgift, Senior (Thorpe Ambrose), to Mr. Pedgift, Junior + (Paris)</i>. + </p> + <p> + “High Street, December 20th. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR AUGUSTUS—Your letter reached me yesterday. You seem to be + making the most of your youth (as you call it) with a vengeance. Well! + enjoy your holiday. I made the most of my youth when I was your age; and, + wonderful to relate, I haven’t forgotten it yet! + </p> + <p> + “You ask me for a good budget of news, and especially for more information + about that mysterious business at the Sanitarium. + </p> + <p> + “Curiosity, my dear boy, is a quality which (in our profession especially) + sometimes leads to great results. I doubt, however, if you will find it + leading to much on this occasion. All I know of the mystery of the + Sanitarium, I know from Mr. Armadale: and he is entirely in the dark on + more than one point of importance. I have already told you how they were + entrapped into the house, and how they passed the night there. To this I + can now add that something did certainly happen to Mr. Midwinter, which + deprived him of consciousness; and that the doctor, who appears to have + been mixed up in the matter, carried things with a high hand, and insisted + on taking his own course in his own Sanitarium. There is not the least + doubt that the miserable woman (however she might have come by her death) + was found dead—that a coroner’s inquest inquired into the + circumstances—that the evidence showed her to have entered the house + as a patient—and that the medical investigation ended in discovering + that she had died of apoplexy. My idea is that Mr. Midwinter had a motive + of his own for not coming forward with the evidence that he might have + given. I have also reason to suspect that Mr. Armadale, out of regard for + him, followed his lead, and that the verdict at the inquest (attaching no + blame to anybody) proceeded, like many other verdicts of the same kind, + from an entirely superficial investigation of the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “The key to the whole mystery is to be found, I firmly believe, in that + wretched woman’s attempt to personate the character of Mr. Armadale’s + widow when the news of his death appeared in the papers. But what first + set her on this, and by what inconceivable process of deception she can + have induced Mr. Midwinter to marry her (as the certificate proves) under + Mr. Armadale’s name, is more than Mr. Armadale himself knows. The point + was not touched at the inquest, for the simple reason that the inquest + only concerned itself with the circumstances attending her death. Mr. + Armadale, at his friend’s request, saw Miss Blanchard, and induced her to + silence old Darch on the subject of the claim that had been made relating + to the widow’s income. As the claim had never been admitted, even our + stiff-necked brother practitioner consented for once to do as he was + asked. The doctor’s statement that his patient was the widow of a + gentleman named Armadale was accordingly left unchallenged, and so the + matter has been hushed up. She is buried in the great cemetery, near the + place where she died. Nobody but Mr. Midwinter and Mr. Armadale (who + insisted on going with him) followed her to the grave; and nothing has + been inscribed on the tombstone but the initial letter of her Christian + name and the date of her death. So, after all the harm she has done, she + rests at last; and so the two men whom she has injured have forgiven her. + </p> + <p> + “Is there more to say on this subject before we leave it? On referring to + your letter, I find you have raised one other point, which may be worth a + moment’s notice. + </p> + <p> + “You ask if there is reason to suppose that the doctor comes out of the + matter with hands which are really as clean as they look? My dear + Augustus, I believe the doctor to have been at the bottom of more of this + mischief than we shall ever find out; and to have profited by the + self-imposed silence of Mr. Midwinter and Mr. Armadale, as rogues + perpetually profit by the misfortunes and necessities of honest men. It is + an ascertained fact that he connived at the false statement about Miss + Milroy, which entrapped the two gentlemen into his house; and that one + circumstance (after my Old Bailey experience) is enough for <i>me</i>. As + to evidence against him, there is not a jot; and as to Retribution + overtaking him, I can only say I heartily hope Retribution may prove, in + the long run, to be the more cunning customer of the two. There is not + much prospect of it at present. The doctor’s friends and admirers are, I + understand, about to present him with a Testimonial, ‘expressive of their + sympathy under the sad occurrence which has thrown a cloud over the + opening of his Sanitarium, and of their undiminished confidence in his + integrity and ability as a medical man.’ We live, Augustus, in an age + eminently favorable to the growth of all roguery which is careful enough + to keep up appearances. In this enlightened nineteenth century, I look + upon the doctor as one of our rising men. + </p> + <p> + “To turn now to pleasanter subjects than Sanitariums, I may tell you that + Miss Neelie is as good as well again, and is, in my humble opinion, + prettier than ever. She is staying in London under the care of a female + relative; and Mr. Armadale satisfies her of the fact of his existence (in + case she should forget it) regularly every day. They are to be married in + the spring, unless Mrs. Milroy’s death causes the ceremony to be + postponed. The medical men are of opinion that the poor lady is sinking at + last. It may be a question of weeks or a question of months, they can say + no more. She is greatly altered—quiet and gentle, and anxiously + affectionate with her husband and her child. But in her case this happy + change is, it seems, a sign of approaching dissolution, from the medical + point of view. There is a difficulty in making the poor old, major + understand this. He only sees that she has gone back to the likeness of + her better self when he first married her; and he sits for hours by her + bedside now, and tells her about his wonderful clock. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Midwinter, of whom you will next expect me to say something, is + improving rapidly. After causing some anxiety at first to the medical men + (who declared that he was suffering from a serious nervous shock, produced + by circumstances about which their patient’s obstinate silence kept them + quite in the dark), he has rallied, as only men of his sensitive + temperament (to quote the doctors again) can rally. He and Mr. Armadale + are together in a quiet lodging. I saw him last week when I was in London. + His face showed signs of wear and tear, very sad to see in so young a man. + But he spoke of himself and his future with a courage and hopefulness + which men of twice his years (if he has suffered as I suspect him to have + suffered) might have envied. If I know anything of humanity, this is no + common man; and we shall hear of him yet in no common way. + </p> + <p> + “You will wonder how I came to be in London. I went up, with a return + ticket (from Saturday to Monday), about that matter in dispute at our + agent’s. We had a tough fight; but, curiously enough, a point occurred to + me just as I got up to go; and I went back to my chair, and settled the + question in no time. Of course I stayed at Our Hotel in Covent Garden. + William, the waiter, asked after you with the affection of a father; and + Matilda, the chamber-maid, said you almost persuaded her that last time to + have the hollow tooth taken out of her lower jaw. I had the agent’s second + son (the young chap you nicknamed Mustapha, when he made that dreadful + mess about the Turkish Securities) to dine with me on Sunday. A little + incident happened in the evening which may be worth recording, as it + connected itself with a certain old lady who was not ‘at home’ when you + and Mr. Armadale blundered on that house in Pimlico in the bygone time. + </p> + <p> + “Mustapha was like all the rest of you young men of the present day—he + got restless after dinner. ‘Let’s go to a public amusement, Mr. Pedgift,’ + says he. ‘Public amusement? Why, it’s Sunday evening!’ says I. ‘All right, + sir,’ says Mustapha. ‘They stop acting on the stage, I grant you, on + Sunday evening—but they don’t stop acting in the pulpit. Come and + see the last new Sunday performer of our time.’ As he wouldn’t have any + more wine, there was nothing else for it but to go. + </p> + <p> + “We went to a street at the West End, and found it blocked up with + carriages. If it hadn’t been Sunday night, I should have thought we were + going to the opera. ‘What did I tell you?’ says Mustapha, taking me up to + an open door with a gas star outside and a bill of the performance. I had + just time to notice that I was going to one of a series of ‘Sunday Evening + Discourses on the Pomps and Vanities of the World, by A Sinner Who Has + Served Them,’ when Mustapha jogged my elbow, and whispered, ‘Half a crown + is the fashionable tip.’ I found myself between two demure and silent + gentlemen, with plates in their hands, uncommonly well filled already with + the fashionable tip. Mustapha patronized one plate, and I the other. We + passed through two doors into a long room, crammed with people. And there, + on a platform at the further end, holding forth to the audience, was—not + a man, as I had expected—but a Woman, and that woman, MOTHER + OLDERSHAW! You never listened to anything more eloquent in your life. As + long as I heard her she was never once at a loss for a word anywhere. I + shall think less of oratory as a human accomplishment, for the rest of my + days, after that Sunday evening. As for the matter of the sermon, I may + describe it as a narrative of Mrs. Oldershaw’s experience among + dilapidated women, profusely illustrated in the pious and penitential + style. You will ask what sort of audience it was. Principally Women, + Augustus—and, as I hope to be saved, all the old harridans of the + world of fashion whom Mother Oldershaw had enameled in her time, sitting + boldly in the front places, with their cheeks ruddled with paint, in a + state of devout enjoyment wonderful to see! I left Mustapha to hear the + end of it. And I thought to myself, as I went out, of what Shakespeare + says somewhere, ‘Lord, what fools we mortals be!’ + </p> + <p> + “Have I anything more to tell you before I leave off? Only one thing that + I can remember. + </p> + <p> + “That wretched old Bashwood has confirmed the fears I told you I had about + him when he was brought back here from London. There is no kind of doubt + that he has really lost all the little reason he ever had. He is perfectly + harmless, and perfectly happy. And he would do very well if we could only + prevent him from going out in his last new suit of clothes, smirking and + smiling and inviting everybody to his approaching marriage with the + handsomest woman in England. It ends of course in the boys pelting him, + and in his coming here crying to me, covered with mud. The moment his + clothes are cleaned again he falls back into his favorite delusion, and + struts about before the church gates, in the character of a bridegroom, + waiting for Miss Gwilt. We must get the poor wretch taken care of + somewhere for the rest of the little time he has to live. Who would ever + have thought of a man at his age falling in love? And who would ever have + believed that the mischief that woman’s beauty has done could have reached + as far in the downward direction as our superannuated old clerk? + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, for the present, my dear boy. If you see a particularly handsome + snuff-box in Paris, remember—though your father scorns Testimonials—he + doesn’t object to receive a present from his son. + </p> + <p> + “Yours affectionately, + </p> + <p> + “A. PEDGIFT, Sen. + </p> + <p> + “POSTSCRIPT.—I think it likely that the account you mention in the + French papers, of a fatal quarrel among some foreign sailors in one of the + Lipari Islands, and of the death of their captain, among others, may + really have been a quarrel among the scoundrels who robbed Mr. Armadale + and scuttled his yacht. <i>Those</i> fellows, luckily for society, can’t + always keep up appearances; and, in their case, Rogues and Retribution do + occasionally come into collision with each other.” + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_4_0054" id="H2_4_0054"></a> II. MIDWINTER. + </h2> + <p> + The spring had advanced to the end of April. It was the eve of Allan’s + wedding-day. Midwinter and he had sat talking together at the great house + till far into the night—till so far that it had struck twelve long + since, and the wedding day was already some hours old. + </p> + <p> + For the most part the conversation had turned on the bridegroom’s plans + and projects. It was not till the two friends rose to go to rest that + Allan insisted on making Midwinter speak of himself. + </p> + <p> + “We have had enough, and more than enough, of <i>my</i> future,” he began, + in his bluntly straightforward way. “Let’s say something now, Midwinter, + about yours. You have promised me, I know, that, if you take to + literature, it shan’t part us, and that, if you go on a sea-voyage, you + will remember, when you come back, that my house is your home. But this is + the last chance we have of being together in our old way; and I own I + should like to know—” His voice faltered, and his eyes moistened a + little. He left the sentence unfinished. + </p> + <p> + Midwinter took his hand and helped him, as he had often helped him to the + words that he wanted in the by-gone time. + </p> + <p> + “You would like to know, Allan,” he said, “that I shall not bring an + aching heart with me to your wedding day? If you will let me go back for a + moment to the past, I think I can satisfy you.” + </p> + <p> + They took their chairs again. Allan saw that Midwinter was moved. “Why + distress yourself?” he asked, kindly—“why go back to the past?” + </p> + <p> + “For two reasons, Allan. I ought to have thanked you long since for the + silence you have observed, for my sake, on a matter that must have seemed + very strange to you. You know what the name is which appears on the + register of my marriage, and yet you have forborne to speak of it, from + the fear of distressing me. Before you enter on your new life, let us come + to a first and last understanding about this. I ask you—as one more + kindness to me—to accept my assurance (strange as the thing may seem + to you) that I am blameless in this matter; and I entreat you to believe + that the reasons I have for leaving it unexplained are reasons which, if + Mr. Brock was living, Mr. Brock himself would approve.” In those words he + kept the secret of the two names; and left the memory of Allan’s mother, + what he had found it, a sacred memory in the heart of her son. + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” he went on—“a word which will take us, this time, + from past to future. It has been said, and truly said, that out of Evil + may come Good. Out of the horror and the misery of that night you know of + has come the silencing of a doubt which once made my life miserable with + groundless anxiety about you and about myself. No clouds raised by my + superstition will ever come between us again. I can’t honestly tell you + that I am more willing now than I was when we were in the Isle of Man to + take what is called the rational view of your Dream. Though I know what + extraordinary coincidences are perpetually happening in the experience of + all of us, still I cannot accept coincidences as explaining the + fulfillment of the Visions which our own eyes have seen. All I can + sincerely say for myself is, what I think it will satisfy you to know, + that I have learned to view the purpose of the Dream with a new mind. I + once believed that it was sent to rouse your distrust of the friendless + man whom you had taken as a brother to your heart. I now <i>know</i> that + it came to you as a timely warning to take him closer still. Does this + help to satisfy you that I, too, am standing hopefully on the brink of a + new life, and that while we live, brother, your love and mine will never + be divided again?” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands in silence. Allan was the first to recover himself. He + answered in the few words of kindly assurance which were the best words + that he could address to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all I ever want to hear about the past,” he said; “and I + know what I most wanted to know about the future. Everybody says, + Midwinter, you have a career before you, and I believe that everybody is + right. Who knows what great things may happen before you and I are many + years older?” + </p> + <p> + “Who <i>need</i> know?” said Midwinter, calmly. “Happen what may, God is + all-merciful, God is all-wise. In those words your dear old friend once + wrote to me. In that faith I can look back without murmuring at the years + that are past, and can look on without doubting to the years that are to + come.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, and walked to the window. While they had been speaking together + the darkness had passed. The first light of the new day met him as he + looked out, and rested tenderly on his face. + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + <a name="linkH2_APPE" id="H2_APPE"></a> APPENDIX. + </h2> + <p> + NOTE—My readers will perceive that I have purposely left them, with + reference to the Dream in this story, in the position which they would + occupy in the case of a dream in real life: they are free to interpret it + by the natural or the supernatural theory, as the bent of their own minds + may incline them. Persons disposed to take the rational view may, under + these circumstances, be interested in hearing of a coincidence relating to + the present story, which actually happened, and which in the matter of + “extravagant improbability” sets anything of the same kind that a novelist + could imagine at flat defiance. + </p> + <p> + In November, 1865, that is to say, when thirteen monthly parts of + “Armadale” had been published, and, I may add, when more than a year and a + half had elapsed since the end of the story, as it now appears, was first + sketched in my notebook—a vessel lay in the Huskisson Dock at + Liverpool which was looked after by one man, who slept on board, in the + capacity of shipkeeper. On a certain day in the week this man was found + dead in the deck-house. On the next day a second man, who had taken his + place, was carried dying to the Northern Hospital. On the third day a + third ship-keeper was appointed, and was found dead in the deck-house + which had already proved fatal to the other two. <i>The name of that ship + was “The Armadale.”</i> And the proceedings at the Inquest proved that the + three men had been all suffocated <i>by sleeping in poisoned air</i>! + </p> + <p> + I am indebted for these particulars to the kindness of the reporters at + Liverpool, who sent me their statement of the facts. The case found its + way into most of the newspapers. It was noticed—to give two + instances in which I can cite the dates—in the <i>Times</i> of + November 30th, 1865, and was more fully described in the <i>Daily News</i> + of November 28th, in the same year. + </p> + <p> + Before taking leave of “Armadale,” I may perhaps be allowed to mention, + for the benefit of any readers who may be curious on such points, that the + “Norfolk Broads” are here described after personal investigation of them. + In this, as in other cases, I have spared no pains to instruct myself on + matters of fact. Wherever the story touches on questions connected with + Law, Medicine, or Chemistry, it has been submitted before publication to + the experience of professional men. The kindness of a friend supplied me + with a plan of the doctor’s apparatus, and I saw the chemical ingredients + at work before I ventured on describing the action of them in the closing + scenes of this book. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMADALE *** + +***** This file should be named 1895-h.htm or 1895-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/9/1895/ + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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